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kedsandtubesocks · 4 months

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your heart, a sonnet

Author!Joel Miller x F!Reader

summary: you discover there’s more to your boyfriend than you realize

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY MDNI, no outbreak/modern AU & Joel has both his daughters, surprise hidden identity reveal, grumpy but soft!Joel who has a secret love language of writing and love letters, mentions of unspecified age gap (reader’s age is not mentioned but Joel is older & in his 50’s), light discussion of reader and Joel’s insecurities, reader is addressed as darlin/honey/baby, a few spicy moments where Joel gets handsy

word count: 5.3k

a/n: I know, I know… this doesn’t seem like the typical Joel fic but i blame Pedro’s look at the Hollywood star walk of fame ceremony because it immediately made me think ‘oh that’s Joel’ and now here we are lol I couldn’t have done this without my forever babe @the-wild-wolves-around-you and i can’t thank her enough along with @ahauntedcowboy for always letting me scream about all my wild ideas, and now to you, if you’re reading this too I also can’t thank you enough ♡

You first met Joel at a bookstore.

The weekend after your birthday you went in to treat yourself and wandered into the records section of the store. As you flipped through the selections, the sudden sight of a Fleetwood Mac album had you inhaling sharply in surprise.

“S’good one.” That’s when the sudden smooth drawl of a southern accent floated out to you.

A few steps beside you stood an absolutely gorgeous man. The evergreen plaid button up shirt he wore flattered him as if it was made to be only worn by him. Rugged and distinguished, he seemed like a romance hero plucked straight out from one of the books among the shelves. You even blinked a few times wondering if he was real.

“If you don’t take it, might have to fight ya for it.” Even with his gruff low voice, an underlying teasing nature radiated friendly and light.

Now, many months later, a piece of you believes you might have fallen for him right then and there.

Joel is a rare beautiful soul of a man. He’s strong and a bit rough around the edges. He used to work as a contractor, even managed to build a very reputable business with his brother. His hard work remains effortlessly etched into his hands that now type editing books, his current job. He’s kind, so deeply loyal and loves fiercely.

With a yawn, you slip out of bed to pull on his cozy Texas longhorn shirt.

Heading downstairs, you walk among the clouds.

Instead of working at his office desk, Joel sits at the dining table typing away. Just seeing him wear his reading glasses sends a delicious desire trickling through you like a soft rain.

His dark earth eyes flicker up over the edge of his laptop and his gaze softens.

“Was wonderin’ when you were gonna wake up.” His wonderfully smooth as molasses voice makes you want to get caught up in its sticky sweetness.

“It’s not even that late. You’re one who woke up wanting to get work done on a Saturday.” You scoff playfully yet press your lips to his, a soft good morning greeting.

“Besides…who’s the reason I slept in so soundly, hm?” You smile against Joel’s lips that now twitch with a smirk.

His large warm hand slowly creeps up against your bare leg and rubs soft against your skin. After a few sleepy kisses, Joel’s tongue smoothly slips into your mouth trying to now consume you with a syrupy heat.

Joel pulls you down onto his lap. Your hands run up his chest to his cherub curly gray hair. His lips leave yours to start nipping at your jaw.

“What happened to working, cowboy?” You sigh softly.

“Come keep me company, darlin’.” He breathes out and any hope of maybe making breakfast is happily forgotten.

The rest of the morning unfolds at a nebulous pace you bask in.

When a late brunch is finished and you start cleaning up the kitchen, Joel’s warm solid hands map out your hips with other plans in mind. He slides behind you, a towering comfort that you lean back against.

“You’re extra handsy today Mr. Miller.” You tease.

“I can stop?” Joel offers while his scruffy beard scrapes a path against your skin. Against you, his broad shoulders, his wonderfully built frame, wraps you in his protective cover.

You hum a content no and move your hands over his now.

“Just wanna enjoy being with ya before I get busy.” Joel mutters while his hand slides down your cozy lounge shorts.

You had forgotten about his upcoming work plans.

You already want to mourn the impending weekend without him, but that can wait for another day. Especially when his thick fingers delicately, so sinfully, run up and down your underwear playfully touching you.

But then that weekend arrives and it brings a hollowness.

Lounging on the couch back at the apartment you share with your best friend, you force yourself not to text Joel again. He’s busy and you know this. So you vow to hold all your yearning and longing chained inside like a Jane Austen heroine.

“Are you done sulking?” Your best friend teases from the kitchen and you glare at her from the couch.

“I get it, being awake from your hunky handsome older boyfriend is hard. What will you ever do?” She snickers playfully. You’re tempted to throw the nearby couch pillows at her.

“What did you say his job was?” She asks.

“He used to be a contractor, but now he’s a book editor.” You answer.

“A hardworking hot Texas cowboy who reads and is a good man? Yeah, keep him locked up.” Your best snorts and you understand exactly what she means.

Fanged temptation claws at you more to text him again. Joel promised he would call you tonight and you don’t doubt him. But you didn’t realize how badly you’d missed him.

“Alright,” your best friend declares. “No more moping! I’m dragging you out with me to that book signing I’ve been talking about.”

She’s been obsessed with this apocalyptic novel series for so long. You happily tag along and even perk up when you see how excited she gets.

“And the author is finally doing a book tour! He’s kept his identity hidden this entire time so I wanna get a chance to maybe just even see him!” Your best friend gushes the entire time she drives you both to the bookstore the signing would be held.

Just so happens it’s the same bookstore where you first met Joel. A deep surge of affection swallows you whole and you float on blissful lovesick nostalgia.

Then the impressive line already waiting outside the front doors stuns you.

“I told you! It’s a big deal! Plus the series is so good.” Your best friend exclaims. She has been trying to get you into the series for a while.

The core of it focuses on two young girls who manage to survive an apocalyptic fungal zombie outbreak. The series follows the girls growing up, the journey to live with each other, and how it slowly bonds them as sisters.

“I heard they’re trying to make a Netflix series on it.” Your friend adds hopeful.

You can’t help but snag your best friend’s book copy she also hopes will get signed. Flipping through the front pages you land to the dedication page.

“To my baby girls, this will always be for you two.”

The author must have based the series on their daughters. That’s adorable.

Now curious, you flip to the first chapter.

“After seeing the end of the world, after witnessing the carnage of life consume itself, Ellie thinks she’s seen it all.”

Your best friend's sudden excited laugh pulls you out of the book. She’s talking with the other fans in line and you decide to join in.

Everyone discusses how worth the wait will be and how most of them even purchased the newest released book to make sure they reserved a slot for the signing.

“So why’s the author finally doing a face reveal?” You ask quietly not wanting to seem too out of place.

“So apparently,” your best friend begins in her hush about to spill the good gossip voice. “Some random ass moron on Twitter came out and said they were the true author. It became a whole messy issue of who it really was.”

Your best friend goes into more detail about how even a couple of online sites had articles on it.

“That’s awful.” You sympathize with the author. It must’ve been a headache trying to enjoy the peace of anonymity only for it becoming something used against them. You can only imagine how heartbreaking it was to see others steal and take credit for your work.

Like a surprise strike of lightning, an electric excitement suddenly breaks through the air.

Glancing up, you watch the line rapidly move towards the front doors. Time to go in.

Unfortunately, the main seating for the reading and q&a fills up fast. The bookstore though manages to wrangle the remainder of the crowd that can fit on the first floor towards a section where they can watch. It’s more than enough for your best friend who’s about to burst with anticipation. The buoyant commotion in the room even pulls you into its current and you get excited to see the new surprise author.

Soon a chic handsome older looking man, the moderator of the event, scurries to the front of the gathered group.

Warmly he begins the introduction to the writer.

First, writing sweet children’s books, stories for his daughters, those works became the author’s first publications. After that he navigated apocalyptic writing and his hit series has earned critical acclaim.

“Simply known as the anonymous writer J Miller. I’ve had the greatest pleasure to know this man as both his friend and now agent and I’m beyond proud to introduce him to you. Everyone please help me in welcoming J Miller!”

The thunderous applause and screams of excitement galvanize the entire room.

Then Joel walks out from the side.

Your heart instantly leaves your body.

For a moment you think your lovesick yearning heart has you slightly projecting Joel in any man you might see.

But the minute you focus, truly watch him slide into the chair, you see him.

Soft gray grown out curls, a strong beautiful nose, the patchy beard with the spots you love to kiss, and his reading glasses - the ones he’s so self conscious about because of how they make him look “so good damn old,” yet you love how they distinguish and elevate his appearance. You even remember the first time Joel wore them while he read waiting for you.

Truth makes its way into your heart.

It’s Joel.

The famous mystery author is your Joel.

“Thanks Frank.” And when he takes the mic, thanking his agent, his slick southern sunset voice melts the crowd.

“So, uh he’s gorgeous?!” Someone behind you squeals.

“Who would’ve thought he’d be this hot?!” Someone adds.

The whispers and mummers swarm like wasps buzzing all around you and you want to swat at them.

You can’t wrap your mind around this or the amount of emotions rushing through you. You feel separated from your body, floating detached from the scene and trying to gather yourself back.

Why didn’t he tell you?

Did he not trust you?

Joel suddenly laughs at something Frank says, that gruff wonderful laugh you hear after you show him a ridiculous video or his daughters tease him. It snaps you back into awareness.

“He’s about to read a section!” Your friend giddily whispers under her breath

Now you fully focus on this man, this almost stranger.

He’s so handsome it isn’t fair. He looks like a distinguished professor and your throat tightens seeing how broad his shoulders look in the dark casual suit jacket he wears.

“One of my favorite parts.” He admits quietly. “It’s when Ellie and Sarah realize they can make it outta Pittsburgh together.”

His daughters. He named his characters after them.

Joel clears his throat and begins.

He reads the passage with a magnetic cadence. The words slip from him like the smooth drink of whiskey that lingers on your tongue. When he finishes, an ache twists in your chest.

The applause he gets is shatteringly loud. The smallest bit of pride does float through you. But confusion drowns it out.

The floor now opens to quick questions. Some are about the book itself and the certain decisions made writing wise. Others are obviously about why he stayed hidden for so long.

That one perks you up quickly.

In such typical Joel fashion, he shrugs.

“Just couldn’t figure out Twitter, s’all.”

Everyone laughs at his playful reply and you do as well, but it sounds hollow and watery.

Soon enough the last question arrives.

“Do you ever see yourself writing for any other genres? I mean, we’ve seen horror and some moments of romance in the series. So I’m just curious if you’d write anything else?!” The lady asks brightly and now you simply settle your thoughts aside to listen.

Joel chuckes, a bit breathless and his gaze drops. This entire time he’s teetered between a sly southern charm that’s hypnotized you, to being guarded almost a bit nervous.

But now a boyishly hesitant grin falls over him and it’s so familiar.

”Uh, guess romance would be the next I’d maybe try.” He answers low, bashful.

The crowd erupts into fangirl like shrieks.

“Right?! I keep saying he doesn’t know the potential he has if he became a romance writer!” Frank, who has such a bright and lovely personality, adds.

Too many emotions clash in you.

You wonder if he wants to explore romance writing because of you?

Or a much harsher voice creeps out from the back of your mind whispering maybe you’re just being used for source material.

You quickly stomp those thoughts away.

The rest of the event shifts to the signing and you walk in a sort of guided daze.

“You okay?” Your best friend asks gently, noticing your slight mood change.

You don’t have the heart to tell her the truth yet. This was something she had been looking forward to and you didn’t want to ruin her excitement or experience. So you wearily just smile and tell her your head simply started hurting.

She sympathetically nods.

“Thankfully we won’t be waiting too long.” She adds and explains how the signing would be called by groups.

“We might not have gotten seats, but we did manage to sneak into group A for the signing.” She grins proud and it lifts your spirits.

The line curls against the sides of the bookshelves blocking your view of Joel. It becomes both a blessing and a curse.

Maybe you should wait in the car for his and your sake?

However, something inside you slightly bitter, raw and wanting answers, decides to stay. Besides you, your dear friend tries to keep herself calm but you can sense her bubbling nervous energy.

“I’d be calmer if he wasn’t so damn attractive.” She hisses and a jealous flare gently rises in you.

“Just think,” you reassure her. “He’s probably just as nervous as you.”

The relieved comforted grin she gives you makes staying worth it. But then all of that flies out the window the closer and closer you get to Joel.

Petrified dread claws its way in when you realize your best friend is next in line.

“He looks kinda familiar now that we’re closer.” The casual comment your friend says makes your heart sink.

“Maybe.” You mutter.

The times Joel has been to your place your roommate, your best friend, has been either at work or sleeping. You can only think of the first instant you introduce Joel to her when he picked you up on a date.

Your eyes flicker straight to Joel.

His hair seems so perfectly curled and his dark jacket highlights his wonderful grays.

Thankfully, any discussion of who he might look like gets squashed because your best friend gets called next in line. She turns to you squeaking excitedly and you beam back bright.

Joel lifts his eyes up, like a true southern gentleman wanting to give someone his full attention.

You wait on the side and watch the interaction unfold. Joel chuckles at something your best friend says and you’re glad she’s enjoying herself.

The book signing is done so fast. In a blink, it’s finished. With her newly signed book, your friend turns to you. She makes a slightly embarrassing but endearing noise of excitement that has you laughing.

That’s when your eyes flicker over to Joel and your gaze locks with his.

Instantly, Joel’s handsome face drops. His gorgeous earth eyes widen as he immediately recognizes you. His mouth falls open slightly and a flash of something close to fear fills the depths of his eyes.

He breathes out your name on a shaky exhale.

Everything seems to slow and stop. You don’t know what to say. So all you do is weakly smile.

The fleeting moment fades. The next group in line already giggles moving towards the table.

Time’s up. Turning on your heels to leave with your friend, Joel calls out to you, calls your name.

“Wait!”

You freeze.

Glancing back at him, Joel’s eyes pin you on the spot. An unspoken heaviness hangs in his deep eyes while he stares intently at you.

“It’s okay, we’ll talk later.” By some strange possession of slight bravery, or maybe delusion, you manage to speak.

But it’s all you can say and it’s all you can do before Frank, Joel’s agent, slides in to whisper something to him.

The moment again shatters.

Your best friend however grills you the rest of the day

That’s when you pull out your phone. You show her a photo you secretly took of Joel. It’s one where he’s adorably glaring at his ipad while he tried ordering take out for dinner.

Your best friend shrieks. “He’s your boyfriend?!”

He is.

Your boyfriend, Joel, is a writer, a very famous best selling author.

And that weight yanks you under a dangerous current you can’t seem to swim against.

Even after lunch, even getting back to your apartment and trying to settle your thoughts, your emotions are still so tangled.

You mindlessly scroll through your phone for the rest of the day and a blink, you notice it’s already early evening. Your plan to stay sulking is ruined when your phone starts ringing so loud.

It’s Joel.

“Hello?” You answer as composed as you can.

“Darlin?” His beautiful rich voice sounds hesitant and guarded.

“Hi.” You reply back quietly.

“Can we talk?” He asks just as low.

You agree, expecting to have the discussion on the phone. Except a knock taps on your apartment door and scares you right out of your body.

Ever proactive, ever the man who takes action, Joel stands waiting for you when you open the door.

You’re thankful more than ever that your best friend went to the gym for the evening.

“Wanna sit outside for a bit? Maybe get some air? S’really nice outside today.” He offers gentle.

He’s breaking up with you. That’s what your mind jumps to.

At least the weather is surprisingly kind this early evening.

You’ve sat out here on your apartment’s decent sized balcony with Joel before. But now the energy between you and him shifts strangely.

The sky stretches above a soft sherbet orange. A breeze comes, thankfully not too cold, but you think about maybe heading in to grab a blanket.

Joel however quickly slings off his jacket and drapes it over you. Always the gentleman.

The smell of his cologne, so comforting and masculine, wraps around you like a cloud.

You thank him with a soft small smile and Joel nods. Then he sighs and leans forward on the folding chair.

“Always loved the outdoors.” He begins, a small olive branch of a conversation to break the tension. “The girls and I love hiking the trails out by the lake. You ever been?”

You shake your head no.

“Maybe one day we can all go together.” The comment holds hope, a delicate thread of it. Yet you catch the hesitation.

Your eyes flicker to him, confused and cautious.

“Wait, you aren’t breaking up with me?” You blurt out, maybe just wanting to get it over with. You hate the way your voice cracks slightly.

Joel, with his beautiful concerned wide eyes, snaps his face to you.

“What? Honey no. Thought maybe you’d be the one maybe tryin’ to break up with me.” Joel, who Sarah jokes about how some of their neighbors question if he’s perpetually grumpy, stares at you with a tenderness that melts you to your core.

You can’t help but laugh watery.

“Why d’ya think I’d want to end things with you?” He asks patiently.

You can think of so many.

He’s a famous writer who’s about to maybe become an online sensation. He’s older than you, wiser and seasoned. He’s a full on father with young teenage daughters.

So you reveal your heart to him and all the fears that dwell in its shadows. You wipe away a few tears that manage to spill out.

Joel moves to hold your hands in his, a guarded warmth and protection keeping you stable.

With a heavy sigh, Joel’s attention fully focused on you.

“Honey…I’m so sorry for not telling you about my work, about me, sooner.” He earnestly apologizes and his words drip with comforing earnesty.

Now his gaze drops down to where your hand sits in his.

“Didn’t want it complicatin’ things with us. I knew I had to tell you eventually. But really…I was worried you’d see me differently once you knew. I know I don’t seem like the writin’ type anyway.” He mutters and you miss the hint of embarrassment coloring his tone.

You squeeze his hands.

This could never make you look at Joel in a negative light. If anything, you now feel proud knowing he’s a writer. You do explain your worries though and the ache you felt knowing he kept his from you.

“I know darlin’ and I promise,” he squeezes your hands now. “No more secrets between us.”

“You…us…means more to me than you’ll know.” He adds and you draw his hands up to your mouth.

You kiss his worn hands, his hard working beautiful hands that now move to hold your face so tenderly in their grasp. His thumb strokes your bottom lip delicately as if you’ll disappear from his sight.

“Can I kiss ya baby?”

You nod and in that same breath Joel pulls you towards him. He kisses you light, delicate enough that you feel so precious and treasured within his hold.

It seems like such a simple small kiss but it soaks into your bones.

You have so many questions. And as much as you’d like to make out with your boyfriend on the balcony, you’d like answers.

So you pull away and stand up.

Joel looks adorable as confusion paints his face.

“Don’t worry I’m just getting us a blanket.” You grin at him as you sling on his jacket claiming it as your own.

Blanket in hand you now curl up with him in the lawn chair, thankful for its sturdiness and cozy size. Your heart soars at how quickly Joel pulls you into his arms and basically onto his lap.

It feels like it’s been months since you’ve last been with him, or maybe that’s just how exhausting today was.

Joel sighs content and pleased once you fully rest against him. Hesitantly you ask if it’s okay if you can talk about him, about his work.

“Ask away honey. I’ll tell ya everything n’ anything.” He says firm.

You grin and your thumb starts stroking the back of his hand.

“So what made you decide to reveal yourself now? I heard there was an issue about someone saying they were you?” You ask, thinking of the discussions earlier with your best friend.

“Yeah..” Joel now sighs tired with an ancient weariness that settles over his handsome face.

“Sarah was the one who saw it first on Twitter or wherever it was.” He adds with a grumble.

Your heart aches knowing one of the girls saw it first.

“Didn’t help either that I ain’t online. So it became a whole fuckin’ mess we had to deal with it a couple months back.”

A light bulb goes off inside your brain.

“Was that when you said you had to visit a family friend out of town?” You connect the dots.

“Yup.” Joel nods. “Went to visit Frank, my agent, to try and figure this shit out. Could’ve let it all maybe die down but… ya know.” He huffs and you understand completely.

Joel is too stubborn, a bit too prideful. You almost snort amused just over the thought of him trying to let the situation blow over.

“Frank wants to meet ya by the way.” Now his voice dips with a bashful tone while his hands begin softly stroking your thighs.

“I’d love to meet him too.” You truthfully tell Joel.

“So, are you going to be online now? Should I start making secret accounts to follow you?” You now tease and Joel barks a beautiful amused laugh.

“Baby, I’m over 50. The only apps I need on my phone are candy crush and ESPN. Ain’t got the time or patience for social medias.”

Now you’re the one laughing.

It feels freeing, blissful, like this is the first moment you’re spending time with him all over again. Yet, there’s a deeper sacred connection that settles.

You can’t help but kiss him again and Joel eagerly welcomes you on his lips.

Now his lips move fervently, almost possessively, against yours, licking and trying to consume you. A small moan squeaks out of you.

“Come on baby,” he mutters, shifting you against his lap so that you fully feel his hardness straining against his pants. “Wanna taste ya.”

You’re thankful you manage to drag him back inside because you can’t imagine getting intimate with Joel on the balcony. Well, at least not yet. But that was a thought for another day.

Now in the afterglow’s soft relaxing peace you wish for more time with him.

But Joel must sense that ache too.

“S’late honey. Come back home with me. Even if it’s just for the night.” He mutters against your lips and you can’t deny him. You don’t want to deny him or the aching tug pulling you to him.

That night you fully embrace every inch of the man Joel Miller is and let a dizzying adoration for him swallow you whole.

The next morning, in the soft early still dark shade of his room, Joel wakes you with a tender kiss to your forehead.

“Gotta go meet with Frank for the day. I’ll see ya later, honey.” He mutters against your cozy heated skin.

You hum a soft agreement and sleepily wish him a goodbye before falling back to sleep. After that, you wake up later to a colder and empty bed.

Tugging on another one of Joel’s shirts you head downstairs already missing his presence.

And when you get downstairs, there on the table sits the most gorgeous floral arrangement. Its beautiful vibrant blooms make your heart flutter so fast against its cage.

A folded paper sits beside the flowers. Your name is written on the front in Joel’s slightly chicken scratch like handwriting.

You scramble fast to grab it.

A letter, he’s written you a letter.

“Honey,

I know I’ve already apologized and you’ve forgiven my old undeserving ass.”

You snort at that line but continue on.

“But I just wanted to fully apologize to you again. Might take me a while until I stop, but just be patient with my old bones yeah?”

You would. Your heart would and will always wait for him.

“Doesn’t seem like it but, I aint that good at talking about things, about my feelings. Shocker right?”

You smirk. You know he isn’t good with words - that’s why it almost feels ironic and a bit unreal that he’s an author.

You’ve discovered Joel shows his affection through his actions.

He spent an entire day rearranging a business scheduling conflict just so that Tommy didn’t have to worry about it. Joel never missed a single one of Ellie’s basketball games. Sarah only prefers a certain type of orange juice and Joel never fails to only get that one.

The first few weeks you started dating Joel you got sick with a nasty cold. He dropped off a whole bag of various items like tissues and cough drops. It was then you knew his heart shines through his actions.

He sometimes surprises you with an order from your favorite take out spot. He never lets you touch a door, always opening them for you instead. He’s the most generous lover and never fails to remind you of how tender, how consuming, his passion can be.

Joel does grumble, sometimes even seems grouchy, but he loves fiercely.

And now here he is showing you this side of him, this form of himself as a writer.

So you return to reading his letter.

“I got into writing because it helped me process all my emotions, my thoughts, the good and bad days - everything. And sharing my writing with others, especially with someone as important as you, still makes me feel so vulnerable. Funny how that worked out though huh? Guess fate wanted to drag my ass and make me face my fears and vulnerability and whatnot.”

Someone as important as you - The line makes your heart flutter.

“I know I told you the reasons why I didn’t tell you. But another reason was because I was afraid.

I was afraid of how much you mean to me. Telling you about this part of me would be taking a bigger step. And it scared me shitless. Cause darlin’ I haven’t felt this way in a very long time. Like, as Ellie loves to say, in such a long time that ‘dinosaurs weren’t even fossils.’

That makes you laugh a bit watery but you let his words carry you again.

“You make my damn heart race when you smile. I get so worked up just seeing you walk around my house as if you were always meant to be here. And I didn't want to lose that either. I still don’t.

You feel like a bright future, like waking up after a cloudy week and the sun greets you so nicely. And I just wanna stay in that warmth, your warmth.

Yeah sorry, that line might be too romance novel writer for my league…but like I said I’m thinking about it. And it’s because of you.

We said no more secrets yeah?

So I’m not lying when I say you’ve become so god damn important to me. And I wanna see more days with you, as many as you’ll have with me.

Fuck. This damn letter already feels too long and I hate my old ass for rambling and maybe not making sense. But I adore you honey. Plain in simple.

And I’m just gonna leave it at that.

Don’t miss me too much and I’ll see you soon.

P.S I picked that bookstore as the tour’s first stop here because it’s where I met you… and I’ll always be grateful for that

-Joel”

You now fight back an absolute ocean’s worth of adoration for this man.

Tears clog your throat and you try not letting them flood your vision, but it’s so hard. So hard when you’re this head over heels.

You don’t want to say it yet, and you don’t know if he’s even ready to say it, but the emotion filling you like a newborn star feels like love.

You barely manage to send out a text thanking him and hoping you’ll get to talk to him soon.

Joel, ever the endearing man he is, replies back with a simple heart emoji and you laugh.

You really might love this man.

And you hope, you so brightly hope, that he maybe loves you too.

You think of his book series, of how he became a writer simply wanting to tell his daughters stories. Those stories grew out of his love for them and now he gets to crystallize that among his pages.

You realize how writing truly is its own form of love.

After all, what better way for a writer to show their love, their heart, than to capture you in their words?

You think that’s where writers must live now, in the heart. Or maybe - your maybe gruff handsome one just does. And you happily welcome Joel’s place in yours and hope he resides there forever like a love poem etched into your very soul.

#hello hi if you read this know me and author Joel are writing you a love letter #Joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #author!joel miller #Joel miller fic #Joel 🤎

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panboiiibish · 1 month

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Thinking about monsters right now. More specifically another hybrid you! But this time with your human owner and wolf dog playmate.

Your a simple mixed breed, so cute and little when compared to your much bigger playmate. And when I say you play mate is big I mean he practically rivals your human owner in height.

But dont worry hes a complete love bug, always pinning your little self down to groom your unruly fur. Or finding your sunbathing spot and curling around you while he uses you as a little heating pad. Of course your owner fuckin adores this too, always taking pictures or is piled by their two hybrids that believe they are lap puppies.

When your not napping or grooming your a playful mess, always tugging at your mates ears and tail. Doing quick zombies around the room before being tripped and pinned by the lazy grumpy wolf dog.

In the beginginyour owner tries to stop that behavior but slowly came to realize it was just past to let the bigger hybrid pin you. Otherwise your poor owers potted plants would not survive being knocked over in a speedy frenzy.

But you make sure to get revenge when pinned.

Gnawing as his ears or smothering his neck with slobber. He would just grunt or groan as you know he knows he cant just wipe off the slobber, your scent would stick and he rathers to have you smothered in his scent.

Speaking of scents everything in the house smells like the bigger hybrid. Just like wolves he marks everything as to claim his territory and that even means completely smothering both his owner and you with his fur. Being another hybrid your used to it and attempt being playful by covering him back in your scent. While your owner wont completely understand it and clean up all the shed fur and take a shower as not to go to work smelling like a dog park.

This just urges you both to fry harder in covering your owner in your lovely smell.

#idk wtf im doing #ideas #monster x reader #x reader #hybrid reader #monster x human #hybrid!reader #owner #thinking about #Cant get over this thought! Pls send in your own ideas or thoughts x3

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luveline · 9 months

Note

Not sure if I’m doing this right because I’ve never really taken part in one of these but please can I request something for zombie Steve and reader with the below prompt:

𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝'𝐬 𝐨𝐤 —send me a hurt/comfort request for any reader and any character and I'll write a ficlet, 2k or less

Maybe like, some time shortly after they started to become romantically involved or after he first calls her his gf, and Steve has a bad day and is a little short with reader and she’s worrying he’s regretting crossing that line with her but then he reassures her he’s not regretting it.

Sorry if I’m doing this wrong and no worries if you don’t like it, I just seriously love zombie Steve, especially when he’s a lil grumpy grump but always wants to make up for it afterwards 🥰

luveline's 40k party ☆ thank you for your request, you did it perfect don't worry! steve zombie!au —steve gets stressed when food is in short supply, but he cares about you more than you think. fem!reader, 2.5k

cw starving / food insecurity

"I don't think we can make it another day if we don't find something tonight."

Steve's shoulders go rigid at your statement, backpack reflecting glaring light.. It's dark as night, the room illuminated by two twin flashlight beams. New batteries have the lights constant and consistent. It's a shame you can't live off of batteries.

You're hungry in a way you've never been hungry before. Never. You and Steve have been starving for days. You have a pounding headache leaking down into your teeth that's made you quiet and Steve is quieter, pointing his flashlight into the next kitchen cabinet. The only thing inside is dust, motes swimming in a sea of white.

What's worse, you're terrified to hop houses at night, because from afar, deep in the forest surrounding the residential neighbourhood you're in, you've been hearing wolves. Deep howls chasing a filling moon.

You're so hungry you've had to risk it.

Your head is heavy on your neck as you look up into another cabinet. "We're gonna die," you say. You can't help it —maybe it's the genuine and inescapable despair of thinking you'll die, maybe it's his recent bout of loving affection, but lately all you do is complain.

"We're not gonna die," Steve says.

"You don't know that."

"Yes, I do."

"How could you? All these houses have been stripped clean, there's nothing left–"

"I just know, alright?"

He slams the cabinet door shut and stalks to the other side of the kitchen. These houses are huge, rich people places with endless bedrooms and their matching ensuites. He shoves his weight into the door leading to the garage. You don't have a choice, following him in. Steve wants space but he can't have it, splitting up makes you feel sick.

Your hands under his t-shirt, his hands on your back. An admission. I've been calling you my girlfriend in my head for weeks.

Your Steve's girlfriend. He's your boyfriend, and he's gonna get eaten by a zombie in a garage in the middle of nowhere suburbia and you'll be all alone without him.

"Steve," you say, irritated. The garage is even darker than the kitchen, no windows for moonlight to crawl inside. He's turned his torch to the storage bins behind a black, sleek car.

"What?" he asks, using the brunt of his palm to lift a lid.

"What do you mean, what? If I walked away from you like that you'd bite my head off."

"Jesus," he hisses, quickly turning his light away from the bin he's opened. "What the fuck?"

You creep up behind him to direct your own flashlight. You don't want to talk about what you find inside.

Defeated and distant and wishing things could be different, you and Steve clip your rucksacks at the waist and prepare to move in the dark from this shitty empty house to the next. You can't sleep; Steve won't say it, but you think he might be scared that you'll both be too weak to get up again if you lay down. This is the final push.

You don't ask for his hand. He grabs one of your rucksack straps and you slink down the concrete steps of the house back onto the picture perfect streets. An entire apocalypse and the only evidence is smashed glass. The cold night bounces off of the sidewalk to chill your calves, your old jeans little defence against the cold. It's so, so cold lately.

The next house is locked. You and Steve look at one another, and whether you can see him in the moonlight dregs or if your mind knows him well enough to fill in the gaps is anyone's guess. He looks reluctantly hopeful.

You take a silent walk around the house checking for points of entry. When each door you come across is locked and each window tightly locked, you kneel at the garage door and force your icy fingers beneath the door. Steve helps, flat of his knife scratching the asphalt. You lose all the feeling in your fingertips as Steve struggles to get his hands under as well, but together you sigh, pained, and lift the garage door with the last of your strength. You army under first quickly, almost dropping the shutters as Steve follows.

Fingertips aching with quick-blooming contusions, you attempt to help Steve stand. He ignores your offered hand.

This house is the same as the other, so while it's dark, it's manoeuvrable. Same daunting marble staircases up on to a balconied landing. Across to the left is a lone bedroom with huge windows and a staircase to the attic, and across to the right a handful of equally spacious rooms. You hadn't bothered searching the bedrooms in the houses before, figuring that whoever combed the kitchens to the insane degree they have was as desperate as you are now, and would've already done so.

But this house was locked.

You're filled with aching hope. You need to eat. You don't want to die. You don't want Steve to die. If there's nothing here, you aren't sure you'll have the energy to search another granite kitchen.

Steve wastes no time opening a cabinet.

You both stand still in shock.

Cereal. Boxes and boxes of cereal.

"What do you think the sell by date is?" you ask.

"I don't know." He pulls down a box. It's off by a year. Pulls down another. Off again. Something awful inside of you wants to tear into the cardboard and eat it anyways. Too bad food poisoning can kill you quicker than hunger.

Steve leaves the cabinet door open and moves to the next, practically ripping it off of the hinges. Your torch beam shakes with excitement when you see the insides, golden cans stacked high.

Steve picks one up. Tosses it aside. "It's cat food."

Well, if all else fails. The thought makes you want to cry.

The next cabinet is full of glassware, and the next china plates. Steve opens a fifth and sixth at the same time. It takes you a second to calibrate the sight in front of you.

"It's not more cat food, is it?" you ask quietly.

Steve breathes out hard, grabbing a handful of skinny cans, metal popping against the counter as he drops one. "It's fish. Tuna fish."

And just like that, you get to live.

The last cabinet has a short supply of soups and bare essentials, enough for a week between you both (rich people ate less processed foods, apparently). It's the fish that promises security, a hundred cans of bluefin, yellowfin tuna, a couple cans of caviar.

You and Steve eat it in the kitchen with fancy spoons. The smell is undesirable but it doesn't make you feel sick until hours later, half asleep on the kitchen floor.

You stand up, ushering him with you, and pull yourselves with heavy emphasis on the handrail up the stairs to the first bedroom you come across. You take your toothbrush from your bag despite the begging pull of sleep and brush your teeth, eager to escape the salty tang of fish. If Steve wants to kiss you tonight, you'd rather taste like Arctic Fresh than fish.

"Can I have some?" Steve asks.

You raise your brows, squeezing toothpaste onto his brush. While he brushes, you construct a little lamp using the low-power torch and a half full water bottle. The room is far less intimidating after that, light reaching into the corners and exposing the raw wooden beams above. Steve spits his toothpaste into the wastebasket and leaves the room. He returns as you're taking off your shoes, disapproving as he drags a chair in. He hooks it under the door handle, jigging it to test.

"I can't wear them anymore," you say.

"Okay," he says.

You'd hoped finding food would make him less snappy, but no luck. He's even quieter than before.

You get changed in silence, like you've both decided now you're not hungry that actually you'd been kind of filthy. It's just… your reality. You want to be clean, and fed, and brushed, but you're grimy. You settle for another layer of deodorant and a fresh pair of underwear.

Steve is looking at you, half-naked. He's allowed, it doesn't matter, but he averts his eyes when you catch him and doesn't speak to you again. Thankfully, your sated hunger removes despair to some extent. You climb into bed and Steve slides in next to you, and for a few hours, you sleep.

Waking up is a new agony.

You're bad at being separated from one another, and finding him gone fucks you up. Your heart immediately leaps into your mouth, a raw, beating thing. The daylight disarms you at first, blinking against it, but proves to be your friend when you find Steve's shoes at the end of the bed. It's a marker, a note from him to you: I'm still here.

He's leaning heavily on the countertop in the kitchen with a notebook laid flat and a pen in hand, tallying up the cans.

"Hey, you scared me," you say, his shoes in one hand, yours in the other.

"Sorry."

You put the shoes on the counter.

You hesitate to touch him first. You'd been thinking last night before you slept, his hand near your hip instead of on it, that Steve's finally realised he doesn't want to be with you. Like a near death experience, he'd had an epiphany. Why would he want to spend the bare strands of a life that he has playing house with you?

He didn't have a choice. One sudden day and you were his burden.

Steve takes your hand without looking. Firm, he squeezes his fingers between yours and pulls you into his side. "It's a month's worth of food, easily. But it might make us kind of sick if we aren't careful. There's Mercury in it. Less than the cheap stuff, but we still shouldn't be eating so much." His arm presses to yours. He meets your eyes over his shoulder. "I hate fish."

"You're talking to me today."

He looks down at the notebook, his eyebrows pinching in like you've stepped on his foot. "I– sorry. I wasn't very nice, yesterday, I guess."

You're relieved to hear his apology, not because you really even want one, but because it means he isn't as mad at you as you thought. "I was complaining."

"It was all shit. You're allowed. I… was stressed."

"It was all shit," you agree, explaining away his bad mood. But, last night, he didn't wanna hold you. It sounds pathetic but on a small scale, this is your life. Any change feels foreign.

"I wasn't mad at you for complaining."

You feel the back of his hand with your thumb. Fine hairs, skin rough from a few weeks of the elements. "Thanks for clarifying."

"I'm serious."

"So am I."

Steve looses go of your hand to put his arm on your shoulder. His fingertips skirt against your back, tickling gently. His eyes are serious but his mouth curves with a smile. "Why are you upset?" he asks.

"I'm not."

"I think I'd know."

It seems silly now to tell him with his touch, his face this close to yours. You take in a shuddering breath and his expression pinches.

Steve stands as close to you as he can without hugging you. "Hey, tell me," he says.

You push your tongue against your teeth, thinking. Tears threaten to collect, a burning lump bobbing in your throat at his question.

"Do you ever regret this?" you ask. "Sometimes I think you do."

"This?" he asks.

"Me and you."

Steve laughs, and that really is foreign what with the last few days of moroseness you've had. It's not a humoured laugh, just a shocked one, the sound inking his words as he says, "We're not something up for regretting."

"What's that mean?"

"It means," —Steve ducks his head a little, eye to eye with you as his arm curls behind your neck— "it's not even an option. Us, me and you, you alone, it's not an option. I don't regret what's happened or what's happening between us. I wish… I wish I'd been less of a dick to you. I wish I was nicer to you now, and that's a shitty thing to say, but this–" Hid eyes flare with annoyance directed inward. "I get fucking abysmally moody because I can't believe I'm this bad at taking care of you."

You lift your chin ever so slightly and Steve kisses you. Sweet but a little rough, like he'd been waiting for an offer.

"I don't regret this," he mumbles, tapping the tip of his nose under yours. You lift your head, and he fits another kiss to the seam of your lips.

"You didn't wanna hug me or anything last night–"

He hugs you immediately. "I'm sorry," he says over your ear. "It was just a bad day."

"But I'm here with you. I'm having the bad day with you, I want to be there for you," you say, semi-desperate.

"I'm sorry," he says again, relaxing as your arms fold behind his back.

Steve pets your back. You wish things were different, that he could be hugging you somewhere different. You can picture it, Steve dropping you off at some college class or putting his hand in your back pocket on the way to dinner. Things could be so much better and they never, ever will be.

You don't ask, afraid to even suggest it if he hasn't thought of it, but you worry Steve is with you out of habit. Bad habits are hard to break, but anyone can stop smoking if they really want to. He could move on.

He must read your mind.

"Sorry," Steve whispers, leaning back to kiss your cheek. "I'm a shitty boyfriend sometimes when I'm trying to be good at keeping us alive. You're the only good thing. I'm really sorry, honey."

You nibble on the inside of your lip and hug him harder. "Stop saying sorry. You didn't do anything wrong, I just think too much."

He breathes out in surprise at your ferocity, dropping his head into the curve of your neck.

"I'm sorry," he says anyway.

Unbeknownst to you, it's in lieu of a different confession.

You crack a smile. Steve pulls away to fret over your face uselessly, wiping away things you can't see and smiling back like a guy in the movies, all confident and flirtatious. It's a stark difference to the previous gloom.

"Let's go find some water," he says, taking the side of your face into his palm. "I smell bad and you're shiny."

"Nice, Steve."

#steve zombie!au #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington drabble #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things 4 #luveline’s 40k party

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demigods-posts · 5 months

Text

(brief mention of self-harm! read with caution!)

The Road's Gettin' Bumpy, a short blurb:

Percy trudged down the empty pavement in the pouring rain.

He thought about the last few weeks: how he had awoken from what felt like the longest nap of his life surrounded by a pack of wolves, how he was scared shitless of what could have possibly happened for him to be in such an inconceivable situation, how he was even more terrified at the realization that he couldn't remember who he was.

He thought about how each monster that he fought and was certain he killed seemed to come back for rematches every few days, how his body was covered in a concerning amount of scars that were clearly years old, and how it meant that he couldn't even catch a break in a life he couldn't remember.

He thought about the families he passed on the sidewalks and wondered if his parents, if he had any, were somewhere out there missing him, how he didn't bother to keep track of how long he'd been on his own since the days seemed to blur together after a while, how nothing, not even his sword, could break his skin, and how he couldn't tell if it was a blessing or a curse.

On the particularly difficult days, which was pretty much every day it seemed, he thought of Annabeth.

He thought about the way her name rolled off his tongue like he was made to say it over and over again. He thought about the way the sound of her voice breathed life into him each time he felt like collapsing to the ground and letting whatever monster that found him have its way. He thought about the way her eyes glistened in the sunlight, the way her smile made him want to cry, and the way his soul ached like it was calling out to its other half.

Was it silly to imagine her yards in front of him, waiting at the end of the road with open arms? Maybe. But it gave him hope, so he kept walking.

As he trudged down the empty pavement, a song formed in the depths of his mind as if something in the ether was taunting him with a memory he couldn’t quite grasp. That kind of thing usually made him angry, but this time, it made him feel like he wasn't alone, so he sang to himself, probably off-key, amid the pouring rain:

“O’golly,

the road’s gettin’ bumpy,

‘cause I got me some friends who just can’t get along.

Oh dear,

when the team's getting grumpy,

the trick to get through it is singing this song.

Consensus.”

---

(x) <- inspired by this post, @illmissthecrowning

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ciitroner · 5 months

Text

Cabin In The Woods: and the consequences of your actions

Kidnapper!Ghost x Reader x Kidnapper!Soap

PART 3 OF THE KIDNAP!AU BACKSTORY SERIES, part 1, part 2.

ROUGH DAY (main story)

Summary: Never did you once believe that the seemingly abandoned cabin you stumbled across after an accident on your hike would belong to two men you once met at a bar. You wish you'd listened to your gut feeling about them...

Warnings: 18+ (MDNI), afab!reader, kidnapping, oral sex, NON-CON, blowjob, DARK FIC, creepy/pervy behaviour, toxic behaviour, somnophilia? (not really, but you were about to drift to sleep), dacryphilia, humiliation, mention of stalking, slight violence, manipulation, hair pulling, fingering, you get hurt in the process of the hike

Notes: This took way too long, I deleted a few drafts before I said fuck it and settled with this one. Ok mwah enjoy Wc: 4.9k

The evening sun, accompanied by the small occasional breeze carefully, yet harshly, caresses your tired body. Your frame hangs low as if you had not slept in years, your eyebags complimenting the appearance. One after the other, with a shaking huff and a puff, you lift your legs to strive forward. To where - you had yet to discover. You had lost your hiking trail and were now only hoping for a helping sign, although to no avail. Your friend, whose house you were staying at, at the moment, had suggested that you enjoy the forest and nature instead of… well, sulking at home over not getting a job. It was a good idea at the time, and you had promised her to take a lot of beautiful photos that both of you could sigh happily about later on. The only problem is, that you’ve never gone on a hiking trip before, and suddenly being thrown into the worst situation you could currently think of- fuelled your hate for nature. No signal, and an almost dead phone did you no good.

With every rise of angriness and anxiousness over the setting sun, you find the strength to go deeper into the forest - maybe not the greatest idea, but you are so very sure that the hiking trail was around that area… probably… hopefully. You feel a droplet hit your nose, pulling you out of your thought process. How lovely! The bad situation became even worse. It’s slowly but surely getting colder, and what was once only a few drops of rain had turned into a heavy downpour. You could barely see your surroundings, but at least you don’t have to worry about water, you laugh miserably to yourself while you resume walking - as standing in the middle of nowhere would get you… nowhere. The forest ground is wet and slippery, forcing a few gasps and yelps out of you when you lose your balance from time to time. You’re cold, wet, muddy and grumpy after a few stumbles when the first flash of lightning lights up the dark sky, and not very much later - you hear the sharp sound.

“Ah… shit.” You’d have to find shelter as soon as possible, as being surrounded by trees wasn’t ideal in a full-blown thunderstorm.

The slow, hunched walking evolves into jogging in fear when the next bolt of lightning hits somewhere close. Something, most likely a root, knocks you down on your knees as you trip over it. Barely hearing your groan over the loud pitter-patter of the rain, you get up again - and you’d guess your knees were scraped bloody through your pants due to every fall - though, this one was significantly harsh. Your soggy clothing and annoying backpack weigh down on you, not much unlike the anxiousness of getting lost and eaten by wolves - and holding back tears is the only thing you feel like you have control over at the moment. Gasping for breath, you push through a dense thicket, the rain soaking every inch of your being and thorns grabbing onto the poor excuse of clothes you’re wearing. The forest seems to close in around you, and bile rises in your throat - which you have to force down with a gulp. The eerie creaking of branches, the rustling of unseen animals… creatures, the horrible sound of lightning and the relentless downpour create a symphony of discomfort - nonetheless, you push through the labyrinth of nightmares.

Each step forward is a struggle, and being unable to see what’s in front of you awakens a cruel twist of fate as it sends you tumbling down a steep part of the mountain. The world becomes a blur of mud, rocks and undeniable hurt as you desperately claw at anything within reach - attempting to halt your rapid descent. Time seems to slow down, and the echoes of your terrified screams mix with the howling wind until everything goes dark.

With a shocked and pained gasp, you awaken. God knows how long you’ve been out cold - but it mustn’t have been too long, as the world around you is still dark, and the storm continues its wrath, indifferent to your plight. Pain radiates through your body as you lay there, dazed and battered. You must’ve hit your head, making you pass out, you conclude after a horrible headache crashes down on you. Your hands hurt and so does a part of your lip, you could only guess that it had been injured in the accident. Grimacing, you manage to push yourself upright - letting out pained ah’s and oh’s when you have to balance your body on your hands to get up. Your backpack is still in its place - you realise, and you’re thankful as it could have dampened the fall. You stay standing still for a while, just… appreciating life, thankful you’re still alive. You put your hands in your pockets to preserve the warmth when you realise that your phone is gone, and you realise it's worthless to try and look around if you don’t want to fall somewhere again - as horrible as it was, your life was a bit more important.

As you’re turning around to take a new path, hopefully bringing you some place higher up where you could scream for help during the day, something catches your eye. With a squint of your tired eyes, you notice a cabin in the far distance. You realise it’s not a trick of your exhausted mind and that there indeed is a cabin nearby, nestled within the shadows of the towering trees - and like the most cliché horror character, you’re not taking a chance, limping forward towards the entrance. The cabin emerges from the darkness, its outline becoming clearer as you draw near. It looks old and slightly ugly, you notice - the chair and table on the front porch most likely have been broken and fallen over due to the relentless storm and many more.

With a deep breath, you approach the creaking door. You decide that it’s better to be potentially breaking into the cabin than to be left standing outside in dangerous weather conditions. You pull down the handle, and you’re relieved when it opens. The interior of the cabin gives a special charm of itself - as if time had paused within its walls - and you’re thankful that the shelter you had found for yourself had a good roof, not letting any drops of water slip by. The air is thick with the scent of aged wood and dust. Pretty - but basic, furniture is arranged sporadically as if the owner only had put them there to… put them there. You notice a lamp over a kitchen table with two seats and realise that there might be a chance that the electricity still works, you could only hope. Quickly closing the door behind you, you take on the job of grazing the walls with your sore fingertips, for a sign of the light switch. You mutter an apology to the absent owner when you spread mud and water over the floor in your search, and promise yourself to clean it afterwards, “Aha!”

It takes around ten seconds before the light starts flickering before staying lit. You’re careful to avoid the rugs - some normal, and other animal pelts - when you search for other light switches, as you didn’t want to stay in the dark for any longer. When you’d get home… if you got home, you’d give your friend two slaps on each cheek before giving her a long hug and cry into her shoulder. Then you’d research every how-to on hiking there is, even though you’d never go again - it’s good to know. The occasional gust of wind through a window, incapable of being fully closed, makes the dust dance in the air and you cough.

There’s a fireplace in front of the sofa, surrounded by a bit larger stones, with a flat-screen TV resting on the mantel above the fireplace. You’re cold, and the only thing on your mind is a shower and a hot drink - but you shake your head and explore further, setting down your large backpack close to the entrance. You’d have to take out your things to examine what’s wet and what’s not later - even though you took a waterproof bag (thank god for your friend’s boyfriend), you don’t know if your things were safe from the horrid weather and fall. It’s a two-floor, cosy cabin - the upstairs area consists of a balcony and a bedroom. The windows, though framed by large heavy curtains, allow glimpses of the storm outside, and the flickering bedside lamp you’ve turned on allows you to see the dust gathered on the wooden frames of the bed, and a few flies that had died. The downstairs area consists of the living room, kitchen, and surprisingly clean bathroom - aside from the dust, there is no sign of mould nor any horror film yellowish-bathroom colour anywhere in the sink. You sigh in happiness and pray to whatever entity that had let you live the fall down the mountain that the hot water still works.

The owner might not have visited for a while, and you can only hope that they don’t feel like coming during the few hours- or days, you might be here. The wooden floor creaks under your every step when you walk over to pick up your backpack and settle it down on the kitchen table - obviously after dusting it down with a feather duster you had found in a corner. You needed a change of clothes as soon as possible if you didn't want to get sick - and thus, you unzip it and uncover a carefully wrapped bundle of spare clothes. The previous overthinking, while you had packed your bag, pays off as you take out another pair of underwear, shampoo and some warmer sweats. Luckily, as it was packed at the bottom - it hadn’t become wet, unlike your equipment at the top. You walk to the bathroom and put your clothes down on the counter connected to the basin.

You turn on the water in the bathtub, and let it run while the gentle hum of the electricity powers a small heater. You undress and look at yourself in the mirror, horrifying - you conclude. Steam begins to rise, and you slide the curtain to the side and walk in, sighing as the too-warm water almost boils your skin off - as it should. You made a mental note to remember the fireplace afterwards before you begin washing yourself, scrubbing the dirt and grime off of your body. The scent of your shampoo fills your lungs, and you smile to yourself.

After a long time, you emerge from the shower, wrapped in a dry towel, and feel a renewed sense of vitality. You slip into the fresh, clean clothes - a stark contrast to the dampness and discomfort that defined your… adventure thus far.

You towel dry your hair before leaving the towel to dry on the bathtub curtain rack along with your previous clothes - abandoning your shoes for a pair of warm fuzzy socks you had brought with you, wearing them with a pair of slippers you’d found. Although a few sizes too big, you cringed at the thought of walking on the dust and dead-flies-filled floor. The cabin was creepy, and the occasional flickering of light paired with the storm outside made you take no chances - so in case a monster of some sort came up behind you, at least you could hit it with a slipper. You shrug.

You bring out a vacuum cleaner and plug it into an outlet in the kitchen before cleaning the cabin, making it a more comfortable place - you were especially careful not to leave any dust particles around the fireplace, as it's highly flammable. You decide to clean upstairs as well, fixing the bed in slight sympathy for the owner, before arranging the logs in the fireplace - creating a carefully crafted pyramid you’re frankly proud of. A small box of matches rests on the mantel, and thankfully there are a few left. You strike a match, the flame dancing briefly before settling into a steady glow, and carefully touch the match to the kindling. The flames grow, licking at the wood and bringing the living room area to life.

You’d brought a few - now soggy, although still edible - snacks with you. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to keep your stomach satisfied for at least a day or two. A breeze from the broken window made you shiver and stay closer to the fire, it was still dark outside, but the rain had calmed down by now and would probably come to a full stop in a few hours. You eat a few protein bars, before falling asleep on the sofa - not being able to turn the television on, as you had no energy to search for the remote control. Dangerous, yes, but it seems like your bad luck had run out as you awaken in the morning (or afternoon, you had no idea - as the only clock in the house had stopped working) with a fully intact cabin and now only a small sad fire in the fireplace. It’s sunny outside, thankfully - and you quickly wash your dirty clothes in the bathtub before hanging them outside on a clothesline. You grimace at the sight of your shoes, it would take at least a few sunny days to dry them fully - even though you almost turn them fully inside out. You walk back inside again, to get yourself some food.

“Hey!”

You let out a shrill scream at the unsuspected voice behind you, and you quickly turn around - cursing as you stumble because of the big slippers on your feet. He’s big, the man. Owner, you presume, inspecting him with wide eyes. He has a large balaclava with a skull print on it, and you can’t help but feel like you’ve seen it before. His gaze is cold, and there’s a certain standoffishness to his demeanour.

“Didn’t mean to startle you,” he apologizes, half-heartedly you assume by the hint of amusement and lack of warmth in his tone. His gaze assesses you, not unkindly, but with a detached scrutiny that makes you uneasy. He kicks his boots off by the front door, leaving it ajar, before setting down four full bags on the table you’d kept your backpack - before moving it to the sofa while you snacked yesterday. Your accelerated breathing and heart rate calm a bit when you realise that he doesn’t have any will to hurt you for breaking into his cabin at the moment, you feel the need to excuse your actions.

“It’s okay, it’s been q-quite a night,” you gulp, throat dry, “found your cabin while I was lost due to the storm.”

His response is a nonchalant nod. “Make yourself at home,” he responds, voice authoritative - making the suggestion almost sound like a command. It holds a distance that almost seems intentional. He takes in his surroundings and notices how clean it is, unusual to what it would normally be like after not visiting for almost months at a time. “I… I cleaned,” you announce with a cough, getting up from the floor feeling like an idiot. He seems indifferent, as if your actions hold little significance to him, “I can see that.”

He opens cabinets and slowly but steadily empties the bags, most of it is food, and other things include batteries, you notice. You feel awkward standing while he does the work, “d-do you-”

“Name’s Ghost,” he states abruptly, cutting you off mid-sentence, and not bothering to extend a handshake or any other friendly gesture - continuing to store the items in their places. The introduction hangs in the air, the conversation feeling more obligatory than welcoming. You take off his slippers - and he seems to track your movements through the corner of his eye - before offering your own name. He lets out a short hum, and there’s that. It doesn’t lead anywhere, and you’re both left in silence before the front door opens once more. The sudden footsteps behind you startle you, and you turn around to find another man there.

“Did ye hang those rags outside- oh,” the man notices you and raises his dark eyebrows, “didn’t expect tae see anyone here,” he greets with an accent, although somewhat confused, his tone is friendly and warm - rivalling against Ghost’s composed and cold behaviour. Ghost offers the man a subtle nod in his direction, acknowledging his presence without uttering a single word.

“I was on a hike, got lost and sought shelter from the storm here…” you quickly explain yourself, fiddling with your fingers behind your back in anxiousness of being stared down by two large men. The man continues your conversation while Ghost neatly folds the plastic bags before putting them in a box somewhere in the corner.

“Nae bother,” he drops your name and your ears perk up, eyebrows furrowing in shock. He speaks with a grin as if nothing weird had happened at all. He takes off his boots before joining Ghost in the kitchen - muttering something about teabags. “Thanks for gien’ the place a tidy up.” You ignore his thankfulness.

“How do you know my name?” you ask, a tinge of uncertainty layering your words. The man’s grin widens, “we met at the bar, ‘bout a month ago. We had a good time, tad bit too much on the bevvy, though.”

“Ah… Soap?”

“Aye.” He almost vividly describes the details of your… not so much conversation, reminding you of a night when you were perhaps a bit too inebriated to recall much. You have to shush him after a moment, and he cackles at your embarrassed face.

You find it odd that Soap remembers everything so clearly - especially since it’s been a month, while your memories from that night are only flickering fragments. The realization that he has been holding onto these details gets you uncomfortable.

“Ye like yer tea wi’ a wee smidgen of sugar, aye lassie?”

It’s as if he has been meticulously collecting pieces of your life. Despite the peculiar circumstances, Soap continues to engage in casual - slightly one-sided - conversation, seemingly oblivious to the unease settling within you. The sun shines bright through the window close to the table, where Soap is now ushering you towards. You shake your head.

“I… I think I should go home,” you utter tentatively, voicing the sudden urge that has gripped you. Ghost’s gaze, still concealed behind the balaclava, remains unreadable - though the air surrounding him seems to thicken. Soap, his charm momentarily faltering, raises an eyebrow in confusion. “Leaving… so soon?” he questions, friendly demeanour momentarily slipping into an expression of perplexity - leaving you with goosebumps. He leans casually against a wall, as if waiting for your explanation.

“It’s just… I don’t know. These past hours have been a bit,” you wave your hands around, wanting to find the right words, “too much,” you stammer, struggling to articulate your urgency to leave. Soap’s grin returns, but there’s a subtle shift in his gaze, “we’ve got everything ye need right here. Naw need tae go,” he voices with a friendly tone that contradicts the unease in your gut. He places a warm cup of tea in front of you, setting you down on a seat, before sitting on the chair in front of you with a cup of his own. Ghost, still a silent observer - now also with a cup - stands beside Soap, not much unlike a bodyguard.

“Ye’ve been through so much… take a day or two’s rest here before you leave.” It’s voiced almost like a demand. “I guess,” you sip on the tea - silently cursing Soap because he made it just the way you like it. Soap relaxes against the wooden chair and Ghost moves slightly away from your eyesight - before lighting his balaclava to drink.

That was your third and last mistake.

“Love the hustle and bustle o’ the city, but sometimes, a quiet place like this feels like a different world, aye?” Soap shares, a lopsided grin on his face. “I guess,” you repeat. It had been a nightmare, really. You’d never go out again after this.

“Especially since we’ve now got an Angel sent from heaven, now.”

“I- I guess,” you would be a bit more creeped out if he wasn’t exactly your type. You’re both attracted to each other, it seems like. Awful situation.

You continue chatting, Ghost quipping in with small jokes occasionally - and you laugh. The tension in the air slowly disappears, and soon enough - when the tea cups are empty, Ghost drags his mask over his jaw again, hiding anything but his eyes. He gets a stool and settles down next to Soap. You’re thankful they’re being nice hosts.

“Soap-”

“Johnny,” he cuts you off, “he’s Simon. No need for call signs.”

“Ah… Johnny,” you begin, and swear that you see him shudder slightly, “where do you keep your plasters? My knees-” he cuts you off, “hurt in the storm, yeah? Lt will show ye.”

Simon, without uttering a word, motions for you to follow him. Johnny stays in the kitchen, mumbling something about dinner, had it been that long? He leads you to the bedroom to your surprise, you’d guess they’d kept them in the bathroom… but alright. The silence in the air is thick, only broken by the occasional creak of wood under your feet as you climb the stairs. The flickering poor bulb on the ceiling sparks to life when he turns it on, and he gestures towards the bed.

“Take your clothes off.”

“W-what?”

Simon doesn’t repeat himself, doesn’t even glance at you as he walks to the bedside table and rummages around, before getting up and leaving the room. You decide to strip, not wanting him to stare at you while you do it, at least. You take off both your shirt and pants, leaving you in your underwear when Simon returns to you with a damp cloth and a few plasters. “We need to clean the wound before applying the plasters.” He deadpans as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. You hesitantly nod, feeling way too naked.

“Have you done this before?” you ask dumbly, “i-is it a part of… your job, or something?”

“Sometimes.” He kneels between your legs, and you hiss when he starts to almost expertly wipe at your knees. He doesn’t stop for your cries, focus unwavering and trying to get it over as quickly as possible. You recall Johnny calling Simon “lieutenant”, and you guess their line of work was military. He carefully places plasters on the scraped areas once he finishes cleaning the wounds. He throws you out of your thought process when he sits beside you, towering over your vulnerable body, “elbow” is the only thing he says before lifting your arm. You two sit in silence as he works, his touch is surprisingly gentle, despite the lack of expression on his face - and the whole process feels clinical, as if he’s merely completing a necessary task.

“You’re lucky it’s not more serious,” he finally speaks, placing a warm hand on the back of your neck, squeezing slightly and breaking the quiet tension looming over you both. His words are cold, his voice deep, and you find yourself longing for the warmth and friendliness that Johnny had exhibited earlier. The hand stays for a bit too long before he gets up. As you put your clothes back on, Simon exits the room without a word, leaving you alone with your thoughts. You can hear the distant sounds of Johnny’s clinks and clanks in the kitchen. Descending the stairs, the delicious smell of food fills your lungs, and you’re so hungry - you realise.

“Feelin’ better, bonnie?” Johnny asks as he places three plates of food on the table. You nod, sitting down in your previous seat. It’s a simple microwavable dinner, but you almost drool. Simon sets down a wine glass in front of you all and Johnny brings a bottle, “to relax, aye?” he winks. You could use a glass of wine, to be honest, and so you let him fill your glass.

The three of you sit down to eat, and the conversation flows more naturally this time. Johnny, though still eccentric, appears to have softened his demeanour, engaging you in discussions about various topics. You find yourself laughing at some things you normally wouldn’t, you blame it on the wine and stress. As the night progresses, they suggest you take the bed - to which you reply that you can’t- won’t

“Can’t let you sleep on the sofa!” you exclaim.

“Who said anything about a sofa?” Simon shrugs. You brushed it off and assumed they had a guest room somewhere you could borrow, you were naive, you realise, now. Because that’s how you end up between them in their bed. To preserve heat in this cold climate, Johnny had said, plays with your sense of logic like a puppeteer.

At some point, he’d started touching you a bit inappropriately, and when you’d turned around to cuss him out - he’d latched his mouth to yours. Simon lies on his side, facing you two - yet not moving a muscle to help you at all. Between filthy and sloppy kisses, you manage out a “What the FUCK do you think you’re doing, Johnny!” to which he only responds with a shaky moan and rubs his growing hard-on into your thigh, “fuckin’ loooove when ye sae m’ name. Gets me so hard, lovie.”

He stops shoving his tongue down your throat to instead lick a stripe down to your neck, where he starts sucking hot open-mouth kisses into your skin. You let out a quivery breath, closing your eyes to not see the drooling man hunched over your body - the imprint of his dick tight against his jeans. You remember cumming on your vibrator to the thought of it a month back, but now you’d do anything to run away from it. A slap on your cheek brings you back to reality, the skin almost burns and tears prickle in your eyes. Simon is staring you down, while Johnny raises his body just enough to almost rip his t-shirt off of himself.

“Keep your eyes open.” It’s a demand, a scary one at that. Military men are, in theory, hot, but in practice… still hot but also terrifying. He brings his calloused fingertips to gently stroke the cheek, before gripping both of your cheeks until your lips pout and your face aches. Johnny grins crookedly, bends down and gives you an almost cute kiss before yelling “ass up!” Your body almost flies down the bed with the force he drags your pants and panties off of you, and you let out a squeal which both of the men laugh at, “P-please, I can… I can give you money” you beg through your pouty lips and make them laugh harder, “sure,” Johnny comments, “got naw money to pay rent, how are ye supposed to pay us?”

“How,” your mouth hurts, “how do you-”

Simon releases his grip on your face and moves to pet your hair.

“So talkative. Take her mouth, Johnny.”

The man almost flies up to sit next to your head, pubic hair rubbing against your cheek when he drags his leaking cock over your lips. He’s big, awfully so, and he knows it because he pulls at your chin until you open it reluctantly, “nice ‘n wide now, sae ahhh,” then sinks in. The moan he lets out almost makes you rub your thighs together, it’s filthy and pornographic, and only intensifies when you swallow around him in an attempt to not puke up the dinner you’d shared with them. Simon smacks your thigh, which makes you avert your wet eyes from Johnny to him. He continues petting your hair while his other hand simultaneously moves downwards to your pussy, body easily moving in between your legs to make it difficult for you to close them. His middle and ring fingers spread your flaps apart and tease at your hole before dragging them upwards and collecting your juices. You fight but fail the loud moan that escapes your mouth, “Y-yeah just like that- fuck…” Johnny rambles on.

It’s embarrassing, and you have to hold back from crying when you see how wet you are. Simon gladly spreads his fingers to show off, before wiping them off on Johnny’s balls, making his breath hitch, and his next thrust a bit harsher. With the hand on your head, which has since long stopped stroking, he wraps his fingers in your hair suddenly and pulls you slightly upwards. Tears trickle down your cheeks, and your sobs only rile the man in your mouth up even more. Simon gets closer to your face, almost rips your hair off of your skull and moves his still-wet fingers down to your clit, rubs painfully - almost past the point of pleasure.

“You, are never leaving.”

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blouisparadise · 5 months

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Upon request, today we have a rec list of bottom Louis fics where one of the characters is grumpy (or very serious) and the other character is sunshine. Please check out these fics and if you enjoy them, be sure give them kudos, leave a comment, and help promote them on Twitter or Tumblr. If you enjoy our rec lists, please like and reblog this post to help spread the word. Happy reading!

1) Muffins & Cigarettes | Mature | 7,591 words

Louis pouts. “You can’t pout your way into this, Louis”, Harry said as he was fixing his tie, watch and rings glinting against the soft sunlight filtering through the window. “Of course, I can. Watch me.”

2) Thrown To The Wolves | Explicit | 21,681 words

Louis is a human living in the Styles’ wolf pack who can’t stop getting into trouble, and Harry is the soon-to-be alpha who thinks keeping Louis at arm’s length is the safest option.

3) The Evenness I Fake | Explicit | 26,366 words

Harry doesn’t do relationships. He has a perfectly enjoyable friends-with-benefits agreement with a perfectly lovely omega, and he doesn’t see the need to change that anytime soon. The small fact that Louis giving his attention to another alpha makes Harry want to put his head through a wall isn’t nearly as much of an issue as everyone’s making it out to be.

4) Stuck On You | Explicit | 33,983 words

Louis’ life revolves around his stickers. Harry’s life revolves around his job. The universe has decided their worlds should revolve around each other.

5) And When It Rains, You're Shining Down For Me | Explicit | 37,081 words

“This is Harry, he’ll be your patient,” Liam gestured politely. Harry froze when Louis’ eyes met his own once more. He felt himself getting lost in those eyes, so much so that he didn’t notice Niall and Liam leaving the room quietly but the sound of the door shutting behind them brought him out of the trance. “Hello, I’m Louis,” the omega said, extending his hand for Harry to shake. The alpha could still sense some nervousness in his stance but decided to ignore it. “‘’m Harry.”

6) Always An Angel, Never A God | Explicit | 39,518 words

To understand the level of deep water Louis was in, one first needed to know he has had the same best friend since he was five. Ethan Astor was family to him—a friend who he loved deeply despite their differences. A friend he would do almost anything for. So when Ethan came to him with the plan, no matter how he felt about it, Louis accepted it. At first, it was simple, he just had to flutter his eyelashes at any of the boys that showed interest in Ethan, and if they fell for it, he just dumped them without telling them the reason. Somehow, the rumors spread around campus that Ethan had an insufferable friend they had to somehow win over to reach him. Like a final monster before getting the princess.

7) Kiss Me On The Mouth And Set Me Free (But Please Don't Bite) | Mature | 42,026 words

Harry is the CEO of Flora Corp, Louis is his new secretary.

8) Where I End and You Begin | Explicit | 42,730 words

Global rock sensation Harry Styles is set to perform in his sold out residencies across six major cities. What happens when his usual makeup artist can’t make it and they hire the most beautiful human he’s ever laid eyes on? Surely it couldn’t be that hard to remain professional

9) Something Along The Lines Of ‘An Office Love Story At Christmas’ | Explicit | 43,148 words

Harry hadn't planned on seeing Louis again, not after that night. When he finds out his only competition for a very desired promotion is Louis, he spirals into a mess of trying to be a better coworker and person right before Christmas in hopes that he can outdo Louis' effortless effect on his office. If he manages to get his head out of his ass along the way, it’ll be a holiday miracle.

10) Yesterday Came Suddenly | Explicit | 48,504 words

They don’t talk about it. The way Harry deflects any and all questions about his past and Louis pretends he isn’t confused or hurt by it. The way Harry keeps a distance between them and Louis acts like he can’t see it creating a wall between them. The way Harry doesn’t always answer honestly and Louis goes along with it as if he can’t tell. They don’t talk about it. Harry knows Louis feels like he doesn’t know him well enough, and it pains him. It pains him every time Louis gets that look on his face that’s a mixture of disappointment, frustration, and confusion. And sometimes, self-blame. It pains him because Louis is wrong. Because even though there is a lot Louis doesn’t know about him, there is so much that he does. He knows what Harry is like at his most vulnerable: curled up on this bed with him in the dark where it’s safest. He knows Harry in a way no one else does.

11) Gallery Of Us | Explicit | 55,778 words

Harry knew what he was doing in life, everything laid out in black-and-white, each day pleasantly predictable. Cue lively art student, Louis, trying to find his place. An almost insufferably happy person who sometimes forgets to hide the way they feel meets the person who is diligent enough to notice and determined to make a difference.

12) The Habit I Can't Break | Explicit | 63,140 words

Note: This fic is locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

The one where Louis quits smoking and tries to get healthy, and Harry is the fitness instructor who helps him achieve those goals while making him sweat in and out of the gym. In which Harry and Louis still meet at bootcamp, just not the one you’re thinking of. Featuring Lottie as the supportive sister who drags her brother to bootcamp class, Louis as the grumpy (and very recent) ex-smoker, and Harry as the instructor with exhausting amounts of enthusiasm and one obnoxious pair of yellow trainers.

13) Satellite | Explicit | 78,101 words

Louis is a hardworking, dedicated, loving single mum with no interest other than making his son happy, and who thinks that love will never knock on his door again. Harry is a lone man, successful in his field, and thinks he has his life together and all figured out. Wrong meets clueless, lives get turned upside down in the best way possible with the help of a cute and curious little boy, who just wants to learn more and more.

14) Saving Symphony Hall | Explicit | 124,766 words

Note: This fic is the sequel to this fic, which we'd suggest reading first. It is also locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

“I think I have an idea,” Louis said. Slowly, and reluctantly, but with a growing sense of the inevitable. “God damnit, I think I have a really good idea.” “Oh christ, that's the problem-solving face,” Babs said. “Last time we saw that face, he sold a company.” “Wait, what?” Zayn asked. “Right place, right time,” Louis said. “Also, fuck my life,” “What?” Zayn repeated. Niall patted his hand. “I usually just roll with whatever Louis is about to do,” he said. “It’s better for us all.” “That’s the attitude,” said Louis, “I’ll tell you tomorrow. Tonight, I need to do some research. Zayn, give me your number. I’m gonna save our symphony.”

15) Cold Little Heart | Teen & Up | 194,589 words

Louis is a soft omega with an abusive past and an alpha child A few months after getting a divorce, Louis meets Harry, an ex-military alpha wolf that offers him something -odd. In exchange for teaching him how to cook, Harry will babysit his son, Abraham Louis really could use the help.

16) Queen Of Arizella | Mature | 277,919 words

Stealing from Royalty is punishable by death. Louis starts over, doing his best to keep his hands at his sides, but he is hungry and he tries stealing from the wrong royal. Harry is King of Arizella, he needs a queen and who better than an omega on the run from death? Louis will learn to become the perfect queen - the perfect fake queen, but only for a few months. A fake lover, a fake queen, but a real bond.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

#bottom louis #top harry #larry #fic recs #blp #blp fic recs #sunshine/grumpy

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geraskierfanficprompts · 11 days

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Prompt 36

THE WIFI WENT OUT LAST NIGHT AND I COULDN'T POST MY PROMPT! AAAAA No fear... You will feast today with TWO prompts! The Wolves are the most notorious and feared gunman gang to ever cross the wild west. They've known to frequent a certain bar recently, purely for the man the bar hires to perform there near-nightly. The entire gang loves him and his music, but all of them know damn well that Geralt likes the man a little extra. The singer's music seems to soothe him more than it soothes his brothers. His dumb jokes make Geralt snort or dryly chuckle more than the others. The best part about this performer (aside from giving them all something to tease Geralt about) is that he either has no idea who they all are, or he doesn't care. He winks over at them, he'll raise a glass to cheers them, one night he even danced directly on their table, evidently loving the gang's uproarious cheering as he did so. One night, Lambert comes to them from wherever he rides off to every few weeks and comes back with wagonloads of information, and tells them that he's just learned that The Cats were coming here to fulfil a contract to kill the singer, and given how long it took him to get back, they could be trying to do it as they speak. So the gang ride into town, find the singer, grab him, and ride him back to their camp to protect him from the rival gang that wants to kill him. They just forget to tell him the "we're protecting you" part. Jaskier is really enjoying this gig he's had at this shitty bar for the past few months. This group of burly grumpy men seem to hate everyone and everything but him. It's quite an ego boost, really. Especially the handsome one with white hair. He's sure they liked him. I mean, there were a few times they tipped him enough money for him to rent a room for another month! That's why he's so confused when one night they snatch him right before he goes on to perform and they ride him away from civilization. Oh fuck- Is this how he dies?!

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bleedingichorhearts · 1 month

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I need to be pet repeatedly and vigorously by big astartes men

𝕳𝖊𝖆𝖛𝖞 𝕻𝖆𝖙𝖘:

𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗: I’m assuming you just want very heavy pats from a very cuddle induced Space Man? Kinda just ended up as cuddles?

𝕿𝖆𝖌𝖌𝖊𝖉: @kit-williams, @egrets-not-regrets, @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan, @sleepyfan-blog.

Dark Angels: Let’s just magically say he got affected by some… pollen? and that made him very eager to return to you. Never in his lifetime has he been wanting to curl up around you and nuzzle your hair while tracing his fingers up and down your back and massaging your head. That’s a lie, he always wanted to, just never did.

Emperor’s Children: Would do it, no orders/questions asked. Even if he was influenced by this “pollen thing.” Purple Space Man does/will do it in public. He will pat you on the head anytime he gets! You’re a pretty little thing, how could he not?

Iron Warriors: Stubborn, stubborn Space Man. He doesn’t know why he feels like he should just set you in his lap and pat the hell(Chaos?) out of you, but guess what? He does it anyway. You are snatched the moment you round him to see what he’s working on. His hands threading and patting your head while you sit there confused.

White Scars: From this speedster, you get the fastest Tapotement of your life. You won’t even know what he just did to you until you feel yourself become like jello. (No, he didn’t kill you. He just put you to sleep really quick. It had his hearts working extra time. All he wanted was to pat you!)

Space Wolves: You, pat the wolf? You get a pat back. It ends up in a pat battle, but it actually ends up with you winning. All yours praises, scritchs and pats to him are incredibly powerful against this weakening wolf. Please, continue your work.

Imperial Fists: After building/fortifying he has gotten very needy to return to you and just snuggle in bed, pat your head and drag his fingers down your back. Cooing sleepily above you. Feeling how different your skin is to compared to stone/metal he works with. It reduces his stressors. Not that he would admit it.

Night Lords: Why does he want to just drag his talons through your hair you so much? Why is he feeling this sudden urge to “pat” you like you did to him one time? He try’s this “patting” to you and quickly finds out that his likes the new hobby. He gets you at the worst times.

Blood Angels: He comes to you immediately to sedate this sudden urge. Feeling that effect of that “pollen” running around through his systems. He’ll have you sat in front of him with his legs trapped around you, close to him while he pats your head. Cooing softly into your ear.

Iron Hands: Grumpy Space Man. He tried to avoid these sudden urge to come to you and be… affectionate with you, but it simply got more stronger the more he prolongs the inevitable. So, once he sees you and snatches you up for a patting session. Do not say anything.

World Eaters: If angy spicy man wants to pat? He gets his pats. There is no escaping it. Space Man will pursue to pat you. He can’t help it! You calm him down!

Ultramarines: Classic, classic blueberry. He’ll have you wrapped around his torso (as much as you could, lol) and chuff at the top of your head. His hands dragging letters into your back. Probably reciting the codex.

Death Guard: His pats are slow and escape resistant. If you’re in his arms getting patted chuffed, and cooed at? Congratulations, you’ve earned your self a personal masseurs, that you are not escaping from for at least 12 hours.

Thousand Sons: He’ll pretend that he is not feeling such… affections for you. Avoiding you until the feeling begins to strengthen then he knows that is the only way to resolve the problem is to go ahead a pat you… and it ended up being comfortable. He plans to do it again soon.

Son of Horus: This Space Man will growl and purr while patting you down. What? You trying to leave while he’s patting you? Growl. You’re accepting his affections? Purr and growl.

Word Bearers: You’ll find yourself laying on top of him for this one. Dozing off on him as he slowly pats you. His whispered words and coos lulling you to sleep. Let him worship you darling.

Salamanders: To be stuck in a patting session with a Salamander is like being trapped in the flames of a furnace. You’ll be like a hand cooked kebab once he believes you got enough affection from him. It was a very pleasing experience though!

Raven Guard: Him patting you was uncommon, but also rare. Usually he’s too busy trying to find you shiny things until he got hit with a wave to adore you. He’ll come back to pat you and coo at you while keeping you close to his chest like a mother hen.

Alpha Legion: Patting sessions were already in progress. It was unknown pay back for the glitter you got him with the other day. So don’t be surprised if you find yourself covered in layers with glitter after the session. He definitely got sent to sleep outside that night.

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holylulusworld · 8 months

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Blaze of glory - Kinktober 7

Summary: You’re glad to be alive.

Summary: Dean Winchester x fem!Reader

Warnings: near-death experience, death of the monster of the week, blood, gore, grumpy Dean, light smut, unprotected sex, glad-to-be-alive sex, kinda reunion sex, quickie, a little fun, banter

Kinktober vs Flufftober 2023

Blaze of glory.

Dean always hoped he’d go down like this. A gun in his hand, and a smirk on his lips. Just like in the old Western movies, he loves so much.

The hero comes out to fight the big bad guy threatening to burn the town down.

At least he tries to pretend he’s the hero, and this is the way to go down. He presses his hand to the wound on his arm. It’s bleeding heavily, but he’s got no time to waste.

If he wants to take the monsters with him, Dean must get back up and fight. Even if it means wasting his last breath on a stinking pack of werewolves.

“Sonofabitch,” he curses when he slips on the floor and lands on his ass. His legs give in every time he tries to get back on his feet. “Fuck.

“Take this.”

His head snaps to the left when he hears someone else than the werewolves get closer. Three gunshots cut through the air, hitting one of the wolves wanting to attack him a second time right in the chest. The beast drops dead to the ground.

“Get up,” the voice yells in Dean’s direction. “I don’t have all day to save you, princess.”

Dean always expected to go down in a blaze of glory. He just didn’t expect to watch someone else steal his kill, and to bleed out on the ground while watching.

“Dude, did you not-“There’s commotion, and growls echo through the abandoned barn. Dean can barely see, as he slowly drifts into darkness. “Shit, keep your teeth out of my arm, bastard.”

Dean grunts as the head of a wolf ends up right next to him. He scrunches up his nose but can’t even push the head away.

“Get up, Winchester,” his head lolls back when hands grasp for him. He only hopes he dies before one of the furry beasts can turn him. “You sonofabitch!”

“Hands of my car!” Dean jolts up on the mattress, panting heavily. He squints as it’s bitch black inside the room. If it’s even a room. Or is it hell? “Where the fuck am I?”

“Welcome back among the living,” that voice again, he thinks as someone switches the lights on. He covers his eyes, groaning as the light is much too bright. “I thought you fucked yourself over for a minute.”

“What?” The hunter dips his head to glance at his arm. There is not even a scratch. “Fuck, no. Why didn’t you kill me?”

“Why?” You step toward the bed to look at him. “You still got all of your limbs, your head is still on top of your body, and you didn’t lose a single organ. You’re fine.”

“Did you forget everything you learned?” He growls, baring his teeth as he stares at your half-naked form. You’re only wearing a shirt, barely covering anything. “I was injured, deadly I may add. Now there’s not even a scratch.”

You chuckle. “You think you got turned?”

“Y/N, this isn’t funny. If you don’t end me now, I’ll lose control sooner than later and kill you. You don’t want to end with your heart missing, right?”

“Aw, you’re kind of cute when scared,” you dip your knee into the mattress. “You’re not going to turn into a wolf, Dean.” You purr the words as you push against his chest to climb on top of the hunter. “I wouldn’t mind if you get a little rough, but we will see.”

“What? I-“ Dean splutters. He can’t believe you start nipping at his neck while he fears the wolf in him will rip you apart. “Y/N this is insane. I’ll kill you. Please end me.”

“Dean, I’m trying to have glad-to-be-alive sex with you. Now shut up and get to work,” you straddle his lap and look down at Dean. “The wolf didn’t damage your dick, right? If so, I need to tell Castiel to heal your limp dick too.”

“Cas? Cas was here and…” Dean’s eyes darken, and he grunts. “You could’ve told me so!”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Running your hands over his chest you smirk. “What will you do about it, Winchester? How do you want to punish me?”

“I should kill you,” he flips you over before you get the chance to react. You don’t mind, though. As long as you get what you want, you’re game. “Maybe leave you here to think about your sins.”

“I saved your ass,” you sass as he settles between your legs. “Without me, you’d be a chewing toy for werewolves by now.”

“You’ve got a mouth on you,” he claims your lips roughly, leaving you no chance but to moan into his mouth. Your hands claw at his biceps, nails digging deep into his healed flesh. “And Cas saved me, not you.”

“I killed the wolves,” you move your hands to his waist to shove his boxers down. “And I brought you here. Without me, you’d be dead.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, now give me my reward. Fuck me, baby. Make me feel alive,” you breathe against his lips. “Or did you forget how to fuck me?”

The hunter doesn’t need much encouragement. He growls against your lips as he slips inside of you. Claiming your body as his.

Dean doesn’t waste another moment with foreplay or pleasantries. He knows that, if you’re in this mood you want it rough, and animalistic.

The bed starts creaking with every powerful thrust. “Harder. Faster.” You’re impatient and want to get off and feel alive. Dean doesn’t know it was a close call for you too. “Fuck me like you are not allowed to ever have sex again.”

You claw at his body, nails biting into his back as you try to meet his thrusts.

Dean buries his face in your neck, moaning your name while fighting his approaching high.

He’s so close to losing it too soon, and you don’t make things easier for him. You’re on the edge and pumped up from the fight. It doesn’t take you long to reach your high, triggering Dean’s orgasm when you tighten around him.

A good fight always arouses you. Especially when you get to save Dean Winchester.

“Fuck, that was fast, sweetheart,” Dean grunts. “I wanted this to last longer. Reunion sex and all.”

You grin. “You’re getting old, is all.”

“I should’ve bitten you,” he buries his face in your neck and sinks his teeth in your neck. “If I ever turn into a werewolf, I’ll bite your ass.”

“Bite my pussy and we are golden…”

Tags in reblog.

#dean winchester #dean x reader #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fanfiction #smut #flufftober vs kinktober 2023

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invisiblewashboard · 5 months

Text

Small Child’s Thoughts on “The Road to Isengard”

Gimli got the most points, so he is the winner! But Mom, I am mad that I had to wait to find out who won.

I am glad that trees do not move like this in the United States like they do in Middle Earth.

Um, I think Gimli has more than just a scratch. Why is he saying he’s okay when he is not?

Woah! Do not burn people alive! That just makes people dead, and that is rude.

The sun sets a lot in these J.R.R. books. I think the books say the sun is going west a lot.

I wish that these books just had pictures of what things look like instead of the words. The words are hard.

Hating things is sad and not good to do, but I think trees really don’t hate because they don’t have feelings.

Gimli has been talking about caves for a very long time and I just do not care.

Hm. That is nice. Legolas will do something Gimli wants and Gimli will do something Legolas wants. That is what friends do!

Those are just the Ents, right? Are they going to make those trees go away?

The moon was “waxing towards the full?” Does that mean that it was a gibbous moon? (Yes.) Well, the book should just say that then. It is less words and more clear.

The Death Down sounds veeeeery ominous. Very ominous indeed.

The riders do not speak but I wish they would because when they don’t I have a hard time paying attention.

Um, wolves don’t stay in stables, that is crazy talk. You should keep wolves outside in the woods. Or if they are in a zoo you need to build them a nice habitat. A wolf would be sad if you made it live in a stable!

Hey! Look it! Those are our hobbits, right? I am glad they are okay and I’m glad they have food. The orcs and Treebeard did not give them food.

Hey! Merry should not kick Pippin! That is unkind and rude.

Why is Gimli so grumpy? He should be happy.

Hey Mom? I think smoking is yucky. (That’s alright, love. You don’t have to like it.) But… you don’t smoke either. (No, no I don’t.) But you really like the hobbits even though the smoke. (Yes, I do.) I… I think I like them too. Even though smoking is yucky.

Yes, I think Pippin is right about the King. He is very polite!

#small child's thoughts #lord of the rings #lotr #jrr tolkien #the two towers #read aloud #first read through #making people dead is rude #Tolkien uses too many words to describe the moon phases #wolves belong in the woods

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idv-sunsxin3 · 3 months

Text

Pavia, Diggers // Car Ride

Note // Same prompt as the one with Horropedia except is with the other 2 glasses sillies (separately) this time/ lh

Warning// a bit suggestive on Pavia's part??? Maybe.

____

(When he's driving)

Guys, we should make a debate in where Pavia either drives on a Lamborghini or a Ferrari/j

There are times he drives normally for the sake of keeping a low profile at times... and there are time when he is a fast driver, not more said.

Would most likely get a speeding ticket... well, if the officers ever managed to catch him. 😭

Even if he doesn't put seatbelt on himself, he would be the type of lover who would nag you to put them on-

(not like you're complaining as you grip on something as if your life depends on you;;;/ih)

He likes to linger his hand on your thigh and give it a squeeze whenever he drives- crazy.

He would do the same when so much traffic happens, to at least subside his frustration on the road. Italian cursing at how long it's taking;;; definitely the grumpy driver type.

Sometimes, he likes to put bags underneath your legs during the ride, saying that "it's safe if it doesn't shake around"-

But no!!! In reality, he does that just so he can grab one of your legs and spread it open before reaching out, whatever he needs to take out - this man.... 😭

The good side of it is that Pavia's 5 wolves are often tagged along as they sit on the back seat--- Pavia for some reason helps them open the windows sometimes so they can stick their head and stick out their tongues while the car moves- its a very funny sight when it's 5 dogs in both windows of the car;;;;😭🤣

The wolves are at least trained enough to be careful- and they would know when to get their heads back in whenever Pavia warns them that he'll roll up the windows again with the power window switch.

"Hold on tight, baby~ this will be a pretty bumpy ride."😈

If you really appreciate your life a lot, you might as well ask if you both can just take a taxi./lh

Yet i feel like knowing him, he won't take no as an answer;;; <//3

____

(When he's a passenger)

Mmm if he ever is in a car ride with you along with other party members Vertin assigned, he probably wouldn't like the fact how close he is to touch other people during the entire ride---- even if he doesn't show it, I guess the menacing death smirk might give it away(it does).

As long as it's just you beside him, he won't be too salty about it--

He won't give you a break from how clingy he is tho- he wouldn't keep his hands to himself if he's not the one taking the wheel;;;;

Pulling you close, sneaking a hand on your knee, make you cuddle against him, have his chest touch your back as he whispers flirty Comments on your ear- technically trying to make others get third wheeled and calling them single in many different ways;;; 😭

Like Horropedia, he's most likely the "are we there yet" passenger....---- except in a more grumpy impatient vibe as if he doesn't want to stay in this vehicule any longer--- he's not burning it down just because you're here/ih

"Come on, little girl...- How long do we have to stay in this car?"

The Italian grumbles, trying to get his sly hands busy by playing with your hair a bit through his calloused fingers. His arm is resting heavily on your shoulder.

"Soon." That's what the young girl answers with a calm tone, already used to the intimidating energy the older one tends to bring.

Pavia ends up leaning his back into the cushion, sighing as you tiredly pat him by the shoulder. The small gesture of comfort is unknown if it is playful or sincere.

Suddenly, the other seems to have other plans. He catches you off guard by lifting you smoothly with his hands on your waist before placing you between his lap.

He whispers on your ear, a quiet voice with a hint of rasp and longing.

"Stay close to me for now, so I don't have to talk to these poor teammates here...-"

____

(When he's driving)

Diggers driving an old-fashioned volkswagen that has a lot of colorful graffiti paint all over it seems very in character, in my opinion. He even has this colorful van decorated with a lot of stuff in his insight 2-- Which was what most hippies drove before.

Not only is it affordable and durable, but it's also spacious in the back that he can make it as a comfy place to rest.... which is also where you usually nap together or have these quiet cuddling sessions.🥺♥️

He usually keeps the vehicule in a peaceful area where it's not near the city, like a grassfield or in the middle of a forest.

I'm not sure if he'll be a full licensed driver, but I feel like he would drive at a less extreme speed for the sake of stress--- prefers to drive and see how empty the road is and how peaceful the landscape would be- rural areas specifically.

And when he finds the perfect spot to settle, you would stay there for the night or even a couple of days.

Diggers probably like acoustic music or something that gives a "groovy" impression. Yet, he is very flexible enough to let you go crazy with the radio box- pick a song, or music, whatever hat interests you--- whether he knows the tune or not, he might try to sing along and enjoy the different kinds of vibes with you djdbdbdb-

You and Diggers plan to move the van out to another rural field within london- most likely a village your boyfriend seems to have known.

The moment you finished packing what you need at the back of the van, Diggers calls you back from the driver seats window.

"Darling! You're done?" The voice of your boyfriend resembles one of an ecstatic puppy.

"Yeah!"

"Come inside!"

As you were about to hop into the passenger seat- you got surprised by a.... big pile of flowers sitting on your seat???

Oop- some of them fell off the moment you opened the door.

"I- what??? What is this???" You laugh softly, already imagining the jolly grin Diggers might be wearing from the other side of the mountain of flowers.

The pile looks like they're 100 roses.

"Oops--- forgot to give you these. Surprise!" He bubbly says as he leans on the steering wheel lazily.

"...." You pause, sighing out after recovering from the laughter, "Oh g- thanks, baby-- but how can I even see your face like this??? Where do i sit???" 🤣

As if the option of the back seat was out of the window, Diggers responded:

"How about my lap?"

You both now started laughing again like the dorks you are,,,/lh

____

(When he's a passenger)

He's most likely the type to play some tunes on his guitar, entertaining and serenading those who surround him as he sits in the vehicle

Is actually very nice that he gets to go somewhere without worrying about the gasoline cost-- /ih

He'll be fine sitting anywhere- but he'll be more pleased if he gets to sit right next to you- where he believes he should be <33

He'll have an arm behind your neck while chilling, sometimes holding hands just to play with your fingers while talking to someone.

Maybe even spend the entire car ride trying to teach how to play the guitar- having you on his lap as he guides your hands on where to place the strings. 🤭🥰

He would be most likely a tolerable passenger, a pretty peaceful one. He'll even would try and nap the entire ride if he can.

Though, whenever he spots a police car passing by through the window- I can imagine him immediately crouching so he doesn't get spotted, very self-conscious by the fact there are some officers looking after him,,, maybe;;; <//3

He trusts any driver as long as it's anyone that is not Pavia.... Convince me otherwise--- 😭

He would freak out and scream when the speed is too high- even cling on to you.

His grip is firm that you don't even know whether he is trying to hold on to you so he doesn't get thrown off or because he wants to cover you from any incoming crashes---/ih

You'll have to comfort him a bit after that;;

I'll never forget about the drive thru headcanons <333

//Them ordering take out at a McDonald's drive thru with s/o. If you don't eat McDonald's, just imagine it/ih

___

//Pavia//

Arches eyebrow... and wearing this look of "pookie, out of other restaurants, you decide one of the most low-quality ones???"/ih

Also not him having beef by the fact the ice cream in McDonald's sucks- the machine is even broken in almost every restaurant--- sobs;;;

At the end, he brought you there anyways, because you made him/ih

The reason why he would buy you a happy meal is probably because you're baby--- you don't even know if it's sweet or insulting./ih 😭🫠

Whenever you want to order but the cashier cant hear you when he's the one who's in the driver seat- I can imagine you guys with this meme./ih

Pavia is creepily respectful enough to keep this funny straight look while technically facing your butt, it's crazy;;; 2x

Next time, Pavia will drag you to somewhere better now that you finished dragging him to such "monstrosity of creepy clowns, grimace shakes, and broken ice cream machines"/j. More better than Olive Garden even---;;;

___

//Diggers//

"Ehhhh-- what would you like to order, sweetie?" :)

"Anything is alright."

"...."

"....."

*turns back to the window* "1 hamburger, 2 French fries- and a milkshake, please." :)

Most hippies don't seem to like materialism- but food is food, he wouldn't even dare to say no to if you want to order food at places like McDonalds dbbdbdnd;;; Like, most prices there were like less than $1 (plus tax) back in the 1960s...- 🤔🤯

(I feel like you would boss out of this by paying for him at times- like this is probably better than the McDonald's from 2020s/ih)

Man, happy meals were only first introduced in 1979- so they weren't a thing yet for a while in Diggers' timeline. If they ever get premiered, He would buy you one for you whether or not you like it- he just likes how there are chicken nuggets and juice boxes inside colorful boxes that seem to be meant for children-- yet for him, it doesn't matter. You will have it anyway, even if he's broke;;😭🥺

The first boxes when they were first introduced were circus wagons. The first toys were tops, stencils, wallets, puzzles, and erasers. Initially, meals included a hamburger or cheeseburger, fries, a soft drink, and cookies.... yum.

Pampering you with food is one of the wholesome things I can imagine - even eating it while being inside his van at some parking lot. Feeding each other with these silly dorky grins,,,,

#pavia reverse 1999 #reverse: 1999 #reverse 1999 #r1999 diggers #r1999 pavia #r1999 x reader #r1999 #reverse 1999 diggers #diggers x reader #pavia x reader #reverse: 1999 x reader

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kedsandtubesocks · 12 days

Text

what the water gave us

Merman!Joel Miller x F!Reader

summary: the fairytales were half true, the merman you found is indeed handsome but oh so grouchy

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY MDNI, merman/human relationship, unspecified age gap (reader’s age is not mentioned but Joel is older) instances of blood & injury, brief violence, Joel still being a terrifying force even as a merman, very light discussion of grief & loss of a loved one (Joel with Sarah & reader with their father) grumpy but soft!Joel, sharing food as a love language, use of nickname, protective!Joel, slightly possessive!Joel, f!oral receiving - along with spicy moments, mentions of mating & merfolk courting rituals

word count: 7.6k

a/n: here it is - the nice final surprise for our mermay mini series, this is for all of us who would kiss fuck the handsome merman lol! Thank you to @pr0ximamidnight for letting me scream about this & to @the-wild-wolves-around-you for always being the best support - and to you, if you’re reading this, thank you so much ♡

The sun hangs low against the sky, painting the world in a soft orange creamsicle shade. Sliding your shoes off, you sink into the soft sand and walk the shoreline.

You love your aunt and uncle dearly. But having such a large get together at their house to meet the neighbors and their friends just got too much. It’s why you politely excused yourself and ended up here.

The crash of the waves, the peaceful quiet of the thankfully vacant beach, it all settles you while you walk aimlessly getting lost in your thoughts.

Until a sharp deep growl pierces the air.

The noise sounds close, electrifies your skin, and makes you stop. That’s when you notice trickles of blood in the water.

Petrified your eyes follow the trails.

Then you come across a sight you can’t believe.

By the long stretch of rocks leading out from the shore into the sea, a man sits half up on the rocks.

Older, distinguished in the wrinkles around his face and beautiful grays in his curled hair, his skin however seems drained of color. There’s also a huge gash against his side as if he was impaled.

Even though he’s partially out of the water, you notice, the skin at his hips don’t lead to legs. Your eyes go wide.

Another snarl of a growl comes and you realize it’s this man. His face fiercely stares you down in menacing terror.

“You’re hurt!” You blurt out.

“Get the fuck outta here!” He howls, even has an accent of someone from this area.

“You’re bleeding out too fast!” You don’t even know medical conditions that well to know this isn’t good.

On your walk here you noticed a few beach towels left vacant on the shore.

You immediately turn around and bolt.

The man screams out a curse, yelling at you to stop, but you don’t. Thankfully you don’t have to search too far down the beach to spot one of the forgotten towels. Quickly grabbing it you then rush back.

The strange man is still on the rocks, but it’s obvious he tried sliding down them in an escape. However it opened his wound up more.

“Wait!” Now you cry out. “I know this isn’t much but this can stop the bleeding for now!”

You offer weakly that you could maybe try to get medical attention, but even weary his eyes go wide, and he snaps out a fast sharp no.

“Then you need to wrap this around the wound or press into it.” You offer the towel.

“Y’don’t think I know how to handle this, ya dumb human?” He snarls.

Human. So he isn’t human like you suspected.

“Your wound is getting worse.” You urge now, promising you won’t get others but have supplies that can help.

“Do what ya fuckin’ want.” He snarls.

Gingerly, you place the towel down on a rock then scramble out of the water and head back to your family’s beach home. Thankfully everyone has moved upstairs, allowing you to sneak in, grab a first aid kit, then leave.

You just hope the man hasn’t left or gotten worse.

The sky grows dimmer. The sun almost vanishes beyond the horizon. And thankfully, the man is still on the rocks.

Yet his eyes flutter in and out of consciousness.

Keeping the first aid kit as dry as you can above the waves, you rush into the water towards him.

He’s barely awake, might not even fully notice you’re beside him now. But quickly you unpack things fast on the nearby rocks and tend to the wound as best as you can. The man hisses a half growl at the padding you place to stop the bleeding. Then you use an embracing amount of large bandages over the wound.

The bleeding doesn’t seep through the wraps and it’s enough for now. You’re afraid of leaving him here, but you’re more worried about moving him. So taking the towel you grabbed, you delicately drape it over his body, keeping his face open.

He seems human enough from his upper body. This mystery man is also handsome, scarily so. But the sky is getting dark, and you need to get home. Gathering your things you return to the beach house.

“Hey, where’d ya go?! And what’s with the first aid kit?” Your mom says a bit surprised.

You explain with a half lie that you went walking on the beach and helped a guy who got cut.

“Well look at you! What a hero.” She grins warm and her words feel soft.

That night you barely get any sleep and think of the man on the rocks. Earlier, when you were panicking trying to tend to his wound, you didn’t have time to fully look into the ocean at his lower body. But you caught a glimpse.

You saw a partial marine like body, a sea creature like tail even among the cloud ocean water.

A merman, you had possibly helped a merman.

Now you just hope he makes it through the night.

Scrambling awake the next morning, you make an excuse of wanting to enjoy the beach bright and early, and head to the rocks.

Of course he’s gone.

You almost knew he wouldn’t be here. A piece of you did hope, faintly hoped, he would be. Even the towel is gone.

Out in the ocean a loud splash, like someone slapping against the water, arrives.

There floating in the waves, only seen from the chest up, is the mystery man. He’s okay. He’s here. He’s alive.

“You’re alright.” You exhale relieved.

This man glares at you fiercely. It highlights his weathered wrinkles but also intensifies his handsome features. There’s an intimidating and hardened nature radiating off this gorgeous creature.

“Why did ya save me?” He flat out asks, and you’re stunned.

That’s what he came here to ask you about?

Your face even scrunches up slightly confused, but you tell him the truth.

He was hurt. You had to try and do something.

The answer does soften his features. If anything his eyebrows furrow harder.

“Y’fuckin’ tell anyone about me?”

For possibly being a mythical being, this man does speak very human. You shake your head no, promising you didn’t and won’t ever tell anyone.

He scoffs, distrusting.

With sharp narrowed eyes, he gives you one final look before slipping back into the water.

You sit on the shoreline for what feels like hours, but he doesn’t return.

A bit dejected and quiet, you head home.

Later, trying to get your mind off everything, you decide to enjoy the time you’re here and head into the water.

The wind provides a nice breeze, and the sea swirls around you. Slowly you trek deeper into the ocean letting the water rise. Eventually you comfortably float and glance back towards the shoreline. Your mom lounges in her lawn chair with the recent book she just bought. The sky, beautifully soft this morning, now seems dimmer with all the clouds moving in.

A wave crashes over you from behind.

Powerful and large it drags you under. You were so focused on watching the beach you didn’t even see it coming.

Now you’re under the water, caught beneath the sea.

The saltwater stings your eyes as you try swimming against the current. But you’re a bit disoriented and even trying to just float back to the surface seems harder.

Suddenly warm solid hands are on your hips pulling you up. You’re guided up to the surface. Sweet air fills you and you cough through the stinging in your lungs. You’re kept above the water, held up.

You whip around trying to see who helped you, but there’s no one around.

Someone screams your name frantically. Your mom and your aunt on the edge of the water shout for you.

Weary from the waves you slowly swim, practically float, back to shore before your family scrambles to help you out. They rapidly ask if you’re okay, covering you with towels.

“We saw you go under and didn’t come up for so long.” Your mom explains still very worried.

“Did you guys see that shark?!” From behind by the beach house, your uncle calls out as he comes running.

“Wait, shark?” You blurt out.

Your uncle rapidly explains how he saw the fin poking out of the water around you.

“Could have been a dolphin.” Your aunt offers.

“No, definitely looked like a shark. Thank goodness you got outta the water.” Your uncle playfully ruffles the towel over your head.

A few bystanders sitting nearby ask how you’re doing and also comment how they swore they saw the ominous shark fin swimming around you.

A shark. It doesn’t make sense. You felt strong very human hands on you. You knew a guiding force saved you.

But then the thick cotton clouds above pop and the rain comes. After heading inside and deciding to rest for the day, your gaze stays watching the harsh waves. The storm and ocean move in tandem. You wonder about the man you met, if he’s safe in the water.

Maybe it’s all the talk of the supposed shark in the water, but before you end up fading into a nap, you swear you see a fin swimming in the current.

- 𖤓 -

“You gonna be okay with us heading to the museum?”

For the millionth time you reassure your mom you’ll be fine staying back and getting more rest. The rain from yesterday’s storm stayed, a quiet downpour thankfully not as strong. After everyone heads out, you see this as an opportunity to head out to the beach.

With the rain, the shoreline is vacant. So with your umbrella you head to the beach. The murky water under the dim sky seems more mysterious and your eyes scan the waves, maybe waiting for something to appear.

“Glutton for punishment or somethin’?” The familiar twanged voice.

Immediately you snap your gaze to the side. There in the water, closer to the edge of the shore, is your mystery man.

You blurt out how worried you were about the storm and about him. His eyebrows furrow.

“Ain’t nothin’ I can’t handle.” He answers muttering.

“And you,” he asks, nudging his handsome chin towards you. “Y’doin’ alright?”

Your heart jumps in your chest. He came to check up on you.

Nodding firmly, you thank him gratefully. You knew it had to be him who saved you in the water.

The man simply nods.

You swallow hard then blurt out if he’s seen a shark.

His face hardens confused. It’s actually adorable with how curiously his dark eyes shine.

“A shark?” He mumbles.

“Yeah, thought I saw a fin in the water.” You don’t want to tell him your uncle did as well.

“Wasn’t a shark.” He answers gruffly, almost a scoff.

You want to press more, ask if it was a dolphin instead when your stomach instead growls loud. Your eyes go wide embarrassed.

One of his eyebrows raises.

“Sorry, need to grab some lunch soon.” You sigh embarrassed.

“Then head inside, lil’ minnow. Go get somethin’ to eat.” He says firm.

Before you can reply he’s sinking back in the water. But as he swims away that’s when you catch it faintly -

A sleek fin towering out of the water.

The shark creature is him.

Also…you realized he just called you a little minnow and for some reason, you find it oddly affectionate.

The next morning a mess of crabs clutter the beach. Even the neighbors besides your family’s place head to the shore to admire.

“It’s like the sea wanted us to have a crab bake.” Your mom laughs.

“They normally don’t wash up on the beach in this many numbers, it’s odd.” One of the neighbors explains to your uncle.

While everyone eagerly moves to get the crabs, your eyes stay on the water hoping to spot a fin among the waves.

At night, once everyone is asleep, you quietly slip out and head to the beach. The patio lights from the beach homes cast a soft illumination. The crashing waves among the abyss beyond are strangely calming even with the darkness of sea and sky stretching out wide.

Patiently you sit at the edge of the water, not even knowing what you’re truly doing here.

“Persistent one, ain’t ya?”

His voice emerges from the darkness and your soul almost jumps out of your body. This time the mysterious man flutters up from the waves and is closer than before.

“Why were there so many crabs on the beach?” You ask quickly and curious.

“Don’t know. Crabs are fuckin’ weird little shits.” He replies bluntly with a hard grimace.

A part of you thinks he does know why.

“How’s your wound?” You ask.

Gingerly he lifts himself closer to the shoreline and then goes to rest halfway upon the beach allowing you a sight of his torso.

The area where the wound is healing up nicely and you even grin relieved.

But him being half out of the water onto the shore also allows you a better glimpse at his lower body.

Tail. He has a tail.

It’s sleek, a deep stormy gunmetal gray, that in this dim lighting almost seems like a lovely rich blue. Faintly you can even see the dorsal find at his lower back.

It’s beautiful.

He’s beautiful. Lovely sun and age spots pepper his skin. His bare chest is broad and seems strong. This man from the sea is burly, solid, and aged, a force of the water that speaks of his power that’s weathered the tides

You don’t even realize you’ve said something, much less called him beautiful, until your mystery man responds.

“Y’think I’m beautiful?” He sounds terribly confused.

“Weirdest god damn human I ever met, lil’ minnow.” He adds muttering.

“I have a name.” You huff back, gently teasing.

“Yeah?”

Your lips twitch at his reply, and you give him your name. This beautiful merman stays quiet.

“And you? What’s your name?” You ask cautiously but hopeful.

No reply comes. You’re worried you’ve pressed your luck.

“Joel.”

Until he answers, and you discover this merman’s name is so lovely.

“Don’t normally see ya around here.” Joel comments.

You perk up asking if he lives nearby.

“More or less.” A cryptic answer.

You explain that you’re here for the summer. After finishing up for the semester you and your mom decided to take a break out here.

“Younger than I fuckin’ though.” Joel says harsh under his breath, and annoyance bristles in you.

“Probably not as young as you think.” You argue back, even explaining you’re just starting grad school so the break was needed.

Joel scoffs, not looking convinced.

“Maybe you’re just an old barnacle.” You fire back, teasing.

Surprisingly, this man from the water snorts amused. The sound is precious. You want to ask him more, learn more about him, but a tratorious yawn escapes you.

“Head to sleep, lil’ minnow.” Joel mumbles.

“Not tried.” You huff, but another yawn betrays you.

“Mhm.” Joel hums, and you think you see a twinkle of amusement in his deep eyes.

There’s so much you want to say, maybe even ask when you’ll see him again. But rising up off the sand, you hear a splash in the waves.

The spot where Joel rested is now empty. A wistful ache settles into your chest.

However the next morning though, an impressive mess of clams and oysters are on the beach. A bright bubble of a laugh almost escapes you.

When the night rolls in, you again sneak back down to the beach. This time you bring some of the leftover sushi from dinner.

You don’t wait for long before Joel swims onto the shoreline.

You greet him with a warm grin. His focus however is on the container on your lap. His handsome scrunched up face seems grumpier.

“What’s that?” He rumbles.

“It’s just fish and rice.” You explain opening the container. “Thought we could share.”

“It’s sushi.” He flat out says and your eyes go wide. He knows what sushi is and you even admit your surprise.

“Yes I know what sushi is.” He replies a bit crabbier. “Don’t live in a fuckin’ damn cave.”

“Where do you live?” You ask now.

“Somewhere.” He replies flatly not answering, so you don’t push it.

Instead you return to the meal before you.

“Since it’s fish, thought you might enjoy it.” You offer.

“You…brought me food?” His voice sounds steeled, cautious. You realize how suspicious it sounds and how hesitant he would be.

“It’s fine, I promise.” You reassure and even prove it by chomping down on one of the California rolls. Trying to ease the tension you ramble about the different types of sushi you like and those you don’t care for too much.

You realize now you must sound ridiculous. You’re about to clamp your mouth shut when very cautiously, slowly, Joel reaches over and grabs one.

It’s like feeding a stray cat and not wanting to scare it. You can’t help but turn to stare and see his reaction. He plops it in his mouth and cutely chews thoughtfully.

“Well?” You ask a bit hopeful.

Joel simply shrugs, almost bored, not even speaking on the taste or if he likes it.

But you do notice he reaches for another one.

In the quiet night, you and Joel simply sit enjoying this space together. You try to ask more about him and about his world. But the dry unamused look he gives his answer.

Joel instead is the one asking questions about where you live, what are you studying for, and one question that knocks you out surprised.

“Y’dont got a mate.” It’s more of a statement than a question, but you still almost choke on a sushi roll.

Stammering, you ask him what made him say that.

“Don’t have the mark humans wear that they’re taken.” Joel comments then moves to point to his ring finger where a wedding band would sit.

“Some couples don’t wear bands.” You argue back.

“Oh? Ya one of ‘em then?” He challenges.

Deflated, you mutter out a low no.

“Why?” Joel asks direct.

“Why what?”

“Why don’t ya have a mate?” He questions serious and his thick voice crawls over your skin.

You shrug, not knowing how to fully answer. Instead you half heartedly tell him you haven’t found anyone yet.

“Don’t sound like a good enough reason.” Joel replies.

Now you’re annoyed, even feel your face scrunch up at his casual tone.

“Why do you even care?” Your question comes out a bit sharper than expected.

Joel shrugs. “Just don’t make sense why a young thing like you is alone.”

Immediately you fire back that you’re not alone. You have friends and family that love you.

Now you stare at Joel hard and fully annoyed. His dark eyes scan your face while he stays composed, unable for you to read.

Your phone chimes with a text notification breaking the moment. You decide to call it a night. Joel is quiet when you move to leave.

The air hangs thick and tense. Internally, you try reasoning that you’re literally talking to a mythical being. This merman was bound to have a strange view of human customs.

You simply tell him good night and walk back.

Before you head inside, you turn around to the shore unable to stop yourself.

Joel very visibly is still in waves. His upper half floats among the obsidian sea with his dark eyes hyper focused on you. However once you spot him, let your eyes lock into his, the merman sinks into the water.

That night you dream of a man from the waves so handsome and real in your arms, but it feels as dangerous as a storm.

The following morning, instead of creatures fit for a seafood restaurant waiting, the most lovely shell sits on the sand.

“Oh that’s pretty.” Your mom even coos. It is.

Cherished and still in awe, you place the shell on your dresser.

Later that night you return to the beach again. This time time with a bag of chips.

Joel arrives hastily.

“The shell is lovely.” You tell him.

“Don’t know what you’re talkin’ ‘bout.” He answers simply, but his gaze stays eyeing the chip bag. Your heart warms even at his grumpy reply.

Opening the bag, Joel wrinkles his nose.

“Smells salty as hell.” He sneers.

“Says someone who lives in saltwater.” You snort munching on one of the chips.

“That’s sayin’ something if I say that shit is salty.” Joel huffs.

“They’re delicious.” You clarify holding out a chip to him. Joel’s face scrunches up even more, you laugh.

“What’s with all the sudden human food?”

You shrug. “Just a nice late night snack, thought we could share that’s all. Let you maybe just try more human food.”

With a cautious hard frown, Joel leans forward to the chips in your fingers and moves to bite it. In the process though his lips slide over your fingers.

His mouth is hot, wet. You even feel the brush of his tongue against your fingertips and try not reacting.

Joel makes a face as he chews, maybe not aware of what he just did. Your heart however rages fast and you ask if he liked it.

Now Joel’s eyes flicker to yours. You notice him swallow, notice how thick and bare his neck is and how you want to kiss it already.

He shrugs. You’re learning that’s a very common Joel answer and can’t push for more.

“Your mother. She seems nice.” He suddenly says.

You’re surprised he noticed her earlier out here. She’s been enjoying reading while you stayed inside enjoying a nice nap.

“Yeah, she’s pretty great.” You admit with a soft smile.

“Just you and her?” He presses and you agree happily.

“Where’s your father?”

You didn’t know you’d be discussing this with him. But you explain gently that your dad passed away when you were younger.

“Oh.” Joel’s voice pops a bit. “I… I apologize.”

You reassure him you’re alright. You were young, a child then, and appreciate his sympathy.

“Besides my mom always told me if I ever missed him, I just had to look up.” You tell Joel.

“What?” He asks and you turn your gaze up to the sky.

The stars are faintly out but so sweetly twinkling in the dark.

“My mom said my dad sits with the stars now, watching down and always shining bright to remind me he’s always with me, even when I can't see him.”

The words still warm you to this day.

Joel stays silent.

“And you? What’s your family like?” You ask returning your eyes back to earth, back to this son of the sea.

Joel continues to stay quiet. His focus now falls to the sand where you sit. You should’ve known he wouldn’t respond to something so personal.

“Got a brother, but he doesn’t live too close. He’s gotta pod of his own now.”

He has a brother. And they call their families pod. This information warms you, feels precious and rare.

“I had a pup.” Joel admits.

He had a child.

“Lost her many years ago.” He mutters soft.

Your heart shatters deep in your chest.

“Joel, I’m so incredibly sorry.” You tell him earnestly and sympathetic.

You gently ask him what her name was.

“Sarah.” A lovely name.

You glance back up at the sky. You don’t know anything about merfolk culture, how they honor those who have passed. But you can at least honor her the way you know how.

“Sarah is definitely up there too among the stars, watching over you.” You say reassuring.

The stars seem to twinkle back.

Again, Joel stays silent. You’re worried you might have stepped too far.

“Thank you.”

But in the soft breeze of the night, you almost miss his kind soft whisper of a reply back.

You and Joel sit in a soft silence for the rest of the night.

Waking up the next morning, from the view of your bedroom window, another shell sits on the beach.

This goes on for a little over a week. You sneak down to talk with Joel, even teach him how to play tic tac toe in the sand and discover he’s a sore loser.

Then beautiful trinkets arrive on the beach the following mornings.

Some were dazzling sea glass pieces you want to find a way to make into a necklace. Once he even left you a weather and a very old waterlogged broken compass.

You cherish it all.

But then one night, Joel doesn’t show. You wait, and wait. But no appearance of your merman. And no new seashell or trinket sits on the beach the morning after.

Again you head down to the beach at night. Still no sign of Joel.

You try not to get wrapped up in worry. But soon a week passes.

Now you’re worried, fully wondering what could have happened. You don’t even know where he lives to say you can simply go check on him. You feel a bit helpless, frustrated.

At the week’s end, your aunt wants to take you and your mom to a nice dinner in town. That night enjoying the nice meal, your eyes still drift to the view of the sea. Watching the soft waves, the dreamy sea, you simply hope Joel is okay.

When you get back, you head straight to bed and wonder if you’ll see your merman again.

In the morning, you almost don’t look out the window, like you’re trying to slowly detach yourself. But you do.

On the beach sits a new shell.

You practically fly out of the house and down to the shore.

Later that night, Joel this time rests on the edge of the water - waiting for you.

He’s never looked more beautiful in the moonlight.

You exhale relieved, welcoming him back. Joel’s eyes seem endless as he stares at you nodding

“Sorry, had some things I had to sort out.” He explains, even apologizes. You don’t even want to press why or get upset that he simply vanished.

He’s here and he’s alright. That’s what matters.

“I know it might be too personal, and you can tell me no,” you begin weakly. “But where do you live around here?”

You rationally explain it’s simply to see and make sure he’s alright. You even vow to keep it a secret.

“Worried about an old ass barnacle like me, lil’ minnow?” Teasing, he’s faintly teasing.

But you do worry about him. Even tell him that. Joel doesn’t reply for a moment.

“Tomorrow, come ‘ere early. And I’ll show ya.” His voice is as steady as a river.

You barely get any sleep that night. Before the sun even reaches over the horizon, with the sky faintly showing signs of waking up, you head down to the shore.

Joel already waits for you. He’s ethereal in the morning light. The soft cotton candy sky paints him in a delicate glow.

You walk along the shore while he stays in the ocean and you follow his lead. The guide of his fin from the waves would look menacing, the sign of a terrifying shark in the water. Yet you follow it without hesitation. Thankfully the pace is easy and you enjoy the fact that you simply have him by your side in his own way.

Slowly you walk further away from the familiar beach homes and down towards a more secluded part of the coastline. The houses begin to dwindle. Those still standing houses seem older in their style, rickety and abandoned.

Compared to your family’s beach home that sits further back on the land, these homes sit right above the water.

Weathered from their location, they seem like ghosts watching you. Eventually Joel leads you to a home that’s collapsed.

Halfway in the water, halfway in the sand, it is a cluster of debris and scattered remnants of a home

You watch Joel swim into it from the sea.

So this is where he stays. You find a small alcove to duck under and then step in. Surprisingly, the beach house had collapsed into a father cozy like alcove.

The echoes of the ocean softly swirl all around. When you glance out the opening, it gives a clear sight to the sea where Joel must freely swim in and out hidden by the cover of this remnant.

He’s made a home out of these hollow bones. He emerges out of the water, and his freshly slicked back hair has always made his face seem sharper. But here in the soft atmosphere he seems even more dreamy.

You earnestly thank him for showing this to you and even admire its coziness.

“Y’like it?” His voice is gruff as you continue taking in the space. Yet you feel eyes on you the entire time.

“I do.” You admit truthfully.

That’s when you spot the towel you gave him. It’s crinkled up in a ball, still covered in some dried blood. But he kept it. That reality gets logged in your throat.

You go to sit down on the sand and slide off the bag you brought. You didn’t know how long the trip was going to take and trying to add to the lie you told your family about going to search for sand dollars, you added the bag.

Now it proved handy as you pull out the box of assorted fruits you packed.

Feels like it’s been so long since Joel and you have done this.

Handing him an orange slice, he bites down on the whole thing not even letting you finish explaining not to eat the peel. You shriek a bit panicked, but he mumbles about you worrying too much.

“Well, someone’s gotta worry for you.” You huff back.

In this seemingly short yet expansive time you’ve known him it’s like you’ve become completely bonded to this strange man.

In very common Joel fashion, he settles into silence. Playfully taking an orange slice, you put it in your mouth then smile at Joel.

He snorts a faint type of laugh and it’s everything.

This time you also notice how close he rests on the sand next to you now, closer than he’s ever been before.

“Y’know…” Joel begins soft. “Never got to thank ya for savin’ me.”

His tender low rumble almost mixes in with the crash of the tide. You think of the blood stained towel still here.

“It’s okay. And you’re welcome. Plus I think we’re even now at this point.” You gently tease.

A deep hum comes.

“Ain’t like any human I’ve ever met.” He says even lower than before.

Something indescribable claws in you, and you glance at him. Joel is undeniably gorgeous, the most beautiful being you’ve ever seen.

His usual slicked back curls are starting to dry, highlighting their light fluff, and you ache to brush back some of his strands. However his intense gaze bores unflinchingly into yours. It’s like his eyes spark a fire in your chest burning everything in its wake.

Before anything can be said, Joel suddenly snaps up sharply glaring out to the sea.

“Need to get ya home, lil minnow. Gonna storm soon.”

The sky looked so clear on your walk here. Even now it doesn’t seem like a storm approaches. But you trust Joel. The minute you reach the beach house, thunder rolls in the distance.

Later, in the shower, your mind drifts to Joel. Your thoughts have been with him so much. But now they cross into a more sticky territory.

Joel resting beside you earlier was the first time you had ever seen him fully out of the water. Your eyes snuck as many glances as you could trying to commit the sight to memory.

You knew his golden skin bled into the color of his tail. But his tail, now that you fully saw it, was magnificent. Strong, sleek and sturdy, it speaks of how much power he holds as a son of the sea. Yet you can’t stop wondering where his reproductive organs were.

You knew he had a daughter but you also don’t know if maybe he adopted her. You didn’t want to ask about merfolk procreating, but your mind swirls with thoughts of it. Thoughts of something slippery slick, simply Joel’s, slithering in between your legs clouds your imagination and your throat goes dry.

You’re so caught up in those thoughts, you don’t even head down to the ocean that night.

Instead you dream of merman and the taste of saltwater on your lips.

-𖤓-

The beach is crowded today. You should’ve known the weekend would bring in more crowds. The amount of people must have deterred Joel away from leaving a gift.

You admit you were a little heartbroken when you didn’t see anything on the beach this morning, but you understood.

Now you sit peacefully in the water and search for more shells in the sand to add to your growing collection.

Eventually a soft beach ball gently bumps onto you.

“Sorry!” The splashes come, and off to the side are a pack of three frat boy like guys.

“Kinda got away from us.” One of them says bashfully.

“It’s okay.” You reassure.

“I like your swimsuit.” The guys smiles, and you thank him.

“You wanna come hang with us? You look lonely.” One of them asks then takes a swig of his beer.

Politely you decline, but thank them for the offer.

“Aww,” another says, swimming a bit closer. “C’mon. Gotta be better than just sitting here doing nothing.”

“I’m fine.” You kindly try to stay composed, but you already don’t care for how persistent they are.

“Man just leave her, she looks like a fuckin’ prude anyway.” One of them laughs, and your gut feels uneasy.

Fucking pieces of shit.

You don't even reply, not knowing what else they can do. Skin feeling tight, you want to get out of the water now, and hope they leave soon.

They snicker and laugh with each other, talking amongst themselves. It makes your skin crawl even more. Now you really decide to leave.

Suddenly a horrified scream comes.

It’s male, pierces through the air with pure agony.

You whip your gaze around and find blood spilling into the water. One of the guys that was just speaking to you is the one screaming, holding his leg swearing something attacked him. Another one of the guys then collapses into the sea as he screams. More blood colors the waves.

“There was something in the fucking god damn water!” One of them yells.

Off to the distance someone yells ‘shark!’ and terror fills you fast. The panicked commotion arrives. You frantically scan around.

The fin barely moves above the waves, but you catch a glimpse before it dips below the water.

From the shore, your mother screams your name begging you to get out. You return to land but are determined to find Joel.

“I’m gonna take a walk, clear my head.” You tell your mom.

“There’s a shark in the water! Just stay inside for the day.” She urges.

Promising you won’t get in the water you even reassure her you’ll have your phone on hand. With an apprehensive sigh, she nods.

You practically fly down the coastline.

Even in the middle of the day, no one pays you a second glance. Thankfully further down the beach the commotion trickles down until it’s just you and the sea. Approaching the decayed and vacant homes, this time they feel like guards keeping you safe.

Immediately you slide into Joel’s alcove. You’re not sure it was him, but something inside just whispers it was.

You discover a sight.

Joel sits halfway out of the water and snaps his face up to you. His eyes are what you notice first. Even with how dark they are, his pupils are now slits, reptilian like. Then when he spots you, they expand and dilate as his face crumbles.

He mutters out your name.

You spot his hands - now instead claws with faint traces of blood staining them.

Before you is an apex predator, a true hunter of the waters. And he’s glorious.

The blood seems to confirm it was him in the water. He attacked those guys.

“Go home!” He barks, a fierce growl.

“Did they hurt you?” You ask softly, approaching him with hesitant steps.

He repeats his words, roaring at you to leave, but you don’t. Even with how fierce and terrifying his voice rages, you move, almost possessed, to kneel on the sand beside him.

“Are you hurt?” You repeat again gently.

He pauses before barking out a quick no.

“You were in the water?” You question low.

“I…” you’ve never heard Joel hesitate like this. Your eyes stay on his claws.

A moment passes.

“Always try to swim nearby when y’get in the water.” Joel admits, like he doesn’t even register yet that he's speaking.

Your heart gets tangled in your throat.

“Normally I stay far away and deep enough, but those fucking boys… the things they said.” He snarls disgusted and vicious.

He attacked them because of you. That reality rearranges your soul.

You now gingerly reach down to the water and gingerly grab his hand. Reflectively he almost draws away.

“What’re y’doing?” He mutters sharp.

“There’s still blood.” You whisper back then start pouring water over his hands, cleaning him.

The emotions surging in you feel too deep and strong to describe, but they consume you. You rinse his hands, being cautious of the sharp edges, watching the water fade away the crimson more and more.

It’s quiet in the alcove. Just you, him, and the soft sound of the waves. When his hands are free of blood, you gather one in your grasp. His talons are sharp. He’s dangerous, and you adore him. You gently draw it up to your face.

He doesn’t stop you. You even worry this might be too much, possibly overstepping. But this feeling in your chest is so raw you can’t stop.

You lean into Joel’s palm and gently kiss the center of it as your eyes close.

“Thank you.” You speak, barely recognizing your soft voice.

Suddenly you’re jostled. Your eyes snap open petrified thinking he’s shoving you away. Only to find he’s instead swiftly pulling you closer.

You’re only allowed to process that in a blink before his lips crash into yours. You inhale sharp but eagerly scramble to grab onto him now.

He tastes like the sea, of something deep and ancient but beautifully Joel, and your mouth opens up to him wide and greedy.

You can tell he hasn’t kissed recently, or maybe kissing other merfolk is different, but he’s messy. Teeth clink and crash, but it’s fierce, truly him.

Like the surge of a wave Joel moves against you unleashed, and you draw him closer now moving to rest back against the sand.

Joel shifts moving over your body with a clumsy but earnest ease as he continues kissing you fervently.

Your hands run up his broad and strong shoulders while his hands, claws no more, now map your body out.

“So god damn soft.” He says hoarse and deep against your lips. Then Joel burrows his face against your neck and inhales.

“Smell s’good.” His voice trails off while his lips begin kissing and nipping against your skin.

Your body reacts, rising up to grind against him.

“Joel.” You whisper out his name and he growls. The vibrations of it rumble against your skin rattling your bones.

“Wanna mate ya.” He mutters low, as if smoke leaks into his voice. “Wanna make y’mine.”

“Please please please.” You beg him dizzy and clawing at him.

Joel licks at your skin, and your eyes close in bliss.

He’s a force, dizzying and consuming like the sea itself, and you happily fall under his current. Your swimsuit top is discarded and Joel makes quick work diving down your body to your bottoms.

Without warning he shoves his face into between your legs, flat against your pussy and inhales deep. The most powerful groan rattles the air and you whine.

“Wanna taste, want more.” He mutters possessed, clawing at your bottoms that you shimmy out of.

Now you squirm a bit self aware, very hyper aware, of how intently Joel pokes and strokes around your folds with eyes focused.

You even shift your legs hoping to close them when he growls.

“Don’t hide. S’mine.” The possessive nature leaking out of his voice makes you drip.

That first lick he takes against you, you almost come especially when he groans debauched.

“Taste so fuckin’ good, knew y’d taste so fuckin’ good.” Joel mumbles.

What he lacks in his full knowledge of your body, he makes up for that in how fervently he lets his tongue explore and dive into you. It drives you mad, and your hips trash trying to press into him more.

When you come, he moans loud.

Lips wet with your essence Joel crawls up your body in a daze kissing you as much as he can.

Now he grinds down into you and you feel a very new sensation, a hard bump against your core.

Joel draws back and you now fully see the new raised area against his front torso. His hand palms it, the same way a human would, and he hisses. You ache to touch him.

“Wanna make you feel good too.” You mutter.

Joel blinks back at you, still hazy in his dark eyes. But he leans down and bumps his head against yours soft.

“Starlight, y’sure you want this?” You sure you want me, is what you hear.

You nod and kiss him soft on the lips.

A part of you wanted to be afraid, to not face the growing desire for this creature of a man. But when Joel and you become one, it feels as if the world becomes whole. Like this is what it’s always meant to be, you and him.

Your legs sliding against his tail, his teeth biting into your neck with an aching promise wanting to break the skin, you discover a crescendo of passion like no other, a crashing of the land and sea.

He is yours, just as much as you as his.

Now curled against him on the sand, your merman keeps you in his arms tracing his fingers against your shoulder. Every inch of you feels sore but in a delicious way. You enjoy resting against his sturdy frame.

“You’re still so warm.” Joel mutters a bit in awe.

“And you feel nice and cool.” You smile wiggling closer to him even while being practically glued to his side.

“Can I ask…” you begin hesitantly, and he hums a rumble of a noise that sounds like he’s giving you the okay.

You ask him why he suddenly vanished for that week.

Joel sighs, dreary and deep.

“Didn’t wanna face how… close I was gettin’ to you.” The reveal makes your heart flutter.

Softly you rub against his solid chest then lean to kiss it.

“Glad you came back.” You tell him, and he simply nods.

However even in this soft afterglow, a small doubt trickles now in.

“Joel.”

“Hm?” He sounds as if he’s falling asleep against you.

“Is this… Are you sure this is okay?” You ask delicately.

Joel snorts.

“Yeah, s’okay.” He reassures you. “Been practically courting ya this entire time anyway.”

He says it almost casually, like if it’s an afterthought. Your mind however skips over itself.

You bolt up to look down at your merman still lounging on the sand. His face scrunches up pouting at the loss of your body next to his.

“Wait? Courting?!” Your voice shrills.

Joel rolls his eyes and tugs at your arm trying to get you back into his embrace.

“What do you mean courting?!” You continue sqwuaking.

“You sound like a seagull.” He deadpans. You swat at his shoulder urging him to please explain.

You even stare at him determined. An adorable almost bitterly bashful expression colors Joel’s handsome face. Those deep eyes of his dart away from your stern gaze.

“S’nothin’. Been takin’ care of you same way you’ve been takin’ care of me, that’s all.” He replies gruffly still seeming embarrassed.

Suddenly it all clicks.

A few semesters back you took an ecology course for a science credit. You faintly remember a lecture about how different species mating behaviors. Your professor even made a comparison of a man winning a game of billiards against another guy to establish himself as a strong opponent.

In essence, sometimes mating rituals were about proving you were a strong provider and protector.

Joel had been doing this all along. The way he protected you on the beach, the various seafood critters left on the beach, the way you also fed him, along with the beautiful seashells and trinkets he left -

It had all been his own way of showing his affection and intentions.

Your merman opens his mouth to say something, but you pounce on him quickly. You kiss him pouring in all your devotion you can, and Joel welcomes you greedily.

Eventually a text from your mom comes asking if you’re alright and it gently bursts the bubble you’ve been happily sheltered in. Begrudgingly you kiss Joel many times goodbye. He of course swims by your side the entire walk home.

Later that evening, you sneak back out to the shoreline and kiss your handsome myth of man so many times under the moon's watchful eye.

“So you’re mine?” You ask quietly among the crash of the waves.

Joel nods firm and steady. “Just like you’re mine.”

You float in a dreamy bliss and wish more than ever you don’t have to leave him for the night.

“Don’t worry, lil’ minnow.” He reassures you with one last soft kiss. “I’ll be in the water.”

It’s a promise, a vow, as true and beautifully ancient as the sea.

#if you’re reading this thank you so much me and merman Joel are giving you all the underwater treasures #joel miller x reader #merman!joel miller #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #Joel miller fic #under the water series #Joel 🤎#pedrostories

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