#Ti cul

[lemondeabicyclette]

lessive de fonds publics fils te pump fiss phoque

#justin ô justin têtu l'prochain? #uk ru #ukrayna #zelenskyyyyyyyy #cest le ti-cul à côté des X qu'on veut voir disparaître #otan en emporte le vent

[swiftispunk]

autumn air | joel miller x f!reader

a your summer dream one shot

your summer dream masterlist | main masterlist | ao3 | follow @swiftispunkupdates and turn on notifications for updates

The heat of autumn is different from the heat of summer. One ripens apples, the other turns them to cider.

– Jane Hirshfield, The Heat of Autumn

pairing: joel miller x f!reader rating: 18+ word count: 10.4k series warnings etc: [NO OUTBREAK] we'll call him dad's buddy!joel, fairly soft!joel, age difference (28/50), angst, smut (will specify with each chapter), fluff, alcohol, food, secret relationship until it's not. series summary: after falling head over heels for your dad's buddy on vacation, it's now time to navigate the real world together. or, a year in the life with joel miller. chapter summary: it's been a month since you returned home from costa rica and you and joel have fallen into a blissful routine. when a rude awakening threatens to disrupt that peace, together you must make a decision...or two. chapter warnings: smut, unprotected p in v sex, discussions of somnophilia, BONDAGE-ish, oral (m receiving), exhibitionism, some body/cock worship, joel miller's filthy mouth, anal play, cum play, shitty landlords and shittier roommates, being allergic to cats, feelings, almost getting caught (again), fluff, angst in the mildest sense, one little pov swap. no use of y/n.

A/N: well hello. sorry this took about a hundred years. welcome to our first glimpse of life post-vacation. this turned out to be a lot more set-up than i anticipated, so please be patient as there is lots more still to come and to happen. BUT WE GOTTA START SOMEWHERE, OK?

a forever thank you to @joelscruff pretty much just for existing at this point but also for beta'ing this bad boy

It had taken just over a month for your weekends to become this. 

Lazy, dreamlike collages of playing house with Joel Miller. Learning to like black coffee and the slow, patient pace of suburbia, a stark but welcome contrast to the ceaseless stress of work and the incessant, gnawing rift that's been developing between you and your roommates.

Here, curled up on his couch or busying yourself in his kitchen, it's easy to forget. To savour the private hours you share here in his home, listening to him noodle absently on his guitar or talk your ear off about his brother's new baby. To pretend this all isn't some colossal, breakable secret. 

Summer slips away and you're still living inside a snow globe. What was once a cozy hotel room now replaced by an aging Craftsman on a cul-de-sac. A new private oasis, one that feels infinitely more real. 

Even if you are the only two people still privy to it all.

Well, three people. 

More than anything though, your weekends have become this. Joel's broad body over yours, forehead and chest dampened with sweat, glowing in the orange-pink haze of a sunset. 

His thick fingers wrap around your wrists where they're pinned against his mattress, granting a wish you'd voiced as he'd laid you down and kissed you, deep and slow. 

I think it'd be so sexy if you tied me up, you'd told him and his eyes had burned with hungry fascination, fiery at your willingness.

You don't know what it is about Joel, but you just want to try everything with him. And he is equally as willing to provide

Let's try it like this first, he'd suggested, gripping your arms and manoeuvring them beside your head, squeezing with just the right amount of pressure, just the right amount of intent to lock you firmly in place beneath him. Your cunt had throbbed and your mind had gone fuzzy but Joel had still leaned in to whisper, You tell me if you like that and–Christ, you do, you really fucking do.

So you tell him. You tell him again and again and again. Every time he asks you, implores you, orders you to tell him how good he makes you feel and how wet you are for him, how desperate you are to touch him even though you love that he won't let you.

He's asking again now, you think, but it's getting too hard to answer. He's drawing it out, the roll of his hips into yours agonizingly slow, the drag of his thick cock moving in and out nearly too much to take after he's already made you come twice.

He likes it this way, you've come to learn, now that you're home and free from prying eyes, safe to take your time and truly relish in each other's bodies. And for how torturous it can feel–like right now, sticky-wet and limp below him–he knows you love it too. 

"Fuck–listen," he commands you softly.

You whimper, straining your ears through a thick fog of pleasure to obey him. His brows are knitted together in concentration, plush lips parted as he glances between your bodies, encouraging you to follow his gaze to the place where you're connected, where his cock is still impaling you, glistening wet with your last release. You both watch as he pulls out before lazily pushing back in, a wet squelch filling the room as your drenched walls swallow every inch of him.

"So fucking wet for me. Always are, huh?"

He groans, catching your quiet sob as he dives forward to kiss you, licking into your open mouth with the same indulgent, unhurried pace that he's fucking you.

"You love takin' this cock," he says, dragging his lips downward along your neck, over the seashell that hangs there, nipping affectionately at the skin above your breasts before taking one pebbled nipple into his mouth. You moan, so sensitive, your body betraying you as you writhe against the sheets and his hands loop tighter around your wrists in response.

"I know, baby, I know," Joel murmurs, and you think you can hear the control wavering there in his voice, just a bit, as he moves to suckle at your other nipple, flicking the bud of it under his tongue just to hear you cry out again. You feel his smirk against your skin. "Bein' so good. So good."

You're drenched, soaked between your legs and around his length, sweat stuck to every crevice so you feel almost humid, dizzy and faraway and so fucking full. 

And then Joel's lips are at your ear again, hot breath condensing on the skin there too and the air feels altogether too thick. Too foggy. 

"I just wanna feel you come one more time," he whispers.

You're shaking your head before the words can even leave his mouth.

"Can't…Joel, I can't," you croak.

"You can," he assures you. "Did it last week, remember?"

You whimper and nod–he's right. With much coaxing and patience and Joel's unwavering attentiveness, he'd drawn three orgasms from you, something you'd once thought impossible. But then again, you weren't sure you could come at all by a man's hand before you'd met him.

"What do you need? Let me get you there," he pleads, teeth coming down on your earlobe and sending an involuntary shiver down your spine. 

His mouth is on yours before you can answer, kissing you until your lips are numb beneath the scratch of his moustache and your will to deny him steadily wanes. 

"Tell me," he says against your lips and your heart flutters as the hands around your wrists move, Joel interlocking his fingers with yours instead. A different kind of warmth spreads through you at that, a new form of ecstasy, one laced with devotion and tenderness for this man who takes such expert care of you, always. 

"Need it…harder," you manage as tears prick at the corners of your eyes. "Fuck me harder, Joel. Please."

"Yeah?" he grits out, thrusting into you with more force on his next stroke and pushing the air from your lungs. "That what my girl needs?"

You whine and it sounds like yes, so he does it again, just once–another quick, hard push into your spent pussy that has you gasping and keening. 

"Let me hear you say it, sweetheart."

You groan, search for the words, knowing he likes this too, for you to be just as vocal as he is. To hear in your sounds and your cries and your wanton pleas how much you want him.

"Yes, yes, yes," you tell him in a rush, already feeling some tangled swell of something curl in your lower belly. "Just–just like that. Please. More."

"One more time," he grins with another deliberate rock of his hips. Fucking bastard.

"Please," you beg, fingernails digging into the backs of his hands when you squeeze down into his grasp.

"Fuck–yeah," Joel growls, taking you by surprise when he suddenly collects your hands above your head, freeing his own to tug you further down the bed and fold your legs into your chest. He crashes forward, big hands finding your wrists again and keeping them pinned where they are as he begins to fuck you with new vigour. The new angle hits somewhere deeper, each rough thrust of his cock into you nudging at that spot inside you that makes your vision blur and your mind go blank, the tangle of pleasure building in your core already threatening to unravel.

"Shit," Joel curses above you, refocusing your attention on his face, his expression almost pained as his chest heaves above you. He's trying to hang on, you realize. For you.

You moan as you lock eyes with him and you wish you could touch his face or run your fingers through his messy curls but you like this just as much, maybe even more. The unrelenting grip of his hands around your wrists, held high above your head so your body is spread long and open for him to use. You don't think you've ever trusted anyone like this before. That you've ever felt this safe and cared for.

"Come on, baby, come on," Joel's chanting as he pounds into you, his low drawl cutting through the noise of whatever lewd sounds are spilling from your throat. "Fuckin' come for me. Just one more. Yeah? God, you're so fuckin' good. This pussy's so fuckin' good."

"I wanna come, Joel–I wanna come," you whine.

Joel groans raggedly as a tear drips from the corner of your eye and pools into your ear. His fingers remain firmly curled around your wrists as he falls forward onto his elbows and then his mouth is at your ear too, breath warm and voice deep.

"Yeah?" he hums. "Show me. Show me how you come for me. Show me how much you fuckin' love this cock. How much you love gettin' fucked like this."

A broken squeak catches somewhere in your throat as your mouth falls open, Joel's cock mercilessly hitting right where you need it with each stroke and you can feel it now, as the swell begins to crest and his words echo through you, your arms still trapped under his grasp, rendering your powerless in the very best way–you're going to come again.

You cry his name and Joel only fucks you harder, determined in his efforts as you begin to tense beneath him and a fire ignites in your belly. It's a gradual build this time, clawing and bubbling till it finally erupts in a burst of blinding white warmth, Joel's voice carrying you through the haze of release. 

"Yeah–good girl, that's it, honey, there you fuckin' go," he rambles as you fall apart, walls constricting around his length as wetness pools down his balls and Joel just keeps fucking you. "Fuckin'...shit, baby–fuck, m'gonna come. Where do you want it?"

Still lost in a syrupy daze, you say without thinking, "Mouth–my mouth. Joel, wanna taste you."

"Oh, fuck–"

But it breaks him, that request–those words in your shattered, weary voice, teary stare locked with his–and all too soon his muscles go rigid, cock spasming deep inside you as his climax hits him before he can grant your wish. 

"Shit, shit, shit," he curses as he pumps you full of his seed, his face a mess of pleasure and shame at his unceremonious orgasm, brows furrowed almost apologetically as he rides it out. His fingers loosen around your wrists and his forehead collides with yours, his form quaking above you as the last of the aftershocks pass over him and your lips crane up to meet his in a sleepy, breathless kiss. 

"Fuck, m'sorry," he sighs, shaking his head as it falls to land in the mess of sheets beside your face. 

"Shh, it's okay," you assure him. And it is okay. You just wish you were touching him. "Let me go, babe."

"Oh, fuck, sorry, honey, sorry."

Joel hurriedly releases your wrists, simultaneously pulling out of your wasted cunt and curling into your side. You turn to face him, wrapping your arms around his neck and twisting your fingers into his hair like coming home. You hadn't realized until now how much you'd missed having your hands on him. 

He's still catching his breath, gaze foggy as he cups the side of your face and tenderly strokes a calloused thumb across your cheekbone. 

"You okay?" he asks, eyes searching. 

"Mhm," you grin. "I was hoping for a taste, but I guess I'll survive."

Joel smirks, but it's a bashful little thing, and you know him well enough by now to know the pink in his cheeks is only partly due to exertion. He's embarrassed.

But hell, if he's not going to make it up to you.

You watch his face carefully as he begins to trace a line down your body with his fingers, taking his time as he draws them over the gentle curve of your hip to the sweat-laced hinge of your knee. He kisses you, slow and soft as he coaxes your legs apart, sighs into your mouth when his hand moves to the apex of your thighs. His tongue plunges between your lips at the same time his fingers sink between the wet seam of your folds, so gentle. Even so, it makes you whimper into his kiss, shudder as he dips the tips of his fingers to your sensitive entrance and coats them in the spend steadily leaking out of you. You moan softly when his tongue in your mouth is replaced by those fingers, close your lips around them instinctively and suck lightly at the welcome taste of your combined releases, salty-sweet and warm while Joel moves to press wet kisses into your cheek.

"Thanks," you whisper dreamily as Joel withdraws his fingers, trailing them over your chin before settling his hand on your waist and pulling you into his chest. 

"Dirty girl," he hums, hushed and underscored by a sleepy laugh, his eyes already slipping shut above you.

"Mhm."

You feel the comforting touch of his lips against the top of your head and then he's rolling onto his back beside you, looping an arm under your neck and encouraging you to take your rightful place against his side.

But while Joel is already drifting off, you feel strangely giddy, electric and enrapt as you gawk at the rise and fall of his broad chest, the lax set of his features, his thick lashes casting shadows over his cheeks. It's darker now, the sun faded beyond the horizon outside his window–still far too early for sleep but time, you've found, doesn't mean much when you're wasting away your weekends at Joel's. Inside these hours, you cling to the memory of a Costa Rican resort; eat when you're hungry, sleep when you're tired, fuck when it feels good and mourn when it ends. Slog through the week until you're back in his arms and free to do it all again.

You know this feeling. This beautiful, tangible, dangerous feeling. You haven't voiced it yet, and neither has he. But you know.

You sigh and steer your thoughts elsewhere.

"I really do love this cock, you know that?" you muse, brushing your fingers featherlight along its veined underside, the heft of it lying soft and heavy against his belly. 

He huffs a quiet chuckle, peeking down at you with one eye open while your fingers continue to trace absent patterns over velvet smooth skin, still faintly sticky with you. 

"Yeah?" he smirks. 

"Yeah," you nod, unable to stop yourself from ducking down to softly kiss the tip, letting your lips linger when you hear Joel sigh.

"S'yours whenever you want it, sweetheart."

You flash your gaze upwards but his eyes have slipped closed again, one thick arm slung over his forehead. 

"Whenever I want it?" you press him.

Now his eyes open, his brows coming together as he takes in the mischievous glint in your eyes and your lips hovering just above his softened cock. 

"Uh–maybe not right now."

"No, no, of course," you smile. "But maybe I…wake you up with my mouth some time?"

At that, Joel's eyes widen and then he chuckles somewhat disbelievingly, shaking his head above you, eyelids slipping closed again.

"Sure, baby," he grumbles. "You wanna suck an old man's cock in his sleep? I won't kick ya outta bed."

"Oh, fuck off," you laugh, lightly smacking his arm before settling back in to the space you've carved out for yourself against his shoulder.

Joel shifts before you can get comfortable though, groaning a little as he rolls over to face you. His eyes are open again and he's grinning, leaning in close to brush his lips over yours.

"Maybe I return the favour some time," he whispers. "Get you all nice and wet while you're sleepin' so I can wake you up and slip right inside that sweet little cunt of yours."

"Fuck," you shiver, unconsciously pushing your hips into his at the thought. Leave it to Joel and his fucking mouth to make you already want him again. "I–you wouldn't even need to wake me up, Joel. You could just take me in my sleep."

That seems to catch him off guard.

"Jesus," he marvels, pulling back to search your face. He's not grinning anymore. "Fuck, that's–you'd let me do that?"

"Anything, Joel," you vow as you loop your arms around his neck and clutch tightly at the curls at the back of his skull. "Anything."

You close the space between your mouths and kiss him deeply, mould your lips to his with all the words still left unsaid till you're breathless and impatient with it, unconsciously pressing your chest into his and sucking hungrily at his plush bottom lip. There's no real intent behind any of it, just a need to be close, to consume. 

"Goddamn," Joel moans when you break away to kiss along the greying scruff at his jawline. "You're somethin' else."

"I know," you murmur against his skin. 

"Christ, baby, I-I don't think I got another round in me tonight," he admits almost sheepishly, but you don't mind. This is enough. 

"Shh," you tell him, traversing your lips lower to explore the column of his neck, tasting the even pound of his pulse below your tongue. A reminder that he's here with you, alive and well. And how that knowledge makes you sick with warmth, a twist in your guts that almost hurts, like a preemptive pain at the thought of losing this, losing him.

Oh, god. You know this feeling. 

"Go to sleep," you breathe, before you say something else. "It's okay. It's okay."

-

As it turns out, you don't get the chance to wake Joel up with your mouth, because the next morning, he's up before you, the smell of brewing coffee luring you towards consciousness. The stand fan beside his bed blows cool air over your face and shoulders as your eyes adjust to yellow sunlight and your body aches and creaks with the reminder of last night. The sound of heavy footsteps in the hallway saves you from starting to miss him.

You can't bring yourself to lift your head up off the pillow, even as he places a steaming mug on the nightstand beside you and sits on the edge of the bed.

"Hey," he murmurs, gently shaking you to life with a hand on your hip over the covers. "You awake?"

You peek up at him, smiling blearily through the sleep in your eyes. Clad only in a pair of grey sweats, his belly–with its now fading tan–is on full display, curls messy atop his head. He's so handsome in the morning, all puffy-eyed and soft. 

"Yeah, but I don't wanna get up.''

Joel smiles back, just a fleeting thing before it fades and his brows knit together. You frown in turn as his gaze drops to the hand he has on your side and his thumb strokes nervous circles into your skin. 

"Was thinkin' we could go for a drive or somethin' today."

His voice is low, almost pensive, too sad for such a simple request. But you get it, know all too well where it stems from.

Because drives out of town are all you have beyond the safety of his home, the safest way to keep this thing a secret. Sunday after Sunday of Joel bailing on your father's invitations to go golfing, while guilt slowly eats away at him.

And it hurts Joel, you know it does. Truthfully, it hurts you too. But it's better this way, at least for now. You're still not even sure what you two are doing together, and you're not sure Joel does either. All you know is this feeling, this ache in your bones and this swell in your chest, that sense of fragility you always feel when you're with him. You're not ready to let anyone shatter it. Not yet.

You sigh, sit up a little straighter and place your hand over his on your hip until he finally meets your eyes. 

"Where?" you ask. 

"I don't know…nowhere," he shrugs, lips twitching ever so. "Lockhart, maybe, f'you want."

You squeeze his fingers playfully just to watch his smile widen–and it works.

"You craving barbeque, cowboy?" you tease and his eyes sparkle with positively endearing excitement.

"Chisholm Trail?" he suggests.

You scoff. 

"Fucking–yeah, right. Kreuz all the way."

Joel laughs, throaty and genuine in a way that makes your heart swell–even if his taste in barbeque is… questionable at best. 

"So s'that a yes?" he presses.

As if there were ever any doubt. 

"Yeah, okay. But I have to stop in and feed Henry."

He grimaces and you smirk sympathetically. You'd be offended by his obvious distaste for your cat if you hadn't come to discover a fact about him that hadn't mattered much at all until you'd got home; Joel is allergic. 

"I'll wait in the truck," he grumbles. 

-

You make yourself at home in his kitchen, topping up your coffee and leaning against the countertop while Joel showers upstairs. Staring out his kitchen window to the quiet street outside, you sip your coffee and think about how much you like it here. How comfortable you've become in his home. How much it feels like his and how lucky you are to know him here.

Cluttered and almost haphazardly decorated, Joel's house feels like somewhere truly lived in, the art and photos that line the walls borne out of memories more so than aesthetics, a mess of disorganized posters from music festivals and surely inherited paintings. 

Mostly there are photos of her, his daughter Sarah at various stages of her life. Family photos of her as a child, tucked under the arm of Joel or his brother you've still yet to meet. Polaroids of her with friends as a teenager, framed graduation photos from high school and college, action shots from countless varsity soccer games. 

One custom magnet stuck to his fridge still gives you pause, pink and flouncy and faded with time. Sarah's name, ornately printed over her exact birth date and time, a constant reminder of a truth you'd rather not think too hard about. 

It had made your heart sink the first time you'd seen it, when you'd come face to face with the unfortunate realization that Sarah is one year older than you. 

You try not to look at it too much, if you can help it. 

Of course, Sarah herself is unavoidable, since Joel had already shared with her what you're still too scared to share with anyone.

Sarah, the third and only other person to know about you and Joel. You hadn't even been mad that he'd let her in on it; if anything, you'd been envious of their trust in one another, how Joel had waited less than a day after coming home to tell her about you. 

To your surprise–and maybe also his–she'd taken it…fine. Apparently, just content to see her father happy even if she'd been somewhat taken aback by his choices. You have to admire her maturity; you're not sure how you would have reacted if you'd been in her shoes.

Sarah's acceptance had crossed one gigantic, cataclysmic fear from your long list of gigantic, cataclysmic fears.

Still, your heart nearly leaps out of your chest when you hear the front door opening behind you and a familiar voice calling out as footsteps round the corner into the kitchen. 

"Dad?" Sarah's voice says. "Dad–oh, hey."

She stops in her tracks and you straighten up from the counter, smoothing out your shirt–Joel's shirt–and offering her your best smile. 

"Oh–hi, Sarah."

She smiles back, polite if not a little unsure.

Because yes, Sarah's been altogether more accepting than she has any right to be. But that doesn't mean it's not still awkward as hell. 

"Is my dad here?" she asks.

"Uh, yeah, sorry, he's just–he's in the shower."

"Ah, okay, no worries. How's it going?"

"Good–yeah. Fine." You wrack your brain for any other details, ultimately coming up short and landing simply on, "Busy."

Sarah smiles knowingly.

"How's he?" She nods in the general direction of the stairs.

"He seems…"

You ponder it for a moment, think about Joel all giddy-eyed and soft as he'd brought you coffee in bed this morning. How every Friday since you got home, he's pulled up outside your apartment without fail, right on time to sweep you away to your own mini-version of paradise. How he does it all without pretension, just the same burning need to be together that's been plaguing you since vacation ended. 

You smile. Sigh a little more dreamily than the moment calls for.

"Great," you settle on at last.

Her responding smile is genuine, sweet and full of understanding. 

"Good," she says. "He seems it."

That softens you, that his contentment isn't just in your head, that she can see it too. Not that you have many doubts about his feelings for you–it's just nice to hear. 

"I'm just gonna grab something from upstairs," she announces then, and you make some non-committal sound, not quite go ahead–because this was her house long before it was yours–but a dismissal all the same. She flits out of the room and you take a long, steadying breath.

It gets a little more painless every time, but you expect it'll take a while to feel totally at ease around her. You're certain you were once forced into play dates with the girl and now you're–

You shake your head to dislodge the thought, swallow down the rest of your coffee so fast your stomach burns with an acidic twinge. 

How the fuck does Joel drink this stuff like this? 

She's back before you can even finish washing your mug, calling your name over the sound of the faucet.

"I gotta run," she tells you. "You can let him know I stopped by. But don't tell him about this–" she winks and waves a photo at you that you can't quite make out, clearly the thing she'd stolen from upstairs, "–It's for his birthday."

She smirks slyly and you smile back, offering her a thumbs up. 

"Got it."

"Well, see ya."

"Bye, Sarah."

She skirts out the door and you let out a long breath.

Easier with time, easier with time, you remind yourself. Everything about this gets easier with time.

-

It's hard to imagine, sitting in the front seat of his truck, how there was ever a time you didn't think Joel Miller was beautiful. 

The weight of that truth had hit you like a ton of bricks that first night in Costa Rica, and it strikes you still now, in the way you stare openly at the sight of him with one hand on the wheel, the other curled casually around the nape of your neck. His legs are spread wide, dark denim stretched taut across his thighs, the sleeves of his light blue shirt rolled up to his elbows, brown eyes on the road before him. Windows rolled down so a warm, late-summer breeze plays in his salt-and-pepper curls and sunlight glows on his exposed skin.

Classic rock radio underscores the hum of the engine and you're both singing along to the sweet sounds of Creedence and there's that damned feeling again, gnawing and incessant, burning sharp around the edges of your heart. 

Sometimes you can't believe he's really yours. 

You sigh, a deeply longing thing as your eyes rake up and down his body. Joel catches it. 

"What's wrong?" he asks, tearing his eyes from the road to turn down the music and glance over at you curiously.

What's wrong is you're fucking insatiable; you want him again already, truly mournful you'd missed the chance to get your hands on him this morning before you'd hit the road. And in the quiet confines of his truck, the smell of Joel and leather all around, his competent fingers on the steering wheel and the hand on your neck that's starting to feel almost possessive…you practically ache at the thought of having to spend a day out and about when all you really want is to be back in his bed. 

"I was supposed to…" you shake your head, unsure of how to bring up your conversation from the night before. "Why'd you get up before me?"

Joel smirks, seeming to understand your train of thought.

"What?" he laughs, gently squeezing your neck. "You wanted to suck my cock that bad?"

You frown, putting on a show of petulance. 

"Yes," you grumble. 

Joel laughs, fiddling absently with the chain of your necklace, his fingers just barely brushing your skin. You can't help the way your eyes slip closed in response. 

"How do you know I didn't take you in your sleep?" he hums, his tone light, but still enough to make you shiver with the reminder of your words from last night. 

"Mm-mm," you reply, a little breathless as you lean back into his touch and shake your head from side to side. "I would know."

Joel chuckles. 

"Probably right," he concedes, letting you go to grip the wheel with both hands, much to your dismay, his eyes refocusing on the road. "Anyway, I don't think I'd be able to–"

He stops mid-sentence, contemplative and then momentarily distracted as he makes a left hand turn. You ogle his hands deftly moving on the steering wheel until Joel straightens out and clears his throat, at last glancing back in your direction. 

 "I'd need to wake you up," he finishes. 

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," he nods, reaching back across the seat to lay a hand on your thigh, just below the hem of your sundress. "Don't think I'd be able to come without hearin' all those pretty sounds you make–" he smirks and meets your gaze, his sweet brown eyes somehow doleful and smouldering all at once–"Without seein' your eyes."

The hand he has on your thigh moves to cup your chin, gently twisting your face in his direction. You bite your lip and make a show of batting your lashes at him. 

"These eyes?" you tease but Joel isn't smiling anymore. 

"Hm," he hums lowly, snaking his hand carefully back to its place behind your neck. Only this time, his grip is firm, commanding in the way it nudges you across the bench towards him. "Why don't you come over here and show me what you had planned?"

Your heartbeat stutters, arousal coursing through you in an instant, unabashedly giddy at the offer. Your mouth falls open unconsciously, as though your body can already feel the weight of him between your lips. Joel's eyes flit between your face and the road, gauging your reaction, sensing your hesitance when, in spite of how badly you want him, you find yourself peeking over your shoulder to the passing cars outside, the scattered pedestrians on the sidewalk. You're nearing downtown Austin, and the streets are far from quiet.

"They can't see," Joel assures you, easily redrawing your attention. "S'just you and me."

It steadies you, that resoluteness. Always does. You're already unfastening your seatbelt and twisting at the hip, leaning across the bench to plant a kiss behind his ear. 

"Let them look," you murmur. Joel chuckles darkly, the sound laced with something like pride. He's been rubbing off on you.

"Attagirl."

You bite down lightly on the hinge of his jaw before moving lower, making quick work of his belt buckle while Joel conveniently comes to a stop at what you can only assume is a red light. 

The lack of movement makes it easier to unbutton his jeans, to palm at his burgeoning bulge through the fabric of his boxers before yanking them out of the way too, at last freeing his semi-hard cock. 

You think you actually moan at the sight of it, salivating openly as you grip him at the base and slip his length between your lips.

"Oh, fuck–" Joel groans, one hand moving to gently cradle the back of your skull as his cock comes alive in your mouth. "Yeah, there you go…"

You preen at the response, stroking the length of him with your fist while your tongue dances around his tip until you feel him harden fully in your grasp and your jaw begins to strain around his girth. You moan around him when you taste salt, pulling off him to lap sweetly at his slit and collect the beading precum there. Joel's fingers tighten in your hair. 

"Shit, that's good, honey…" he sighs.

There's a jostling as he steps on the gas and then you're moving again, the precision of your tongue faltering as you bounce in his lap. You surrender to it, swallow him down once more and do your best to match the bob of your head with the bumps in the road. 

Of course it's more challenging than you could have anticipated, and you splutter around him when he comes to an unexpected stop, Joel quick to pull you off him with a hand in your hair. 

"Shh, hey, you okay?" he asks, voice strained but oozing concern. You just nod determinedly, already diving to take him back in your mouth, all the way down so your lips brush against the coarse hairs at his base and welcome tears prick at your eyes. 

"Fuck–" Joel grits when you begin to move again, up and down with focused intent, eager with it, greedy. "Jesus, wait."

You pull off him, glancing upwards to the edge of his window, fearful perhaps that you'd been caught. But Joel's hand on your head is already pushing you back down so your cheek brushes against the wet tip of his cock. 

"You're good–just…slow, baby," he tells you. Oops.

"Sorry," you laugh.

"Just love it that much, don't you?" he asks, stroking your hair.

"Shut up," you mumble, silencing his responding laugh when you brush your lips featherlight over his length. "But yes."

You show him as much, tilting your face and dragging your lips and cheeks along his shaft, all languid and adoring as you plant an open-mouthed kiss to the soft skin between his base and his balls. You peer up at him and your pussy throbs at the realization he's not even looking at you, eyes fixed on the road while his other hand moves downward along your spine before easing your skirt up over your waist. You sigh a breathy groan and lick a wet stripe up the underside of his cock as Joel slips his fingers below the waistband of your underwear. Then time seems to stop altogether as Joel glides his hand through the seam of your ass down to your neglected cunt.

Your breath hitches, arching at his touch, forgetting his cock for a moment as Joel dips two fingers into your slick heat with the same absent ease with which he'd been stroking your neck a moment ago. He curses under his breath when he feels how wet you are, steals your focus completely when he slowly begins to fuck his middle and ring fingers into you. You whimper as you pulse around his digits and it takes everything in you just to close your lips around his cock again, sucking him up and down, working to match the pace of his fingers moving in and out of you. 

"Yeah, baby," he praises you softly, dick twitching between your lips as his truck comes to yet another stop. It crosses your mind that at a red light, the risk of someone seeing you like this–Joel's fingers in your cunt, his cock taking up your mouth–increases tenfold. You're so far gone now that the thought only makes you wetter. 

Only then he retracts his fingers, making you gasp when he trails them, slick and dripping, to your other hole, coating the tight ring of muscle with your arousal.

"Shh," Joel coos when you falter with your movements, crying out at the welcome contact, your vision blurring when he carefully presses one thick, wet finger into your asshole. 

Fuck.

Together, you've discovered how truly crazy it makes you when he does this, whether he's slipping a thumb into that tight ring of muscle while he fucks your pussy or generously offering you his tongue there whenever he eats you out. He hasn't fucked you there yet–because you haven't asked–but each time he does this, it's like a beautiful reminder of how much you do want it, how much you're still aching to be so, so full of him, everywhere. 

Another time, he'd said, that last day in Costa Rica. You have every intention of holding him to that. 

"Don't stop," he growls because you've apparently lost the will to do anything but keen and whine at the feeling of his fingers inside you, his cock stiff and leaking in your grasp. You steady yourself with one hand against his thigh as Joel steps on the gas and you wrap your lips securely around him again. It's overwhelming–the bumps in the road now forcing his cock deeper down your throat and his finger deeper into your hole.

"Fuckin'–yes, good girl. Don't you stop, sweetheart."

You increase your pace then, near-frantic in the way you moan around him, bobbing up and down as you swirl your tongue hungrily around the head of his cock. Joel pushes his finger deeper, nearly to the knuckle, blinding you with pleasure as you cup his balls, all weighty and warm in your palm, feeling the moment they begin to tighten and Joel's face screws up above you. 

"Fuck, m'gonna–look at me," he orders hurriedly and you do, glassy gaze flashing up to meet his for just a fleeting moment before he's spilling down your throat with a ragged sigh, eyes flashing between yours and the road.

His hips jerk upwards as he empties himself, hot and salty over your tongue. You keep your cheeks hollowed around him, swallowing down everything he gives you with reverent willingness, your thoughts clouded by the image of his come filling your ass instead. It's almost impossible to think of anything else with his thick finger still impaling you there. 

"Fuck," Joel almost laughs it ends, sliding his finger free from the tight fist of your hole to lay an affectionate slap against your ass. His truck comes to a stop and you feel as though you've been pulled from a dream when he cuts the engine and a hand in your hair is pulling you off his length, encouraging you to sit up. You're on your street, you realize, already parked outside your apartment. Joel hastily tucks himself back into his jeans while you take in your surroundings, still buzzing with unrelieved tension. 

On your knees beside him, he finally turns to face you with a blissed-out gaze. You await his praise, certain it's coming, but instead, he places a hand below your chin, fingers coaxing at the hinge of your jaw. 

"Lemme see," he says expectantly.

You smile, parting your lips and presenting your clean tongue for him. Joel smirks. 

"Good girl."

You warm at those words–just like always–as he pulls you in for a kiss, long and deep, leaving you breathless when he ends it far too soon. 

The click of his truck doors unlocking breaks the spell.

"Go feed your damn cat."

You huff, exasperated and far from sated, hopping out of the truck and already teeming with anticipation over what awaits you when you return.

-

A grating voice greets you the second you walk through the door. 

"Hey! You're here."

You're not surprised to find it's Megan, the more overbearing of your two roommates, standing from her place on the couch in the living room. You are surprised to see Deena there, too, though, wringing her hands nervously in her lap and staring at Megan.

You get the unpleasant feeling you've just interrupted a conversation. 

"Uh, yeah," you mumble awkwardly, eyeing the two of them suspiciously as you make your way towards the kitchen. "Just feeding Henry. What's up?"

You think you know, but you feign confusion all the same, turning your back to Megan and rummaging in the cupboards for Henry's food. You hear the familiar patter of his paws against the laminate flooring before you see him, but then he's there on the counter, nudging his sweet face against your wrists as you crack the can and scoop the nasty sludge into his bowl. 

"We need to talk," Megan continues and you finally look up to find she's staring at you and Henry with her arms crossed over her chest. 

"I have a ride waiting," you say hurriedly. You're not doing this now.

You toss the empty can of food into the recycling bin, pat Henry's head affectionately as he eats and make your way towards the door.

But Megan says your name before you can get there, stopping you in your tracks. 

You sigh. 

"I–alright," you decide.

This should only take a minute anyway. You just need to explain, for the hundredth time, that you're still figuring out the situation with Henry. Still working on finding a new apartment since you've stubbornly decided not to take the route of asking your parents to take him in the meantime. You can figure it out, and you will. Yes, you've been putting it off, but...you just need some time.

You cross the room and take a haphazard seat on an ottoman. There's a beat of awkward silence, and then Megan retakes her place on the couch. Deena stares at her feet, her incessant fidgeting putting you uncomfortably on edge. 

Megan takes a deep breath.

"There's no easy way to say this," she starts.

Your eyes narrow. "Okay."

Another excruciating pause, Deena picking at her fingernails, Megan steeling herself with another, long, drawn-out sigh. Your eyes flit between them as an uneasy sense of dread begins to wash over you. 

"We can't wait anymore. We've had to offer your room to someone else," Megan says at last.

And that's–well, that's not what you'd been expecting to hear.

It's quiet for a long moment as you work through what that means, staring blankly between the two of them. Deena avoids your gaze, her foot tapping out a nervous pattern into the floor that's starting to drive you slightly crazy. Megan watches your face as every emotion possible flits across your features, first anger, then confusion, then something akin to panic when it finally clicks. 

"You're kicking me out?"

"Look, I know it's not ideal–"

"Where the hell am I supposed to go? I've been looking for a new place, I just need more time."

The anger seeps back in, betrayal stinging behind your eyes. They can't do this. Can they?

"You've had almost a month to figure out this cat thing," Megan contends, irritation coating her words now too. "And Steve says he'll evict us all if you don't re-home it or leave."

You know–you know that. 

"I was…I'm trying to figure it out."

"Are you? I mean, most of the time you're not even here anyway. We never see you."

"I…"

Your head is spinning, denial setting in while you cling to whatever argument you have left.

"You guys let me move in here," you say meekly. "You knew about the cat."

Megan nods. "We were desperate, too, okay? It was a mistake, and I'm sorry. But we can't lose this place. Do you know how crazy rents are nowadays?"

Yeah, you really fucking do. You just shake your head, fully aware there's nothing more you can say. They've clearly made up their minds. 

"I'm sorry," she repeats. "We can give you another month to find somewhere new. If there's anything we can–"

"No," you cut her off, hastily standing, humiliated and desperate to just get out of there and back to Joel. "It's fine. Sorry. I get it. Um, I have to…my ride."

Megan's nodding again, something like sympathy in her eyes. 

"Of course," she says, dismissive.

You ignore their lingering stares on you as you quickly kiss the top of Henry's head and then all but run out the door, slamming it shut behind you.

-

Joel Miller is an observant man.

He's still learning you, studying your tells. Though, he has to admit, you're somewhat of an open book. Silent in your sadness, stoic in your frustration, tears that well up in your eyes when you're feeling small or angry. He knows. Since that day on the back of the boat, he's known. 

So when you stalk back towards his truck, hop quietly into the seat beside him and buckle your seatbelt with a steely expression, wordless and hard, he knows. 

"All good?" he asks, knowing right away that it's not. You face him, your smile all tight and deceptive. 

"Mhm."

You nod, offering him only a cursory glance before you avert your eyes to the windshield. 

Joel frowns, wonders if he should pry. He thinks you've come to know he won't, that maybe you're in the habit of exploiting that by holding fast to silence when you'd rather not burden him with your emotions. As if you ever could.

You're an idealist, he's discovered. The type to build up a plan in the image of perfection only to deflate when it fails. One crack in the foundation and you come toppling down, walls caving in, imploding in on yourself with spectacular force. 

Not unlike him.

But Joel is adaptable. He's had to be. Whether it was becoming a father at twenty-one, saving Tommy's skin at every turn, or–most unlikely of all–meeting you, he's found a way to manage whatever life has dared to throw his way. To rebuild his plans until they take the shape of something resembling good.

So, he gives what he thinks you need, what he thinks he's always been for you: A distraction. The illusion of perfection.

He turns the key in the ignition, takes your hand across the centre console and drives you out of town. 

-

The tightness around your eyes never fully disappears, your voice always escaping you in this subdued, quiet timbre. Joel, meanwhile, never falters in his steadfast positivity, even as concern claws painfully at his insides with each passing second you keep him in the dark. You smile sometimes, like when he gripes about your choice of barbeque joints or tells you how he'd grown up in a town kind of like this one. But it reminds him of how you'd smiled at him on the plane to Costa Rica. Shy. Vacuous. A little phony. 

Still, he doesn't push it. He walks with you hand in hand all afternoon and talks enough for the both of you, tries to tell himself that when you're ready to share, you will. Because he knows, he knows there's something bothering you. He has to fight with every instinct in his body not to rip the answer straight from your throat, just so he can offer a solution or ten.

But he doesn't, because he knows. That when the time is right, the truth will pour from your mouth like a waterfall, and he'll be there to help you when it does.

It's not until he's pulling up outside your apartment that your anxiety seems to reach a visible fever pitch, your hands pressed tightly together, body tense under the arm he has slung over your shoulder. You're frozen where you sit, but it's not the familiar reluctance he's used to seeing on Sunday nights, that kind of yearning sadness he also feels when it's time to say goodbye for the week.

No, it's something else. Something like fear that keeps you glued to your seat, eyes fixed downwards, not at him.

Joel sighs.

"Hey," he nudges at last, unable to stop himself from tilting your face towards his with a coaxing hand on your chin. Your eyes appear far away, almost black with dread. It's been so long since he's seen them like that, and he fucking hates it. "Where'd you go, sweetheart?"

You shake your head, unconvincing as you frown and attempt to pull free from his grasp. He doesn't let you. 

"Nowhere."

He sighs again and maybe he should just fucking let it go, but his own fears are creeping in now, fear that it's him that's done something wrong, fear that you're not giving him a chance to fix whatever's broken. 

His hand moves to cradle the side of your face, and this time, you don't fight him. Your eyes close and you lean into his touch, soften just the tiniest bit as he lightly scratches his fingers into your hair. 

"I can't help you f'you don't talk to me," he says and it sounds almost like a plea.

You take a deep breath and when you open your eyes, he sees wetness there, glistening under the dim light of a streetlight outside. 

The waterfall crests…

"I have to leave my apartment," you admit in a whisper. 

Joel frowns. "What do you mean? Thought you already knew that."

…and then cascades.

"No, like, I have to leave now. They're giving me a month," you go on, your voice rising in volume and pitch as the wetness in your eyes pools into bonafide tears that spill out into his palm. "I'm not supposed to have the cat–I know I'm not supposed to have the cat. But I mean, they knew too! And they let me move in. I thought they'd have my back if the landlord said anything but now I guess they're giving my room to someone else and I have no idea where the fuck I'm gonna go–"

"Stay with me," he interjects simply.

"Joel."

It's a quiet protest, a tilt of your head and a flatness in your voice as you grip his wrist and pry his hand from your face. Joel just shrugs like it's not some monumental thing, like he's offering you a morning coffee or a ride home from work. 

"I got a spare room," he says but you're already shaking your head. "You're there half the time anyway."

He holds one other truth close to his chest, the fact that he wants nothing more than to have you around as much as humanly possible. That every second he's not with you feels incomplete and hollow and how he hasn't felt that way in god knows how long.

"I can't ask that of you, Joel," you argue stubbornly.

"Well, you're not askin'. I'm offerin'."

You stare each other down, a bittersweet sort of stalemate as he watches a series of emotions flit across your face. A warmth as your tears dry, a hardness as your brows furrow, concern in the way you chew the inside of your cheek and fight with what he's sure is your admittedly admirable longing for independence.

And there's the fear. There's always the fucking fear. Because he knows what the offer implies. It's fast, too much. All of it, all of this, happening so goddamn fast all the time.

"That's like...that's like living together, Joel," you whisper at last, and the fear is there too, in the hushed squeak of your voice.

Joel sighs. He knows.

"M'not sayin' you need to stay forever," he insists. Mostly true. "Just till you figure things out."

He twists to face you, reaching out to toy with the seashell that hangs from your neck, a reminder of when things were easier. It seems to placate you some. 

There's a long beat, Joel smoothing his fingers along the chain of the necklace he gave you while you watch him, deep in thought.

"What about Henry?" you ask at last and Joel grins. He knows he's won.

"I'll survive," he vows, too fast. Fuck it.

You think it through for another breath and then finally, a smile cracks your stony features.

"This is crazy," you almost laugh. Joel laughs too, because it is.

"Too crazy?" Please say no.

"No."

"Good. It's settled then," he says, and it is.

-

Another month passes, and now your every day is this.

Hurried mornings and drives to work, a bottle of cream for your coffee and an endless supply of antihistamines for Joel. Changing leaves and kisses on cheeks and a spare room that's more Henry's than yours. What little belongings you have wind up there too; a forgotten twin bed, a cheap dresser Joel had disavowed as "practically garbage," posters that you'd hang on his walls if you weren't still convincing yourself this is all only temporary.

Joel turns fifty-one and you celebrate with take-out and your best attempt at Blue Lagoons, a neatly wrapped framed photo from Sarah of him and her, years ago.

It gets harder and harder to pretend that you're still just figuring things out with him, because Joel is now undeniably your boyfriend and you are now undeniably his girlfriend and–even crazier–you're now undeniably living in his home. 

Which makes it all the more ridiculous that it's still a fucking secret. 

It's fall now, the days growing shorter and cooler, your hours with Joel spent more often tucked in bed than on day trips to Lockhart. You can't think too hard about it or else it starts to feel insane–the fact that barely two months ago your heart had seemed irreparably broken and now you're sharing a home with another man, a man with whom a future still feels altogether impossible.

It should make you panic, and you think maybe it would…if you weren't so stupidly, unbearably, perfectly happy. 

You know this feeling, this giddy all-encompassing joy, this certainty that nothing this good could ever be bad. He calls you his girl and it's never felt more true. You're his, and you're perfectly content, for now, to stay that way.

But, as ever, reality is tapping incessantly at the doors of your new life, and it's a Friday night in late October when the whole thing threatens to come crashing down.

You lay with your head in Joel's lap on the couch, his fingers playing softly in your hair while some action movie you've both seen a hundred times flashes on the TV. It's routine at this point, these moments of domestic intimacy that will undoubtedly morph into something else once his fingers wander to other places.

You think you feel it now, as he trails his touch down your shoulder, along your arm, finally resting his palm on your hip and squeezing. His gaze drifts from the images on screen to take in your body as your breaths begin to shorten and you nudge yourself a little closer to him.

That's when his phone rings. 

You peer up at him as he reaches over you to the coffee table and glances at the little screen, your brows furrowing when he frowns at the caller ID.

"Who is it?"

Joel clears his throat, and very pointedly drops his hand from your side. "Your dad."

"Oh."

It's stupid, the surge of unease it elicits, the way you sit up and bite your nails nervously as Joel answers the call. 

"Hey, buddy," he says while you hastily turn the TV down a notch or two.

Your worry deepens when Joel turns to you with panic in his eyes and asks, "Right now?" into the phone.

You stiffen–mouth the word, what at him–but Joel is looking over his shoulder, out the window behind you to the street outside.

"You're–? Uh, okay, just gimme a sec."

He hangs up and stands, reaching behind the couch to close the curtains, whispering, "Shit," to himself as he does.

"What? What's going on?" you demand, feeling suddenly frantic.

"He's, uh, stoppin' in to say hi."

"What?"

Your voice rises about ten octaves, and then you're on your feet too, Joel already flitting past you to unlock the front door, peeking through the glass there as a pair of headlights pull into his driveway.

He turns back to you, frozen in the middle of his living room.

"What are we doin' here, sweetheart?"

"I–"

You shake your head, glancing between the front door and the stairs, before your gaze finally lands on Joel, his expression almost helpless. He's leaving it up to you, just like always.

"I'm not ready," you admit hoarsely.

He nods, too understanding for his own good. "That's okay."

But it really doesn't feel like it. It feels cowardly. Guilt and fear, usually suppressed beneath layers of happiness, bubble to the surface in a white hot flush. Joel takes two steps towards and places his hands on either side of your face, steadying you.

"It's okay," he repeats. "It's your call. Always."

"I'm sorry."

"Shh, none of that," he soothes, silencing you with a kiss. "Where's the cat?"

"Hiding, I don't know."

"Okay," he says again. "What are you gonna do?"

You almost laugh, but there's little humour in the sound. "The same, I guess."

Joel smirks, offers you one last parting kiss and finally lets you go.

"I'll come get you when he's gone," he promises but you're already halfway up the stairs, fleeing in a rush as a knock comes at the door.

-

Exactly twenty-six excruciating minutes pass. You know this, because you watch each one pass on the alarm clock on his bedside table. 

Henry's there too, you find, seeking refuge in Joel's bed just like you. You sit with him, legs crossed in the middle of the mattress, and wait. And while you wait, you stew.

It's ridiculous. This is ridiculous. Hiding from your dad like some misbehaving teenager stashing drugs in their closet, as if he still had some kind of power over you. As if the big secret you're hiding isn't the one thing making your life worth living at the moment.

So what are you so afraid of? 

You ask yourself that same question a hundred different times until the doorknob turns and Joel is stepping into the room with a sympathetic smile.

He keeps the door open behind him.

"Hey, baby."

"Hey," you whisper, like you're still hiding. "How was that?"

"Fine," he shrugs. "Gave me hell for skippin' out on golf the past few weeks. Thinks I must be loved up or somethin'."

He's trying to keep his tone light, but something twists in you when he says that word, that one neither of you have said yet.

He's so good. What are you so afraid of?

"Hm."

"Almost had a heart attack when he saw the damn litter box," he laughs.

Panic paints your features but Joel raises two hands soothingly, stepping further into the room.

"It's okay, it's alright," he assures you. "Told him I was cat sittin' for a friend. He didn't think nothin' of it."

You're still frowning, but you nod, hands clamped anxiously in your lap. Joel steps closer, around the side of the bed, close enough to tilt your face upwards to meet his eyes.

"You okay?"

You shake your head. You're so afraid. What are you so afraid of?

"Feel stupid," you mumble.

Joel sighs then, his knees popping slightly as he crouches onto the floor before you, clutching both your hands in his. 

"You're not stupid," he says softly, bringing your fingers up to his mouth to plant a tender kiss against your knuckles. The same spot he'd first kissed you. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

Joel sighs, long and slow. You shimmy on the mattress so you're facing him, squeezing his hands like you're afraid he'll disappear if you don't. He stares at them as he speaks.

"I know…I know you bein' here puts you in a shitty position," he starts. "Hell, I know bein' with me puts you in a shitty position–"

"It doesn't–"

"But," he cuts you off, meeting your eyes at last, something warm and intense smouldering in the soft brown. "I'm not in any rush. Okay? We can keep this under wraps for s'long as you want. I mean that. I'm just–I'm just happy you're here."

You hold his stare, cup his weathered cheek in your palm and let whatever's burning behind his eyes melt into yours. He's doing what he always does, giving you the choice. He's so good. He's so good to you. 

So what are you so afraid of?

"I think we should tell them," you murmur and the smouldering burn turns to glittering anticipation, dulled by uncertainty while he looks for any trace of a lie on your face.

You know he won't find one. 

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"You're sure? 'Cause we can wait–"

"No," you assert, clutching at the greying curls on the side of his head fiercely, tugging him in closer. "Joel, I–I'm happy too. I want them to know. They should–they should be happy we're happy, right?"

He allows himself a smile, and you feel your fears start to fade away. 

"Should," he agrees.

"And if they're not then…then I don't care. I care about you. No more secrets."

"Alright," he whispers, emotion coating his words before he's wrapping his arms around your middle and burying his face into your chest. You hook your legs around him, some noise between a laugh and a sob getting caught in his t-shirt. "No more secrets."

He holds you like that for what feels like hours, knelt before you as though you were some kind of deity, safe in his arms while you stare down the barrel of whatever comes next. 

At last, he frees himself, the energy shifting as he rises up off the ground with two hands on your thighs and suddenly everything realigns. Joel towers over you, strong and solid, so perfect it feels almost criminal to keep him all to yourself. 

His calloused fingers stroke your cheekbones and you stare up at him, worshipful, blanketing his big hands with yours. 

"I'm your girl, right?" you breathe alluringly. 

Joel nods, his voice gruff, "You're my girl."

"Then let's let 'em know."

He hums, almost a growl, hinging to connect your mouths in a searing kiss and–finally–there is no more fear.

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#joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #dbf!joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #your summer dream #vacation!joel #joel miller fluff #joel miller one shot #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x y/n #dbf!joel miller

[inej-ruination-ghafa]

GIVE PEACE A CHANCE - J.M

Warnings: mentions of sex, runaway children?

Pairing: pre-outbreak Joel Miller x fem!reader

Summary: you had never thought that finding s little girl injured in the street would lead to loving a man that you had just met.

Wordcount: 3.1k

The summer sun was sweltering as you walked down the street, shopping bags heavy in your hands as you tried to make it back to your house. The summer of 1997 was too warm for your liking and you couldn’t wait for it to cool down into the fall.

You had just moved into the Texan neighbourhood and didnt know anyone yet; your best friend who you were sharing the house with had met a few people including the new mother Janet and the Adlers who seemed like the classic gossipers. Your introverted nature was challenged here where all the neighbours seemed to be friends.

You placed your bags down at the end of your drive as you tried to reach for your keys in the pocket of your shorts, rummaging round for them and finally pulling them out when you heard a little girls cry.

Your head instantly whipped around as you looked for where the sound came from and when you spotted the little girl in the middle of the street, lying there as she clutched onto her leg, you looked around. There was nobody else coming for her and normally, you would assume that someone was going to come and get her, something in you told you to check on her.

You looked at the little girl as she jogged over. She had dark curly hair that was tied into two pigtails on either side of her head and her face was distorted with the tears. Tears were streaming down her cheeks as she clutched onto her knee and that’s when you spotted the gash along her leg, it was dark with blood and dirt.

Once again you looked around to see if there was anybody looking for the girl and when nobody came at the sound of her cries, you assumed she must have been some kind of runaway and that piqued your interest. You didnt want some little girl to be stuck out here in the heat by herself.

You knelt down next to her and she looked up at you, eyes wide and mouth turned into a frown as she scooted a little bit back, “My daddy says not to talk to strangers,” she said between her sobs, her words coming out in hiccups.

There was a reassurance that she had parents and once again you looked around for them but they were nowhere to be seen and that made you even more worried for the little girl.

You smiled, trying to seem non-threatening, “I just moved onto the street, that’s my house,” you said, pointing at the small bungalow on the corner of the street where you had dumped your bags. You pulled out your key from your pocket to show the house number on and she looked over your shoulder at your house, “See, I’m not gonna hurt you,”

She sniffled, the hand that wasn’t clutching onto her leg going up to her face to wipe her face clean, “You’re the pretty girl my Uncle Tommy was talking about,” she said nonchalantly.

Your face heated up as you looked at her, you didn’t realise that anybody had noticed her and hoped that her uncle wasnt some creepy old perv, “Where is your uncle Tommy?” You asked and she shook her head before turning her head to wipe her nose on her shoulder.

“At home,” she explained between her sniffles but it seemed that your presence had calmed her down because she wasn’t sobbing anymore at the pain from her leg

When you noticed a car making its way across the road, you extended your hand to her, “Let’s get you out of the road kid,” you said and you could see the way she hesitated before taking your hand and allowing you to pull her up.

You helped her up, hand on her shoulder as you ushered her out of the road as the car sped past through the cul-de-sac and towards the exit of the street. She winced when she stepped up the curb before sitting back down on the side.

“What’s your name honey?” You asked and she looked up at you, eyes red from the crying.

“Sarah,” she said and you said your name to her and she repeated, “That’s a pretty name,”

“Thank you Sarah, your names very pretty too,” you said, the pad of your thumb brushing a tear away from her cheek and she smiled at the action.

You were still curious as to why this little girl was crying in the middle of the street and why she was out here all by herself. You looked around again and nobody was coming to get her so you began to fear the worst.

“What’s happened to your leg?” You asked and she looked down, sniffling to herself.

“I was looking for fireflies in the garden and followed them out here and I fell over,” she explained and you nodded, looking at her knee. It was just a bit of a graze that needed to be cleaned up but she must have been in pain because you could see her wincing every time she touched it.

“Does that hurt?” You asked and she nodded, her demeanour turning shy.

You pressed a kiss to your pointer finger before placing it on the wound and she grinned, “You feel any better?” You asked and she nodded, a chuckle on her lips.

You smiled at the girl and looked around again, hoping she didnt see the worried crease between your brows.

“Where do you live honey?” You asked and she pointed at the house only a few doors away from where you were sitting. It seemed like a nice home with a porch and a big bay window that pointed out to the street.

“I'll take you home yeah, your daddy’s probably worried about you,” you said and you picked her up, the little girls legs wrapping around your waist and your hadn coming under her legs, supporting her.

As you walked across the street, you could hear yelling and assumed that it was the new couple thaat had moved in. It was a typical suburban street and as you looked around, you wondered what kind of dream you were living in.

“How old are you Sarah?” You asked as you walked the distance to her house and she looked over at you, her arms wrapped around your neck.

“I’m six,” she said and you nodded.

“You’re such a big girl,” you said and her face lit up, “I’m 23,”

That’s when you heard the door slam open at Sarahs house and some man stood at the door, yelling into the house, “Damn it Tommy! You don’t leave the gate open!” He exclaimed.

He seemed stressed out, his hands running through his hair and down to his beard as he scanned the area for his daughter and when his eyes landed on you holding the little girl in your arms, his shoulders sunk as all the tension left him.

The man immediately started running towards you and you finally got a good look at him. He was an attractive man who was probably only a few years older than you who had a grey hair or two growing from his hair - probably from the stress of this runaway child of his. He had deep brown eyes and a deep crease between them from where he was furrowing his brows.

You couldn’t imagine what he was thinking as he saw some random woman holding his child in the middle of the street and you walked faster to get there.

“Sarah, there you are babygirl,” he said, holding his hands out and you seamlessly passsed her over to her father. He ignored you for a second as he doted on the little girl, his hand coming to her face to smooth out the curls on her forehead, “What were you doing out here,”

“I was looking for fireflies daddy, and I fell over,” she said and her father instantly checked her over, spotting the graze on her leg.

He tutted to himself before bringing his hand back to her face, “My brave girl, does it hurt?”

She nodded her head before turning to look at you, “But our neighbour made it better,” she said before saying your name.

Her fathers attentions turned back to you and you felt like as he looked at you, eyes narrowed, that the entire gaze of the world was on you and he was somehow looking into your soul. Your face lit up under his gaze, the warmth spreading over your cheeks as you lifted your hadn up for a wave.

He repeated your name back to you and you nodded. You could almost see the cogs turning in his mind as he tried to figure out what your intentions were so you clarified it for him, “I was putting my groceries away when I heard her crying,” you explained.

Once again, you watched some of the tension fall out of his shoulders and the crease between his brows lessen. He was about to say something when he heard someone call his name out, Joel.

“Joel! Did you find her?” The voice asked and you turned to see a man standing at the doorway of the house, one hand holding onto the doorway and the other by his side.

You assumed that this other attrctaive man was his younger brother, the uncle tommy who yous attention you allegedly had caught. Joel turned back to look at him and you saw his face contort into one of annoyance.

“Yeah, no thanks to you! Get dinner set up, we’ll be in soon,” he called out and Tommys eyes locked with yours.

“Can she stay for dinner daddy?” Sarahs voice asked innocently and you turned your attention away from the man at the door to the man standing here.

His eyes scanned you over again and you could already tell that he was an untrusting man who wasnt sure what you wanted. But as he looked at you, he couldn’t deny that you were beautiful but you seemed younger than him and at thirty, he wasnt used to having dinner with beautiful girls.

“I don’t want to intrude,” you said, taking a step back as your introverted side came out, clear and apparent.

Sarahs eyes were wide as she looked up at her father and he sighed as he looked back at you, “We have enough for one more if you want,” he said, his tone gruff and almost reluctant.

A smile tugged at the corner of your lips and you nodded, “Let me put my groceries away and uh, ill be back,” you said, your hadn reaching out hesitantly to brush a piece of hair behind the girls ears and her face lit up.

Joel watched as you rushed back to your house and he walked back into the house, looking down at Sarah, “Let’s get your knee cleaned up okay,” he said and she nodded.

He carried her into the bathroom, sitting her down on the toilet seat as he pulled the first aid kit out from under the sink. Gently, he brushed a wipe against the dirt on the graze, looking up to see the tears welling up in the girls eyes - he hated to see her cry.

He placed a colourful themed plaster on her knee before pressing a kiss to the plaster and watching as the tears left her. He wiped a tear away before helping her to her feet, taking her hand in his.

“She’s very pretty daddy,” she said as she looked up at him.

He shrugged, “I guess so,” he said as he looked away from his daughter and out of the window to see you lightly jogging back over to his house.

As soon as you had left his house, you knew that he was a special man with a very lovely little girl. You rushed into your house, fumbling again with your keys as you rushed to make it inside so that he wasn’t waiting too long.

You sprayed a bit of perfume on, trying to look nice as you brushed your hair out. You didnt want this man to think that you were a slob. to say that you were instantly attracted to the man would be true, the second you laid eyes on him you had fallen completley for him even though you didnt know what he was like.

You knew your best friend would never let you live it down if you didnt at least try to look nice and shoot your shot. You rushed back to his house, trying not to look too eager as you knocked on the door.

Sarah was the one who opened it and before her father could scold her for opening the door when she didnt know who was outside, the words were taken from his mouth. It was just a quick bit of a makeup and a nicer outfit but he thought you were stunning.

“You want to come in?” He asked and you nodded. He watched as you walked in, merrily chatting to Sarah and he cursed himself. He hadnt felt these feelings bubbling up in his chest since Sarahs mother had left him and he knew what had happened to him then.

He hadnt dated in six years, hadn’t kissed a woman since Sarahs mother and although he got plenty of action and was hit on by every single mother in the school district, he hadn’t dated anyone in a while.

He pulled out the chair for you at the table and you smiled, sitting down and thanking him. Sarah rambled on about something that she was reading and he watched as you listened intently, asking questions and stoking her joy.

As Tommy and Joel started to grab the pasta that he had made for dinner, the younger brother had a smirk on his face as he saw the way that Joel watched you.

“Ive never seen you look at a woman like that before,” He said with a teasing smile on his face.

Joel turned to him, a glare on his face, “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, picking up a kiddy bowl of pasta and another one for you.

He placed the bowl down on Sarahs mat and smiled at her before turning to you, “I hope you like it, you’re not allergic to anything right?” He questioned.

You blinked, thinking over what he said before shaking your head, “No, nothing, and this is lovely, thank you for inviting me,” you said, trying to hide your nervousness.

“You want wine ma’am?” Tommy asked and you looked at Joel before nodding, watching as the man poured you a glass of red.

He pursed some for Joel and himself before putting a glass of milk down for Sarah, “So, when did you move into the neighbourhood?” Joel asked you.

You finished your mouthful of food before looking at him, “A few weeks back, me and my friend just finished our gap year and I’ve got a job locally,” you explained. His eyes went wide and you could tell he was wondering how old you were and you chuckled at his reaction, “I’m twenty three,”

He nodded, a slight smile on his face as Tommy smiled ast his brothers reaction, hed ever seen him this comfortable in front og a girl he had just met before and knew that you were someone special but he could also tell that he was insecure about the slight age gap.

Once dinner was over and Sarah had said goodbye to you, you stood at the door, the evening setting sun illuminating down on you, “Thank you so much Joel, I had a really nice night,” you said, a smile on your face, “And if you ever need a babysitter, I’m just across the street,”

“I might just have to take you up on that, good night,” he said and you repeated the sentient before taking a step outside of the house.

Joel looked back at his brother who stood in the doorframe, shaking his head at his brothers inability to make a move. There was a moment where he hesitated as he looked at you start to walk away.

He had been scared ever since Sarah’s mother to fall in love but there was something about you after you’d only known each other for a few hours that he knew he could trust. He was worried about introductions a woman into Sarahs life but she had already warmed up to you so he wasnt too worried.

He called out your name and you turned back, a smile still evident on your face from the dinner “Would you like to have dinner sometime? Without Sarah?” He asked and your face lit up.

You nodded a little too enthusiastically, “I’d love to,” you said, walking back and digging around your purse for a pen before scribbling your house phone number onto his hand, “Call me sometime, or you know where i live so,”

Your voice trailed off and you leaned over, pressing a kiss to his cheek that made both your faces heat up in a blush before you started to walk away.

You were halfway across the street when you turned back to look at him still standing in his doorway, waiting for you to go into your house and you smiled to yourself at the situation. You could already tell that you were going to like him a lot.

I loved writing this and was thinking of doing s sequel of their date and something just because I think that'll be cute, let me know what you think :)

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #joel miller #joel miller x poc!reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fluff #pre outbreak joel miller #joel miller fanfic #joel miller blurb #joel miller fic #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal #tlou fanfiction #tlou fanfic #tlou fandom #the last of us fandom #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fic #the last of us show

[thatsdemko]

love thy neighbor - t.wolff

masterlist

pairings: Toto Wolff x fem!reader

warnings: mentions of ideas not intended for minors + next door neighbor trope + NO age gap!(for the sake of the fic both reader and Toto are relatively close in age)

a/n: been working on this one for a hot minute! hope you enjoy xx

you never hated your neighbor. to be fair, to hate someone you have to know their name and all you know is he has a extravagant life style to afford vintage Mercedes Benz cars and have shelves full of trophies. call yourself a snooper, but the man across the way was never good at hiding his life from your window.

his lifestyle was far different than anyone in the cul de sac you live in. half of them being retired home owners, plus you two. middle aged adults with paychecks able to afford the expense of a home in Monaco.

you don’t question why he has so many trophies, and you’ll never have the time, but it doesn’t stop your morning coffee imagination at the dinning room table. you have the perfect view inside a part of his space.

yes, whoever created these two houses must’ve been complete creeps or family, because nobody ever has windows that are directly into another persons house. but you never questioned it, you just closed the blinds at night or whenever his light was on too early in the morning for you.

today was a morning he was dressed to the nines. a blazer, white dress shirt(typical fashion of his), and dress pants. he lays two ties out and you watch him decide which one to wear. you feel awfully embarrassed when his eyes catch yours, but he sends a slight wave, and you hold up a finger indicating which option was best.

you can’t hear it, but all you see is him laugh and it makes you wonder what it sounds like. is it husky? more from the belly? is it contagious?

you need sleep, these thoughts about your neighbor are certainly overpowering any senses that coffee can’t seem to help.

—

he’s gone most weekends. his vintage Mercedes sits in the driveway, top on in case of a rainstorm, but his lights in the house are off. he’s got endless amounts of packages piling up outside his doorstep that would have you eager to rip them open if they were yours.

a long day of grocery shopping and dinner at your parents in town took a lot out of you. you shove your key into the lock of your door, hearing the rumble of the infamous neighbors Mercedes speed around the cul de sac until he pulls into his driveway and cuts the engine.

your door is half open, you’re halfway in it, but it’s like you’re watching something out of a movie scene. the way he gets out of the car is like in slow motion. his rolled up white dress shirt sleeves have creases across the arms. his brief case sits on the top of his car as he slams the door shut behind him rudely awakening your little stare.

a blush forms to your cheeks as you quickly slam your door behind you once you’ve shoved yourself inside. your back rests against the door, heart beating against your chest it’s almost as loud as the knock that comes next.

you jolt away from the door, moving yourself onto your tippy toes you see him. he’s holding one of your bags of groceries you left at the door step, he’s got one hand clutching his brief case, the other gripping the plastic bag full of embarrassing items (ie: tampons and other toiletries).

if you could hate one person right now, it’s you. how could you let yourself get so immersed in him that you literally dropped what you were doing and stared like a little girl in a candy shop?

you swallow the little pride left in you and slowly open the door up a bit. you get a peek at the lines across his face, most likely due from stress, and the way his brown eyes find you. you can feel the thudding of your heart against its cavity.

“I believe you dropped these.” he extends the bag outward towards where you stand, you’re sandwiched in the little space you gave yourself. you extend your hand out, skin briefly touching before you pull away.

“I’m Toto, I don’t think we’ve properly met. and you are?”

his accent. it’s so unfamiliar to your ears. you never would’ve expected his voice to be as deep but light as it was. it was smooth like butter on toast to your ears, it made the hairs on your arm stand up, your back straighten.

“y/n.”

a sparkle shines in his eyes. it’s one you notice once you’ve said your name. he repeats it softly back to you in a question, like it’s not what he was expecting, and he likes it. he always pictured you with a unique name, or maybe one that was a bit basic, but yours fits you perfectly.

“well I better get going. it’s nice to meet you.” he waves you off before he slips into his own house and both of your doors slam in sync.

now that he had a name, there was no stopping your imagination.

—

mornings were the same. they always were.

freshly brewed coffee in front of you, as you watch Toto dance around his kitchen balance a smoothie, a laptop, and a muffin. the man was always busy once the sun shined through his blinds. you wonder if he ever truly gets sleep.

like usual, your mind shifts to him. does he drink coffee in the morning? how many of those white dress shirts does he own? what does his house smell like? does he make a good smoothie?

these questions, once again, couldn’t be drowned with a cup of caffeine, but when he glances over his shoulder and flashes you a wave, the questions silent themselves.

he’s handsome.

you knew this, your heart knew this, your mind knew this, and certainly your body knew this. the hum between your legs was never going to stop when he looked your way.

you lift your coffee cup into the air before taking a sip from the hot contents. it soothes your brains rambles down and puts the energy you need right back into you. the work day was just beginning, and Toto was just heading out the door.

what a shame, you wished he could’ve stayed. oh the things he missed when he’s gone.

—

the evenings are a bit lonely when the sun goes away and the stars crawl in, you watch the rest of Monaco get ready for lavish celebrations while you stick to a movie and a snack.

he’s just arrived home. you hear the rumble of his car in your quiet cul de sac. he kills the engine and before you know it there’s a knock at your front door. it’s rare, you never get visitors, unless for the elder neighbors begging to help you with your garden, but even then they knew to never knock and just help themselves. so this knock was awfully unusual.

unlocking the door to see Toto was a surprise. he stands there, brief case in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other, with a goofy grin.

“I don’t really drink wine, did you want this?” he asks, extending the expensive bottle of red outward towards you. he’d noticed in your bag of toiletries the bottle of cheap red wine, and when he’d been gifted the rather expensive one from George for his birthday, he knew someone who might enjoy it more.

“you didn’t poison this, did you?” you take the bottle, and push open your door further to invite him inside.

“it was a gift from work, he would know better to not poison me.” he steps inside your house and allows you to close the door behind him. he gets a good look inside your place, the endless amount of candles, minimal paintings hung on the walls, and your infamous kitchen. the one he’s stolen many glances across at.

“and who is this he we should be blaming if we die?”

“George Russell.”

you chuckle at the name, “he sounds very posh.”

you quickly pull out two wine glasses while he begins to undo the cork; once opened, he pours the liquid into the glasses for the both of you.

“with the money he gets, darling he makes posh look silly.”

you feel the butterflies rumble around your stomach, a blush creep across your cheeks as you take the glass from his hands, skin once again touching for the briefest moment.

“and how much is he making exactly?” you ask leading him to your deck where two Adirondack chairs are placed looking out at the sky. you don’t tend to come out here often, as the chairs were a gift from a friend, but the stars were shining just bright enough to enjoy.

“six million euros.”

you spit out the wine in your mouth, luckily it landed back into the glass, but it wasn’t a very classy move to make. not around the man you’ve been crushing on since you’d moved in. this was the most he’d ever spoke to you, and at this rate, he might not again.

“he could buy Monaco.”

“I could buy Monaco.” he corrects you with a mischievous smile that makes your heart pick up, and your stomach do a back flip. he looks good like that.

“alright what are you mr. Forbes?”

he laughs. it’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever heard. it answers your own question, the laugh sounds like it comes from his heart and his belly. it’s a genuine emotion.

“well I have been on Forbes, but is money really a concern to you?”

you shake your head violently at the question. you lean closer to the edge of your seat, legs crossed to try and tune out the hum in between your thighs, “no, never.”

“but I must say, you have to make a lot to afford those vintage Mercedes Benz’s that you drive.” you add to your statement. watching him nod, he takes a look up at the stars, it gives you a chance to take in his side profile. the stress creases across his forehead, the smile lines around his mouth, the dimple in his cheek. every part of him is jaw dropping.

“you don’t come out here very often, why’s that?” he turns to you, it’s his turn to take in your beauty as you stare up into the stars. they were much brighter away from the city, you always liked that the most.

“I didn’t notice you watched me that closely.” you joke, a smile forming to your lips that reaches your eyes. he’s never seen you smile much, you’re usually grumpy in the morning or lost into your thoughts while drinking your morning coffee. he enjoys this much more than the toiletry run in where you both were a bit on the edge of anxiety.

“I’m not home very often. I try to get out when I can, and you should too. I grill, I know how much you enjoy looking at me.” he says, and hesitantly places a hand against yours. his palm is warm, but nothing like clammy, just the kind that heats up your skin in the middle of winter. the skin to skin contact ignites the flame in you to burn like a warning signal, one that he notices. this man did many things to your brain.

“I’ve never seen you in anything but this shirt.” you remove your hand from underneath his and reach over across your chair to the plastic buttons holding the dress shirt together.

your fingers carefully undo the second button, the top one had already been undone since he doesn’t like to wear it that neat anyway. you can feel his breath hitch, his heart beat is pounding against your knuckles that gently glide against his skin.

“do you wear this all the time?” you pull away, resting back against the chair and watch him fix himself.

“it’s work attire.” he finally breathes. you both can hear him exhale all the pent up emotions. he turns to you, fingers reaching towards your collarbone where the charm of your necklace sits. it’s his turn for payback.

“and who bought you this lovely charm?”

“my mother.” it comes out a bit snippy. his knuckles against your collarbone slip away and for a moment you curse yourself for being so hostile to such an inviting man. one you’ve wanted for so long to get to know.

“who taught you how to talk to your neighbors like that?”

“my father. he was an ass.”

he barks out a laugh taking the last sip of his wine. you don’t want this to be over, and you’re thankful it’s not when he offers to pour refills for you both.

you watch him walk inside your house leaving you alone with the beautiful stars of the sky and your tempting thoughts. having him this close wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t any good. you’d want him as much as he was making the efforts to show, and the buzz in between your legs was loud enough for him to hear. he wanted you too. but what would this do for your friendship? truthfully, nothing. Toto Wolff wasn’t a friend, just a neighbor who sometimes gets your mail instead of his. you could live looking across the window knowing he fucked you senseless.

what drama this cul de sac would have, and it seems they haven’t experienced this much since you two came around and played ding dong fuck every other night.

I guess you both took loving thy neighbor a little too seriously, but you’re sure Jesus wouldn’t mind the kind of love you were making.

tags: @oconso @xcicix @imsorare @weasleyswizardwheezes-blog @monzabee @lpab @frreyaa

want to be apart of my taglist? let me know here!

#toto wolff smut #toto wolff x reader #toto wolff imagine #toto wolff #toto wolff fic #toto wolff x you #toto wolff x y/n #toto wolff fanfic #toto wolff drabble #toto wolff fluff #toto wolff imagines #mercedes amg f1 #mercedes amg petronas #f1 x you #f1 fic #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 imagines #f1 x female reader #f1 x oc #f1 x y/n #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 fic #formula 1 x y/n #formula 1 x oc #formula 1 x female reader

[writers-potion]

International Slang, Slang, Slang!

I'm sharing this list of slang in different languages (English, British English, French, Spanish, Italian, Japanese, Malaysian, Russian, Hindi) to use for dialogue:

English Slang

LOL = laugh out loud

OMG = oh my god

Noob = newbie

LMAO = laught my ass off

SFW = Safe work work

HMB = hit me back

XOXO = hugs and kisses

Txt = text

msg = message

cuz = because

kinda = kind of

outta = out of

'bout = about

C'mon = come on

'em = them

lil = little

lotsa = lots of

nope/nah = no

wanna = want to

dunno = don't know

lemme = let me

TBH = to be honest

gotcha = have got you

jack around = waste time

jillion = an immense number

nuke = destroy, delete

bushed = extremely tired

fab = fabulous

chicken = coward

grabbers = hands

grub = food

vanilla = plain

peanuts = very little money

British English Slang

skive = lazy or avoid doing something

knackered = tired

nicked = stolen

bugger = jerk

zed = equivalent to zzzzzz

nosh = food

dog's bollocks = awesome

bog roll = toliet paper

nutter = crazy person

punter = customer/prostitute's client

fiver = 5 euros

toff = upper class person

taking the piss = screwing around

pissed = drunk

wonky = not right

gutted = devastated

Tosser = idiot

Cock-up = screw up

Bloody = damn

Wanker = idiot

Fancy = like

Lost the plot = gone crazy

Kip = sleep or nap

Bee's knees = awesome

Dodgy = suspicious

Wicked = cool!

Know your onions = knowledgeable

Chuffed = proud

Bespoke = custom made

Give you a bell = call you

Hoover = vacuum

Tad = little bit

French Slang

Spanish Slang

Tu (me) fair chier) = (literally: you make me

shit) You are pissing me off

Ca me saoule = I'm sick of this

J'en ai ras le cul = I'm sick of this

Fringues = clothes

Grailler = to buy/steal/take/eat

Crever = to die

Crevant = exhausting

Gerber = to throw up

Defonce = stoned

Glander = to procrastinate/to do nothing/to

lay around

Va craver = go die

J'ai la dalle = I'm hungry

Avoir la flemme = not wanting to do

something

Japanese Slang

Tio = dude or guy

Guay = cool/great

Currar = to work

Fome = boring

Value = okay or sure

Colega = buddy or friend

Pasta = moneu

Majo = nice or friendly

Flipar = to be shocked

Bocachancla = gossip

Raro - weird

Papear = to eat

Resaca = hangover

Plomazo = boring

Loco = crazy

Chafa = Lame

Baka (ばか) = Stupid or idiot.

Bucchake (ぶっちゃけ) = To be honest or frank.

Chiruru (チルる) = To chill or relax.

Chō (超) = Very.

Dame (だめ) = No good or not allowed.

Dasai (ダサい) = Uncool or out of style.

Disuru (ディスる) = To disrespect or talk down about someone.

Egui (えぐい) = Awesome or incredible.

Gachi (ガチ) = Serious or real.

Ganba (がんば) = A short version of “ganbatte,” meaning “do your best” or “good luck.”

Guguru (ググる) = To Google something.

Gyaru (ギャル) = A fashion-conscious young lady with tanned skin and long nails.

Honto (ほんと ) = Really or for real.

Ii kanji (いい感じ) = To have a good vibe or feeling about something.

JK = High school girl.

Kimoi (キモい) = Creepy or gross.

Kira kira (キラキラ) = Sparkling, cute, or beautiful.

Kireru (キレる) = To snap or lose your temper.

Maji (マジ) = Seriously or really.

Moteru (モテる) = To be popular or attractive.

Mukatsuku (むかつく) = To be irritated.

Nampa (ナンパ) = To chat or pick someone up.

Sugoi (すごい) = Amazing or incredible.

Uzai (うざい) = Another word for annoying.

Wakannai (わかんない) = I don’t know.

Yabai (ヤバい) = Anything from “awesome” to “oh no.”

Russian Slang

Долбоеб (dolboyob_) = Fool, Idiot

Иди на хуй (idi na hui) = F*ck yourself

Сволочь (svo lach’) = Trash, Scum, Jerk

Жопа (zho pa) = Brat (typically used towards children)

Гавно (gav no) = Sh!t (used more when speaking to yourself rather than to insult someone)

лох (loh) = Stupid, Idiot, Sucker

Гандон (gan don) = Condom (Whilst calling someone a condom in English is just not a thing, it’s quite common in Russia. Used to refer to someone weak or just plain irritating)

Чушь собачья (chush’ sobach’ya) = Bullsh!tter

Malaysian Slang

Трахни тебя (trakhni tebya) = F*ck You

Ти дегхенераат (ti degheneraat) = You’re a degenerate

Отыебис от меныа! (otyebis ot menya!) = Move your ass / Get the f*ck away

чертовски дно (chertovski dno) = F*cking bottom (would be used when referring to hitting rock bottom.)

Bo jio = use when referring to friend who didn't invite them to a gathering (e.g. 'why you bo jio?)

Ýum cha = hang out over drinks or food at local coffee shops

belanja = I got you covered

Potong Stim = killjoy

Boss = waiters refer to their cusomters as boss, and customers call out for waiters using the same term!

Tapau/Bungkus = take-away

Ang Moh/Mat Salleh = "Western foreigners"

Kantoi = being cuaght red handed

Paiseh = shy or embarrased

Walao Eh! = brother

Macha = good friends (equivalent to "fam" in English)

Alamak! = shock, surprise, or frustration (punctuate with 'face palm' for dramatic effect)

Lah = This one really has no meaning, used to add "emphasis" and "flavor" to sentences. It is rather addictive...

Kawan baik = best friend

Jom = let's (inviting someone to do something together)

Best gila = crazy good, crazy fine (like "amazing!" in English)

Kantoi = busted

Fuyoh = WOW or OMG

Cincai = whatever

Italian Slang

Ma Dai = come on, imagine, stop it (express surprise, amazement)

Chi Se Ne Frega? = Who cares?

Scialla = stay calm

In Bocca Al Lupo = Good luck

Come Il Cacio Sui Maccheroni = like sheep's milk for the macaroni

Come Te La Passi = How is it going?

Trescare – Have a flirt

Camomillarsi – Calm down

Sbalconato – Be out of your mind

Incicognarsi – Get pregnant

Citofonarsi – Call someone by surname

Tirare tardi – To be late

Inciucio – Intrigue, a cheat, a mess

Un carnaio – Many people together in the same place

Abbioccarsi – falling asleep unexpectedly

Bordello – Problematic, confusing, and chaotic situation

Fottìo – Something that has happened or occurs in large quantities

Svalvolare – Loss of control

Rosicare – To be envious of something

Scazzato – A state of mind of malaise

Che pizza – a boring or bad thing

Sbroccare o sclerare – Getting angry and making a scene

Raga – Guys

Tranqui – abbreviation of the word “calm,” it means to stay calm

Che Figata – Cool

Meno male! – Luckily or thank goodness

Che schifo – How disgusting

Vivere alla giornata – Live in the moment

Pisolino – An Italian slang word that means “afternoon nap”

Hindi Slang

Yaar = Friend, used at the end of sentences for casual social interactions (including shopkeepers/autorickshaw drivers)

Achcha = good/okay/really?

Thik Hain = okay (+ head nod)

Arre = hey (with a higher tone = surprise, lower tone = exasperation)

Bas = that's it

Chakkar = dizziness

Funda = fundamentals

Ghanta = Yeah right

Jugaad = hack

Bakwaas = nonsense

Chalega = That will do

#how to write #writers and poets #writing #creative writing #poets and writers #creative writers #writers on tumblr #let's write #writeblr #helping writers #writerscommunity #resources for writers #writers #author #on writing #writer #writer stuff #writing prompt #writing tips #writing advice #writing inspiration #writing community #writer problems #writer things #writer community #writer on tumblr #female writers #writerscreed #writers block #writers community

[scrumptious-delusion]

let’s get married

series masterlist

summary: an undercover mission is nothing new for you or bucky. however, using the cover of a newly-wed couple is.

pairing: bucky barnes x agent!female reader

warnings: swearing, humour, fluff 🥺, mention of: murder, injuries, knives, and blood.

length: 4.1k

a/n: third part in the little bird series. written for my 3k celebration, the prompt is bolded. don’t hold the accuracy of the russian against me, i just used google ✌.

You peek up at Bucky out of the corner of your eye. 

His gaze is focused on Charlie as they deliver the mission briefing you’re too preoccupied to listen to.

This is the first time you’ve seen Bucky in six weeks.

The first time you’ve seen him since he sent you a whole basket full of flowers.

The first time you’ve seen him since realising you love him - that you’re in love with him.

No big deal.

As always, Bucky’s thick beard is neatly trimmed in the shape of his jawline, while his long hair is tied in a bun at the base of his neck. Gazing lower, you admire how the short sleeve of Bucky’s shirt stretches around his muscled right bicep that you’re eye level with and fight back a longing sigh.

Bucky’s hot. You’ve appreciated that fact since the start of your partnership.

Of course you’ve dabbled in a fantasy or two in the privacy of your bedroom, long before your recent revelation. You’re only human. A human with hormones and desires. 

I get horny, okay?

In hindsight, you should have realised those harmless daydreams were the product of something bigger. Of something you were deliberately ignoring until it slapped you in the face, smelling like flowers.

You can’t help but wonder how Bucky - the man who takes everything in stride, would react if you just blurted out those three words to him right here, in the middle of a mission rundown.

I love you.

“What?”

The world comes to a screeching halt with cartoon sound effects as you’re wrenched out of your thoughts so violently someone might as well have poured freezing cold water over your head. 

Darting your gaze back to Bucky’s face you’re relieved to see his attention is still directed at Charlie, meaning you didn’t accidentally declare your love for him out loud.

But if Bucky wasn’t speaking to you, that means he was speaking to Charlie.

He’s never spoken to a handler before, and not only that, he sounded…

Dismayed.

“What?” You repeat urgently, needing to know what was said.

You’re witnessing world history. Nothing fazes Bucky. Your first mission together well and truly proved that.

What’s the number for the Guiness World Record people?

Charlie looks from Bucky to you with a raised eyebrow. “I said, you’ll be using the cover of a newly-wed couple.”

“What?”

[THAT AFTERNOON]

Number seven of Daisy Court sits at the very end of a cul-de-sac and is essentially a copy-and-paste of every other house on the street.

The two-storey house is grey with white trimming and a dark, wooden front door. The concrete driveway you currently stand on leads to a one-car garage, while a pathway veering off to the left takes you up to the front porch.

The lawn is a vivid green and if you were to pull out a ruler you’re certain every blade of grass would be the Homeowners Association approved length of two inches.

For the foreseeable future, this is home.

Turning your head to the right, you look up at your new husband.

“Welcome home, honey.”

The lame joke only earns you some side-eye.

Along with the new house and husband are the names, Elise and James Prescott. At first you didn’t think it fair that Bucky got to keep his name but you dropped the subject when he - unlike you, was forced to undergo a make-over.

Bucky’s beard exists only in memory now.

His hair has been shortened and styled to curl around his ears, thick and fluffy. Every time your gaze lands on it your fingers twitch with the urge to feel.

The short hair and clean-shaven face make Bucky seem younger and less over life. 

Well, when he’s not frowning at least.

“Hello neighbours!”

Oh boy.

You and Bucky share a look.

Spinning around, you showcase a megawatt smile. “Hi!”

A man in his early thirties jogs up to you both with a friendly grin. “My wife is gonna be so mad she missed your arrival,” He laughs “She baked lemon bars for the occasion.”

Sean Weaver.

You recognise him from the surveillance photos in your information packet. One of the mission’s two main targets.

“Oh, that’s so sweet of her.” You croon, holding out your hand. “I’m Elise and this is my husband, James.”

My husband, James.

Your heart pounds out a sporadic rhythm at those words.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, I’m Sean.”

For a married man, Sean’s eyes linger a little too long in all the wrong places as he shakes your hand.

When he accepts Bucky’s hand next his face pinches into a slight wince.

It’s at that moment a car pulls up along the curb and an over-excited woman exits from the driver’s seat.

“Don’t tell me I almost missed the first introduction!”

Betty Weaver.

The mission’s other main target.

“Hello, hello,” The redhead grins, rushing up to wrap you in a hug. “I’m Betty, it’s so nice to meet you!”

Sean laughs at his wife’s enthusiasm. “Pumpkin, this is Elise and her husband, James.”

Betty releases you from her death grip, only to target Bucky next. 

You can’t stop the laugh that shoots out of you when Bucky’s face momentarily displays his horror before falling unreadable once more as the smaller woman squeezes him.

Thankfully she steps back after only a moment, falling into her husband’s side.

“It’s been so long since we’ve had fresh faces around here.” Sean states.

Betty nods in agreement before asking “How long have you two been married?”

“A week.” You smile, wrapping your hands around Bucky’s closest bicep and pressing the side of your face into it.

This is how couples act, right?

A gasp, “Newly-weds, that’s so sweet!” A squeal, “Is this your first house?”

“It is.” You grin.

Leaning forward to poke Bucky’s chest, Betty orders “Don’t forget to carry her over the threshold mister.”

“I’m sure he was planning on it before I interrupted.” Sean chuckles goodnaturedly, looking down at his wife. “How about we leave the newly-weds to it?”

Betty pouts, but nods. “We’ll get properly acquainted once you’ve settled in.” She promises.

“I look forward to it.” You beam back.

“Well, until then neighbours.” Sean nods, ushering Betty back to her car. 

You wave goodbye, one hand still around Bucky’s bicep as you allow him to lead you towards the house.

Three steps take you up onto the front porch and before you can even comment on Betty’s words, Bucky effortlessly sweeps you off your feet, cradling you in his arms bridal style. Instinctively, your arms loop around his neck, bringing your faces close together.

A squeal in the distance tells you the Weaver’s are still watching.

However, it’s hard to focus on anything when Bucky’s dark blue eyes are level with yours and only inches away. The back of his neck is warm against your forearm, and you can’t get over the feel of his bare skin on yours.

When Bucky speaks, his voice is low and rough. “Keys.”

Right.

Keeping your right arm around his neck, you dig the house keys out of your back jean pocket with your left hand. Bucky bends down when you get them free, allowing you to unlock the door and push it open.

He doesn’t straighten until he’s passed under the door frame and then he uses his foot to close the door behind him, blocking out the Weaver’s prying eyes.

Bucky lowers you to the floor slowly, waiting until you’re sure-footed before letting you go. 

A tense, unfamiliar air lingers between the two of you.

“Well,” You scratch at the back of your neck “I think that went well.”

Bucky hums, watching you.

You’ve never struggled to fill a silence before, but suddenly something that’s so natural for you seems so hard.

C’mon, think of the mission. There’s gotta be something you can -

“Betty seems so nice, it’s hard to believe she’s murdered like fifteen people.”

[THE NEXT MORNING]

You find Bucky standing on the porch, looking out at the quiet neighbourhood as the morning sun breaks over the horizon.

A frown is etched between his eyebrows as he glares at the road.

“What did the street ever do to you?” You mumble sleepily, holding out a cup of coffee. 

Bucky looks down at the drink, his eyes flicking to yours for a moment before he accepts the mug and stares at the road again.

“I hate cul-de-sacs, there’s only one way out and the people are kind of weird.” Bucky answers.

That has to be one of the longest sentences he’s ever spoken.

“Really? But everything about you screams suburbia.” You reply sarcastically.

Bucky’s mouth twitches.

“So…” Don’t ask, don’t ask. “I guess that means, you know,” Do not ask. “The whole wife and kids thing doesn’t appeal to you then.”

The mug pauses for a second on its journey to Bucky’s mouth before continuing. You watch as he takes a large sip and wonder if he’s going to respond.

Suddenly his dark blue eyes are piercing into you. “Do I have to like cul-de-sacs to want that?”

Why am I flushing?

“No, of course -”

“Morning neighbours!”

You both turn to see Betty jogging in place near your letterbox, waving eagerly.

“Morning!” You smile, waving back.

Grinning, Betty continues on her run. 

Bucky twists around and heads back inside, sighing “I gotta get ready for work.”

Right.

James Prescott is an accountant at a local firm where he works five days a week from eight in the morning until five in the afternoon, like a good, upstanding American citizen.

You try not to laugh too much at the image of Bucky in a small office, surrounded by chatty co-workers and demanding customers. 

As funny as it is, you can’t help but feel a little bad, having struck the better end of the deal once again.

Elise Prescott is an aspiring author and with her husband’s steady income, a stay at home wife.

Meaning, pretty much all of the mission’s reconnaissance falls solely on you.

Biting your lip, you try and fail to hold back your smile. 

“Goodbye honey.”

With his back to the street and any spying neighbours, Bucky doesn’t hide his glare. “маленькая птица,” He warns quietly.

“Have the best day at work.” You continue, speaking louder than you normally would because you’re positive people are listening in.

Unable to resist, you raise your right hand and lightly tap his cheek. “Go make those numbers your bitch.”

Closing his eyes, Bucky inhales very, very deeply.

Your giggle has his eyes popping back open.

Okay, I’ve tormented the poor man enough.

Rocking up on your toes, you press a kiss to the clean shaven cheek you just tapped. “Bye.” You say more earnestly as you take a step away from him and the car. 

Bucky studies you for a moment before climbing into the car and driving away. You wave until his car has disappeared down the street.

For just a second, the whole charade almost feels real.

[THREE DAYS LATER]

People always underestimate how boring and tedious undercover missions can be. 

Since Bucky isn’t home for nine hours each weekday, you spend your days alone, re-reading the same information about your targets while staking them out.

You’ve introduced yourself to the neighbours that border you - the Weaver’s and the Newman’s, and they’ve introduced you to their neighbours and so forth.

Each day you take two walks around Daisy Court. The first in the morning after you see Bucky off to work and the second in the evening, just before Bucky returns home.

It’s a good way to make observations, start conversations, and familiarise yourself with everyone’s routines - particularly the Weaver’s.

Sean works from home, which means you’ve had no chance to snoop, but Betty has been your saving grace. Though she works in the city, she’s home by four every afternoon and she always joins you on your evening walks. It’s easy to pull snippets of useful information from her and today she provides you with the best news yet.

“After weeks of nagging him, he’s finally booked a doctor’s appointment.” 

“Good!” You exclaim, “It’s always better to be safe than sorry.”

“Exactly!” Betty nods. “I’ll let you know what the doctor says tomorrow afternoon, his appointment is at quarter to two.”

No one will be home.

The two of you reach your driveway just as Bucky pulls in.

Glancing down at her watch, Betty sighs “I wish Sean was as punctual as your man.”

You don’t need to look at the time to know it’s exactly 5:15.

The driver’s door opens and Bucky’s long legs swing out before the rest of his towering body unfolds from the car. 

Betty nudges you forward with a grin like she does every afternoon and you give her an eye-roll over your shoulder but approach your husband nonetheless.

“Hi honey.”

You know there’s a chance Bucky might kill you once this mission is over for all you’ve put him through while the neighbours are watching, but you’re having way too much fun to consider stopping. 

“How was work?”

Bucky’s left eye twitches at your question as he shuts the car door and that makes you feel bad.

Sitting in a cubicle and being surrounded by people is going as well as one would imagine for him.

Leaning up on your toes, you press your now usual kiss to his cheek.

Bucky’s shoulder’s drop just slightly. “It was fine sweetheart.” He mumbles, placing a hand on your lower back.

Sweetheart?

Nodding at Betty, Bucky steers the two of you up to the house.

You’re too dazed to turn around and wave goodbye.

[THE NEXT AFTERNOON]

Peering out one of the second floor windows, you watch as Sean’s car disappears down the street. You’ve been on pins and needles all day waiting for him to leave for his appointment. 

Time to shine.

Rushing to your backyard, you use a strategically placed garden statue to boost yourself over the fence and into the Weaver’s backyard.

Using a lock pick to open their back door, you enter cautiously. 

Once you’re certain there’s no alarms for you to trip, you begin scouring the house. The layout is identical to your own and when you eventually wind up in the office upstairs it’s like striking gold.

You take pictures of every document outlining transactions, shippings, and other incriminating information. Every photo is automatically uploaded to a secure server. 

Just as you’re flicking through a notepad for any useful scribbles, you hear the front door shut.

Fuck.

Looking down at your watch, the numbers 2:07 glare back at you.

Seriously?

Of course Sean Weaver would have the world’s quickest doctor’s appointment.

Alright, think.

The office is probably one of the first places Sean will go to so you can’t risk slipping out now in the hopes of getting around him to head for the back door. Turning to the window behind you, you push it open and analyse the drop.

Nope.

However, the trim that goes around the house exterior just below the window is thick enough for you to stand on with the tips of your toes - it’s a risk though.

The sound of Sean’s footsteps on the stairs makes the decision easy.

Straddling the windowsill, you dangle your right leg out and lower it until your foot makes contact with the trim. Gripping the house exterior with your right hand and the window frame with your left, you swing the rest of your body out, placing your left foot beside your right on the trim.

Using your left hand, you pull the window close.

Okay.

Your whole body shakes with the effort of holding yourself on the small ledge. Your hands are sweating and there’s no real purchase on the house wall, just the small grooves in the panelling that you grip at with your fingertips.

It shouldn’t surprise you that you slip.

Somehow you keep the scream trapped in your throat as you fall.

Miraculously, you manage to grab the trimming you had been standing on, effectively halting your descent. However, the sudden stop jars your arms and causes your body to swing into the house.

You knew there was no real chance of you hanging there long with your weakened arms, but now your drop to the ground isn’t as great - but fuck does it hurt.

It’s your knees that absorb the impact of the fall before you land on your left side with a thump. If it had been grass beneath you it wouldn’t have been so bad. Of course, It’s just your luck that you’ve fallen into a garden bed of pebbles, your forehead connecting with the sharp edge of one.

With no time to waste, you crawl as fast as you can to the fence.

There’s no advantage of a boost this time around, so you jump as high as you can, grasping at the top of the fence with both hands. Using all of your remaining strength, you heave yourself up and over.

You drop unceremoniously on the other side, having no energy to slowly lower yourself to the ground.

This particular fall doesn’t hurt as much, the grass making for a much softer landing.

In the safety of your backyard, you lay unmoving on your side, trying to catch your breath as your body throbs all over. 

That was close. 

Too close.

You tell yourself you’ll get up on the count of three and when you miss that cue, you count to three again, then again, then again -

Bucky will be home in three hours.

Waiting for him sounds like a much better plan.

“Y/N.” 

The voice is unmistakable, making you frown.

Holy shit, that was a fast three hours.

“маленькая птица.” The edge of panic is clear in Bucky’s tone as you hear him drop to the ground beside you before rolling you onto your back.

“Hi honey.”

Bucky releases a rough exhale you think might have been a laugh if he wasn’t so concerned. 

“You’re bleeding, what happened?” His words are sharp, demanding an answer. 

Just as your mouth opens to give one, Bucky’s lifting you into his arms for the second time this week.

God, I could get used to this.

“Y/N.”

Oh right.

“Sean came home earlier than I expected.”

Bucky’s grip tightens around you as you recount your less than stellar escape.

“How come you’re home early?” You ask after you’ve finished.

Instead of answering you, Bucky lowers you onto the bed you’ve been sharing and then disappears into the bathroom.

Groaning, you sit yourself up on the edge of the mattress. “I got some really good intel.” You call out to him.

Bucky re-emerges with a handful of first aid supplies that he places next to you on the bed.

Crouching between your legs, he pulls a knife out of -

Where did he just pull that out of?

Also, “What are you -”

“Stay still.”

Before he’s even finished speaking, Bucky’s slicing his knife up the right leg of your jeans, from ankle to thigh. 

He does the same to the left leg of your jeans, displaying your knees for his perusal. They’re red and already starting to bruise, but there’s no blood.

Ignoring the tingle his slashing sent up your spine, you say “You know, you could’ve just asked me to take them off.”

You’re starting to wonder how hard you hit your head and if you’re actually speaking as Bucky once again doesn’t respond, instead turning his attention to your arms. 

Bucky wraps a hand around each of your wrists, raising them above your head to scrutinise your forearms and hands. They’re scratched up real good and bleeding lightly.

The next ten or so minutes pass by quietly as Bucky cleans your scratches with careful movements.

He leaves the cut on your forehead last. 

Bucky’s metal hand cups your right cheek, the cold sensation an odd contradiction to the seemingly normal looking human hand you can see, courtesy of a cloaking device from Stark Industries for undercover missions like this one.

He cleans the cut above your left eyebrow as gently as he can but the pressure still causes you to wince.

Dark blue eyes cut to yours for a moment before focusing back on your injury.

You’re thankful for how lethargic your intense escape has made you, because if you were in an alert state right now you know your heart would be beating furiously at Bucky’s contact and close proximity.

Something he would’ve heard clear as day.

In fact, you’re feeling so lethargic your eyelids are beginning to droop.

“Hey,” Bucky murmurs “You with me?”

You hum, “Just tired.”

His metal thumb brushes over your cheek as he keeps working on your cut. “Gonna have to stay awake for a while, ‘til I know you’re okay.”

Eyes still closed, you huff.

“I’ll make you pasta for dinner.”

Your eyes shoot open at that and Bucky’s mouth tilts up in reaction.

“With garlic bread?” You ask hopefully.

Bucky’s nod makes you beam.

With a full stomach and Bucky’s permission to finally sleep, you crawl under the soft, white sheets of the king sized bed.

Curling onto your side facing Bucky, your eyes fall shut instantly, tiredness washing over you.

Reaching up, you gingerly touch the bandage Bucky placed over the cut on your forehead and your heart warms as you recall how he tended to you this afternoon.

“I never thanked you for the flowers.” You whisper suddenly into the darkness.

Despite calling Bucky not even an hour after you received them, you never said the words “thank you”. It had been the sole purpose of your call, but for some reason you couldn’t get the words out, couldn’t acknowledge what he’d done.

Acknowledging the flowers scared you, because it also felt like acknowledging your love for him - to him.

“You didn’t need to.” Is his simple reply.

“I did,” You disagree “They were beautiful Bucky, I… No one’s ever given me flowers before.”

The admission feels intimate, and you suppose it is. If you weren’t in such a drowsy state you wouldn’t be saying any of this.

When Bucky doesn’t respond after a couple of minutes you stop fighting the urge to sleep.

“Я куплю тебе столько цветов, сколько ты захочешь, маленькая птица.”

Already drifting off, you mumble “English.”

There’s a short pause.

“I’ll buy you as many flowers as you want, little bird.”

You fall soundly asleep at that moment, the confession heard only in your dreams.

[THE NEXT MORNING]

Pulling out a thick wad of junk mail from the letterbox, you close and lock the small hatch. 

“Morning neighbour.”

Forcing a smile, you turn to face Sean as he approaches. He’s shirtless, wearing only long pyjama pants.

Meh. Seen better.

“Hey Sean.”

Coming to a stop in front of you, he leans against your letterbox. “Any plans for the weekend?”

“Um,” You make a thoughtful expression “I’m not sure, I haven’t asked James yet.”

Grinning, Sean states “Being newly-weds, I think the plan would be obvious.” Leaning closer to point at the bandage on your forehead, he winks “Though it looks like maybe you’re getting a little too wild.”

Jesus.

You can’t decide whether to knee him in the balls or punch him in the nose, which sums up almost every interaction you’ve had with Sean.

The guy is a serious creep, something his file failed to mention.

You’re thinking of a response when a large hand slides over your right hip, settling on your stomach and pressing you back into a hard body.

Oh.

“Morning Sean.” There’s nothing friendly in Bucky’s tone.

Without waiting for a response, Bucky’s other hand weaves into your hair and tilts your head back until your eyes lock with his.

“I thought I told you to stay in bed.” He husks.

You’re certain your eyes bulge out of your head. 

It’s a good thing Bucky doesn’t expect a reply because there is not a single thought in your head. Just that sentence in that tone repeating over and over.

Fantasy fuel.

“Back inside.”

Yessiree.

Giving Sean a brief nod, Bucky takes you back to the house.

Stepping onto the porch, you’re still trying to remember your name when Bucky grunts beside you, gazing over his shoulder.

The arm around your waist tightens and the next thing you know, Bucky’s pulling you into his chest and kissing you.

Bucky’s mouth muffles your noise of surprise as his soft lips press against yours, absolutely bewitching you.

It’s the greatest kiss of your life and it only lasts five seconds.

Pulling back, Bucky’s dark blue eyes dart between yours, his pupils blown wide.

You can’t tell if it’s you or him who lunges forward to meet in another kiss. 

This kiss isn’t gentle, rather it’s bruising and greedy. Your hands find purchase in Bucky’s hair, the junk mail forgotten on the ground as you’re walked backwards into the house, Bucky kicking the door shut behind him.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x agent!reader #scrumptious3k #let's get married

[that-struggling-writer-lh]

A Flower For Every Secret Ch 5. Carnation -

No proofreading, this was a monster chapter to write, and a lot of filler for the next. Busy with a lot of stuff this week. OC is sort of a self insert here?

WARNINGS : MINORS DNI. mentions of intimate partner violence, brief joke about pew pews, alcohol consumption.

Word Count: 5652

“Who was that guy you brought to Colleen’s wedding? Word around the office was that you were single, Carillo said he thought so, anyway. Said you weren’t sure if you’d even go without a date.” The question came from a well-known office busybody, Kelly, as she blew a big pink bubble with the gum in her mouth. I made a mental note to stop telling Carrillo, and anyone else for that matter, about my personal affairs on their stops to my desk on his way in and out of the building. 

I felt the blush creep up regardless of trying to stay busy at my computer. Sunday, Joel and I had “coincidentally” bumped into each other grabbing our papers at the same time, it was hard to sleep at all with the lingering feelings of him on my brain and on my body. He had smiled warmly at me and we met each other at the mouth of each of our respective driveways, just friendly neighbors having a chat, thanking the other for the invitation to a colleagues wedding. Polite small-talk about the weather, the upcoming holiday, Sarah and her friends, who had spent everyday together by their pool, how I’m welcome over anytime. 

“Joel is my neighbor.” I attempted to deadpan, clicking at the keys while reading written reports. Data transfer from the field gave me at least something to occupy my brain other than Joel.

She giggled and leaned over the glass separator, “He’s not like any of my neighbors. He’s handsome, huh?” 

I let my fingers stall on my task and flicked my eyes up to her, “Well, he’s my neighbor. Lives across the street with his kid.” the mine, definitely holding a double-meaning.

She hummed in response, a curt, small noise, “Single dad, huh? Not my first choice, personally.” her gum snapped against her teeth.

“Kelly.” I started, signing out her name in exasperation, leaving a pause in the air, raising my eyebrows at her, “Why the sudden interest in my love life?”

She shrugged and chewed her gum loudly, “Just makin’ girl talk.”

I pursed my lips and closed the divider, effectively ending the conversation.

I heard her voice, muffled behind the thick glass, “It’s new, huh?” she was still smirking.

“Go away, Kelly.” I couldn’t hide the grin that spread slowly across my face, and she knew she won as she turned on her heels, clicking with every confident step she took.

I smoothed my pencil skirt and tucked my hair behind my ear before exhaling slowly and continuing on with my work. Reports weren’t going to file themselves.

The fourth of July, as Carol had told me from her garden beds in front of her house, always made the cul-de-sac pretty much packed from dawn well through the night. In the big turn-around at the end of the street, tables would be filled with food, drinks, desserts, ending with fireworks after the stars came out. With the holiday landing on Sunday this year, the only lull in the neighborhood would get would be when families disappeared for church early in the morning. 

I spent all of Saturday baking dozens of cupcakes to bring to the turnaround, and decorating them simply with swirls of red, white and blue, topped with sprinkles in matching shades. The Texas heat made it impossible to be comfortable with the oven stuck at 320 degrees all day, even with the roaring sun it was cooler outside than in, chugging sweet iced tea in the shade of my small back porch was the only thing keeping me cool.

I kept my attire casual, a half up ponytail tied with a red bow, white shorts and a navy blue tank top. I surely did not want to stick out like a sore thumb amongst the patriotic neighbors. Joel had made no attempt to actually speak with me beyond small talk all week, and I was beginning to get frustrated. Though, in his defense, his truck would be gone before I left and after I returned from work most days. I’d been blaming it on him owning his own business. Trying not to pine after him pathetically.

I made the first trip down the street to deliver 2 dozen cupcakes to the party, happily exchanging pleasantries with a few neighbors before excusing myself to retrieve the rest when Sarah and her friend, Anna, nearly knocked me down while rushing by on bicycles. Sarah stopped dead in her tracks and looked at me apologetically, “Sorry, we’ll pay more attention next time.”  she sucked in her breath.

“You’re okay, Sarah.” I waved the action off dismissively, “just be careful, I know there’s no car traffic tonight but there’s a lot of little kiddos around and older folk. You can’t be zipping through the crowd like that.”

“You’re right.” she sighed, rolling her eyes, “you sound like Dad, though.”

My heart lurched at the mention, “hey, where is your old man anyway?”

“Going to the store with Uncle Tommy.” She explained before Anna announced she was ready to go raid the appetizer table.

I made the second trip without so much as a howdy from anyone.

Walking back up the street the final time, I spied Tommy’s truck parked right next to Joel’s in his driveway, the brothers laughing together as they exited the house, Tommy’s arms full of paper bags nearly overflowing with food and drinks.

I tried to not notice how nice Joel looked in his ball cap and casual navy blue shirt. I just looked down at the pavement, folding my arms and walking up the driveway.

“Hold on, Tommy.” I heard his familiar drawl as I ascended the steps, “Hey, Sweetheart. Been meaning to catch you,” with the prying eyes of the neighborhood tucked away down the street, he had no problem gently taking my elbow in his hand to turn me towards him.

I furrowed my brows, “Oh, haven’t noticed.”

He scoffed a little, looking up the street to the busy party, the sun still about two hours from making its descent, “You free?”

“Just bringing cupcakes down to the party.”

“Okay.” his eyes flicked over my face, brows furrowed in concern as I popped the door open, entering the house, leaving the door open as an invitation for him to follow.

He tracked me through the living room and into the kitchen, where I handed him three clamshell cases of cupcakes and he stacked them up in his arms, “Make yourself useful, Miller.” I stated plainly, still having not looked at him properly.

“Hey… Sweetheart?” He seemed to chew on his question thoughtfully, not sure if he should speak or not.

I hummed in response, not trying to play cold, but trying not to seem like I’d been waiting on him all week.

“I’m real sorry I haven’t really reached out after… I’m not trying to… What do they call it these days… Ghost you.”

I snapped my eyes to his, waiting for him to finish, when he didn’t I shrugged, “I’m not obligated to your time, Joel. You have Sarah, your work. I was busy with work anyway. Had a lot of paperwork to do this week. You know, with the holiday. Wanted to make sure I had nothing they could call me into the station for.”

He nodded, sticking his tongue into his cheek, “I understand.”

“I suppose it’s partially my fault.” I rolled my shoulders back, straightening my posture, “We haven’t really swapped contact information, you know. Aside from the fact we could probably see into each other’s houses if we try hard enough.” 

He stifled a chuckle, “Sure. My fault, too. You’re so close after Sarah’s asleep I could just.. Throw a stone over and hit your door. I just-well.” he sighed, I waited, my worried brow relaxing, “-It’s been a real long time since I’ve… Tried to get out there. In any real sense of that phrase. I mean, I’m no prude, but-”

I nodded in understanding, “I figured. When we first had that big conversation over dinner at my place. I could tell that… For you, Sarah holds all of the stars in her eyes. You’re a father first. Nobody else can matter like that.”

His eyes softened and he adjusted his weight on his feet, “Thank you.” 

“We can take things slow, Joel. I won’t push. I don’t plan on pulling away, unless you want me to.”

I waited a few moments too long for his response, when none came I started toward the front door again, he hadn’t moved his feet from the spot in front of the fridge, “I meant it. Last week, when I said I would like you to come by again. Not have to rush like that. Maybe dinner with just me and Sarah.”

I turned toward him, his face had warmed with a pink flush, “For you? I’m free anytime after five, and weekends obviously.”

He exhaled like he’d been holding his breath and nodded, following me out of the house.

Joel and I walked down the street together this time, while he relayed a story about Tommy and his trip to the tiny market a few blocks away, how Tommy was almost denied being sold beer due to his expired license and a new cashier who had never met the pair who frequented the shop, how Joel had to swoop in and vouch, showing him the matching surname on his ID. 

I giggled at his dramatic retelling as the noise of the neighborhood grew louder, until we joined the cliques of our little slice of the planet and Sarah found Joel, latching onto his waistline with her scrawny arms, begging him to let Anna sleepover just one more time this week, pretty, pretty please!.

He, of course, can never tell his sweet daughter no. So long as she sat and had dinner with the family, he turned to me after with a soft gaze and asked quietly, “Will you join us, too?”

I responded with a nod, trying to suppress the way my heart lurched at the offer, with all of the prying eyes of neighbors. It was another small step to be in public together. 

Tommy and Maria were loading their paper plates with burgers and side dishes, Joel seamlessly falling into step behind, grabbing a plate for me as well, telling me to fill up on anything I wanted.

I accepted the offer gratefully and did the same as the others, anything that looked good landed a spot on my quickly piling plate, “Make sure you grab some of those cupcakes at the dessert table, she worked real hard on those, I’m sure.” he nudged my side with his elbow.

Maria had laid a blanket out on the grass, staking our claim to a patch of grass past the border of the sidewalk, in perfect view of where the firework display would be later.

I smiled shyly as we all settled onto the blanket, and Maria and I exchanged pleasantries. Sarah talked about how her summer break was going, how in five weeks she couldn’t believe she’d be forced back into a classroom. “Good, keep your brains from rotting out of your head.” Tommy said through a mouthful of food, “You crazy kids are always running around the neighborhood. About time you get back to routine.”

Joel nodded in agreement, “You can’t be a doctor without a good education, Sare-Bear.”

Sarah groaned as she stabbed some pasta salad onto a fork, “I don’t wanna be a doctor, Dad. That was so two years ago.”

“Well excuse me.” he drawled.

“You’re bright enough you can be anything you want, Baby.” Maria pointed her fork at the pre-teen girl that sat criss-cross at the edge of the blanket.

I nodded as well, but didn’t feel it was my place to add anything in. Sarah went on about her plans with Anna for the night, crafting new bracelets and watching a new movie her friend had picked up to rent earlier in the day.

After the meal, Joel and Tommy went to go search for more beer in the garage, leaving me with just Maria as Sarah quickly lent herself back to her group of friends.

Maria looked at me with a curious expression after we were left on our own, “How are things?” she glanced behind her shoulder at Joel’s form slowly shrinking around the crowd of neighbors, then back at me.

“I think okay.” I shrugged, “Slow moving, but that’s not a bad thing. Still just getting to know each other, I think.”

“He has a lot on his plate.” she nodded, “Always has.”

I nodded in understanding, sipping from a bottle of water, “It seems that way, he told me about how the whole… Dating thing just hasn’t really worked. Always busy with Sarah and work.”

She gave me a tight mouthed smile, “You’re not worried?”

“About?”

“How if things don’t work you own the house across from him? Might be awkward.”

I shook my head, “No.”

She let out a soft hum and I began picking at a hangnail I only just noticed on my thumb, “Would be hard for Sarah.”

It took a lot of strength not to roll my eyes, “All anyone ever talks about is Sarah… I know she’s his universe but… what about Joel? When does Joel get a say? When does Joel get to be happy? When does Joel get to relax, have fun? Sarah is a sweet, smart girl. You know that, everybody can see it.” I tried to keep my voice neutral, but it was impossible to keep the edge at bay, “Joel is kind. Hardworking, seems by all accounts I’ve witnessed honest, not to mention good looking. Sarah is first to everybody. We aren’t talking about marriage or anything, but Joel can be a priority just as much as Sarah can.”

Maria ticked her jaw to the side, “Tommy just  said he’s been talking about you to him while on job sites, and I… I just worry-”

“Rightfully so. He and Sarah are lucky to have people who worry about him, but Sarah is also old enough to know the basics of how… things work in the adult world, I’m sure. I’m sure there’s been times she wanted a female influence that wasn’t her aunt, or her friends’ mothers. He and I are still… working things out, haven’t even been on a real date yet, unless you count the wedding. There’s no pressure here, but I do like him.” 

She considered my words but didn’t respond, just looked to the side of us as Tommy and Joel’s cackling laughter could be heard, I turned to their direction with a smirk, watching Joel slap Tommy on the back, they had twin goofy grins on their faces and beers in their hands. 

“Hey, Doll.” Joel greeted as he returned to his spot next to me, resting his hand on my thigh now that Sarah had gone off with her friends again.

“Hey, Joel.” I feigned a smile and turned my attention back to him.

With the brothers back, conversation flowed more organically, and Tommy and Maria both took the opportunity to get to know more about me. The small details about the town I had come from in New England, that Texas was a perfect reprieve from harsh winters and slow seasons. That I didn’t really have any family, and therefore nothing to lose with moving halfway across the country. I liked my quiet time, my books, baking, and a simple life.

Eventually Tommy and Maria were pulled off by a small group of their friends who had joined in, friends of friends of neighbors. It seemed the more drinks that flowed the more people showed up for the display.

Joel and I held down the fort - being Maria’s picnic blanket. Laying on our backs in an otherwise mostly unpopulated stretch of grass. The volume of the music had started increasing, as did the volume of everyone else's conversations. 

“I’d like to take you out.” Joel interrupted a stretch of comfortable silence.

“Like, on a date or with a gun?” I joked.

He turned to face me with furrowed brows and a wicked smirk, “You think you’re real funny, huh? Course on a date.” he shook his head.

“Well,” I laughed, rolling onto my stomach to get closer to him, propping up my chin with my palm, “Just wanted to clarify, Miller.”

“Of course a date. A real date. Not a wedding, not dinner at each other’s house. You ‘n me. Restaurant or something. Figure out something else, too.”

I smiled and nodded in response, reaching over him to grab a neatly folded napkin leftover from dinner, “You have a pen?” 

“I’m a contractor.” he smirked, digging into his front pocket, pulling out a pencil, pen and permanent marker.

“You just carry those around? All the time?”

He shrugged, “Would it turn you on if I said yes?”

I laughed and playfully pushed him back over before grabbing the pen from him and carefully writing my number on the flimsy paper, “Here you go.” I handed him the napkin and he studied it with a smirk.

“Not a fake one, I hope?”

“You know where to find me if it is, don’t you?”

He looked up to the sky, now seeming to burn with soft shades of pink and orange, “I suppose I do.”

I had figured we’d been in the clear, having avoided nosy Carol until this point, but a shadow soon obstructed the warmth the remains of the sun offered, “Hey, kids!” she announced herself.

Joel and I looked up in unison, “Hey Mrs. Johnson.” he greeted her for the both of us, “Enjoying the holiday?”

She nodded in answer, “Looks like you are, too.”

“It’s a beautiful day,” I smiled at our neighbor, “Nice to get everybody together. I meant to tell you, your carnations are looking gorgeous.”

She gave a genuine smile before answering, “Almost time to cut them down for bouquets. They’ll make someone happy, I’m sure, and make room in my garden for something else. Sweetheart, there’s some drinks over there, Greg set up a sort of bar with one of the tables. Makes a mean margarita.”

“Thank you, Carol.” I answered, “I might take you up on that offer, actually. Care to join me, Miller?” I stood and reached my hand down to help him up.

He grabbed my hand and stood with a groan, as we approached the table a dozen or so neighbors perched at, all giggling with drinks in their hands, Joel greeted Greg with a firm handshake, without even a hello, Greg started as if Joel had been in conversation the entire time, “Oh, Buddy, that work you did in my bathroom has held up beautifully. No issues still. Felt like I was constantly having to have things worked on in there.”

“Well, because I did it right, Greg.” Greg was probably twenty or thirty years our senior, with kind eyes, sparse hair and an affinity for parties from what I’d heard. Like many of my neighbors, so far, I’d only briefly met him in passing. I knew faces and names, but nothing of substance.

He poured into a shot glass and handed me the small cup of clear liquid, without so much of a greeting, “Here, Dollface, this is for you.” 

“Thank you.” I nodded and let the feeling of straight vodka burn my throat. I shivered at the taste, immediately reminded of my too crazy freshman year of college.

“How are you liking the neighborhood now that you’re all settled?” Greg’s wife, Lisa asked from over the rim of a nearly empty cup.

“I love it, everyone has been so nice.” I smiled at the faces around the table.

“Good, not often we get new faces over on this end, especially young ones. All the young people are moving out, further into the city or leaving Texas entirely.”

A man hummed in response, nodding almost solemnly.

“I like it, it’s quiet. Working in the city is enough for me, I like to be able to separate at the end of the day.”

“What do you do, again?”

“She works for the police department. Front desk.” Joel answered for me, and his ears turned a shade pink, he covered it up by taking a long drink from his beer.

Greg smirked at Joel and gave me another pour, “Good benefits in a job like that, but stressful with all the crap that goes on in Austin, I bet.”

I nodded, though I kept my eyes on Joel, and he kept his trained on me, “It’s tough sometimes, but it stays pretty quiet aside from officers and agents and lawyers running in and out. I do a lot of paperwork, computer stuff, and sometimes direct calls if someone doesn’t know which department to call.”

Greg nodded before passing the glass back to me, and I didn’t flinch this time as I welcomed the burn of alcohol, setting the glass back on the table, “Carol tells me you make a mean margarita?”

I was happily tipsy by the time the sun went down, with jokes, innuendos, neighborhood gossip and stories fresh in my mind, Joel and I returned, giggling back to the abandoned blanket. Joel checked a note scrawled on a napkin, “Tommy had something going on in his neighborhood they forgot about, they left.” he explained with a lazy smirk on his face as he laid down on the blanket, now cold from the night air.

I hummed, “and Sarah?”

“I saw her on our way over here, she’s with Anna’s folks, the girls had some sort of handheld gaming thing they were playing on.” I laid down next to him and dared to lay my head into the crook of his arm, snuggling in close in what little privacy the moon and stars offered, he took a slow breath in and let his arm sink down across my back, he started rubbing slow, soothing patterns over my shirt.

Conversation around us settled into excited, quiet chatter about the display that was to be expected, how many people contributed to the display, and how long it would last. I listened intently to the noise around me, along with the even breathing from Joel’s chest, “You can learn a lot about our neighbors from just sitting back and listening, huh?”

He nodded, his chin pressed to the top of my head, “We’re a simple folk around here.”

I hummed quietly and turned my gaze up to him. No matter what lighting, no matter what setting, Joel always seemed so effortlessly good looking. It was almost unfair how even with just the moon, his eyes shone, how angular he was in just the right spots. 

He turned to face me and smirked, “You staring at me?”

My face felt heated and I looked away, “Sorry.”

He let out a noise that may have been a chuckle, but took his free hand, tilting my face back up to his, his thumb tracing a soft line over my cheek, jaw, neck. “You’re so beautiful.” he murmured, a slight rasp to his voice.

“Joel-” I started, but couldn’t finish my thought as he hushed me with a kiss, just as the first shriek of fireworks sang from the ground up, pop, pop, pop.

I pulled away to see the bright glow shimmer in his caramel eyes, before it dissipated and was replaced with another pop, pop, and fantastic red coated us in the cool of the night, “What?” he asked, still just inches from each other.

I shook my head and leaned back in, bathed in blues, greens, whites, every color imaginable while our neighbors wow’ed and awe’d at the display in the sky. I’d never cared much for firework shows. But with Joel’s hands on my back and his lips skimming across my face and neck, it really gave a new meaning to the way kissing someone can be described as fireworks in your chest. Everything with Joel had felt electric from the first time I saw him. His first polite Howdy, Ma’am, I’m Joel. Joel Miller.. 

I relished in the feeling of his teeth on my jaw, it was over all too soon as we both remembered where we were. Who was potentially watching. I was sure if Sarah was going to hear about her father kissing anyone, she’d want to hear it from him, not some neighborhood kid out to embarrass her.

We maintained our separate spaces until the end of the display. Each bang, pop, and hsss, and every swath of color filled me to the brim with happiness. I didn’t want to move from our spot. 

Joel walked back with me, with Sarah and Anna in tow, the girls giggling about something funny another friend had done, groaning about how a boy chased them with a worm. Joel smirked at me, rolling his eyes, “Kids.”

I returned his smile as Sarah and Anna ascended the front porch without even checking for Joel, closing the door behind them.

“Thank you for today.” I looked up at his towering figure.

He shrugged, like it was no big deal, “Of course. This is the first year that Sarah sort of… Took care of herself for the day-if that’s the right way to put it. It was nice to focus on someone other than her. Has been nice, I guess.”

“Well, I gotta head home. I’m expecting a call tonight.”

“Oh? From who?” he quirked an eyebrow up.

“Oh, you know. Nobody too special. Just some guy with thick curly hair, big brown puppy eyes. Someone who I’m sure will be busy with two rambunctious kids way too hyped up on sugar.”

He chuckled and leaned down to press his lips to mine briefly, hand pressed to my cheek, “Sounds like an important call, you might want to go head in and wait for it. Shouldn’t be long before those kids crash down from all that sugar.”

I smiled and chased his lips as he pulled away, and he granted me another kiss, deeper this time, grunting against my mouth, “You sound pretty sure of that.”

“What can I say? He knows his kid.”

He ran his hand from my jawline down all the way down to my waist, pulling me flush against him and kissing me a final time before releasing me. He was silent in the middle of the street as I walked up the driveway and the steps to my front door, “Hey, Sweetheart?”

I turned back to face him, “Hey, Miller.”

“You looked real pretty today. You.. look pretty every day.”

I couldn’t help the blush that crept up, and tried to stifle it by pinning my lower lip between my teeth, “Not so bad yourself, Cowboy.”

He huffed a laugh and turned on his heel, walking up the path to his house, the main lights all glowing out into his yard, “Alright, girls. Snack, teeth, bed. It’s way too late.” I heard him half-shout over rambunctious laughter from the main room as his door opened and shut, sealing them all inside.

I smirked to myself before turning in myself; washing my face in the single basin sink, taking my hair down, brushing out the grass and knots acquired from laying out in the sun most of the day, stripping down and slipping into loose sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt that the years hadn’t been kind to. Just as soon as I flicked off the lights and retreated to my bedroom, the phone rang from it’s cradle in the kitchen. I’d never jumped up to reach a phone so fast. The clock read it was after ten now.

“Hello?” I smirked against the phone, cradling the hard plastic between my cheek and shoulder as I stood in the dark room.

“This wouldn’t happen to be a sweet little doll I know, would it? Long hair, sorta short in stature. Killer ass.”

I laughed into the phone at Joel’s familiar drawl, “You are pushing your luck, Joel Miller.”

He answered with a deep chuckle, and I heard a rustling sound from his end of the line, “Pushing my luck, might be my middle name. Glad to know it wasn’t a fake number, after all.”

I hummed in answer, bringing the cordless phone down the hall to my bedroom, settling between the comforter and sheets, flicking the lamp on, “Like I said, you know where to find me if it was.”

“Tempting regardless if it was fake or not.”

I bit down on my lip and nestled down into the blankets further, cocooning myself in the soft, warm blends of fabric, “If only you hadn’t agreed to let Sarah have a friend over, maybe next time you can convince Anna’s folks to keep Sarah.”

“Tried, Sarah misses my Sunday breakfasts when she’s gone.” he chuckled into the phone.

“Joel Miller the chef, who knew?”

“I don’t just build houses, Sweetheart, I can build a mean plate of breakfast. Pancakes, eggs, bacon-”

“-Sausage?” I added a flirty lilt to my tone.

There was a shuffling noise again, I could picture his dimples as I heard the smile in his honey-like voice. Syrupy sweet. “For you, pretty girl, anything you want.” he took a deep breath before adding, “You in bed right now?”

“What if I am?”

A soft hum, “Makes two of us,” another deep inhale, “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about last week.”

I swallowed my smirk, taking a moment to calm the way my heart fluttered, “Me, too.”

“Been a long time since I’ve had a hard time staying away from someone.”

“I know the feeling, trust me.” I hesitated, “How long for you?”

He scoffed, “Trying to embarrass me? Like I said before, I’m no prude. There’s been times,” he seemed to hesitate, “I saw someone seriously about five years ago. Moved in and everything.”

“Wow, what happened?”

“Didn’t wanna play stepmomma. Or whatever, was some lame excuse. Didn’t feel like a real family to her, so I told her to forget it. Single dads aren’t for everyone.”

I tsked quietly, “Must have been hard.”

“Especially for Sarah.” he sighed, “She liked her until Ronnie-Veronica, moved in. They got on well with limited time, but they started stepping on each other’s toes really fast.”

I sighed, trying to form anything else to say other than a lame sorry before his voice cut in again, breaking the quiet, “What about you? What’s your story?”

I shook my head, not wanting to go into the full extent of details, “Something bad happened between me and my ex. We were never good for each other, and when things got more serious he showed his true colors. Things got physical, to say the least. The last time I saw him it was-it was bad. Should have went to the hospital but I ran home with my tail between my legs, back to Momma. Didn’t leave the house until the bruises were gone.” I nearly choked on the words in my throat. “Was four years ago this spring. I was no prude either, but… I don’t know what it is about this town,” I inhaled, calming the threat of tears, “About you. You feel safe. This place feels safe.”

I took him about three beats too long to respond, “Oh, Baby.” he cooed softly, and more rustling came from his end of the phone, “I’m sorry.”

I nodded, nearly forgetting he wasn’t here to see the gesture, “Don’t, Joel - really. It’s why I work with the PD now. Desk job, sure. Not dealing with specifics or super hands on. But sometimes these girls come in, not knowing what to do, and I can look at them and really say… I know. Sometimes it's all they need to help them say they’re ready for the next steps.”

His voice grew softer than I had ever heard it yet, and he let loose a breath he’d no doubt been holding, “That makes sense, Sweetheart. Very good of you.”

“I didn’t expect to have this talk tonight, Joel.” my voice was as soft as a mouse now.

“Glad we did, though. I’d never-”

“I know. You’re good. Better than I deserve, and I can see that from ten miles away, I’m looking forward to getting to know you more. Getting to know Sarah, and Tommy and Maria. Even if Maria sort of scared me today. Truly.”

“What did Maria do?” his voice perked, and I could almost hear the suspicious crinkle in his eyes.

“Nothing.” I pinched my brow, cursing myself for saying anything at all, “Just that you’ve been talking about me to Tommy, and that she’s worried about if things go south. Me being your neighbor and all.”

I heard a soft thump, and imagined him tossing his head back onto his pillow, I wondered briefly if the cases smelled like him, how he looked all tucked in and sleepy, “She means well, good intentions, poor execution sort of thing. She worries-”

“About Sarah, mostly.” I cut him off with a breathy laugh.

“Right.”

“You’re lucky.” My voice was growing heavy with sleep, I laid my head on the phone, the green glow of the screen displaying his number warmed my face, “To have people that worry over you and your girl.”

“I count my lucky stars every day, that's for sure.”

I hummed quietly in answer, “You need to get your beauty sleep, Cowboy. Need all the strength you can get to make your big breakfast for the girls in the morning.”

He ticked his tongue against his teeth, “I suppose you’re right.” a brief pause, “Come over. Pajamas, bed head and all. I reckon they’ll be up with the sun. Therefore, I’ll be up with the sun.”

I smiled into the phone, “You got it, Joel. Goodnight.”

“Night, Sweetheart.”

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal characters #tlou fanfiction #neighbor!joel #joel miller fanfiction #tlou au #neighbor joel miller #joel miller x ofc

[fantasyqueen502]

Mrs. Miller: Chapter 3

Summary- (Before the infection/apocalypse) A look into the life of Mrs. Miller. It's Sarah's 1st birthday and the Millers live each day to the fullest.

Relationship- Joel Miller X female Reader

Rating: PG Mentions of a chronic illness R in the last third dipictions of sexual intercourse

Word Count: 1,268

One Year later…

Pink and white balloons tied to mailboxes and fences of the cul-de-sac.

"Happy birthday to you." Everyone in the neighborhood sings.

The two brothers descend the steps of the home to the picnic table out front. Joel leading with Tommy following close behind with a camcorder in hand. Joel places a tower of cupcakes onto the table lighting one cupcake with a candle.

Sarah bounces excitedly in Y/N's lap at the head of the table.

"Happy birthday, dear Sarah!"

"Happy birthday to you!"

"Blow out the candle." Y/N kisses her child's curly head of brown hair. She looks to her mama then back to the candle. Opening her mouth wide, taking in a deep, dramatic breath before blowing a wet raspberry onto the flame. Fortunately this does the job.

 Everyone cheers and claps. Conversing with one another, enjoying the cupcakes or burgers and hotdogs Mr. Adler prepared on his grill.

Sarah grabs a fistful of pink frosting shoving it into her mouth, in the process smearing it all over her face. Taking another handful smearing pink frosting across her mama's cheek. Y/N doesn't mind, she grins down at the child who giggles at her work.

"What about pop pop, Sarah bean." Tommy instigates camera ready as Joel takes a seat next to his girls.

Sucking on her fingers looking up to her uncle Tommy at the call of her name. Looking at her dad who makes faces at her.

"Pop pop wants some birthday cake." He points to his brother. She squeals, giving a two tooth grin. Wiping her frosting and spit covered hand across Joel's face.

"Yay!" Everyone cheers.

"How are you feeling?" He mumbles into her cheek, seen to others as him just being affectionate.

"A little tired." She shrugs avoiding his eyes.

"Cake!" Sarah shrieks, holding up a handful of cake.

"That's right." Y/N coos clapping as the child copies the gesture with glee.

                         ~•~

Cleaning up the yard by the light of street lamps. Collecting party hats and paper plates that littered the grass into trash bags in hand.

Tommy groans, reaching down to pick up the thirtieth plate. Twisting his body left and right with a wince. "Man, I'm tired."

Joel scoffs. "Wait till you have a kid." He advises. "Then you'll truly know what it means to be tired."

"Boys!" Catches their attention. "It's getting late." Y/N informs. "Do we need to prepare the couch, Tommy?"

"I'm alright, Y/N. Kiss Sarah goodnight for me."

"I will. Get home safe." She waves stepping back inside.

"Y/N looks good." He says looking to his brother busying himself with knotting the trash bag. "Treatments must be going well." 

"She decided---to uhhh…." Joel struggles to say. "We decided to---uhhh---stop…" He swallows. "Stop the treatment."

"Oh." Was all Tommy could say. "I'm here for you bro, and the girls." he assures.

"I know." He nods, clearing his throat. "C'mon. Need to put these in the bins."

                         ~•~

Joel exhales a breath rolling his stiff neck and shoulders when entering his and Y/N's bedroom. Spending the past few hours putting away the many toys and clothes Sarah was gifted. The sound of a running faucet grabs his attention. Turning to see Y/N in the bathroom taking off the wig she had been wearing that day.

Her H/C short with patches littering her scalp. Leaning into the mirror, turning her head, tracing them with her fingers. Ruffling through drawers on his side of the bathroom. The buzzing of clippers sound and without hesitation shaving the front of her head. 

He makes his way to the doorway. Silently watching her e/c eyes taking note of his presence. He watches the many scars in various states of healing become visible from the numerous surgeries that promised results.

Struggling with the chord to reach behind. He stands behind her taking his clippers into his hand helping her with the back. Rounding her ears and base of her neck. Finishing his work turning the clippers off.

 She exhales, her shoulders releasing tension. Running her hands over her head, closing her eyes.

 The clippers turning back on startles her. Looking to the mirror catching Joel running the clippers straight down his head of curls. She gasps, eyes wide holding her hands over her mouth.

He smiles continuing to lop off his hair. As tears welled up in her eyes. Now her turn, she takes the clippers helping him with the back.

"So handsome." She gushes, running her hands over his head.

"You pull it off better, mama." Giving her a passionate kiss. She swoons.

"Wait here." Taking the baby monitor from their bedroom into the bathroom turning the volume up. "We never got to have mommy daddy time." She whispers.

 "Can't have that."

"No, we can not." She agrees. Placing the monitor on the sink.

 "If you're not feeling up to it. At any moment--"

"I'll let you know." She shimmies off her panties. Stepping out of them her flowery sundress is his only obstacle. Turning the shower on she turns peeking over her shoulder with sultry eyes. "Unzip me."

He does so. Tracing his finger down her spine making her shutter. She turns, gathering the hem of his shirt, lifting it up, placing hot kisses to his broad chest. 

Stripped bare, stepping into the hot water breathing in the steam. Suddenly feeling bashful she tries to hide herself, but he unwrapped her arms from her chest with the scars from many entry points from chemo. He traces them with his thumb looking at her wrists where more marks are laid. He places a kiss on them. His hands ghosted around her in an embrace. Thumb skimming her shoulder blades. Anchoring herself by his shoulders to lower him to her level, capturing his lips. There was tension in his muscles and a stiffness she wasn't used to. His hands almost cradling her. "I'm not fine china." She reminds.

He stifles a chuckle giving a nod. The water coasting along his brows. "Tough as nails." He smiles. She hasn't seen him smile without a sadness behind his eyes since her diagnosis.

"So treat me as such." She purrs, digging her nails into his back. He groans, watching his slack jawed expression as she drags all the way to his hips. A thrill stirs within her seeing she had succeeded in awaking the lust within.

His hold of her tightens, pulling a gasp from her throat as he spins her 'round, pinning her to the wet linoleum. She grins, trapping her bottom lip between her teeth. Breath hitches in her throat, his hand interlocking with her own. "Right there!" She breathes. "Oh, Joel." She moans the knot in her stomach tightening. With her heart drumming in her ears the rhythmic thrusts of her love. His hips stalls as he groans grow deeper.

"Almost there." He moans. "Oh, Y/N."

She lets out a shuttery whine. "Slower." She urges wanting the moment to last.

"Oh---J-Joel." Her back is arching. He grunts burying his face onto her neck, hot breath fanning her neck. Letting out a long moan as she squeals. Her legs buckle as he wraps his arms around her waist as she leans into him chuckling.

"Still with me?" He coos.

 "Mmm." she hums. "This tops when we christened the house." Mouth now flooding with the taste of copper.

 "Nothing beats our wedding night." He chuckles, guiding the both of them under the stream of the shower head. "To be young again."

"God knows how we didn't have Sarah sooner."

Author's Note: I did not except so many readers and love for my little one shot idea. I decided to change the title hopefully there is no confusion to "Mrs. Miller" an idea that blossomed into my own story using context clues from the games and show of what happened to Sarah's Mother.

(Hopefully the tag list worked. It's my first time doing one. Please let me know.)

Series chapter order:

Mrs. Miller

Mrs. Miller: Chapter 2

Mrs. Miller: Chapter 3

Mrs. Miller: Chapter 4

Mrs. Miller: Chapter 5

Tag list:

@impala1967666

@minaxcarter

@blairfox04

@pedr0swh0r3

@thomasshelbee

#Joel Miller X F!Reader #the last of us #Joel Miller #Sarah Miller #Y/N #Mrs. Miller #joel miller x reader #imagine #Joel miller X Y/N #hbo max #Mrs. Miller: Chapter 3 #padro pascal

[voca-song-a-day]

Hey everyone! So recently I've been going back through my posts in order to make a better ordered list for myself of what songs I've already featured, and because of that, I also started putting together some information about what Vocaloids and Producers have been featured on this blog the most so far! It was fun putting this together, so I figured I'd post the information as a little end-of-the year style thing!

Some of the exact numbers may be sliiiightly off, but they should be pretty close. And the numbers here are up to date through the song posted today (December 31st).

I'm hoping to start doing this as an annual thing, with updates to the rankings at the end of the year.

Also: as a quick secondary update- I have decided that this blog will start to feature songs using vocal synths of any kind, not just Vocaloid-specific songs. I still intend for Vocaloid characters to make up the majority of songs featured here (and I currently have a long queue lined up that still has only Vocaloids in it), but I will start to add other synths into the mix, and song suggestions are now open for solos featuring non-Vocaloid synths!

Anyway, without further ado: the rankings!

VOCALOIDS

By Vocaloid Name: # of songs they're featured in

(note that this isn't just counting number of solos- it also includes duets, trios, and group songs that that Vocaloid shares with others)

The 15 most featured are in bold!

Hatsune Miku: 388

Kagamine Rin: 145

GUMI: 136

Kagamine Len: 120

KAITO: 69

Megurine Luka: 67

Flower: 64

IA: 61

Meiko: 34

Kamui Gakupo: 22

Yuzuki Yukari: 21

MAYU: 19

Luo Tianyi: 18

Fukase: 16

Otomachi Una: 14

Lily: 13

VY2: 12

Meika Hime, MAIKA: 11

Nekomura Iroha, SeeU: 10

Kaai Yuki, Xin Hua, Oliver: 9 

Meika Mikoto, UNI, VY1, Xingchen/Stardust: 8 

DEX, YANHE, Yuezheng Ling: 7

Aoki Lapis, Rana, Sonika, Yohioloid: 6

Utatane Piko, Merli, Avanna, Kizuna Akari, Miriam, SF-A2 Miki: 5

Tone Rion, CUL, Cyber Diva, DAINA, Galaco, Kokone, Lumi, Kyo, Yuezheng Longya: 4

Haruno Sora, Anon, Kanon, Clara, Macne Nana, Mew, Mo Qingxian, Prima, Ruby, Sweet Ann, Wil, Yuu, Yumemi Nemu, Zhiyu Moke: 3

Hiyama Kiyoteru, ARSLOID, Leon, Lola, Chika, Mirai Komachi, Sachiko, Tohoku Zunko: 2

Azuki, Bruno, Cyber Songman, Gachapoid, Tonio: 1

PRODUCERS

Also by name: # of songs by them featured

(there's a LOT of producers with only one or two songs featured, so I've shorted this list to just the top 15, including ties)

PinocchioP: 27

CircusP: 25

DECO*27: 21

40meterP: 20

GigaP: 18

Neru: 17

Hitoshizuku & Yama: 16

Rerulili: 15

MikitoP: 14

Niki: 13

Nayutalien, Re:nG: 12

JesusP, GHOST, *Luna, KIRA, MARETU, KurageP, HoneyWorks: 10

Kairiki Bear, Jin, HachiojiP, MachigeritaP, OSTER Project: 9

Sasakureuk, UtsuP, PeperonP, EmpathP, EZFG, Reol, Mitchie M, Hachi, Mothy: 8

Hiiragi Kirai, Tohma, q*left, UtataP & Tory Hitsuji, Kikuo, WhiteFlame, Kanaria, Kemu: 7

#not a song #2023 end of the year blog recap #blog recap #blog maintenance

[kkpwnall]

driving in your car | chapter one | (mature | 10k | wip)

It’s been a week since they defeated Vecna, and things are starting to get back to normal. Or as normal as they’ve ever been in a town built over multiple gates to inter-dimensional hell. They came back from hell and had to go back to school and work and life like nothing happened. Driving around has become a thing for the four of them. They explore Hawkins in ways few others have, finding backroads, cruising down country lanes, seeing just how far they can go.  Eventually Steve clocked Eddie’s whole deal as flirting, but it took an embarrassingly long time. And it is flirting, right? It’s got to be flirting, there’s no other word for it. Recent dry spell notwithstanding, Steve Harrington’s got game. If there’s one thing he knows, it’s flirting.  So Steve knows it’s flirting, but he doesn’t know if it’s flirting. Because Eddie is straight, right?

chapter teaser below the fold [full chapter on ao3]

all the love to @cheatghost for beta reading and emotional support <33

Steve and Eddie are alone for the first time since… well, ever, really. He’s not going to count their little heart-to-heart in the woods. The girls were right there. Just out of earshot, sure, but still. And unlike last time they were almost not quite alone together, Steve is tongue tied. He can’t think of a single clever thing to say. Without the buffer of the girls there, Steve has no idea what he and Eddie are going to talk about.  He settles on, “where to?” Good one, Harrington, real smart. What’s next, the weather? “I’m not in any rush to get home,” Eddie says, then glances at him. “I mean, if you’re not.” “Yeah, no, definitely not.” Steve pulls a u-turn in the cul-de-sac and turns out of the Wheeler’s neighborhood to head further out of town, tracing through back country roads that wind between farmland and orchards and only the most gently rolling of hills.

#steddie #steve x eddie #steveddie #steddie fic #steddie fanfic #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things fanfic #stranger things steve #stranger things eddie #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #fruity four #stranger things fic #platonic stobin #steve and robin #no bi crisis all bi panic #diyc #kk writes #writing #it's here it's here #literally started writing this in july i can't believe i'm finally posting chapter 1 #there is no update schedule because i started a new job this week #so just stay tuned lol

[bcacstuff]

🚨 Huge spoiler alert 🚨

Couple Next Door ending explained: Who shot [SPOILER]?

The Couple Next Door spoilers follow.

The Couple Next Door has given us six episodes of twists and turns ahead of a dramatic finale showdown in the woods, where this delightfully soapy Channel 4 tale came to its bullet-riddled conclusion.

At last, the finale resolved the question that had lingered since the very first scene of the premiere episode, which teased some dramatic happening in the Yorkshire Dales involving the core four.

The final episode ties up most of the loose ends piece by piece, until we get to that scene of the neighbours-with-benefits weaving through the treeline in hot pursuit of Evie (Eleanor Tomlinson), who we now know is pregnant with Danny's (Sam Heughan) baby.

So what happened in that final showdown and who ends up shooting the gun?

The Couple Next Door ending explained

The episode begins with Evie ensconced at her parents' place, having told them her good news that she's pregnant – but not who the father is. Despite some pretty obvious hints all is not well with Evie – her obsession with Danny having taken on a life of its own – her folks are happily oblivious and agree to let her use their spare cottage for a mini break.

Meanwhile, Danny's professional life is not merely in hot water but has now reached an intense, rolling boil. His partner in copper crime is being raked over the coals about his part in a bank robbery in one of those eerily nondescript rooms with a two-way mirror.

And that's only the beginning of Danny's problems, since Becka (Jessica De Gouw) discovered the secret child Danny fathered with a woman who was a witness on a police case. The twists just keep twisting here.

Danny's co-workers on the police force are trying their best to track him down, presumably having pieced together the fact he was taking side payments from criminals. What happens to this storyline? Well, we're not entirely sure – it's sort of forgotten once we got into the thick of the woodland dramatics. Perhaps Danny got off with a light warning from HR.

Speaking of the woodland, Evie and her extremely conservative father seem to be making some progress and finally have a heart-to-heart as they make their way to the cabin, only for things to fall to pieces when Evie tells him about her future baby's actual parentage. Suffice to say, he doesn't take the news that Evie is in love with her neighbour Danny all that well.

Back on the Leeds cul de sac, Danny is mid-apology to Becka for making a right mess of the whole secret child thing, when he gets a call from Evie. Her dad has gone "mad", she says. He's "trapped" her in the cabin, she says. An unlikely tale, it turns out, but Danny and Becka still rush over to help.

At this point we're reminded of Evie's jettisoned hubbie Pete (Alfred Enoch), who we find asleep on the sofa in the middle of the day. On the coffee table in front of him, where you might expect mug rings and remote controls, is the criminal's gun from the confrontation with Danny the night before.

Jean (Kate Robbins), who has decided to leave her creepy husband (Hugh Dennis) and start a new life – good for her! – tells Pete that Danny and Evie have been at it behind his back. The Couple Next Door very briefly turns a bit EastEnders, as Jean wishes Pete and co well before driving off in a taxi to her better life.

Pete, becoming a touch manic, figures Danny and Evie must be together and goes in search, gun clumsily stuffed into the waistband of his jeans.

Then we finally make it to the long-teased "violent showdown" between the couples at the woodland cabin. Danny pitches up and finds Evie not in the mortal danger she had claimed to be in, but instead in the bath primed to seduce him – until Becka walks in.

Pete then comes storming into the mix, gun still in pants. After Danny rejects Evie and professes his love for Becka, a tussle begins.

The dodgy associate from the criminal syndicate shows up as well, bearing a scary-looking rifle. That is until Evie's dad appears, fresh from some wood-chopping, and shoots him.

Then Evie's off running – repeating that first scene – and they all make off after Pete and his gun.

Once they all clearly get a bit out of breath, they decide to stop running. "Evie, please," Pete begs. "I've never loved anyone before you. And I'll never love anyone again. Please. You can't leave me."

At this point Danny inexplicably charges and Pete lets off a shot, which lodges in Danny's leg. As Becka tends to Danny, who takes the gunshot fairly well, Evie well and truly crushes Pete with the softly-spoken confession that she doesn't love him anymore.

Then, just off screen, Pete is shot in the abdomen and crumples to the ground.

So who shot him? He was holding the gun the last we saw it, so was it self-inflicted? The more likely answer is that Evie eased the gun out of his hands while she broke his heart with her admission of lovelessness.

But the sight of Pete shot near-dead is enough to get Evie to crack, realising what she's done and running to hold him.

But Pete's not dead! We see him wheeled off by the medics and Evie taken into custody, alongside her father. She shares one last lingering look with Danny and smiles – so maybe she hasn't quite shaken off her obsession?

The last we see of Evie, she gets the classic police officer head shove into the back of the cop car. Maybe the jury will go easy on her.

[amore-perso]

Era una sera invernale come tante, fuori era innevato e lui, un ragazzo che per tanti, troppi anni, aveva fatto parte della mia vita, a intermittenza s'intende, mi invitò a casa sua, accettai. Non è mai stato uno che soffriva il freddo, girava a maniche corte e pantaloncini, io, invece, rimasi con il cappotto anche una volta entrata al caldo, ero congelata. Voleva alleggerirmi e mi accese la stufa al massimo, mi riscaldai subito e appena appesi il cappotto alla sedia notai il suo sguardo addosso: mi guardava come non faceva da tanto, si sorprese della mia bellezza, che io percepivo sempre come minima. Quella sera ero struccata e scompigliata dopo una lunga giornata di lavoro, mi percepivo come orrenda, ma il suo sguardo mi mise a mio agio, mi calmai e non pensai più a nient'altro. Parlammo, ridemmo e scherzammo, si fece tardi, un po' troppo per tornare a casa, io ero così stanca che mi si chiudevano gli occhi, motivo per cui mi offrí il suo letto, uno di quelli piccoli, per gli ospiti, in una cameretta che forse una volta era stata la sua, piena di orsacchiotti e peluche. Lo ringraziai e cominciai a disfarlo, pronta per mettermici dentro per stare calda e morbida. Dietro di me vidi un'ombra, era lui, appoggiato alla porta che mi fece segno di mettermi a letto, "forse ricorda dei miei problemi ad addormentarmi e cerca di farmi rilassare il più possibile" pensai. Era solito venire a casa mia per farmi addormentare nelle notti in cui non riuscivo ad affrontare l'insonnia: mi abbracciava, mi raccontava una storia e andava via, lasciandomi dormire tranquilla. Pensai che quella sera il suo intento fosse lo stesso perché si mise accanto a me e mi abbracciò da dietro, gesto che ho sempre amato dato che mi faceva sentire protetta. Non parlò, allora mi preoccupai e gli chiesi il motivo di tanto silenzio, lui amava parlare, non dei suoi pensieri, sentimenti o emozioni, ma di molte cose in generale sì. Mi rispose che si stava concentrando su ciò che sentiva "e cosa senti?" -gli chiesi pronta- "cerchi sempre di indagare su ciò che pensano gli altri, perché non me lo dici tu?". Rimasi di pietra, io non provavo nulla. Non provavo nulla perché avevo provato troppo per lui in passato ed era sparito spesso ogni volta che io mi ero lasciata andare nei suoi confronti, ritornando poco dopo cercando di riconquistarmi. Era il suo intento ogni volta, per cui poteva funzionare massimo due volte, non di più, motivo per cui ogni volta rimanevo disponibile per lui senza mai farmi coinvolgere totalmente, perché mi piaceva passare il tempo in quel modo, a flirtare con lui, sentirmi desiderata e sfidarlo in continuazione senza sentirmi oggetto del suo piacere, ma giocando al suo gioco.

Si schiarí la voce- "non ti sembra pazzesco questo nostro stuzzicarci? Continuiamo a corteggiarci come il primo giorno a distanza di 10 anni" -rimasi sorpresa ma ancora in silenzio, ero troppo stanca per avere la mia solita capacità di rispondere a tono anche a qualcosa di così semplice e continuò- "quando ho saputo che eravamo nella stessa città ho fatto di tutto per vederti perché sentirti è l'unico regalo che voglio". Approfittai di questo appiglio per fargli notare che un regalo è qualcosa che si dona totalmente perché poi appartiene a quella persona, di risposta "e tu a chi vuoi appartenere?". Cominciò a diminuire il sonno e in tono dissi "a chi mi sappia tenere", ed ecco che cominciava il nostro flirt fatto di botta e risposta in tono di sfida quando lui disse "ho dei lacci morbidi, meravigliosi fatti di rispetto, eros, feeling, fiducia e poesia...". Era tutto vero, lui era tutto quello, la fiducia mancava da parte mia, ma quelle erano le sue qualità, mi accendeva un fuoco dentro e la mente si fermò subito all'aggettivo morbido. Quanto mi conosceva, ricordava del mio tenere senza stringere, lacci morbidi, appartenere senza togliere libertà, poesia, pensieri... La conversazione, l'intimità di parlare a letto abbracciati, la tranquillità della notte e del sonno che mi cullava, tutto mi stava inebriando e lui lo notava "non è meraviglioso che dopo anni tu ti sorprenda ancora delle mie frasi?" - "è solo perché sono attenta ai dettagli, sono quelli che mi sorprendono" - "ed è questo che ti rende speciale"- cominciò con il suo essere classicista- "sai cosa significa speciale?" - "so che vuoi spiegarmelo tu con le tue parole" - "ma le mie parole hanno un effetto particolare su di te". Anche qui aveva ragione, le parole avevano un potente effetto su di me, mi davano un input da cui partire con la fantasia e la mia mente ci lavorava a più riprese rendendole eterne. "Non vorrei sprecare tutto ora" -continuò- "puoi considerarlo come l'amo che mi farà abboccare anche questa volta" -gli dissi- "peccato che resto infilzato io" -rispose. Non avevo mai notato la sua fragilità, in quella frase si mise a nudo, è come se avesse gettato la sua armatura fatta di flirt, sfide e risposte a tono per parlare seriamente.

Continua...

#sogno #amore-perso #frasi #citazioni #tumblr #frasi belle #amore #sfida #flirt #corteggiamento #sera #inverno #ragazzo #letto #casa #freddo #caldo #conversazione #desidero #desiderio #bellezza #insonnia #storia #chiacchierata #abbraccio #regalo #dono #tenersi #appartenere #libro

[ultimateinferno]

It's very funny to have someone introduce you to a piece of media with sporadic traits about events within the story but with very little direction about what the fuck the story is even about so you have to just fill in the blanks.

Nearly a decade ago, I was introduced to the Stormlight Archive in this manner. My friend loved Sanderson books. I've only read Mistborn. Yet one evening as my friend and I were walking home from our youth group down the road, him talking with his other friends about Stormlight and me over hearing. I pictured dangerous glass weapons and fairy friends. A dashing prince and stubborn rebel.

When he described Bridge Crews to me, my imagination got away from me a little bit. My mind's eye was a little too fantastical. I heard "guy's enslaved to carry bridges" and at face value I took it as one guy per bridge which is not physically possible but dope as fuck regardless. I saw them carrying the damn thing on their shoulders and arms tied to the bridge as they trudged towards an uncaring enemy.

It was certainly a picture.

Also this friend really likes assigning characters to himself and people he's close to. He really projected onto Kaladin which it only took me a couple years later to realize it was because this 14 year old was depressed as fuck. As we exchanged goodbyes before entering our homes across the cul de sac from one another, twilight having long since faded away as we were a bit too liberal with our remaining daylight to chat, he left me with:

"You'd be Lopen"

And went inside

#cosmere #cfsbf #stormlight #stormlight archive #the way of kings #twok #words of radiance #wor #those were the only books that were out at that time

[camellia-salazar]

Even more ponified Ed Edd n Eddy. Almost done (until I draw more).

Double Dee did a spell on her, the same one Twilight put on everyone but Rarity on that one episode of MLP. Just so she can hang out with Kev in the clouds.

(And yes I'm a stinky Kevnazz shipper, a multi shipper, and yes this is my second favorite ship or tied to first I can't decide).

Personally I think he's not that cool. Mid character. (Lies in sees potential).

The Cul De Sac kids because I want to see them and the Eds in the same page. Also the more I draw these guys the less stiff they feel idk.

Oh and kevin quoting that same laugh that I took from the game Mis Ed-ventures whenever you lose your life or get caught in said game.

The Kanker Sisters about to throw hooves. Idk what they're fighting about and I doubt they know either. Also May cutiemark reveal.

The Eds and the Kankers. Just to see all of them together, full body.

Transparent and more undercut:

Almost done with pony Peach Creek for now. Here are some things about ponified Cul De Sac kids.

Sarah: her and Jimmy wishes to be alicorns someday but are otherwise content with just being themselves. Pretty much close to match her brother's strength.

Her cutiemark is kinda hard to explain. It's a heart that's loud if that makes sense. Sarah can be caring to those who she deemed deserves it and she can be a loud mouth. (I might change it into something better but idk if I should save it for some other character).

Jimmy: A pegasus who's dream is to be a fashion model. He can't fly but only because he wasn't taught how to, but after a while like in season three or something idk I'd make a fan ponified episode where Kevin teaches him how to fly and Eddy joins in somehow. Not explaining it all here but I've been thinking about it.

Jimmy's cutiemark is meant to match Sarah's, which is a heart with a halo. (Not too sure about that one but as long as I gave them sort of matching cutiemarks then I guess I'm good).

Jonny 2x4: he's the only spotted pony in the Cul De Sac. Sometimes the others can't tell if his spots are dirt marks or actual spots. For the most part they are legit spots but at times there are dirt spots too. This version loves playing in the dirt as well as climbing stuff.

He doesn't have a cutiemark yet. Too occupied with Plank to try and get one. (When he gets one tho idk it might be an acorn. Or a melon. Maybe both. Maybe even two acorns).

Plank: speak of the devil. Plank is as mysterious in the pony world as much as he is in his original one. He only ever really hangs out with Jonny and pretty much tells him what to do most of the time. They're inseparable though.

Plank is as much of a blank flank as Jonny. Tho Jonny might draw him one eventually. (He just doesn't know what it should be yet).

---

It's crazy how I'm unsure about Sarah's Jimmy's Jonny's and Plank's cutiemarks despite two of them not having cutiemarks yet.

Thanks for reading and viewing my fan art, have a great day/night! 👍🌟✨

Edit: oopsies did I forget to post this? My mistake original gangsta.

(this was in my drafts)

#ed edd n eddy #ed edd eddy fanart #ed edd n eddy mlp #my little pony #mlp au #eene kevin #eene nazz #kevnazz #eene bro #eene jonny #eene plank #eene rolf #eene jimmy #eene sarah #eene ed #eene edd #eene double d #eene double dee #eene eddy #eene may #eene lee #eene marie #ed #edd #eddy #kanker sisters #camellia's pony designs #jimmy #sarah #jonny 2x4

[danwesome]

mai tis gon col i wander wai...

i gat aut bet at all

te mornin rein claus op mai windo

en ai kan t zi at al

en if ai cul it al be gei

butt yur piktur is on mai wall

it remainds mi tat is nat so bat

ia nat so baaat

Ni puta idea. No nací con el underteil, nomas lo conozco por su soundrack q hasta le saque tema en mi instrumento así todo wasa

#ask