#have I ever finished a multi-chapter before?

[caspersickfanfics]

Late Arrival Chapter 2

Read Chapter 1 Here

This was written to fill @monthofsick day 14: Can't Keep Anything Down

Prompt List | AO3 | Ask | Rules

Warnings: Vomiting, fever, nightmare mention, slight anxiety, bad jokes

Anon asked:

Could I make a request for can’t keep anything down with sick Cyno? I feel like Tighnari would try really hard to get him to eat or stay hydrated or try some home remedies but…Cynos stomach just can’t handle it right now…

Tighnari wakes, warm and cozy, curled up against Cyno, only because of his alarm. There’s a moment of disorientation, confusion because he isn’t in his own bed or even in his own home. He doesn’t often use an alarm, instead rising with the birds and the sun. There’s no birdsong, here. Only background noise from the city, and Cyno’s labored breathing.

The sound brings Tighnari both clarity and concern. He remembers why he set the alarm while in the process of blearily shutting it off. With heavy limbs, he stumbles around the place until he manages to grab a glass of water and some medicine from his own belongings, which still rest in a messy pile near the door.

When he returns to the bedroom, he hesitates. He loathes to disrupt Cyno’s rest. If he ignores the rattle in the his airways, the sweat on his temples, and the way his whole body occasionally shivers, the matra looks peaceful. It’s reassuring to see him relaxed to this degree. Outside of playing cards and eating meals, the two of them often spend their precious little time together snuggling or napping for this very reason. With the intensity of their jobs, they both struggle to unwind. For Tighnari, at least, there’s something about watching his partner sleep that helps rebuild a sense of safety. He can convince himself that nothing bad will happen to either of them when they’re wrapped up in blankets together, secure enough to close their eyes and sometimes, now, even dream.

Still, the last thing Tighnari wants is to let his sentimentality get in the way of what is necessary. Cyno is a light sleeper - that he slept through the alarm is moderately disquieting - so Tighnari traces the soft lines of the sick man’s face with a hovering touch and scratches his head. He barely stirs.

“Cyno,” Tighnari speaks quietly, absently teasing white hair. The fever has risen. His voice is an odd pitch and louder than he intended when he speaks again. “Hey, Cyno. Wake up.”

There’s an incoherent mumble, muffled by blanket. Tighnari peels layers of off him and Cyno makes a noise of distaste.

“I know.” A slight note of regret shimmers in the air, but apology loses in the war against pragmatism, at least for Tighnari. “We need to get your fever down.”

“’s too cold,” the matra slurs. His hands grasp at the air blindly, no doubt seeking the covers.

Tighnari nods and helps him to sit up. “Chills,” he explains. “From the fever.” He mixes the medicine in - a natural herbal powder that’s meant to lower and stabilize body temperature - before handing the glass over. “This might taste a bit odd, but it should help. Do you think you can keep medicine down right now?”

Cyno nods, looking suspiciously more determined than he does confident. His hands shake as he takes the glass, so Tighnari helps guide it to his lips. “Drink slowly. Just a few sips is enough.”

“A few sips” is all it takes for Cyno to clamp his mouth tightly shut. His throat bobs threateningly and he leans back, eyes closed. He’s clearly trying to keep his stomach under control, but he’s so feverish that he can hardly hold his head up.

“Breathe in through your nose. Slowly,” Tighnari instructs. He reaches for the trashcan beside the bed and pulls it close. When Cyno lurches forward with an aborted heave, tears escaping out of the corners of his eyes, Tighnari sighs and lifts the bin onto the bed.

“It’s okay, Cyno.” He brushes sweaty hair away from his partner’s face. Cyno shakes his head and Tighnari can’t help but smile fondly. Stubborn as usual. Sure enough, though, it doesn’t take long before a coughing fit racks Cyno’s body. Tighnari helps him lean forward and rubs his back, wincing as he begins to retch. Inevitably, the fluids come right back up, splattering against the plastic. Cyno continues to gag, his body straining unforgivingly until there’s another splash of liquid. He groans, shudders, and flops back onto the pillow behind him. “I’m sorry,” he sniffles miserably, rubbing at wet eyes and coughing weakly. 

“Hey,” Tighnari looks at him sternly. “It’s not your fault. The medicine must have been too much.”

Cyno might agree, if he had the energy, but he’s too busy trying to prevent his teeth from chattering.

“I’m going to get some plain water. When you’re ready, we can try that, okay?” 

Tighnari looks painfully hopeful, but Cyno can’t even bring himself to nod. His stomach aches, hollow and angry. Now that it’s been upturned, it refuses to settle. He’s left burping up rancid air, drool pooling in his mouth until he’s spitting it into the waste bin. He’s suffering through lingering dry heaves when his partner returns.

“Oh, no.” There’s a clink as Tighnari puts the glass aside in favor of rubbing Cyno’s back through each painful retch. It’s a sweet gesture, both grounding and comforting. It’s nice not to be alone. Tighnari nudges him and offers a glass of water once his stomach lets up. “Just rinse your mouth out, for now.”

It doesn’t take the nausea away by any means - queasy tremors still rattle through him relentlessly - but Cyno feels moderately more human once the nasty taste has lessened. His eyelids droop. 

“Cyno, honey,” Tighnari says. Cyno’s thoughts are a fog of confusion, but his chest warms pleasantly. It’s not common for Tighnari to use terms of endearment, even when they’re alone. The mood is quickly dampened by his next words. “Do you feel up to a bit of water?”

Cyno can’t help the pitiful whine that escapes him. “Sleep.” He’s halfway to begging and hates how fragile his voice sounds. Then Tighnari’s hand is weaving through his hair, feeling like salve on a burn wound.

“Soon,” Tighnari agrees. “Drink this first?”

If Cyno were to firmly resist, he knows that Tighnari wouldn’t force him. He also knows that Tighnari is worried. He breathes slowly and manages a few sips. 

Instantly, the water sloshes in his stomach. That persistent chill is replaced as his body warms over uncomfortably, pricks of sweat forming on his temples. He closes his eyes and hands the glass back to Tighnari, feeling the forest watcher’s eyes on him all the while. Cyno suppresses a heave. 

Exhaustion weighs heavy upon him; he can fall back asleep, he thinks, and then it will be fine. Surely, it will stay down. That’s all he really needs - just a bit of water in his system to prevent dehydration, to reassure Tighnari. Tired as he is, sleep takes him quickly enough.

———

The next time he wakes, it's brief. No more than an hour has passed. Cyno is dizzy. He feels ill. He’s hardly aware of his surroundings. He doesn’t hear Tighnari asking if he’s okay, so he doesn’t respond. His stomach dips, and burning liquid hurtles up his throat, out his mouth and nose. Some clarity returns to him, then. He’s made a mess. His bare chest is sticky. He thinks he might be crying, because Tighnari is soothing him with great care, wiping him down with towels. Cyno is cold again, and very saddened to find that he still has no covers. “I’m sorry,” he hears Tighnari say, and then the world drifts away.

———

Tighnari watches Cyno curl onto his side, trembling, and aches. He massages the sick man’s back. Any patient unable to keep fluids down for going on six hours, at a minimum, is concerning, regardless of whether a bond with an otherworldly being enhances their body’s general durability. Tighnari’s expertise in first aid only goes as far as the tools he has at his disposal. If, for example, intravenous fluid administration becomes a necessity, he’ll have to drag Cyno to the Bimarstan, kicking and screaming - maybe literally, with the near-delirious state he’s in. Considering his traumatic history with Akademiya “medicine,” his reluctance is justified. In all fairness, Tighnari is also not fond of the idea, for reasons of his own. The Bimarstan is truly a last resort.

“We need to get your fever down,” he murmurs, mostly to himself. He isn’t sure Cyno can hear him, but he gives him one final head scratch before standing. “I’ll be right back.”

By the time Tighnari returns with lukewarm water and a few clean towels, Cyno has drifted off again. Even in sleep, his body shivers. “This is probably going to feel cold to you,” Tighnari warns. He’s relieved when, as he places a wet towel on his forehead, Cyno only shifts slightly. For the next few minutes, Tighnari works to cool the matra’s skin with the additional towels, careful not to dampen the bed.

There’s little to do after that but wait and repeat the process roughly every hour. The time passes slowly. Tighnari cleans the trash bin out and tidies the apartment. He makes mint tea, and then soup. He writes Collei and Kaveh with updates: he plans to stay in the city for at least another three days to ensure Cyno’s full recovery, and may stay longer if necessary. He entrusts Collei and a few other forest watchers to assist in covering his duties while he’s away. Tighnari aches a bit, thinking about Gandharva Ville, and he drifts back to Cyno’s side to, once again, simply watch him sleep.

This time, though, his brow is furrowed, teeth clenched. His body tenses and curls further inwards. When Tighnari touches his shoulder, he wakes with a gasp.

“You’re okay.” Tighnari speaks softly, watching the other man attentively. He’s still tense and breathless, but he nods. He’s trying to play it off. Tighnari lets him. He waits, giving Cyno space to calm his body.

“I’m okay,” Cyno echoes, simultaneously reaching for his hand. The forest watcher offers it without comment and waits for Cyno’s breath to returns to a more normal speed. Despite the nightmare, Cyno looks better. More lucid, certainly. Tighnari touches his wrist. “Hey. How are you feeling?”

“Better,” Cyno says, smiling. “‘m still sleepy.”

Tighnari nods, a sigh of relief shaking its way out of him. “I would expect so. Your body is healing, after all.” He checks Cyno’s temperature and is pleased to find that, though the fever is still there, it has definitely improved since a few hours ago. Cyno drinks water without complaint and appears unfazed afterwards. Rest really can work wonders.

“Tighnari,” Cyno speaks slowly. “Can the stomach flu impact your memory?” The question instantly shoots fear back through Tighnari’s veins; as though it never really left. His chest feels tight and his brows furrow.

“Well, you did have quite a high fever, which can have that effect, although it’s highly unusual and would be cause for concern. Why? What’s going on?”

Cyno’s expression changes minutely. He doesn’t smile, but the glimmer in his eye is the equivalent of a smirk. Tighnari realizes what’s coming a second too late to interject. “It’s just that, I once heard a pun about amnesia, but I can’t remember how it goes.”

Tighnari groans. He knows his expression is blatantly fond, so he hides his face in his hands. It’s reassuring that Cyno is joking again - albeit less so that it may be at the cost of Tighnari’s sanity.

“What?” Cyno continues. “A little joke when you're sick never hurt antibody.”

“Stop.”

“Fine. I have a joke about the flu but I’d hope you don’t “get it,” anyway.”

Tighnari gives up. He rolls his eyes and simply doesn’t respond, letting Cyno rattle off some justification as to why puns are hilarious. The frustrating thing is that the jokes really have relaxed him, which was no doubt their intended purpose; silly as it is, hearing Cyno back to his usual antics has eased some tension that Tighnari hadn’t even noticed building inside him. Not that he would ever admit it out loud. For once, though, he doesn’t cut Cyno’s explanation short, content letting the words wash over him, even if he pays little attention to the meaning behind them. Cyno looks tired but proud as he wraps up his little speech, and Tighnari doesn’t hide his affection this time.

It’s only another 30 minutes or so before Cyno falls back asleep, but he’s been able to keep the water and a bowl of soup down for the duration. With the worst of his worries placated, the exhaustion catches up to Tighnari all at once. He snuggles in next to Cyno. If he can’t stay awake to watch him rest, then sleeping right beside him is the next best thing.

———

Chapter 3

———

If you enjoyed the fic, feel free to let me know by replying directly to this post, by sending me an ask, or by sharing your thoughts with me privately and anonymously through this survey! Thank you so much for reading!!

#my writing #my writing: genshin #tw emeto #tw vomit #novemetober #tw anxiety #tw nightmare mention #sick cyno #cyno genshin impact #tighnari genshin impact #genshin impact emeto #novemetober rescheduled #genshin sickfic #don't think i've ever written a 3 part fic before actually #have i even done any multi chapter fic before idk TT_TT #here's to hoping i can finish this one!! #genshin emeto

[ahdriking]

Get to know your fic writer!

Do you prefer writing one-shots or multi-chaptered fics?

Do you plan each chapter ahead or write as you go?

Describe the creative process of writing a chapter/fic

Where do you find inspiration for new ideas?

Do you like constructive criticism?

Do you have your work beta'd? How important is this to your process?

How do you choose which POV to write from?

Do you prefer the beginning, middle, or end of a story?

Do you comment on stories you read?

Cltr+f "blinks" on your WIP & copy paste the first sentence/paragraph that comes up

Link your three favorite fics right now

how does receiving or not receiving feedback/support impact you?

what’s a common writing tip that you almost always follow?

how do you write emotional scenes? Do you ever feel what the characters feel? Do you draw from personal experiences?

How do you write smut scenes? Do you get very visual or detailed? How important is it to be realistic?

How many fic ideas are you nurturing right now? Share one of them?

What do you do when writing becomes difficult? (maybe a lack of inspiration or writers block)

Do you title your fics before, during, or after the writing process? How do you come up with titles?

What is the most-used tag on your ao3?

Have you noticed any patterns in your fics? Words/expressions that appear a lot, themes, common settings, etc?

Would you ever collaborate with another writer for a story?

Are there certain types of writing you won’t do? (style, pov, genre, tropes, etc)

Best writing advice for other writers?

Worst writing advice anyone ever gave you?

What fic do you wish you got more of a response on?

Which of your fics would you call your wildest ride?

What is your most and least favorite part of writing?

On average, how much writing do you get done in a day?

What’s your revision or editing process like?

Do you share rough drafts or do you wait until it’s all polished?

Do you start with the characters or the plot when writing?

Name three of your favorite fanfic writers.

Do you want to be published some day?

Five years from now, where do you see yourself as a writer?

What is one essential thing to remember when writing a villain? 

How do you write kissing scenes?

How do you choose where to end a chapter?

Would you ever write commissions?

Share a snippet from a WIP

If someone were to make fanart of your work, what fic or scene would you hope to see?

Do you tend to reread fics or are you a one-and-done kind of person?

What’s the last fic you read? Do you recommend it?

Do you take a sadistic joy in whumping your characters, or are you more the "If you hurt them I would kill everyone and then myself" kind of person?

What mistakes do you keep making no matter how many times your beta corrects you?

Do you want to break your readers‘ heart or make them laugh?

How would you describe your style? (Character/emotion/action-driven, etc)

How many times do you usually revise your fic/chapter before posting?

What do you look for in a beta?

Do you ever get rude reviews and how do you deal with them?

How long is your longest fic?

What’s your total AO3 word count?

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

How do you spend your time when it comes to fanfiction? Are you primarily a fic reader, writer, or a perfect 50/50 split of both?

What’s your favorite part about the fanfiction writing process?

Of the characters you write for, which is your favorite? Has that choice been swayed at all by your followers/readers’ reactions to certain ones?

What’s something about your writing that you pride yourself on?

Do you prefer editing as you write, or waiting until it’s finished? 

What part of the writing process do you enjoy the most? (Brainstorming, outlining, writing, editing, etc) 

Does anyone in your personal life know you write fic? if not, would you tell anyone?

Have you had a writer you admire comment on your fic? What was that like?

Why do you continue writing fics?

Thoughts on cliffhangers?

Something you hate to see in smut.

Something you love to see in smut.

Tell us about what you’re most looking forward to writing – in your current project, or a future project

How do you deal with writing pressure (ie. pressure to update, negative comments, deadlines, etc.)?

Do you prefer prompts and challenges, or completely independent ideas?

What, if anything, do you do for inspiration?

What work of yours, if any, are you the most embarrassed about existing?

When asked, are you embarrassed or enthusiastic to tell people that you write?

When it comes to more complicated narratives, how do you keep track of outlines, characters, development, timeline, ect.?

What order do you write in? front of book to back? chronological? favorite scenes first? something else?

What do you think makes your writing stand out from other works?

You’ve posted a fic anonymously. How would someone be able to guess that you’d written it?

What scene in [Fanfic Name] took the longest to write? What was difficult about it? 

Did you have any ideas that didn’t make the final cut of [Fanfic Name]? 

Do you have a favorite scene you’ve written from [Fanfic Name] story/chapter? 

#ask game #writing ask game #writers ask game #fic writers asks #asks for fic writers

[macfrog]

ride it, cowgirl cowboy like me chapter ten

hey dudes. anyone up for some dbf? i seriously can't thank you guys enough for all the love y'all show this series. blows my mind every time. i have been super excited for this chapter for a WHILE. might be my fave so far. who knows. you can grab chapters 1-9 on my masterlist and also my ao3 if ur feeling fancy. love u all sm!!!!!! ✨💘💫

pairing: dbf!joel x fem!reader

summary: joel picks you up from a girls’ night. you’ve plans for when you get home

warnings: 18+ (minors dni!!!) reader isn't an astrology girlie (sorry), more pining beCAUSE, alcohol consumption + a mention of the devil’s lettuce, very quick bit of unwanted touching, even quicker bit of protective joel, soft!joel, softdom!joel, one tiny mention of daddy, protected piv sex this time (feeling conservative slutty max will return), reader rides him into the sunset, age gap (reader is 23, joel is 48), cursing

word count: 6.7k

series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist

You lazily drag yourself over and over Joel’s dick, each stroke drawing you nearer and nearer to your high. When your body starts to falter, you feel him shift, and open your eyes to see him leaning over to the nightstand. His fingers grip the rim of the black cowgirl hat you’d worn that night. He lies back, flat against the mattress, and reaches up, placing the hat on top of your head. You smile. Joel speaks in a low, gentle, but commanding whisper. “There you go, cowgirl. Show me how it’s done.”

You never believed much in the power of the universe. Astrology, moons, manifestation. Whatever. None of it ever really meant much to you. You knew your star sign, knew which cool little symbol resembled you, and that was about it. Everything past that was…confusing and, frankly, a little overwhelming.

However.

If the universe were to send you a sign, one huge, fluorescent, multi-colored, in-your-face sign, that it was on your side…this weekend might just be it.

Your dad’s downstairs, finishing up packing for his work trip. His departure is imminent. Sarah’s been in Nashville since last night. A series of texts she sent you at 3AM riddled with spelling errors and heart emojis tell you she’s been having a pretty good time so far.

You are Joel are…alone. All by yourselves. For a whole…twenty hours.

Can’t have it all, I guess.

Your eyes skim down the texts you sent him this morning, texts he is yet to reply to.

You: Merry Christmas!!!

You took his non-reply for confusion – he is almost fifty, maybe he doesn’t get the joke? It’s a pretty lame joke, anyways. Very lame. If your thumb hovers over the send button before you press it, it’s probably not that great a joke. And your thumb had most definitely hovered. So, you’d followed it up.

You: As in, today’s the day

You: I don’t mean it’s actually Christmas

You: I mean like, happy ‘we’re finally gonna be alone again’ day

You: Never mind

“Hello?” Anna’s voice cuts through your train of thought. “Are you even listening to me?”

You drop your phone, shaking your head clear of Joel. “Yep. Sorry. Just didn’t catch that last part. You froze.”

The image of her on your – pretty fucking dusty – laptop screen rolls its eyes, knowing you’re lying. “I don’t know whether to go with the pink or the black boots,” she says.

“Ain’t your dress yellow?”

Her head falls into her hands. She throws herself down onto her bed and slides her laptop closer. “That was, like, ten minutes ago. I’m goin’ with the pink strappy one now.”

“Pink does say rodeo.”

“Fuck you,” she snaps through a giggle. “Remind me what you’re wearin’, again.”

“Black hat, black boots, black dress.”

“You’re so boring.”

“Thanks. Really looking forward to our night out.”

Anna snorts and then stands back up, strides over to her closet and resumes rummaging. “Black jacket, too?” she calls over her shoulder.

“Uhuh,” you reply, glancing back down to your phone. “Although – it has rhinestones. And tassels. Not so boring after all, huh?”

Anna’s silence drags your eyes from the text thread back to your laptop screen. She’s frozen in place, twisted around with a dress in her hands, jaw on the floor. “Show it to me. Now.”

“Hold on,” you roll over and off your bed, your shoulder stiff from the position you’d been lying in, “I think I left it downstairs.”

“Tell your dad I say hey!”

You pad down the carpeted stairs in your socks, toward the sunlit hallway.

“Dad, have you seen my– Oh, fuck.”

As you round the corner at the bottom of the stairs, glancing over your left shoulder to the front door, your chest knocks into something hard. Steady. Strong.

Something you recognize the feel of before you’ve given him a proper look.

“Mind your step, baby,” Joel says, and your heart leaps.

“What the fuck are you doin’ here?” you whisper, peering around his body to look for your dad.

“He’s out front,” Joel tells you, then takes your shoulder and reels you in against his chest. “’m just here to help ‘im with his GPS.”

He plants a kiss on the top of your head and gives you a squeeze. Your head rests safely on his chest, arms link at his back. If you didn’t have plans tonight, and if your dad wasn’t, like, ten feet from you guys right now, you’d never let him go. Just follow him around, vice grip around his waist, surrounded by the smell and feel of him.

Not that that means anything. You’d do other stuff, too. You’re not…you know.

Your dad’s voice streams in through the open door and Joel releases you.

“It ain’t for workin’, Joel, I’m about to throw it at the f– Hey, kiddo.”

“Hey. What’s the matter with your GPS?”

You lean in to the tiny device in his hands. Joel’s elbow comes up to rest on your shoulder.

“Just won’t connect to the car. Every time I plug it in, it just…” He lifts his hands, screen loose in his fingers, and hands you a bewildered look.

You look at him, expressionless. “Why don’t you just use your phone?”

“Because I paid almost a hundred bucks for this thing, and I’ll be damned if I’m– Alright,” he stops himself, eyes shutting in exasperation, “I already explained this to him. I ain’t justifyin’ myself to the two of you.”

Joel’s laughing behind his hand, pretending to scratch his nose when your dad stalks off to the kitchen and throws the device down, snatching the instructions off the table.

The pair of you follow, both still trying to swallow your laughter. Joel wanders around the table and sits down beside your dad, fumbling with the screen. You dive into the coat closet at the bottom of the stairs and fish out your bejeweled, tasseled jacket.

“You lookin’ forward to your girls’ night?” Joel asks, eyes flitting up and down the leather jacket in your hands.

“Mhm,” you reply, opening your mouth to continue when your dad butts in.

“S’posed to be a girls’ night, but that boy Sam’s crashin’ it, ain’t he?”

“Well, we asked him.” You shrug. “It’s his night off.”

Your dad scoffs, shaking his head to Joel, who looks up to you with a confused expression. “’s the big deal with that?”

“Oh, wise up, Miller. He’s only goin’ ‘cause of…” He wags a finger in your direction, and a smirk peels across Joel’s lips.

“Is he, now?”

“Uhuh,” your dad replies, intense stare still on the instructions in front of him. “Makes no damn sense. I plugged it in using the cable they gave me in the box. Stupid thing…”

You shake your head to Joel, who’s still looking at you, bemused. He knows you and Sam are just friends. Also knows your dad is the most oblivious theorist to walk the planet. Just aiming his gun at the wrong target, is all.

“I’m gonna let you two get back to…that,” you say, turning to head back upstairs. “Anna says hi, by the way.”

Your dad’s eyebrows rise once, his eyes never lifting from his GPS. “Hi, Anna.”

“Hey, Anna,” Joel echoes, smirk on his lips.

“Not to you,” you throw back, hopping up the first step. You hear his chuckle as you disappear.

----------

Anna’s reaction to your jacket in person matches that over Facetime: a deafening squeal. A squeal which she repeats almost every damn time she sees you throughout the night.

“So – fucking – cute!” she exclaims for the fifth time, fingers dancing through the tassels. “And it goes so well with your hat.”

You sip on your cocktail, nodding enthusiastically, pushing your eyebrows up underneath the brim of the black cowgirl hat on your head. Trying to match her energy. Your mind’s elsewhere.

Joel texted you a few hours ago. Told you to have a good night, said something about Sam, but you were stood right next to the dude, so you quickly locked your phone and slipped it back into your clutch.

Now, standing with your back against the wall of Franks, watching Sam play pool with Eve, you feel safe enough to read over the message.

Joel: Have fun baby. Be safe. Tell Sam good luck from me.

You squint at the screen, pulling it away from your face and leaning back in to read it over. Good luck? The fuck does he mean –

You: Good luck??

He replies almost instantly.

Joel: Yeah. Good luck winning you over. Took me, what, a week?

Oh, fuck off. You roll your eyes and throw your phone facedown onto the table where Anna and Kara sit, about twenty minutes deep into a conversation you missed the beginning of.

Your attention turns to the room before you – brick-walled, metal dome lightshades hanging over each pool table. Glass-paneled door to your left leading back through to the main bar. For being a tiny bar on a backstreet, Frank’s is pretty lively. There are bodies everywhere, bumping by each other, drunken arms slung over shoulders, hips swaying with the soft rock song blasting from out front.

You imagine your dad here with Joel, maybe Hank and Bill, too. Playing pool, beer bottles resting on the felt while they take their shot. Or sat on the rooftop, sipping on a whiskey. Talking about you and Sarah. What does Joel say about you when you’re not around?

And what does he want to say, but can’t, ‘cause it’s your dad? What does he think, and bite back when it bubbles to the surface?

Your straw gargles, slurping up the last few sips of your drink. You lean over to Anna and Kara, holding your empty glass up.

“Another?”

They both shake their heads, and you nod, turning on your own back to the bar.

You squeeze between two older women, both dressed smart and sharp. One of them – clutching a Manhattan – shifts out of the way as you pass.

“…one more conversation with him about squash,” she tells her companion, “and I am gonna blow my brains out…”

You edge over to the bar and slot into a free space, propping your elbows up on the wood. One of Sam’s coworkers – her name escapes you – notices you and shuffles over, smiling sweetly.

“How you doin’?” she asks, running a damp cloth inside a tumbler.

“Good,” you reply. “Could I just get a Bud, please?”

“Sure thing,” she says, and reaches behind to grab one. You slide her a note and she hands you change, and then you’re on your way back to the pool room.

As you slink by the two women, a weight knocks into your shoulder, almost sending your beer flying out of your hand.

“Sorry,” a rough voice sputters on your left, and you glance in its direction. Some broad dude in a tight t-shirt.

“’s fine,” you mumble, clutching your hat; a smell of weed choking your throat.

He passes by behind you, one hand lingering a little too long on your waist, and you saunter back over to Anna and Kara.

“That dude stinks, right?” Anna whispers behind a cupped hand, and you snort.

“He smells like he’s having a good night.”

“We’re talking about Romeo and Juliet over there. We’re basically third, fourth, and fifth wheeling,” Kara says, nodding over to Sam and Eve, who’re finished their game of pool and have now graduated to darts.

“I don’t…think that’s a thing.”

“Eve asked me if Sam was single earlier,” Anna says, lifting her straw to her red lips.

“What?” Kara spits out, choking on her drink. “Eve has a boyfriend!”

Anna giggles. “He’s kinda an ass, anyway. Look at them, they’re so sweet.”

“You say sweet, I hear morally wrong.”

“Who says it’s morally wrong?” you chirp, alcohol pushing the words over your lips before your brain’s had time to stop them. Your fingers clutch your phone, still laying on the table where you left it. “You?”

“Uh, it’s cheating, dude. What if Nick found out?”

“’s not that big a deal,” you reply, phone screen lighting your face in a blue hue, “they’re just having fun.”

Anna points to you, lifting her glass. “Here’s to havin’ fun, I guess.”

Kara lifts her own reluctantly and they clink, but you’re distracted. Already typing a message to Joel. Bored. Drunk. Morally wrong.

You: What you doing?

Joel: Watching TV. What you doing?

You: What ya watvhin ?

Joel: None of your business. Go get another drink. Looks like you’re not drunk enough.

You lift your head with a giggle, almost ready to turn your phone around to Anna and Kara and say, look what the dude I’m sleeping with just text me. And then, thankfully, your good sense kicks in and you bring the screen closer to your chest.

You: Kinda bored. Wanna come home now please

Bored, horny. It all means the same.

Joel says he’ll be at Frank’s in twenty minutes. You rest your chin on your palm and watch as Sam cheers Eve for hitting bullseye.

“I think they’re cute,” you whisper.

Anna and Kara are already preoccupied, taking photos of one another across the table. Kara leans into you and you smile, flash blinding your hazy eyes for a few minutes afterward. A few more pictures, couple boomerangs of your glasses cheersing, and then your phone’s vibrating.

Joel: Outside. No rush.

That last part is where he’s wrong. There most definitely is a rush, and it’s in the form of the heat that starts to pool between your legs.

“Alright,” you shimmy off your barstool and stretch your back. “My ride’s here.”

“What?” Anna almost screams, her hand slapping down on the table. “You’re leavin’?”

You nod. “Sorry, babe.”

“Don’t babe me, traitor. It’s, like, midnight.”

“Uh, it’s, like, almost 2AM. I’m tired. I don’t know how y’all do it.”

She sighs, conceding, and agrees to walk with you to the front door. Kara and Eve stop off by the bar to grab another drink. Sam holds the door open for you and Anna and you’re hit by a wave of cold night air, instantly cooling your hot, sweaty skin.

“Is that…Mr. Miller?” Anna asks, mouth falling wide open.

You glance down the street and notice his black truck, parked up by the curb. “Mhm,” you reply, “my dad’s out of town, so he’s picking me up.”

“Can he take me home, too?”

Sam snickers. “Wow, Anna. That’s just…Wow.”

She shrugs, lips closing around her straw as she stares at Joel’s truck. Something inside you lurches at the idea of Joel sitting there, his eyes glued on you, watching everything you do, everyone around you. And then again at the thought of Anna and her doting gaze on him.

“Alright, I guess that’s my cue to skip.”

Anna pouts. “One more drink?”

“I’m good, thanks,” you scoff, patting her head affectionately. I got business to attend to.

You give her a quick kiss on the cheek and Sam wraps an arm around your shoulder, giving it a squeeze before you’re wandering off toward Joel’s truck.

“Hey.” Something – someone – hooks around your elbow, and you turn back. It’s that same guy who stank of weed.

“Hi,” you reply, as sweet as you can, but trying to loosen his grip.

“Saw you inside, you out with friends?”

“Mhm. I’m just leavin’, my–”

“Few of us are headed upstairs. You wanna come?”

You glare at him a few seconds, before yanking your arm from his grasp. “Nah, no thanks. I’m leaving. Have a good night.”

You stagger off, feeling his eyes on you as you go. Joel’s truck headlights switch on, dazzling your eyes, and you quickly click around to the passenger side, throwing yourself in beside him.

Joel doesn’t say hey, doesn’t squeeze your thigh, doesn’t even look at you when you settle into the seat. Just asks –

“Who’s that kid?”

“Uh…not sure. Bumped into ‘im in the bar.”

“He give you trouble?”

“No,” you lean over the console, pulling your seatbelt over your body, and flash him a tipsy grin, “thought that was my job. Givin’ trouble.”

Joel doesn’t reply. Doesn’t take his scowl off the dude outside Frank’s, either. Your eyes meander across to his hand, locked in a tight fist around the wheel. Your smile drops.

“Joel. It’s fine. Can we go?”

When you lift a hand to the crook of his elbow and he feels your warmth on his skin, he tears his gaze away and it lands on you. Soft, gentle. His lip isn’t curled anymore. His brows lift.

His eyes watch your lips as you whisper the words to him.

“Want you to take me home.”

“’s go, pretty girl.”

----------

Joel refuses, no matter how many times you ask, how hard you bat your eyelashes, how many promises you make, to stop by a drive thru.

“Please?” you ask one last time before he’s pulling in to his neighborhood.

He shakes his head. “Look at that, we’re already home.”

“I ain’t takin’ no for an answer, Miller, not until the engine’s off. We’re still driving.”

He doesn’t reply. Just pulls up in his drive, cuts the engine, and looks at you. Shrugs. “Oops.”

“Fuck you,” you groan, sliding down in your seat. “I’m starvin’.”

“Make you a big breakfast in the mornin’, how’s that sound?”

“Wanted a Big Mac, but whatever.”

Your fingers fumble for the door handle, clicking it open. You roll out of the truck and stroll around to meet Joel at the driver’s side. He snakes an arm around your shoulders, steadying you as you walk up his porch steps and into the house.

“I’m fine,” you murmur, glancing around his living room.

“Alright,” he says, tossing his keys and kicking his boots off.

Your eyes settle on the TV screen, paused. Probably around the time you text him. There’s a crowded hospital room onscreen, doctors in dark blue scrubs, all surrounding someone lying on a bed, someone who looks pretty familiar…

“Is that…fuckin’…Grey’s Anatomy…?”

Joel chuckles, peeling your jacket from your shoulders.

“That’s Meredith! When she–”

“She fell in the damn river,” Joel mutters, placing the tasseled leather over the back of his couch. “Derek had to go in after her. Intense stuff.”

“Right? I told you it was good!” You smack his arm. “I can’t believe you’re watchin’ it without me.”

“I ain’t watchin’ it,” he protests, “it was just on, ‘n I needed something to keep me awake. I’m still rooting for Meredith ‘n George.”

“We can watch it from the beginning.”

“Yeah?”

You nod, moving over to him. “And then I can be over here all the time, and you can make me all the grilled cheese I want, and we can lie in bed and…do stuff.” Your chin rests on his chest, flashing him a toothy grin. Hands swinging in his at your side.

Joel’s eyes narrow, but there’s a smirk on his lips. “You’re drunk.”

“I’m not drunk. I had a couple drinks. I’m not drunk.”

“H’many fingers am I holdin’ up?” Joel asks, raising his fist. You punch it away.

“Ha-ha,” you say tonelessly, and wander away from him.

“Baby,” he calls you from behind. Sure, you’re tipsy, and he can be a cocky asshole – especially when he has to take care of you, but that’s a sound you’ll never get tired of hearing. Baby. You’re his darlin’, his sweet girl.

You spin around, very nearly losing your footing, and he’s standing with an arm out, ready for you to take.

You smile dumbly. Meander over, and take his strong hand in both of yours, wrapping your fingers around two of his to let him reel you in against his body.

“C’mon,” he whispers, as you lean against his frame. “Let’s get you upstairs.”

You follow him up, knowing where he’s leading you. You’ve spent more time in there the last few weeks than you have your entire life.

His room is cool, not cold, but comfortable. It’s Joel all over; the muted colors, the décor, the smell that calms you as soon as you stumble over the threshold.

He sits you down on the edge of his bed and kneels, pulling your boots off one by one.

You giggle.

“You laughin’ at me?”

“You’re like my own personal tr…No, not trainer. Wait. Personal ch–”

“Chef?” he says, snorting. “Not chef. Try again, soberhead.”

“Oh, I dunno.” You throw your arms up as he sits your boots against the wall, then stands and takes your hat off.

“This,” he says, placing it on the nightstand at your side of the bed, “is very cute. I like it.”

“I’m cute, too, y’know,” you whisper, pouting.

He smiles, and leans down to give you a quick kiss on the lips, pointer finger under your chin.

“The cutest.”

“Ha!” you roar. Joel twists around you to undo the zipper at the back of your dress. “Joel Miller thinks I’m the cutest. Take that, Anna…”

He laughs. When he unzips you, he pulls the dress off your bare chest and down your legs. You don’t shy away, used to the idea now of him seeing you naked. Used to the idea of him seeing you in any vulnerable state; drunk, or naked, or in a sobbing mess on day two of your period.

You notice, even though you’re a tad dizzy with what alcohol is left in your system, that his eyes linger on your panties a moment before he turns and grabs a tee from a chair.

And something inside you ticks.

“Joel?”

He’s pulling the shirt over your head. It smells like him. Intoxicates you much more and much quicker than any drink you could order from Frank’s.

“Mhm?”

You feed both arms through the sleeves, swallowing the question you were about to ask. He’s standing up now, telling you to get into bed.

He walks over to his dresser and begins removing his own clothing. He only sleeps in boxershorts. Your eyes track him as he yanks his t-shirt up over his toned shoulders; fingers undo his belt, unzip his jeans. Everything is discarded to the side for now; he has something more pressing to attend to.

His best friend’s daughter, laying in his bed, a pool of wet forming in her panties.

He just doesn’t know it yet.

As he slips under the covers beside you, you pull off your underwear in one quick movement. Joel doesn’t seem to notice, or so you think; his arms immediately take hold of your waist and pull you against his body. You’ve gotten into the habit of sleeping pressed against his torso, his thigh between your legs. Joel settles comfortably with you draped over him, and lets out a deep sigh.

“Joel?” you whisper again into the darkness, growing braver.

“Hm?” he replies, starting to fall asleep.

You toss ideas over in your head. None of them good, you’re sure, but you’re getting desperate. How he can’t feel your damp core on his thigh, you’ve no idea.

But then, maybe he can? Joel doesn’t miss anything, especially not where you and your…arrangement are concerned. Can he feel you? Is he deliberately ignoring it?

Maybe he has something up his own sleeve?

“I…was just wondering…”

“Wondering what, darlin’?” His voice is muffled, spoken through unmoving lips. You glance up at his face. His eyes are closed.

You grow more desperate.

“…wondering what your body count is?”

You ask it as innocently as you can, your voice wavering on the words body count. It gets him, though, as his eyes blink open a few seconds after you say it.

“I ain’t tellin’ you that. Go to sleep.” He closes them again.

“I wanna know.”

He ignores you.

“Joel,” you moan.

He calls you by name now, and you’re not sure if you’re pissing him off or turning him on – or both.

“Go. To. Sleep.”

“I’m not tired, though. Not yet.”

In response, Joel lets go of his hold on you and rolls over without another word. It’d sting if you weren’t soaking wet right now, and didn’t have a strong hunch he was hardening under the sheets.

“Joooel…” you whine, sitting up on your elbow. No use.

You take hold of his shoulder and tug him back toward you, rolling him onto his back. Like a deadweight, he remains frozen.

“Ugh,” you groan, and drag yourself on top of him, knees either side of his waist, ass hovering. When you sit back onto him, your core lining up with his crotch, your suspicions are proven right.

He’s hard.

Not as hard as he can get, as you’d like him to be, as you’ve felt him before…but he’s hard.

“Joel…” you mewl into the darkness, starting to grind your bare center over his boxers. The friction feels good, so you apply more pressure.

“If you don’t stop that,” Joel’s voice finally grumbles, “I’ll be sleepin’ downstairs.”

“Sex in the living room sounds good to me.”

His eyes open. “We,” one hand comes up to point between the both of you, as if he doesn’t expect your sobering self to understand which pairing he means, “are not having sex. No sex tonight.”

You sigh, shoulders dropping dramatically.

“Huff all you want, baby, it is not happening.”

“Why?”

“Why? Because you’re a few drinks too deep and it’s three in the morning. I’m tired, it’s been a long night waitin’ for you, I–”

“So let me make it up to you. I ain’t even drunk anymore.”

“No?”

“Nuh-uh. Could count any number a’ fingers you put in front of me.”

“Funny.” He closes his eyes.

“Joel.” You drag your hips again. If anything, he’s harder than he was when you first sat down on him. “I had a few drinks, I’ve sobered up. C’mon…”

You bend your waist and lower yourself to align your lips with the side of his head, peppering the skin under his ear with soft kisses.

“I wanna ride you, daddy.”

This gets him. His eyes open again, staring up at the ceiling. His hands slowly come up to rest on your hips.

“Don’t– That’s low, even for you, kid.”

You giggle and straighten up. When your hands lightly trace down his chest, onto his midriff and follow the trail of hair to his boxers, he doesn’t stop you. Just watches from beneath hooded lids, tensing at each point your fingers touch.

You raise your eyebrows, watching his expression for any sign to stop, and it never comes. He remains in place when your fingertips hook around the waistband of his underwear, slowly pulling down.

Joel breathes in deep when you reveal the tip of his cock, springing up to rest on his lower stomach. You feel your core clench. If he’s not inside you in the next five minutes, you might scream.

Well, you’ll be screaming either way.

You look back into his eyes and tilt your jaw, asking for permission.

“Go on,” he whispers.

Your hands take him eagerly, pumping up and down his shaft, and his head falls back onto the pillow with pleasure.

“Uhuh,” you mumble, focusing on his solid dick, but desperate for more. You give him a gentle squeeze and a groan passes his lips, his grip tightening on your body.

You let go of him and grind your hips along his length, folds coating his shaft in your wetness. Joel’s humming, watching as you pull yourself up and down him.

Then, you lean forward, and your hands take hold of him again. You give him a couple more strokes, eliciting a deep groan, and then line his bare cock up at your entrance, practically foaming at the mouth to sink down on him already.

“Woah, woah,” Joel takes hold of your wrist, “slow down, cowgirl. I gotta get a condom.”

You huff as he leans over to his nightstand and opens the drawer. “Don’t want one, Joel, I’m on the pill.”

“No way, baby,” he says through a chuckle, silver wrapper in his fingers. “We already did that, one too many times.”

“So just pull out?”

“Nope.”

You sigh, frustrated.

Joel holds the packet out to you, smirk on his face like he doesn’t expect you to take it.

So, you do.

You steal it from him and tear the wrapper, fishing the rubber out between your two fingers. Pinching the top, you roll it down his shaft and pump up and down for good measure.

“Ready?” you ask, head tilted, cocky smile on your lips.

“Wait, wait,” he whispers, shoulders lifting off the mattress. He lifts the hem of your shirt, telling you, “Off,” before pulling it over your head, exposing your bare breasts.

He stares you down; legs wide open, straddling him, completely naked, nipples hardened, figure silhouetted against the slivers of light peeking through the shades from the streetlights outside. You’ve never felt so confident, mounted on top of Joel fucking Miller.

His eyes roll back and his head falls against the pillow. “Fuckin’ – knock yourself out, baby.”

You steady yourself with one hand on his chest, the other taking hold of his cock and guiding it to your entrance. You push his head through your folds a couple times, and Joel hisses at the feeling, before you sink down.

You stop after the tip the first time, but it draws the same reaction from you both. Joel groans even louder than before, and you moan as you push yourself back up.

Then, without warning, you sink the whole way down.

He’s so deep it brings tears to your eyes, so big that he’s stretching you out more than you thought possible, hitting all the right spots already before you’ve even begun.

Joel’s eyes are screwed shut, his grip on your hips digging into your skin so tight it almost hurts. His jaw is tight, holding back what you can only imagine are the neediest moans he could sound.

So, you decide to draw them from him.

You lean forward and begin bouncing, feeling his thickness pull out and push back into you, both hands on Joel’s chest now for balance. You’re whimpering, the burn of his cock stretching your tight cunt so good and borderline painful at the same time, but you don’t stop.

“Good girl, good fuckin’ girl,” Joel moans, opening his eyes to watch you ride his dick. “’attagirl, just like that.”

“Joel…” you cry, letting him bottom out each time, feeling his balls slam into your ass with each bounce.

“Yeah? You like that? Tell me, baby, use your words.”

“So – good – Joel – oh!” you shout.

“Such a good fuckin’ girl for me, huh?”

You fight against the urge to close your eyes; the pleasure between your legs and the knot beginning to tighten in your stomach are all you can see, hear, feel, but you want to watch him some more. You want to see what you do to him.

You lean forward even further, moving your hands to the pillow either side of his head, so you’re directly above him now. One of Joel’s hands comes to the back of your head, pulling you down until your foreheads are together, moans escaping your mouths only to be inhaled by the other.

Joel speaks to you quieter, through gritted teeth.

“Like ridin’ me, do ya? Like the way it feels?”

“Mhm,” you moan back, and he brings a hand down to slap your ass. You yelp. “Fuck…”

“You look so good, baby, so good. Such a fuckin’ whore for me, hm?”

Another stinging spank pulls a whine from you so filthy, so loud that you’re sure the neighbors will hear, even at this hour. Joel smirks back, resting his hand back on your hip, where he has a grip of you.

Then, he bucks his own hips, pushing into you deeper than before, so deep you see stars. Your mouth falls open in a silent moan, panting through the searing pain so good that you never want it to end.

“Joel – I’m gonna – fuck, I’m gonna cum!”

“That’s it, sweet girl, cum all over me. Let go, baby, I’m here.”

That does it. The coil snaps, your walls clench. Joel lets out a guttural moan as you throw your head back and ride him through your orgasm. He coos you through it, squeezing your hips, whispering, That’s my girl, doin’ so good, baby as your body rocks back and forth on his cock.

When you come back down to earth, your lids heavy and breathing staggered, you swear your body can’t take anymore. You feel so fucked out that you’re not sure you can sit up straight on top of Joel.

But he’s always been able to read your mind, and this is no different. He pulls himself up and into you, propped up with one strong hand on the mattress behind his back, the other wrapping around your waist. His cock is still buried deep inside you.

“Joel…” you whimper pathetically. “Can’t do it anymore…”

“That’s okay, baby, we’re gonna do this one together, alright? I got you. Can you do that for me? Just one more?”

You link your arms around his neck and lean into him; his strong form doesn’t shift, just takes on your weight and keeps the both of you upright as he starts to bounce you on his length again.

You’re overstimulated; your cunt swollen, fucked-out, drenched in cum, but Joel makes you feel so good that it’s impossible to let him stop. Your arms pull him in closer to your chest to steady yourself, and his groans echo in your ear.

“Good girl, that’s– that’s it, so fuckin’ tight for me, pretty girl.”

When it all becomes too much to take – Joel’s hand squeezing your waist, your clit rutting against the bottom of his stomach, his fucking cock buried so deep inside you that you swear you can feel him splitting you open – you push him back down onto the bed.

Once when you still lived in New York you read something in a Cosmo about spelling the word ‘coconut’ with your hips when riding a guy. You’d tried it a couple times with hookups, and it’d never done anything for you. They’d never done anything for you.

But here you are, nearing your second orgasm, on top of someone making such a mess of you that you brain can hardly compute to spell coconut, never mind your hips being able to round the shape of the word.

You lazily drag yourself over and over Joel’s dick, each stroke drawing you nearer and nearer to your high. When your body starts to falter, you feel him shift, and open your eyes to see him leaning over to the nightstand.

His fingers grip the rim of the black cowgirl hat you’d worn that night. He lies back, flat against the mattress, and reaches up, placing the hat on top of your head. You smile. Joel speaks in a low, gentle, but commanding whisper.

“There you go, cowgirl. Show me how it’s done.”

It’s all you need. It’s all it takes, by this point.

You brace yourself against his chest again, positioning yourself just right, and bounce on him until your vision starts to blur.

The noises slipping out of Joel’s mouth each time your bodies connect at the base of his cock push you closer and closer; every groan and whimper which passes his lips makes you sink your hips down even harder, pushing him deeper and deeper with every bounce.

“So – fuckin’ – big – inside me,” you slur, and Joel moans in response.

When he takes your hips in his hands again, you know he’s there. He’s just waiting for you to fall first.

You give in to him, feeling yourself close around his length, throwing your head back in pleasure as your second orgasm washes over you, igniting every inch of your body.

Joel’s groans meet yours as you lean forward again, slowly rolling your hips to coax him through his own orgasm. Watching him release, buried deep inside, he looks so good that you feel like you could cum again just at the sight.

You feel his cock start to go limp inside you and when he opens his eyes, panting, you smile sweetly at him.

“Fuck, darlin’.”

You giggle, hips still driving gently against his. “Good?”

“So good, baby, did so well. You’re gonna be the death of me,” he whispers with a trembling breath, taking your waist in both hands and giving it a tight squeeze. You roll to the side, letting his cock slip out of you, condom full of his seed.

You tumble onto the mattress beside him, both heaving, moaning messes. Your chests rise and fall in sync, fingers tangling and untangling by your sides.

Then Joel gets up, and wanders over to the bathroom, where you watch him through the open door as he pulls the filled rubber from his soft dick. He bins it, then runs a facecloth under the faucet, dabbing it across his own forehead as he makes his way back over to you.

You can’t hide your grin as you watch his naked form approach; tan lines where his t-shirt must end, dark hair decorating his arms, legs, chest, the base of his cock. He sits at the edge of the bed, arm outstretched with the flannel in hand.

You go to take it from him, but he doesn’t loosen his grip. Just pats it over your face gently, soft gaze on yours, your fingers intertwined around his wrist. Your eyes fall closed, the cold cloth a relief against your warm, sweaty skin.

“Feel nice?” he whispers.

You nod in response. Your chest swells at how soft he’s being, how tender. When he stands to throw the flannel back into the sink, you almost find yourself reaching out to hold him down.

He climbs over you, springing back down onto the mattress with a heaving sigh.

You prop yourself up and shimmy over, positioning yourself on top of Joel, chest-to-chest. He looks down and smirks, running a lazy hand across your cheek.

“You’re so good to me,” he mumbles.

You tilt your head with a smile and lay down on his chest. You can hear his heartrate slowly calming down. His fingers twist through your messy hair.

“I have no idea what you’re laced with,” he says, “but you got me.”

You smile. “Yeah?”

Joel nods. You shift positions, adjusting your aching hips safely between his thighs. “You hurtin’?” he asks.

You nod. “Mhm. But I like it. It’s you.”

Joel’s hands run through your hair and his fingertips trace your shoulders. His touch is so light it almost tickles. You turn your jaw and kiss the back of his hand.

“My dad gone, Sarah out, free house…” you mutter.

“Hm.”

“So, you invite your mistress over.” You lift your head, smirking at him.

Joel’s chest vibrates with laughter. “You ain’t my mistress.”

“Oh really? What am I, then?”

“I am not having this conversation at 4AM, kid. Ask me again tomorrow.”

You’d think of something to throw back at him, messing with him, but your entire body aches, and your heavy eyes are starting to fold closed with how sleepy you suddenly feel.

You pull Joel’s sheets over yourself, turning your back to him. Joel instantly follows suit, pulling up right behind you, your back tight to his chest, his thighs cupping the back of yours, then slipping one between your legs.

His arms lock around your torso under the sheets. Safe. Secure. Nothing can happen to you as long as he’s got you.

“Ten,” his voice mumbles against the back of your head.

You turn so your ear is pressed against his lips. “Huh?”

“Ten. That’s my number. Includin’ you.”

Oh.

He doesn’t ask to hear yours. You wouldn’t mind if he did, but he doesn’t. You don’t think he’s telling you to hear yours in exchange. He’s telling you because you asked. He’s telling you because, whether in attempt to turn him on or simply to know something about him that you didn’t before – something nobody else knows – it mattered to you.

He’s telling you because you matter to him.

You nuzzle back into him a little, a form of reply, and, as you start to fall asleep, you feel him place a gentle kiss to your ear.

----------

taglist: @yvonneeeee @subconsciouscollapse @leahlovestwd @peqchsoup @whorror-s @k1ttybean @whichwitchwanda @abuttoncalledsmalls @anner--nanner @jpbplvr @laysmt @ankhmutes @bookishhella @cannolighost @luvrking @mellymbee @yourwinchesterbros @nostalxgic @scottstotts @daiseygriffithx @letsgroovetonighttt @huffle-punk @unbotheredbeeeee @iluvurfather @wildcat116 @godisawomansblog @55vvaa55 @koshkaj-blog @initforthebooks @theywhowriteandknowthings @thatgirljayy@sasakipsposts @casa-boiardi @milla-frenchy @aim-formyheart @taeslarityy @lxstbxyscave23 @joelmillerxapologist @capt-rex @giixo @capricorngf @feministfanboi @fifia-writes @darleneslane @theplumsoldier @sharp-cheekbones-locked @suzmagine @endlessthxxghts @ivebeenflagged @blognametakenn @jessahmewren @nobodycanseeinsidemysoul @ranahx @pedropascalsbbg @cartoon-garbage04 @caatheeriinee07 @kngslayr @hopplessilse @vickywallace @gracieispunk @regalwhovianbrowncoat774 @casa-boiardi @earthtogrogu @sexygaypalpatine @serenaxpedro @brittmb115 @pascalpvnk @jediknightjana @mrsquill @uncassettodiricordi

(lmk if i’ve missed you out & check my taglist info for how to be added!)

#joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #the last of us #tlou #tlou fic #dbf!joel #dbf!joel miller #dad's best friend #joel miller smut #pedro pascal #joel miller pedro pascal #joel tlou #joel the last of us #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fic #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us hbo #cowboy like me

[scarrletmoon]

About Powder Blue

This is going to be long. There are going to be discussions of suicide and trauma. This is going to be a bit of a jumbled mess because I can't tell a linear story to save my life. Don't feel like you need to read this, now or ever.

If you're wondering what the issues with PB were, and looking for what's next, read the indented text and skip the rest if you want!

I've had a bit of a...tumultuous relationship with the OFMD fandom. I've made close friends and lost them, made even closer friends who've very patiently reminded me of my worth when I needed that. I'm at a point where I'm still struggling, but I'm getting better. I'm still working on not being afraid. It's a bit of an uphill battle, but I'm still pushing my little boulder. I'm not alone this time, which is nice.

I entered the fandom as a nobody. I had almost 50 fics on AO3 and two had mildly popped off while I wasn't looking, but I wasn't really known for anything. I was a fandom ghost, posting my little fanfics and sharing them with the world because I just enjoyed the characters so much. Like a lot of people, I dreamed of being known for something. I thought that'd be neat.

I'm still in a state of shock and confusion that I've written anything in the past 2 years that people remember and even love. It's weird to be in a place where I never imagined myself to be. I can't stress enough how much I did not write explicit fic before this fandom; in high school, I would've welcomed a porn ban. I was afraid of my own sexuality, convinced it was some sort of monster I had to control. Convinced I was dirty. To other people my age, I was a prude, naive and childish for not being comfortable with it. So I feel for people who lash out now, who insist that attraction is actually fetishization, that if we set enough rules, maybe if we resist temptation, we'll be saved. I see you, and I feel for you. I personally don't think that's a healthy way to live, but if you'd told me that 2 years ago, I would've cussed you out. It's really a realization you have to come to (or not) on your own terms.

Anyway.

I know it's tacky to talk about your own success but it doesn't feel real. I go back and forth, reading other people's work -- and my god, there's some unbelievable talent in this fandom -- and thinking "shit, why would anyone read anything I've written? My stories are kindergarten finger paintings next to museum masterpieces". I am learning, slowly -- very slowly -- that I can't bully myself into a shape I like better. I'll never abuse myself into the kind of writer I think I want to be.

The first chapter of Powder Blue was written on a random day of the week after work. I was in a server -- the first fandom server I'd properly joined and talked in, watching a convo about how funnyt it would be for Ed to be a middle aged sugar baby -- when I pulled out my laptop and wrote for an hour and then posted that chapter to the server. I hadn't written for five years before OFMD. I had never finished a multi chapter fic. I posted that chapter and went to make dinner, and assumed the Google Docs link would get lost in that channel after a few likes.

That's not what happened.

The next few months were...a lot. My 7 year old Twitter account blew up from about 200 followers to 1000 in a matter of months. I was misinterpreted half a dozen times. Suddenly, people knew who I was and had Opinions. Some of those Opinions were Not Nice. I was told to grow a thick skin and get over it. So I figured my extreme reactions -- physical shaking, intense fear, a spiking heart rate, like I was being chased -- were just me being weak. I thought if I just sucked it up and laughed it off, it'd stop affecting me.

Turns out RSD is real and not an excuse I was using to be a baby, and it literally didn't get better until I was medicated! Wild

(This -- "I'm just overreacting and everyone else is secretly handling it better" -- has been a pretty consistent pattern my entire life, so figuring out I'm actually AuDHD has been mindblowing. If you've been wondering why you're so weak your whole life, I've got some screening tests you might be interested in).

Anyway my point is, a few things happened over the course of 2023 that brought me to a level of emotional pain I've never experienced.

At the start of the year, I was taking a self imposed internet break, after being forced to apologize for a tweet thread about Izzy, where I'd made the mistake of suggesting that fans of his should consider thinking about why they enjoy his character, but to only do this if they wanted to and ignore me if they didn't. This was taken as me being a hypocrite, and accusing Izzy fans of being terrible people. I apologized, vowed to never mention him again, and left Twitter for a month. Around the same time, a few things in a very close friend group went very wrong. I assumed it was entirely my fault for misbehaving, picked myself up, and tried to punish myself into a shape that would be acceptable for other people.

It didn't work.

Since I was now marked as an anti-Izzy bully, I couldn't say anything -- either on Twitter or in private -- that wouldn't be interpreted as me trying to start fights, as me being passive aggressive, as me trying to send covert messages for others to decipher so they could come and grovel for my forgiveness. Some of this is my fault -- it took a long time to learn than my private locked Twitter account isn't a diary. it took even longer for me to learn that maybe the people I was hanging out with weren't my people.

During all of this, I was posting Powder Blue after months of tears, pain, heartbreak, frustration and stress. I still don't understand why people write books for work or FUN. It was the most horrific experience of my life. It was valuable and so rewarding but jesus christ did writing PB take a lot out of me.

So as I felt less connected to my friends, as I was trying to hide how I felt because I thought I didn't deserve to be upset about anything (everything is always my fault, you see, and if I just behaved better, these things wouldn't happen to me), someone came to me and said they'd noticed some issues with Powder Blue. I'll refer to this person as the reader.

I was more than happy to hear them out. And it's true that I made some mistakes. The environment that I published PB in was not the one that I wrote it in. I didn't read any other sugar daddy/sex work fics as I was working on PB. PB was never a reaction to those fics. But because of those stories, which had handled things is harmful ways, there was suddenly a responsibility I'd never expected to have. I've never done sex work, I've just spent a lot of time listening to sex workers and trying to understand the legislation and environment as much as I can as a lay person. And since I don't have a personal experience with sex work, I shared my finished but rough draft with the reader, who did.

The problem, ultimately, is not something I could ever have fixed to their satisfaction. The fic doesn't involve dubious consent on a level that I think warrants an archive warning tag -- I tried to make it explicitly clear that Ed never does anything he doesn't want to, and that he's never coerced. The issue is that the nature of Ed and Stede's relationship is inherently uneven -- Stede is rich, and although he gives Ed money that's his to keep, Ed still isn't as obscenely wealthy as Stede is. Ed is poor and has been for a while. He's good at whatever he chooses to do, but he's struggling. That's a very uncomfortable spot to put Ed in. I also put Ed through some things that I've personally been through, as a way to work through my feelings and to try and better understand myself. If I was acting like Ed in real life, the reader is right that it would be concerning. But, importantly, Ed's not real. Nothing in this story is happening to a real person. Nothing in this story is an endorsement of any of his behaviours or unhealthy coping mechanisms.

I still believe the reader had good intentions -- the amount of effort they put into coming to me would be utterly bizarre for someone who was just looking to be cruel for no reason. But that also doesn't change the fact that being told I was having a trauma response and needed to stop working on the fic immediately, pushed me into the most suicidal period I've ever experienced.

That's not their fault. I'm sure that wasn't their intention. I've chosen to not try and find out who they are, or try to contact them again to respect their privacy. Some of the things people said to me, publicly dismissing the reader's pain, were so harrowing to read that it made me feel worse for ever writing PB in the first place. They were right to stay anonymous.

I'm sure the reader never meant for me to have such a massive breakdown that I took down the entire fic and left Twitter (and a few friend groups). It's been difficult to understand that just because someone didn't mean to hurt me, doesn't change the fact that I was hurt.

One silver lining is that I did go and find a new therapist. She's great! And she also thinks that how the reader tried to bring things up to me was wrong. As the reader obviously saw, I have a lot of Trauma, so I'm still not entirely convinced that I didn't deserve what happened to me. I'm not angry at them. I appreciate their concern. I just can't do what they asked of me. In the end, Powder Blue was not a story that was right for them. And that's okay.

My point in detailing all of this, is that I stayed quiet for a long time because I didn't think I deserved to tell my part of the story. I was scared that when people said they respected my choice to take down the fic, that they agreed I'd some something impossibly harmful. People trusted my judgement but I didn't trust myself. But people didn't know that I didn't trust myself.

Additionally, reader can't speak on this without revealing themself in some way. I'm terrified that they might read this and say something anyway. My biggest fear is becoming the kind of writer who sees negative criticism and pushes on anyway, or even blocks people who disagree with me. I don't want to hurt anyone the way I've been hurt.

BUT I've been holding onto this for months. I cannot write a perfect fic that will never trigger anyone. I will never write a meaningful story that won't hurt someone, no matter my intentions. There IS a way to admit you fucked up, or a way to listen and disagree, without turning into a raging asshole. I'm struggling to find that line. I'm hoping I'm making the right choice here.

And honestly, I'm just soft. I am so fucking soft. I talk a big game but I am so soft that a single person poking at my trauma caused me to break down so severely that my partner was legitimately afraid for me. I am learning that this softness doesn't mean I should become a crueler person to cope. But it's hard. There are going to be people who see this post and think I'm being a whiny crybaby looking for attention and pity. And I just have to deal with that.

Anyway. All previous chapters of PB will be up soon. Read them or don't. I will do my best to add more detailed trigger warnings. And I would personally suggest that if you're worried about any of the content in the fic, to run these worries past a friend who's read the fic, because they'll know you better than I ever will. Please don't read Powder Blue if you think it'll harm you. I would rather have fewer readers than triggered ones.

If there's anything I've missed that you think I need to address, know that my inbox is open, that anon is on, and that I'm not in the business of retaliating against people who come to me with an issue, even if they're a dick to me while they're doing it. I'm not going to dismiss someone because they weren't nice to me while they were upset. I'm a bitch but I'm not that kind of bitch.

So. Thank you for waiting for this fic. Thank you for waiting for me. We've got something like 16 chapters to go, and I can't tell you when they'll be up, or if they'll be up soon. But thank you for loving this story. I can't tell you how much that means to me, especially now.

Love,

Scarr

#scarrlet rambles #powder blue #about powder blue #this is also just a really long about me

[feyascorner]

Preview | The Fangs Between Us

summary. “I would say good luck out there, but honestly? I hope you die screaming.”

Intimacy is not something you like to indulge in after your last lover nearly strangled you to death. Sometimes, you wonder if letting him ascend would mean he would still be here, by your side, rather than lurking the shadows of Baldur's Gate.

warnings. angst, comfort, slow burn, reader is a bard

pairing. Astarion x GN!Reader

parts. 0, TBA

a/n. This is just a preview of the multi-chapter fic I thought of :)) I'm not sure if I'll be able to continue writing it yet, but I'll definitely try lol. It takes place after the game!!!

As dark spots blur your vision, you realize you can no longer breathe.

His hands–the slender pale fingers you’ve grown to love more than your own–wrap desperately around your throat, digging crescent-shaped indents into your skin. You’d always thought that if he were ever to realize you weren’t as precious to him as he believed you to be, your neck would be the one part of yourself he’d continued to cherish. The softness in which he brushed his fangs against the most vulnerable areas of your throat had led you to believe so.

But as you stare up at him with wide eyes meeting a murderous glare, you understand that you are wrong.

His crimson eyes gleam with an emotion you’ve seen plenty on his pretty face, but never toward a friend. Never to you. You’re going to die, you think. And it wouldn’t have seemed so bad to die at his hands if it were not for the hatred reaching his eyes.

You’re not sure who–maybe Karlach or Wyll–but someone tears him away from you. Your chest dares to tighten from the loss of contact, yet you desperately grasp at the air, hands flying to the tender flesh of your neck while Shadowheart rushes to your side in an instant with her eyes narrowed dangerously at the very man who’d made the dark blemishes.

They’re yelling. Everyone is. At you, out of panic, or at Astarion, you’re not sure, but you just stare at the vampire spawn who’s now unwillingly locked into a life cast into the shadows of the city. He doesn’t look at anyone else besides you, either.

He says something and a few more muffled voices spit back before he throws the dagger you’d given him to the ground, turning to leave. Your hearing clears just in time to hear his parting words.

“I would say good luck out there, but honestly? I hope you die screaming.”

A pair of hands shake you awake, and you quickly remember the poor consequences to your back of falling asleep on the empty, narrow street beside the Elfsong tavern. You look up wearily, eyes in a daze as Shadowheart sighs irritably, brows furrowed in a way that tells you to ready yourself for a scolding. “Honestly, at this point, I’m just surprised you haven’t gotten robbed during the night yet.”

You force yourself onto your feet, leaning against the walls as you rub at the crust forming under your eyes. “I have nothing of value anyway. They’re better off stealing from some other poor bard who actually bothers to write songs.”

She raises a brow at this, scanning over your appearance. “Where is your lyre?”

“Sold it,” you shrug, dusting off the muck garnered at the sides of your pants. “Wasn’t much use to me anymore. Better off adding to the funds to rebuild the city, don’t you think?”

Shadowheart frowns, and it makes you look away shamefully. Thankfully, she quickly shakes her head and then paces past you. “Speaking of which, are you in any condition to help out today? Gale’s promptly exhausted trying to cast mage hand at least a dozen times yesterday to rebuild the Blushing Mermaid. That foolish wizard nearly passed out by noon.”

“‘Course,” you offer a pathetic smile. “We’re nearly finished with the Baldur’s Mouth. I’ll catch up with you once I check up on everyone there.”

“Very well,” she says. She purses her lips after a slight pause. “You should stop falling asleep on the street. Especially since there’s been quite a few murders recently around the city,” she checks to see if you haven’t dazed off, “I expect you to come home tonight–We’re making stew.”

“I will. Don’t think my back can stand much more of this anyway.”

Her shoulders relax the slightest bit, and she finally manages to catch your darting eyes. “Is it the nightmares again? They’re getting worse, aren’t they?”

Your throat goes dry, and you can feel your knees grasping at its remaining strength as you search your mind for a way to respond. You’re tempted to lie through your gritted teeth, knowing she’s fully aware regardless of what pathetic answer you offer her, but you opt to seal your mouth shut, shrugging.

The flash of disappointment in her eyes is enough to make you feel the knots tighten in your stomach. With a curt note, she turns to walk away, glancing back for one last time. “Don’t give him the privilege of occupying a part of your mind for so long. He doesn’t deserve even the dirty filth you have all over yourself.”

For the first time after he nearly killed you and you defeated the Elder Brain four months ago, you think she might be right about him.

#astarion ancunin #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion #bg3 x reader #fluff #angst

[batterygarden]

reader has hair (no description), is smaller than denji, little drabble but still put a read more hehe--inspired by ydt anon <3

Working a double shift in one day should be illegal. Regardless of a person’s circumstances, jobs should never align so that a human being has to work over 10 hours in one day—it should be a universal agreement that doing so would be barbaric. 

Unfortunately these ideals along with your dreams for a better society are contemplated from the floor today, after stumbling through 13 hours of multi-shifted labor. 

You’ve been cheek-to-carpet ever since you got home.

Denji has just finished saying good night to nayuta—they usually read a chapter of a book before Denji declares lights out—when he walks out and sees you. 

“Baybeee!” He calls when he does, beelining from his trek towards the kitchen. When your only response is a muffled little groan, Denji promptly crawls down next to you, almost nose to nose. Your eyes remain closed so he runs the back of a knuckle real lightly over your cheek, asking if you’re asleep in a tiny whisper.  

You hum a no, squinting to watch him flash a smile with teeth while his head gets propped up by an elbow.

“I’m glad you're home, I’ve been missin’ you bad today. Nayuta, too.” 

“Promise I missed you more.” 

You both stare at each other for a minute then, Denji’s knuckle continuing its light grazing, bodies still sprawled on the floor. 

The two of you have these odd, wordless interactions so often it isn’t even funny, just intimate. 

Eventually the silence is broken with Denji’s voice—“I really really really love you.” 

You smile and nod, nuzzling a bit closer till he gets the hint and pecks your lips. 

“Love you too. Also my back hurts,” you let him know. 

Denji frowns, “y’wanna get off the floor maybe?” 

You shake your head, earning a chuckle. 

“Ya need a masseuse?” 

There’s another chuckle at your enthusiastic nod.

When Denji heaves himself off the floor, his warm hands are quickly rubbed over your shoulder blades, smoothing out your shirt and gently tugging it down where it was riding up. You fold arms under your head to get comfy, melting in place when Denji starts putting some muscle into his back rub—he works out your knots with a touch that feels like god himself.

You groan in relief every time he presses harder, and after a while you feel nice and loose like jello. 

“Think you could play with my hair, too, baby?” 

You eventually mumble, face buried. 

Denji hums gliding his hands up and scooting forward.

“Y’could even sit on my back. I bet the weight would feel nice,” you add when you feel him reach over you. 

“Tsss like I’d do that. I’d break your little spine.” 

You love when Denji plays with your hair, because he doesn’t ever really… play with it. He just touches it lightly, his fingers so gentle like he’s worried if he tugs even the tiniest bit you’d be hurt. You fall asleep to his soft touch, waking up later to find you’re tucked in bed with Denji next to you, arm thrown lazily around your side while he sleeps. 

#denji x reader #csm x reader #denji fluff #🐞 writes #csm spoilers

[thetriumphantpanda]

The Way You Miss Me | Joel Miller (Chapter One)

Joel is your Daddy's best friend and work colleague. One evening, when your dad has to work late and you've been babysitting Sarah, tequila emboldens you to tell Joel what you've always wanted to tell him.

Pairing | Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings | Smut, Oral (F Receiving), Protected PIV intercourse, age gap, nothing else I can think of but let me know if I've missed anything.

Word Count | 4.1K (I will not apologise)

Author's Note | So, back on my Joel Miller hype again. I've got plans to turn this into a multi-chaptered fic that spans the timeline of the show so if you liked this and want to read more let me know! Feel free to slide into my asks with feedback/love! Enjoy.

Read on AO3 here.

It was hot. Austin was having the hottest summer you could remember in years. You threw down the magazine you were attempting to read and stood up from the couch. There was no air in this damn house - you wondered how Sarah was sleeping upstairs. 

You checked the clock on the wall. 9:15pm. Joel was supposed to be home an hour ago. Not that you were complaining. The extra time spent babysitting Sarah meant more money Joel would hand over to you. You’d been babysitting for Joel since you finished your last semester at college. You were waiting to go back at the end of the summer to start your master’s programme and needed all the help you could get in boosting your savings. Your father had worked with Joel for years and when his last babysitter had left town, he’d offered you the opportunity which you were only too happy to take. 

Deciding to check on Sarah, you tiptoed up the stairs. You could hear soft snoring coming through the door. You silently cursed the teenager for her ability to sleep through the heat. You knew once your father picked you up it would be a sleepless night. Tossing and turning, sweating into the sheets. 

As you were walking back down the stairs you heard the telltale jangle of keys in the door and there he was. Joel Miller was quite possibly the most handsome man you’d ever laid your eyes on. Taller than you with broad shoulders and a face that you could only described as carved by the angels. Forget the fact he was 12 years your senior as well as one of your father’s closest friend, you’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t want him. 

“Evenin’ Darlin’,” He spoke, dropping his keys on the entryway table, “How was Sarah?” 

“She’s fine, fast asleep upstairs,” You replied, reaching for your bag, “How she does it in this heat I’ll never know.” 

Joel chuckled as he pulled out his wallet, pulling out the wad of notes to hand over to you, “Sorry I’m late, the delivery was late this morning,” You gratefully accepted the money he handed over, folding into the back pocked of your shorts, “Your dad will be a bit later tonight, he had to stay on site but he’ll drop round and pick you up later.” 

You nodded and smiled at Joel, “No problem, do you mind if I sit outside and read?” 

“Be my guest, darlin,” Was his reply, “I’ll go and check on Sarah and come and join you, too damn hot to be cooped up in here.” 

Once he was bounding up the stairs two at a time, you reached into your backpack and picked up one of the books you needed to read for your upcoming course. You settled yourself in one of the chairs on Joel’s back porch, folding your legs up underneath you to get comfortable. You’d only read a few pages when the back door opened and Joel appeared with two glasses in hand, one filled with ice and an amber liquid you knew would be whiskey and the other which he handed to you.

“What is it?” You asked, folding the corner of your page to mark your place before taking the glass.

“Tequila and pineapple,” He replied, “I remembered it was what you liked from the cookout last month.” 

You smiled, sipping the ice-cold drink, “Very perceptive Mr Miller.” 

A comfortable silence fell between the two of you, the only sound was the slight tinkling of ice against glass as you sipped your drinks. 

“How much longer do you have until you leave for school?” 

“About another month,” You spoke, “Although I decided against moving out from home, cheaper to stay living with my dad and it’s a master’s degree so I shouldn’t expect to have much of a social life anyway.” 

“You didn’t want to run away to another city again?” Joel pried, referencing the three years you’d spent in California getting your undergraduate degree. 

“Strangely no, the University of Texas has exactly the course I wanted, if I don’t have to move away then I won’t,” You shrugged, “Contrary to popular belief I like living at home with my dad,” you punctuated talking with a drink, “Sure he works long hours and at this point I spend more time with Sarah than I do with anyone else, but I like it here.” 

“So if you’re staying, you think you’d be able to carry on a few evenings a week with her?” Joel asked, “We’ve got a big job coming in September, she’ll be back at school so it’ll just be evenings, but she’s really taken to you darlin’.”  You smiled, “I’ve really taken to her as well Joel, she’s a lovely girl,” you took another sip of your drink, realizing it was going down far too easily, “Of course I’ll help out, I should get my timetable soon so I can let you know when I’ll have time.” 

Joel did nothing but nod, finishing his whiskey with a final drink, “You want another?” he asked, gesturing to the dregs of your drink in the bottom of your glass, “Your dad said he would call when he was leaving, and I’ve not heard anythin’ so we’ve got time.” 

He was a hard many to decline, you extended your glass to him, “I suppose in that case it would be rude not to.” 

Joel was back quickly with your second round of drinks, handing it over to you before taking his seat once more. 

“Your dad said you were havin’ boy troubles…” Joel trailed off, “I don’t mean to pry.” He added quickly. 

You chuckled, “Can you call it boy trouble if you were never official you asked?” Scoffing into your drink before sipping, “I guess he just found someone else, didn’t even have the balls to call me, just text me and said he’d found someone he liked better.” 

If you hadn’t been intently listening, you’d have missed what he said, “Idiot.” 

“You can say that again.” You replied, looking Joel straight in the eyes. 

“Maybe you need a man and not a boy.” He offered as the solution. 

A lump appeared in your throat as well as the tell-tale sign of butterflies in your stomach, “Oh yeah?” You countered, emboldened by the tequila in your veins, “A man like you?”

“Darlin,” Joel began, you could tell he was having an internal battle with himself, “You don’t know what you’re saying.” 

“I’ve had two glasses of tequila Joel, I’m not wasted.” 

“That’s not what I was sayin’,” Joel countered, “I’m old and I’m your daddy’s best friend, that’s not what I was suggesting at all.”  “You’re 36 Joel, that’s not old,” You smirked, placing your book on the floor beside you, “And I’m 24, I’m old enough to make decisions about what I want.”  “I’m what you want?” He asked, “Really?” 

“Have you never noticed the way I look at you Joel?” You asked, “I have never met a man quite like you.” 

“You’re too kind darlin’,” Joel smirked and you could swear he was blushing, “Why don’t you come on over here and sit next to me?” 

He was gesturing to the empty space on the bench he had chosen to sit at. You don’t think you’d moved so fast in all your life. Within seconds you were sat next to him, glass abandoned on the floor by your old seat. You sat in a similar position to before with your legs wrapped underneath you, close enough that your heart was beating through your chest, but far enough away that you weren’t touching each other. 

Slowly you watched as Joel drained his second drink, putting the glass on the floor in a similar fashion to you, before reaching out to touch the skin on your leg. It was a soft touch, but it lit a fire within you. 

“Unwrap your legs baby,” Joel whispered, “Lay them out on my lap.” 

His hands were rough against the smooth skin of your ankles as he pulled them into the position he wanted. Resting on his lap with his hands running up and down as far as he could reach. Your breath was hitched so far into your throat that you were sure you would suffocate. 

“Joel,” was all you could managed to choke out at his touch, “Joel you need to kiss me.” 

You couldn’t quite believe what was happening. The man that you had been crushing on for years, who should be completely off limits, was caressing your legs, his hands moving closer to your thighs with each second. No man had ever had this effect on your – you were sure if either of you dipped your hands beneath your shorts, you’d be the wettest you’d ever been. 

“I need to kiss you?” Joel asked, his eyes boring right into your own, “Is that so?” 

So, he was a tease. Under any other circumstance you’d be delighted in knowing this. However, you knew you were on borrowed time. It was only a matter of time before his phone rang and your dad would be on his way to pick you up and you’d be damned if you were leaving here without knowing what it felt like to have his lips on yours. Or any other place on your body for that matter. 

“Joel I swear to God if you don’t put your lips on me I think I’m going to die.” 

“I don’t know what’s worse,” He murmured, “Having your dead body on my hands or having to look your dad in the eye knowing I’ve made out with his daughter.” 

Joel Miller and his smart fucking mouth. You could feel your arousal pooling in your lower stomach and you’d had enough. You grabbed the collar of his shirt and unceremoniously pulled him to you. For a man as large as Joel he moved with a grace you didn’t possess in that moment, landing right where you wanted him about an inch from your mouth. 

For what felt like an age the two of you stared at each other, Joel’s dark and hungry eyes looking directly into your soul. You felt his hand cup your cheek – his rough thumb making soft strokes to your skin before it was all over. 

Joel softly pressed his lips to yours and it was like you exploded. It was light, some would say barely there, but it was enough to ignite the fire within you. You ran one of your hands around the back of Joel’s neck, feeling the expanse of curls at the back of his neck before pulling him more firmly to you. Within seconds he was deepening the kiss and it was all open mouths and tongues. You bucked your hips up into his own, feeling a growing bulge in his jeans. 

Without thinking, your hands moved from being wrapped around Joel’s neck to resting at the top of his jeans. His mouth was overwhelming on yours and you couldn’t think straight but what you did know is that the sooner you got his clothes off the sooner you would be consumed by pleasure. 

“Slow down darlin’” Joel chuckled, finally pulling away from your mouth, “I can’t fuck you on my back porch for everyone to see now, can I?” 

A blush crept onto your cheeks at his brazen words. You had no idea where your brazen behavior had come from, normally shy and willing to please anyone. But Joel had you pinned down on a bench, legs spread to accommodate his hips and a growing hard on that you could feel through your shorts. He could actively invite the neighbors around to watch from the back lawn and you wouldn’t complain. All you knew was that you needed him. 

“Let them watch,” You managed to breath out, “I don’t care where you do it Joel or how for that matter, but if you don’t start taking my clothes off, I’m going to explode.” 

He took a moment to look into your eyes, almost as if he was trying to talk himself out of what was going to happen next. It was one thing to make out with his best friend’s daughter – he could chalk it down to whiskey and tequila and keep his distance from now on – but another thing entirely to strip her naked and plunge his cock into her until she didn’t know her name and the only thing she could ask was for more. 

“Get up.” Was all he said, standing up himself before wrapping his hand around your wrist, “Do you promise to keep quiet?” He asked. 

Words failed you so all you could do was nod in response, “If you promise to be a good girl and be as quiet as possible, then I’ll take you upstairs.” 

“I promise.”

Joel all but grabbed your hand, dragging you through the humid house and up the stairs as quietly as you could manage. Safely ensconced in his room you took a moment to take in the surroundings. Messy, just like it always had been when you’d peeked your head in to look at Joel’s space whenever he wasn’t around. The bed was unmade, like it usually was but none of it mattered. All that mattered and all you could focus on was Joel’s hand at the small of your back, pushing you towards the bed. 

“Lie down for me baby.” He whispered into your ear as you felt the loss of his hand. 

You did as you were told, getting onto the bed on your hands and knees to crawl up to the headboard, hoping and praying that Joel was focusing his eyes on your ass as you did so. Once you turned yourself around and propped yourself up on the pillows you could tell you’d had just the effect you wanted. 

“Jesus girl,” he moaned, undoing his belt and freeing it from the belt loops on his jeans, “I’m going to have to make a rule of no shorts in this house from now on, I’m never going to be able to look at you the same now.” 

A giggle erupted from your mouth at his words and you fumbled to undo the button of your shorts – immediate relief flooding your stomach as they loosened. 

You watched intently as Joel mimicked your move from before, crawling up the bed to settle in the space between your thighs. 

“Shall I tell you what I want to do, darlin’?” 

You nodded, reaching your arms out to slowly unbutton his shirt. 

“I’m going to take all these clothes off and then I want you to sit on my face, that okay with you?” You replied with a moan as the last button came undone, “And then, once I’ve got you nice and wet, I’m going to pin you down underneath me and fuck you until you don’t remember your name,” Another moan in reply as you slipped the shirt down his shoulders, Joel moving enough to take it off and discard it to the floor, “But you gotta remember to keep quiet baby, okay?” 

“I already promised, didn’t I?” You challenged, “Take my clothes off already Joel.” 

Like a rehearsed dance, it took next to no time for Joel to have you naked and spread out underneath him. 

“You look like a goddess, darlin’.” he breathed against your neck as his hands wandered down from your breasts to between your thighs, hovering just above where you really wanted those fingers.

If you hadn’t been so overwhelmed about the fact that his fingers were mere millimeters from your clit you probably would have curled up and died at his compliment. No-one had ever made you feel this way, like you were the only woman they ever wanted to look at. No-one was likely to come close to this again so you were trying to savour it the best you could. 

All of a sudden Joel had moved, he was on his back led next to you, “Come on darlin’, hop on up here.” 

You did as you were told, momentarily taking the time to straddle his hips before Joel used his hands to scoot you up until your pussy was spread and bare against his face.

“I said sit,” Joel murmured, “Not hover.” He used his rough hands to pull your hips down so that you were indeed sat right on his face. 

From that moment you were done for. Joel’s tongue licked long and slow stripes all the way from your entrance up to your clit. Every time the tip of his tongue hit your bundle of nerves your legs would shake but he wouldn’t focus there for more than a few seconds. It was driving you nuts. 

You moved your hips against his mouth and then grabbed a fistful of hair from between your legs to hold his mouth on your clit. Before a moan could leave your mouth you clapped a hand over your lips. Joel’s tongue was focused entirely on your clit with devastating consequences, you were unashamedly grinding against his tongue and every now and again a groad would echo through your body from Joel’s lips. 

“Oh my god Joel,” You whispered as quietly as you could manage, “I’m going to cum.” 

Joel stopped briefly enough to respond, “Good, let go for me baby.” 

That was all it took for you to come undone. Your legs clasped at the sides of his heads as your orgasm ripped through you, a hand yet again moving to cover your mouth to muffle the sound of your moans. Joel’s tongue continued flicking against your clit, sending aftershocks all the way up your body. 

“Such a good girl for me, doin’ exactly what I asked.” He spoke as you lifted yourself off and flopped down onto the bed, attempting to catch your breath. 

Joel had other ideas that didn’t involve resting and was quickly up and shedding himself of his jeans. You watched intently as his slipped his underwear off, you’re sure your eyes widened at the sight of his cock. Thick and long, almost uncertain that it would fit at all. 

He climbed back onto the bed, settling himself effortlessly between your thighs, “Look at you baby,” He breathed out, “All spread and waiting for me.”  He took a moment to reach into his bedside drawer and pull out a condom, tearing the packet open and fitting it on himself in the blink of an eye. 

He settled once again between your thighs, looking you directly in the eye as he rested his hands on either side of your face, “You ready for me baby?” He whispered. 

“I’ve never been more ready for anything.” 

He smirked down at you as he lined himself up with your dripping pussy. He slowly eased himself into you, centimeter by centimeter, watching closely for any signs of discomfort, but finding none. In fact, Joel almost fell apart as he watched you spread your legs wider for him. 

“Joel,” You mewed quietly as he bottomed out inside of you, “Fuck that feels good.” 

“Darlin’ you have no idea how good you feel around me,” He spoke, “I’m not gonna hold on for long.” 

In response all you did was grind your hips up into him, “I’m not going to break Joel, you need to start moving.” 

He did exactly as he was told and began pulling out and fucking into you in earnest. The stretch of his cock inside of you was heavenly and the growls falling from his mouth as he fucked you were overwhelming. 

“Touch yourself for me,” Came a demanding voice above you, “You can give me one more baby.” 

You didn’t need to be told twice. Your hand immediately focused in on your pussy, your fingers working your clit with that telltale feeling in your abdomen that told you it wouldn’t take much work to have you come undone again. 

“God you look fuckin’ perfect baby,” Joel moaned as his eyes fixed on your hand between the two of you, “I can feel you getting tight around me, you like that?” He asked, “You like my cock inside you?”  “Oh Joel,” You moaned, “I’ve never liked anything so much before.” 

“Go on baby, let go for me.”  It was like your brain was in his command – almost immediately you felt your pussy clench around his cock as you arched your back up into him. A hand flew to your mouth that wasn’t your own – Joel trying to keep you quiet so you didn’t wake Sarah up in the next room. 

“Fuckin’ hell baby,” Joel could barely speak, “You get so tight around me when you cum.”  You could feel him faltering, his thrusts were speeding up but they were messy and you knew he wasn’t going to hold on for much longer. 

“Joel,” Your voice was broken, “Joel, pull out and cum on my face.”  “Fuckin’ filthy baby,” Was his response but he did as he was asked, quickly pulling out and discarding the condom before straddling your chest, “You ready?”  All you could do was nod, watching with an open mouth as he jerked himself a few times before it was all over. Ropes of Joel’s warm cum hit your skin as a low moan left his mouth. He was still for a moment, eyes closed in ecstasy before opening them to look at you. 

“Pretty as a picture.” He spoke with a smirk. 

You smiled back, looking him dead in the eye as you ran your finger through some of the cum painted across your cheek, bringing your covered finger to your mouth. 

“I don’t think anyone has ever looked so good covered in my cum.” Joel said as he hopped off the bed and fetched a towel that was draped across the chair in the corner of his room. 

“You spend a lot of time finishing on women’s faces?” You chuckled, gratefully accepting the towel to clean yourself up. 

All of a sudden a high pitched chime filled the room, “Shit!” Joel exclaimed, “Where’s my fuckin’ phone?” 

He found it strewn on the floor next to his jeans, he answered quickly, “Hello?” Came his gruff voice, “Outside now?!” Joel’s eyes were wide open as your bliss was shattered, “Alright mate, no problem, she’ll be out in a little while.” 

He hung up the phone and flung it onto the bedside table as you scrabbled around the room for your clothes, “I can’t find my fucking panties.” You muttered, pulling your shirt over your head. 

“You haven’t got time darlin’,” Joel replied, throwing your shorts at you, “Put these on, hurry up.” 

If it wasn’t for the absolute terror that you dad was waiting outside for you, the way Joel was rushing you might have hurt – would he have led with you and whispered sweet things into your ear in the dark if you’d been able to stay? Or would he still be rushing you to get out and leave him alone? 

Once you were dressed and Joel had managed to throw something on as well, you were both bounding down the stairs. You picked up your bag and threw your sandals that you’d discarded earlier in the evening back onto your feet before taking a moment to catch your breath and smooth your hair. 

Just as you were about to head to the front door, Joel’s hand wrapped around your wrist and pulled you flush to his body – he captured your lips in a kiss so passionate that you were even more breathless than you had been before. 

“Just know darlin’, if he wasn’t waiting outside for you, I’d wrap you up in my bed and never let you leave.” 

“That mean’s I can come back then?” 

“Of course,” another chaste kiss pressed to your lips, “Baby, you’ve got me in a spin but I’m not giving you up, not yet.” 

Then, with a swift slap of your ass, he was pushing you to the door. Keeping his distance as he watched you walk down the steps and climb into your dad’s truck he did his best to act normally. 

“Thanks for keeping an eye on her Joel!” Your dad called out of the window, “I hope she wasn’t too much trouble.” 

Joel could see you sinking into your seat at your dad’s words, even through the car windows. 

“Oh not at all!” Joel called back, “Good as gold, as always!” 

You swear you saw that son of a bitch wink at you. Motherfucker. 

PREV | NEXT

#joel miller #pedro pascal #the last of us #the last of us hbo #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller pedro pascal #TWYMM

[carmillascrusade]

Game of love | Larissa Weems x f!reader

Images do not belong to me. Summary: Parents weekend is upon you and you find yourself at the fair with Morticia and Larissa. Confessions ensue.

Word count: 2,940

A/N: I figured I would post this fic that I wrote donkeys ago while I’m working on a multi-chapter fic. It isn’t proofread😨 I feel like my writing style just changes all the time and I can’t get it to be consistent.

Your desk was overflowing with paperwork and unfinished report cards, the sheer size of the work you know you have to do was overwhelming. Dull flames danced in the fireplace, licking the fresh log you put in there a couple of seconds ago, eventually setting it alight. Tiny particles of ash blew around the room, weightlessly floating around, suspended by the air encompassing the room. Oh, what it would feel like to be weightless and free. 

Parents weekend was fast approaching. In two days parents of all would be congregating in the school and the local town- much to the displeasure of the sheriff, and yourself. Two days. You had a measly two days to finish off your work and all the report cards that sat mocking you on your desk. 

With a sigh, you accepted your fate and began to silently plough on with your work. Hoping, no praying, that parents weekend wouldn’t drag. After all, there is only so much socialising you can do. 

Parents weekend came faster than you expected. From the frosted window of your office, you could see cars pouring in through the front gates. Hopefully nobody you went to school with would be here. 

Checking the mahogany grandfather clock that sat in the corner of your office, you glanced at the warped needles to determine that it was only 4 o’clock. Plenty of time to get these reports to Larissa. 

Gathering the pristine envelopes in a bundle, you dashed to Larissa’s office hoping that none of the parents had made their way just yet. 

To your dismay, as well as Larissa’s by the fall of her face, you entered her office as Morticia Frump and her family were there. Huffing softly, you crossed the room with the intent of handing Larissa the reports and leaving as soon as possible. 

It wasn’t that you didn’t like Morticia, no, she had been your friend during your years at Nevermore together. It was just that you hadn’t spoken to her in years since her marriage, and her presence meant that her husband was here too. Gomez Addams, you thought with distaste. You disliked the man, loathed him even; Larissa had loved him unconditionally and he chose someone else. Who wouldn’t choose Larissa?

Maybe you were just biassed. Maybe your hatred came from the fact that she loved him and not you. Loved him even though you had always been by her side. Loved him even though you have loved her since you were children and never stopped. 

Larissa is the sun, and your life revolves around her; because without her, you wouldn’t be alive. 

You were snapped out of your thoughts by Morticia’s silky smooth voice calling your name, claiming that she hadn’t seen you in years but you still look exactly the same. 

Forcing out a smile at her clearly fake interest in you, you replied. “Yes, I haven’t seen you since you left Nevermore and got married. You still look as wonderful as ever, Morticia. The gods have been kind.” 

“Hmm, I suppose they have. But look at you! The gods have certainly been kind there.” She said, sickly sweet, whilst her eyes roamed up and down your body. 

Larissa’s mouth twitched at that, her perfect smile falling ever so slightly before being abruptly put back in place. She coughed in impatience, dragging both yours and Morticia’s attention towards her. 

“Might I remind you that we are here to talk about your daughter, Ms Addams.” Larissa said with a clipped tone. 

Morticia laughed at that, gliding over to you and placing her arm on your elbow. “We have all weekend to talk about Wednesday, Larissa. I just want to catch up with my friend. Is that so wrong?”

“No, I suppose not.” She huffed, aggravated at Morticia’s audacity to touch you. 

Morticia grinned wickedly at her before turning back to you. “Would you like to go to the fair with me tonight?” She asked, still sporting that sickening grin. 

You pondered her request. While it would be fun to catch up with her, you also knew that she had a deeper motive. She was playing a game that you would rather not play a part in. 

“I suppose we could go to the fair tonight,”

“Oh wonderful!”

“On one condition,”

Her smile fell at that and her eyes narrowed dangerously. “And what is that?” She gritted out. 

“I want to invite Larissa too!” You chirped. If you were going to play this game, you may as well have fun whilst doing so. 

You glanced over at Larissa, smiling wistfully. If only she loved you the way you loved her. 

Morticia huffed at your request, agreeing and inviting Larissa to the fair with the two of you. Fully expecting Larissa to turn down the opportunity in favour of working, you were pleasantly surprised when she agreed; her tone still clipped as she answered Morticia. 

Excited at the prospect of getting to spend time with Larissa outside of the school grounds, you quickly gave her your finished reports, fingers lightly brushing against her own, causing your cheeks to tint pink at the heat radiating off them. Excusing yourself from the room, you made your way back to your room with an extra bounce in your step. The glee radiating off of you noticed by all that passed. 

Tonight was going to be amazing. 

The temperature had dropped drastically since this afternoon, resulting in you looking like a stuffed chicken in your winter clothes. You had decided to wear your favourite jumper, an egg shell coloured woven piece crafted of the finest wool; gifted to you by Larissa of course. 

A small vibration in your pocket alerts you to a message. Pulling your phone out proved to be a great difficulty with your frozen fingers. Larissa had messaged you, letting you know that she and Morticia were sitting on the table closest to the entrance. 

Easy enough to find you supposed. 

Plodding over to the entrance, your eyes scanned the area, desperately searching for the familiar platinum blonde hair you loved so much. Your eyes lit up as you spotted her with Morticia. They seemed to be sat contesting in a nonverbal contest, staring at each other with such contempt that the average onlooker would recoil in fear. 

Rolling your eyes, you slid onto the bench next to Larissa; snapping the women’s attention towards you, eliciting beaming smiles from the both of them. Smiling back, you looked at the outfits the other two were wearing to find that you were the only one dressed appropriately for this weather. 

Huffing in discontent, you eyed both of them wearily. What kind of people don’t wear coats in freezing weather?! It is ridiculous! 

“How aren’t you two freezing?” You blurred out, narrowing your eyes at Morticia specifically. At least Larissa had a blazer on, Morticia just had her iconic dress adorning her body. 

Morticia just laughed at you whilst Larissa offered you a small smile. “My blazer is warm enough for me. Not all of us need to wear twenty layers to stay warm.” She said, lightly joking about your inability to stay warm. 

Your turned your head away from her in false anger before spotting the burger van. Larissa loved burgers. “Larissa!”you shouted excitedly while tugging on her arm. “Look, there’s a burger van! Do you want a burger?” 

Larissa saw the excitement on your face at the prospect of buying her a burger. Unable to deny you, she nodded her head. Beaming at her, you shot out of your seat and bounced over to the burger van. 

She looked over at you fondly. Ignoring Morticia’s prescense completely in favour of watching your retreating form. Morticia wasn’t too pleased at the disregard of her presence, so she decided to start her plan. 

“So,” she drawled. “Do you really think she loves you back, Larissa?” 

Larissa’s eyes narrowed at that, sensing the thinly veiled  threat Morticia had laced into her words. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She snapped back. 

“Oh, but I think you do. You look at her like she holds the world in her hands. Only a fool would miss it.” 

“I do not.”

“Very well. Let’s make a bet, shall we?” Morticia paused, waiting for an answer. Seeing that Larissa was refusing to speak to her, she continued on anyway. “I bet that by the end of the night, she will be looking at me the way you look at her.”

“And if she doesn’t?” Larissa countered, praying to the gods that they wouldn’t let Morticia take something else away from her. 

“Then I’ll leave you two alone. Deal?” 

“I’m not making petulant bets with you, Morticia. Especially over her.” Larissa seethed, angered by the fact that Morticia would even dare use you in her childish games. 

Glancing over to the side, Larissa saw you bounding back with her burger and two trays of chips in hand. The fact that you hadn’t bought anything for Morticia amused her greatly, eliciting a slither of hope that, just this once, Larissa wouldn’t lose somebody she loved to Morticia Frump. 

You sidled back into the bench next to Larissa, handing her the chips you bought her along with her burger. You had bought her her usual order and yourself some chips. Larissa’s chips were adorned with tomato sauce in the corner whilst yours had vinegar slathered all over them. 

Reaching out to grab a chip, you realised that you forgot to get Morticia anything. Eyes widening at your brief amnesia, you shot her a sheepish look across the table, hoping that she wasn’t too offended. 

Morticia sat with a scowl, arms folded across her chest as she stared at the two of you. Larissa smirked back at her, waving her burger around; the silent message was clear. You had bought Larissa food and not Morticia. 

It wasn’t until you began eating before you realised that Morticia didn’t have anything to eat. Was she expecting you to buy her something? Shrugging your shoulders you figured that she just wasn’t hungry. 

Turning to Larissa, you asked her a question. “What are we going to do first, Rissa?” 

“Hmm,” she hummed, mouth still full of food. Deciding to tease you slightly, she chewed on for a while, pretending to be deep in thought; causing you to stare eagerly with those doe eyes she loved dearly. “ I think that we should go to the darts stall. I would be honoured to win you a teddy.” 

Your squeal of excitement broke through the crisp night air, scaring the previously resting birds causing them to chirp restlessly at the disturbance. Smiling up sheepishly at them, you shouted a quick apology before throwing yourself into Larissa. “Please, Larissa! Please win me a teddy!! I will love you for all eternity, I love teddies!” 

Shooting a dazzling smile your way as you hung on her arm, chest pressed flush against her body, she sneered at Morticia across the table. You wanted HER to win you a teddy, not Morticia. 

Not one to lose a challenge so quickly, Morticia rose, drawing your attention. “Well,” she started, seething because you were still holding onto Larissa. “Shall we make our way to the darts stand? I’m sure I could win you a larger teddy than Larissa.” 

“We will see, Ms Addams.” 

Tensing slightly at the tension between the two, you pulled on Larissa's arm- directing her over to the darts stand. A few games in Larissa won you a medium dragon teddy. It was black with iridescent purple scales and big bulging eyes. You loved it dearly, holding it to your chest as you watched Morticia play. 

You both watched Morticia intensely as she threw each dart. Each of them hitting the bullseye. Larissa’s smile fell as she watched the games handler grab a giant panda to give to Morticia; her prize now feeling insufficient. 

Morticia smiled triumphantly, outdoing Larissa was her favourite way to pass time. Handing you the panda, she shot a smug look at Larissa and her downcast eyes. 

You grabbed the bear off Morticia and gave her a small smile, too engrossed in the dragon Larissa won you to care about the oversized panda. 

Morticia waltzed off, claiming that she wants to go on the ferris wheel next. You turned around to look at Larissa, the oversized panda dangling dangerously close to the floor while you clutched your dragon. Larissa’s eyes were hung low, a wounded expression singed on her face. 

“Rissa? What’s wrong?” You asked. 

“It’s silly really. No need to worry, sweetheart.” She touched your chin slightly, angling it up so she could smile down at you. 

Your heart pounded in your chest at the pet name she gave you. Beaming up at her, you reached for her arm, tugging her lightly towards the ferris wheel. She would tell you what was bothering her when she was ready. 

You and Larissa arrived at the ferris wheel to greet an angry Morticia, apparently displeased at your refusal to trail after her like a lovesick puppy. Her eyes flicked to your panda trailing across the floor, eyes narrowing at you clutching Larissa’s teddy to your chest. 

Huffing slightly, she motioned for you and Larissa to get on the cart. Larissa sat down first, patting the seat next to her, motioning for you to sit next to her. Plopping down next to her, you shuffled as close as you could; holding your dragon on your lap, placing the panda between you and Morticia- much to her displeasure. 

Carnival lights glistened peacefully as the whirring of the ferris wheel drowned out the laughs of joy from below. Larissa’s breath was coming out in slow puffs, visible due to the cold chill of the night air. She was far more beautiful than any other woman. The prettiest to ever exist. 

The top of the ferris wheel was far higher than you were expecting, triggering your fear of heights. Sensing an oncoming panic attack, you grabbed hold of Larissa’s hand as you were in desperate need of grounding. Noticing your inner turmoil, Larissa rubbed soothing circles over your hand, whispering sweet nothings in your ear. 

With Larissa help you calmed down. Desperately wishing that the ferris wheel would end shortly, you closed your eyes and rested your head on Larissa’s shoulder; still grasping her hand dearly, unable to let go of the comfort she provides. 

The ride ended not long later and you got off with wobbly legs and tear stained cheeks, still clutching Larissa’s hand. Morticia watched you with a mix of rage and jealousy. Why hadn’t her plan worked? Not one to back down so easily, she sauntered up to you, offering you a ride home in her car. 

Politely, you declined. Stating that Larissa had already offered. You watched as Morticia’s level headed facade began to crack, her face twisting in anger as she finally accepted that her plan had failed. Swiftly turning on her heel, she stomped out of the fair without even saying goodbye. 

You turned to Larissa confused as she smiled down at you. Why had Morticia reacted that way? Shrugging your shoulders, you let Larissa tug you towards her car- you were in desperate need of a break from all the walking. 

Sitting down in the leather seats of Larissa’s car, you placed your dragon in your lap and the panda by your feet. Shooting a smile at Larissa, you placed your seatbelt on and turned towards the window. The full vibrations and the quiet whispering ls of the radio lulling you into a deep slumber. 

Pale wisps of sunlight filtered through the closed curtains, arousing you from your slumber. The familiar scent of Larissa filled your senses as you suddenly became aware of the weight on your stomach. Slithers of silver, platinum blonde hair fanned around your face, perfectly manicured nails spread over your stomach, and a warm body pressed up against your back. 

Turning around, you were greeted with Larissa beautiful face; mouth open and eyes closed, mumbling about something in her sleep. Giggling softly, you leant closer into to her and inhaled her scent. Not wanting to wake her up, you reached for your phone, took a picture of the both of you, and waited for her to wake. 

You could feel the moment she woke since her grip tightened as she became aware of her surroundings. Raising your head off of her chest, you greeted her with a blinding smile, to which she returned. 

The velvety hues of her groggy voice filled the air as she spoke to you. “ You stayed?” She questioned, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. 

“Of course I stayed. Why wouldn’t I?”

“ I figured you would be disgusted sharing a bed with me.” She admitted. 

“Of course I wouldn’t, Rissa. Only a fool would be disgusted at sharing a bed with you.” You replied with earnest. 

“Is that so?” She hummed. “And why is that?” 

“Because, you’re the most beautiful woman in the entire world. You radiate grace and elegance. And I find myself utterly enraptured with you.”

“You do?” She asked, her face contorted in confusion. “Why on earth would somebody be enraptured with me?”

“Because I love you, Larissa. I have always loved you. I wake up and you’re the first thing on my mind. I sleep and all I dream about is you. You’re the highlight of my life and I could never live without you.”

“Well then. It’s a good job I find myself utterly and hopeless in love with you too, isn’t it?” 

A/NII: Can’t wait for the Christmas holidays so I don’t have to do anything for two weeks.

#wednesday #larissa weems x reader #larissa x reader #larissa x you #larissa weems x you #gwendoline christie

[writefightandflightclub]

I finished it, I finished it!!!!!!

I have finished my Santiago series, Ride or Die!!!!!!!

All 87,000 words of it!!!!!

Eleven chapters!!!!!!!!

It’s so very close to me being able to queue all the chapters up and post it (I do need some time for the final chapter by chapter edits, and getting everything in the right format for tumblr posts etc. as it’s still in one big Google doc) but I wanted to take a little moment to celebrate right now :D

Wahoooooo!

I have been writing this for LITERAL YEARS, and honestly, I have never persevered for this long with any writing project in my life, nor have I ever written nor attempted anything of this length (potentially besides boring work reports, yuk!) before!

Idk, the series might totally bomb when I post it, maybe no-one will read it, or maybe those who do give it a bash won’t enjoy it at all, and I am trying to prepare myself for the fact that something I have spent YEARS on simply may not be well-received; but regardless, FOR ME, this project and these two characters and their story have a special place in my heart and represent an achievement I’m proud of, and so for that reason, I am very excited to be able to finally say “it’s done” and to (eventually) share it with you!

I’ll keep you updated with when the series will launch. It won’t be before 2024 (because like I said edits and all that, and 87k is a lot to edit LOL) but once it goes live I hope to queue-up a chapter a week for you; which is almost three months of content! *gasp*

The series will be angsty and smutty and angsty smut and more angst (with a friends to lovers / idiots to lovers skew) and it’s very character-driven.

If this sounds like your thing and you would like to keep updated, please lmk in the comments and I can add you to the series tag list (FYI, I will only add you if you’re 18+!).

I do feel really nervous to share it after spending so long on it - especially because I know it’s not “perfect” - but for where I’m at now in terms of my abilities to write multi-chapter stuff (I will say, I never set out for this to be multi-chapter so structurally I was a little screwed from the start - this was only supposed to be a one shot! :P) I gave it the best stab I could, and I know this has been a crucial step towards taking a much better stab at an extended piece of writing next time around, so I regret nothing at alllllll :D

Anyway, thanks for listening :D

#santiago pope garcia x reader #Santiago Garcia x reader #triple frontier #Oscar Isaac

[ashisgreedy]

Hello! Hogwarts Legacy Fandom PSA!

I just wanted to encourage you to create anything you want no matter how big, small, or shitty you may think it is. Even one-paragraph ideas all the way to multi chapters! I don't care if its a 1 second audios, or a playlist with 3 songs! I'm talking to you.

It's a well known fact that the majority of us in this fandom are not professionals lol. We are just out here living our best life simping for fictional characters.

This post is just to encourage you to create and feel free to post it!! I know I'd love to see it and many many others would as well. I don't care if it's a half-finished wip you abandoned months ago, or a 2 sentence HC that doesn't fit with anything else you are doing.

I just want to encourage you to share your ideas and creations with us! It's not just about writing, audios, or drawing. You can create anything and share! Bracelets, poems, macaroni art I don't give a fk. Please share!!!

I see so many good takes left in Discord servers. This is tumblr, not some professional site you have to be perfect on. Share the gif! Share the doodle you did on a napkin! Share your ideas and I'm sure someone would be willing to make it a reality or just love hearing it!

I love this fandom and I'd hate for there to be some kind of glass ceiling people think they need to meet before their stuff becomes "worthy" of tumblr lol. Post your unedited fic if you can't stand editing it. Just post it!

It's not about the likes or the interactions. It's about having fun! Did you have fun making it? That's all that matters. Is it super niche and only caters to you or a select few? Post it! Go nuts!

I love yall and I hope this does encourage you! It's a fandom! You don't have to be part of some exclusive club to share your creations. Even if you ever share one thing, I am proud of you and happy to have your contribution to this fandom!

Lastly, fun fact, if you block an anon ask and look at your block list you can see who it was 😀

That is all. lol, Thank you!!!!

#ash speaks #hogwarts legacy

[helenvader]

Get to know your fic writer!

I have emerged from my writing hiatus, but I'm horribly stuck, so this game might be refreshing. :) I am not the author, I stumbled across it and told myself why not.

Do you prefer writing one-shots or multi-chaptered fics?

Do you plan each chapter ahead or write as you go?

Describe the creative process of writing a chapter/fic

Where do you find inspiration for new ideas?

Do you like constructive criticism?

Do you have your work beta'd? How important is this to your process?

How do you choose which POV to write from?

Do you prefer the beginning, middle, or end of a story?

Do you comment on stories you read?

Cltr+f "blinks" on your WIP & copy paste the first sentence/paragraph that comes up

Link your three favorite fics right now

how does receiving or not receiving feedback/support impact you?

what’s a common writing tip that you almost always follow?

how do you write emotional scenes? Do you ever feel what the characters feel? Do you draw from personal experiences?

How do you write smut scenes? Do you get very visual or detailed? How important is it to be realistic?

How many fic ideas are you nurturing right now? Share one of them?

What do you do when writing becomes difficult? (maybe a lack of inspiration or writers block)

Do you title your fics before, during, or after the writing process? How do you come up with titles?

What is the most-used tag on your ao3?

Have you noticed any patterns in your fics? Words/expressions that appear a lot, themes, common settings, etc?

Would you ever collaborate with another writer for a story?

Are there certain types of writing you won’t do? (style, pov, genre, tropes, etc)

Best writing advice for other writers?

Worst writing advice anyone ever gave you?

What fic do you wish you got more of a response on?

Which of your fics would you call your wildest ride?

What is your most and least favorite part of writing?

On average, how much writing do you get done in a day?

What’s your revision or editing process like?

Do you share rough drafts or do you wait until it’s all polished?

Do you start with the characters or the plot when writing?

Name three of your favorite fanfic writers.

Do you want to be published some day?

Five years from now, where do you see yourself as a writer?

What is one essential thing to remember when writing a villain? 

How do you write kissing scenes?

How do you choose where to end a chapter?

Would you ever write commissions?

Share a snippet from a WIP

If someone were to make fanart of your work, what fic or scene would you hope to see?

Do you tend to reread fics or are you a one-and-done kind of person?

What’s the last fic you read? Do you recommend it?

Do you take a sadistic joy in whumping your characters, or are you more the "If you hurt them I would kill everyone and then myself" kind of person?

What mistakes do you keep making no matter how many times your beta corrects you?

Do you want to break your readers‘ heart or make them laugh?

How would you describe your style? (Character/emotion/action-driven, etc)

How many times do you usually revise your fic/chapter before posting?

What do you look for in a beta?

Do you ever get rude reviews and how do you deal with them?

How long is your longest fic?

What’s your total AO3 word count?

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

How do you spend your time when it comes to fanfiction? Are you primarily a fic reader, writer, or a perfect 50/50 split of both?

What’s your favorite part about the fanfiction writing process?

Of the characters you write for, which is your favorite? Has that choice been swayed at all by your followers/readers’ reactions to certain ones?

What’s something about your writing that you pride yourself on?

Do you prefer editing as you write, or waiting until it’s finished? 

What part of the writing process do you enjoy the most? (Brainstorming, outlining, writing, editing, etc) 

Does anyone in your personal life know you write fic? if not, would you tell anyone?

Have you had a writer you admire comment on your fic? What was that like?

Why do you continue writing fics?

Thoughts on cliffhangers?

Something you hate to see in smut.

Something you love to see in smut.

Tell us about what you’re most looking forward to writing – in your current project, or a future project

How do you deal with writing pressure (ie. pressure to update, negative comments, deadlines, etc.)?

Do you prefer prompts and challenges, or completely independent ideas?

What, if anything, do you do for inspiration?

What work of yours, if any, are you the most embarrassed about existing?

When asked, are you embarrassed or enthusiastic to tell people that you write?

When it comes to more complicated narratives, how do you keep track of outlines, characters, development, timeline, ect.?

What order do you write in? front of book to back? chronological? favorite scenes first? something else?

What do you think makes your writing stand out from other works?

You’ve posted a fic anonymously. How would someone be able to guess that you’d written it?

What scene in [Fanfic Name] took the longest to write? What was difficult about it? 

Did you have any ideas that didn’t make the final cut of [Fanfic Name]? 

Do you have a favorite scene you’ve written from [Fanfic Name] story/chapter? 

#ask games #get to know your writer

[saphushia]

I know very little about the DCU but everything about DP but for some reason your fic recs intrigued me and now I’m in dcxdp hell and I was wondering if you have more recommendations especially for finished fics 👀 you have opened a can of worms in my brain and I must feed them

ok but i literally got into this shit the same exact way aubdskjfg. literally fell ass deep into this from sheer curiosity barely knowing fuckin anything abt batman and now i've read more batman comics than i ever thought i would in my life.

anyways! yeah i think i've got a couple! apologize if there's a couple duplicates from my last recs i can't be bothered to go check it lmao

⭐= my absolute favorites

=ONESHOTS=

Late Night Talkin' [danny/dick] there-was-only-one-bed get-together wheremst danny n dick r hero partners

The Stiches That Bind Us Together [danny/dick] dick's not feeling well, so danny shows up at his apartment to take care of him. and danny knows well enough what hero-ing injuries look like to take a well-educated guess

Consequences danny + fear gas. bad combo

the case of the serial killer dick befriends wierd homeless teenager danny

It's a Small World Afterall [tim/danny] tim convinces danny to take him to amity on a date. he of course then gets kidnapped- by technus, of all people

Can You Fly Without Wings? circus gothica episode but danny gets taken all the way to gotham with freakshow

Cold nights and warm hands danny's sick, so dick of course invites him to stay at the manor, and they relax together

⭐Hollow the bats encounter one danny masters at a gala, and they're all immediately concerned about how blank the boy seems. danny's missing something, something important to him, and he's missing too much to even know what

Baby it's Cold Inside [tim/danny] danny unknowingly gets hit with cuddle pollen, and tim fulfills his boyfriend responsibility of providing snuggles

Surprise Halloween Haunting jason gets kidnapped to be a sacrifice in a ritual, and hijacks it to dial up a friend

4 Times Dick Grayson met Tim Drake's Partner +1 Time He Met Them All Together [tim/danny/tucker/sam] cute tim dating all the amity trio and confusing his brothers. also furry convention scene <3

⭐Bait and Switch thanks to a cult, danny ends up possessing jason, and neither are very happy about it

=FINISHED MULTI-CHAPTERS=

Last year, I starved. This year, I devour without guilt [danny/jason] danny takes one look at jason and decides he's in need of urgent ghost medical care, so he takes matters into his own hands

The Misadventures of Cosplay Man danny gets stuck in the DC universe for a little bit, so he goes around befuddling every villain and hero he comes across, with the power of bad cosplay.

⭐Satiate jason runs into danny while danny's having a little 'nice to meet you' ravenous brawl with the spirit of gotham. as ghosts do.

Vacation Crashers the fentons' camping trip goes south for all the usual ghost reasons, and that's before the batman crash lands in the middle of all of it. cue a teamup between jazz, danny, and all the bats, to take down vlad

Wanted: Dead and Alive tim rescues an injured teenager he found in a glowing green vat in an unknown experimental facility. proceeds to lose the injured teenager. loses his shit trying to find said teenager who is hiding way too effectively for a guy whose guts were on the floor a few days ago.

ok i'm only like halfway thru my bookmarks but i'm tired now kdsjbfgjkdsfg have fun~

#answers #fic rec #dcdp #nutrition-starts-with-nut

[jennagrinsoverml]

hii do you have a list of miraculous fics you think everyone should read at least once?

Anon, I have been excited to answer this request ever since I got it. What better way to celebrate my 50th Rec List (!!!!) than with my favourite fandom fics? 🎉🎉🎉

I've tried to choose fics with a variety of tones, from different fandom eras, and different authors. These fics are all special to me in some way, and whittling this list down was HARD. Others may have fics they think should be on this list, and to those people I say: make your own rec list. This one's mine. 😘

Experimental Kisses by @komorebirei

Ladybug watched him. Maybe it was guilt, maybe sympathy, maybe a streak of playfulness. Maybe the traumatic akuma experience had softened her up. Whatever the reason, a thought wafted lazily through her mind and out of her mouth. “You know… you’re right. It isn’t fair, is it?”

Chat Noir looked up.

“I remember my first kiss, but you don’t.” She hummed and tapped her chin, making a show of remembering. “It wasn’t a bad kiss, but we were in the middle of fighting an akuma, so I didn’t get to enjoy it much, either.”

Oops—that came out sounding a little, no, a lot more flirty than she had intended. Anyway, if she was going to commit to this idea, she may as well go all in.

One-shot. Ladybug offers to kiss Chat since he doesn’t remember their kiss and the way she reacts to the kiss…it lives in my mind rent-free. I have fallen asleep many a night fantasizing about what the repercussions of the kiss might look like. One of my absolute favourite Ladynoir fics.

team is a four letter word by @ladyofthenoodle

Alya didn’t want to come between Ladybug and Chat Noir. But she didn’t want to stop being Rena Rouge either. And if Chat Noir didn’t want to talk to her, then she’d need to find a different way to prove all three of them could be a team.

Her plan unintentionally brings a few secrets to light, which leads to even more secrets coming to light, which leads to… well, Alya is sure it’ll all work out eventually.

Multi-chapter. Warning, this fic is a WIP! (But there’s only one chapter to go.) Honestly, I didn’t want to have any WIPs on this list and I was lowkey hoping that it would be finished before I posted this list but I’m obsessed with this one and couldn’t leave it off. It’s literally one of the BEST fics in the entire fandom and, I think, the absolute best delving into the characterization and relationship dynamics of the core four. This fic feels so dynamic and complex, with all of the characters feelings so like themselves and each having their own distinct voices. The conflict is so well done and so realistic. It’s such a fantastic tackling of the issues that came up in the last couple seasons and I cannot rave about it enough!!

œuf ouch owie by @ominousunflower

Chat Noir enlists Rena Rouge's help to create an Aspik illusion. Absolutely nothing goes wrong.

Ladybug smiles. “I wanted to drop by and welcome Aspik. I know it must be a little intimidating, being surrounded by so many veteran heroes…so, welcome! We’re glad to have you on board.”

“I look like an egg!” Aspik announces, T-posing.

Chat turns to Rena, feeling like he has been punched in the solar plexus. What the hell? he mouths.

Rena grimaces, her eyes wide with panic. Stomach sinking, Chat remembers one of the first things he learned about the Fox Miraculous: that if Rena Rouge isn’t focused, her illusions go haywire.

Oh, no.

One-shot. This is hands down the FUNNIEST fic in the entire fandom asdfghjkl like I have read this fic at least 50 times and I still laugh out loud every single time. If you have somehow failed to read this fic before, read it now. You won’t regret it!

lucky (we're in love in every way) by @carpisuns​

Chat Noir is Adrien, and Marinette is freaking out. If she manages to quiet her internal screaming, maybe she can also find the guts to tell him her identity too. And maybe they'll actually live happily ever after—well, as soon as Tikki and Plagg are done humiliating them.

One-shot. This fic just makes me so incredibly happy. Like it puts a smile on my face every single time I read it (and I have read it many, many times!) I love Marinette’s reactions and Adrien’s sweetness and the kwamis just absolutely ROASTING both of them. Marissa has written a ton of amazing fics for this fandom (seriously we are so lucky to have her) and I was tempted by others (like tell me something i don't know) but in the end, I had to follow my heart with this one.

Your Kitty by @gabriel-agreste-has-no-rights​

“Such a dramatic kitty.” Marinette scratched under his chin, bringing a smile to his face and a purr to his throat.

Your kitty, he didn’t say.

Wait. What?

(The one where Chat Noir thinks he needs pats like a cat, only to find out he may have jumped to the wrong conclusion.)

One-shot. When I think of Marichat, this is THE fic I think of. Adrien being touch starved is 100% my headcanon now. This is just so sweet! Marinette’s affection and Adrien’s determination to do the right thing no matter the personal cost and the way they fell for each other without meaning to... Also I love that they both encouraged the other to go back to their original crushes because that makes so much sense!!

rattle my cage by @lnc2​

In which history, despite Alya's best efforts, does not repeat itself.

One-shot. I am always here for Adrien being rash and Marinette being smart and capable and just switching to treating him as Chat absolutely seamlessly after a reveal. I absolutely love the vibes of this one.

Chasing the C/h/atwalk. by @runningoutofink

Paris. The city of lights, love and fashion. Follow the progress of Marinette Dupain Cheng as she enters the extremely competitive world of Reality television for a chance to be the winner of Project Runway: France.

Multi-chapter. It should come as no surprise by now that I’m a sucker for reality tv and this is my absolute favourite reality cross in the fandom! I love that it’s canon compliant, and frankly the idea of Marinette and Adrien as designer and model on Project Runway is friggin’ BRILLIANT. The slow burn and pining are delicious, and the identity reveal is incredibly well done! (And it has a steamy sequel, Meet me in the Middle, which is 🔥🔥🔥 and intensely satisfying after all of that build up.)

daydream by @clairelutra

you're my daydream

you know that i've been thinking about you lately

In which Adrien finds out Ladybug is Marinette, and beats the 'this is fine' dog at his own game.

One-shot. Shout-out to the author for realizing way before canon let on that Adrien is way more likely to figure out Marinette than the reverse! And then absolutely murdering us with this intense slow burn that absolutely drips with mutual pining and UST.

What Will You Do When Everyone Knows? by @sariahsue

They stepped in closer, shoulder to shoulder to catch the akuma as she landed, but she twisted in midair, landing squarely in front of Cat Noir, swiping at him. He stepped back, trying to keep his balance. Her fingertips almost touched his face, and Ladybug felt her stomach lurch.

“Duck!” she yelled to him as she whipped her yoyo around. He did, but unfortunately, the akuma woman did, too. Ladybug suddenly had no target to latch onto and lost her balance. Her stomach twisted again as she pitched forward. Black hands darted forward to catch her, but too late she realized it wasn’t her partner. Cold gloves caught her shoulder and neck, then slid up her face, brushing past her earrings. Cold. The woman’s touch froze Ladybug’s breath in her throat.

Then there was something warm around her middle. Cat Noir’s shout sounded distant as he pulled her away. As the woman’s black gloves left her face, Ladybug felt even more heat being pulled from her, along with… something else.

Multi-chapter. There really isn’t another fic in the fandom like this one. The akuma is original and provides an absolutely amazing premise for this fic. We have mystery, intrigue, and a huge upset to the status quo with the public revealing of Ladybug’s identity. I also loved the dramatic irony of Marinette being unable to understand Chat’s reactions to things that make perfect sense to us readers. It’s got amazing characterizations and suspense, and I love it!

But All I’m Seeing Is You by @chelseaapproved

After Ladybug finds out Adrien is her Chat Noir, they start dating. She didn’t think it’d be so hard to keep her identity a secret from him. She also didn’t realize how much it would affect her friendship with him as Marinette.

One-shot. This might be my favourite ladrien of all time. It’s only about 5k, but man does it ever pack in a lot of emotion and relationship development and I really, really, really love it.  I really felt how much they love each other in this one and Marinette is just so, so wonderful to Adrien and he’s so wonderful to her and if you haven’t already please read this.

A Miraculous Reveal by @kasienda​

Series of one-shots and drabbles all centered around The Reveal Moment. Identities will be revealed, feelings will be confessed, and secrets will be discovered through contrived situations, accidents, meddling friends, desperate moments, and moments of emotional vulnerability. Each chapter is a self contained piece. Love-square focused, but will not remain exclusive to them. Each chapter will have its own trigger warnings.

Collection of one-shots. I feel a little like I’m cheating in including a collection here, but like most of us in this fandom, I’m an absolute sucker for identity reveals, and @kasienda is especially talented at writing them! Every single one of these is beautiful, amazing and worth reading at least once.

the wonderful part of the mess that we made by heresie_irisee

They knew.

They knew, and there would be no magical reset button for the memories they'd made today. She'd have to  see him at school every day, and she'd see the Chat in him, as surely as  he'd see the Ladybug in her.

One-shot. Oblivio is probably my favourite episode and this is such a great alternate take on it. The mutual pining is so, so, so good! Especially love Marinette struggling to assimilate Adrien’s identities and Adrien’s obliviousness.

The following fics are amazing and absolutely worth reading, but do feature sexual content, so minors beware.

The Ladybugs and The Bees by @bullysquadess

AKA the early-fandom Ladynoir puberty fic that spiraled waaaaay out of proportion.

Multi-chapter. I’ve avoided reccing this fic for so long as it was literally the most kudosed fic in the entire fandom when I joined. However, the kudos are well-earned and I can’t make a list of must reads without including it. I love the ladynoir, the way it builds slowly, the focus on the developing relationship, both physical and otherwise, the yearning and the devotion and the vulnerability. And, of course, the steamy scenes are fantastic!! The whole thing is just so well developed and feels so grounded and real. I absolutely love it.

one night of moonlight by @mirthaculous

i’ll always think of you

inside of my private thoughts

i can imagine you

touching my private parts

2:13 ok im texting you now like i promised instead of drunktexting adrien and telling him how badly i want his cock tonight. arent you proud of me?

2:19 this is Adrien, hi.

Marinette’s brain-to-mouth filter isn’t great on the best of days. Add some beer and some misplaced texts, and things get a little more… interesting.

One-shot. Rated M. This is one of my favourite fics of all time. This is so steamy, seriously the UST is off the charts!! It is absolutely unreal how much these two want each other and the mutual pining and they’re so stupid and this fic literally killed me and I thanked it.

#ml #miraculous ladybug #ml fanfic #ml fic rec #ml fic recs #ml love square #adrienette #adrinette #ladynoir #marichat #ladrien #prpr #identity reveal #fic recs #jennarecsml

[enchantedchocolatebars]

Important News + Schedule 💕 🎉 💟 ✨

Since I want 2024 to be a year filled with nothing but writing progress for me, I've decided to work less on short fics so that I can focus more on my ao3 uploads and my multi-chapter Caleb x Clara (My Wittewife) story that I've been secretly working on.

It's titled "A Winsome Witch And A Happy Human".

(Commission art here)

This is going to be my first time ever writing a full-length fic, and I'm very excited, but also very nervous lol. 😆 😅

NOW DON'T YOU WORRY FOLKS WHO ENJOY READING THE SHORT FICS.

I'LL STILL WRITE THEM SINCE I LOVE DOING THEM + I TOO HAVE IDEAS I WANNA SEE GET WRITTEN + I WILL GET TO ALL THE ONES IN MY INBOX EVENTUALLY, I just won't write them as much.

Of course, anyone and everyone is still welcome to send requests and their headcanons or other stuff sincs my inbox is and has always been open (I'll also answer short stuff too.) 💕 💚 👍 ✅ .

When it comes to my ao3 uploads, I believe that if I upload at least one piece of old content each week, I can get a lot of written content on the site before 2025 (and I'll be able to grow my fan base of readers lol).

Anyway, I think I've said enough lol.

Now, here's the schedule for this week.

Sunday 12 / 31 - "Like To Love You (The Written Animatic)" - (December 31st is Caleb's birthday [Personal headcanon of mine. Wrote a story about it last year.], and we get a cute montage of Clara [My Wittewife] making sure he has the best day ever!) [I USUALLY DON'T ADD SUNDAYS TO MY SCHEDULES BUT TOMMORROW IS AN EXCEPTION. Requested by no one, it's purely self-indulgent lol.] (Fic here.)

Monday 1 / 1 - An ao3 upload (here).

Tuesday 1 / 2 - An ao3 upload (here) and (here)

Wednesday 1 / 3 - An ao3 upload (here.)

Thursday 1 / 4 - I WILL TRY TO FINISH THIS! 😭 (It's for the full length fic). (I FINISHED IT)

Friday 1 / 5 - Post chapter titles for "A Winsome Witch And A Happy Human". Of course, I won't beat myself up if I can't, BUT I WILL TRY TO. 😭 (They are here.)

Saturday 1 / 6 - Post commission cover art for "A Winsome Witch And A Happy Human". I spoke to a mutual of mine who does a lot of commission art for me and she said that she can have the piece done by then, so hooray!!! 💕 🎉 (Art here)

#ao3 #a03 #ao3 writer #a03 writer #the owl house #owl house #toh #caleb wittebane #english muffin husbando #clara clawthorne #wittewife #oc #original character #witteclaw #calara (caleb x clara) #oc x canon #canon x oc #writing

[theywhowriteandknowthings]

Crossfire Jack Reacher(Alan Ritchson) x AFAB/F!Reader Excerpt

General Warnings: 18+, as is the whole of my blog, I will mark anything specific but be aware this is predominantly a smutty blog with plot. DNI if you are a minor. By reading further you have taken the responsibility to do so with the warnings I have given.

Specific Warnings: This is pure smut with story (but it’s mostly about the smut), Size kink, teasing, mutual pining, angst, P in V unprotected (birth control and trust re STI’s(get checked up and keep your partners informed frens)), drinking, swearing, mentions of violence, mentions of war/war fighting, mentions of PTS/PTSD, trauma, military terminology, strip teasing, rough sex, size kink, (small) praise kink, feisty Reader.

No mention of Y/N, Reader has nicknames, Teach/Bambi, was in the army with reacher, still doing covert stuff as a mercenary.

Finished a OneShot that I couldn’t get out of my head, might become Multi-chapter but we’ll see. Here’s an Excerpt.

““You two ever actually fuck?” Frankie asks you and you almost choke on the dregs of your beer.

“No, never, fucking hell Neagley, you trying to kill me?” You splutter, well aware that you’re far too flustered. Reacher notices it too and you see the vein on his neck pop as he stifles a triumphant smile.

“You should have, would’ve made things easier.” She shrugs as she takes another swig of her beer.

“That’s rich coming from you.” You needle back, knowing well that your relationship was tight knit enough to make that joke.

“Fair, but you’re a slutty little bisexual, either fuck him and get it over and done with or get over yourself.” Frankie says with a twitch of her lips. She has you there. The only thing that ever stopped you from fucking Reacher was your own ego.

“Fuck you.” You grumble as you gesture between your empty drinks before asking the obvious, “You want another?”

“As long as you’re buying.” Frankie says with a dazzling smile.

“Always, be back in a flash.” You say with a smirk. You love Frankie, you’d even, sort-of kind-of, dated for a while when you left the service, but Frankie being such a haptephobiac scuppered things for you both. You loved each other dearly but you’re a tactile, sexual person, and having to supress your own instincts wasn’t healthy for either of you. But it didn’t stop you loving one another, and that was something neither of you denied, you just expressed it differently, and that was ok.

You make your way to the bar, waiting patiently as the other, dressed up women got served before you. You’d grown used to it, you never dressed up, not for weddings, not for funerals, not for anyone. It had it’s perks, but in a bar, it meant you were served when you were served. You drum your fingers on the edge of the bar after a while, slowly getting tired of waiting.

“Hey,” Reacher’s low rumble makes you shiver as his large form cages you in. His navy shirt sleeves are rolled up to his elbows as you see the firm, thick cords of his forearms hem you in as his large hands rest on the bar, “How’s Civvy life treating you?” He breathes into the shell of your ear as you shudder beneath him.

“Shit, I can’t be as lucky as you and land myself in the middle of murder investigations and big ol’ conspiracies like you J.” You say, using the nickname you know he hates.

“It cost me a brother, so I don’t know if you can call that luck.” He growls against your skin as he inches forward slowly. You feel the brush of his fucking marbled pecs against your shoulders as he tries to draw you in. This was a dance you had both done many times, riling the other up, pushing the limits to breaking point. But there was always an angle, exploiting each other’s vulnerabilities to get what you wanted, or needed.

It’s the toxic part of your relationship with Reacher you never allow yourself to admit to, but it’s also the only thrill you get anymore. Years of the brass putting warfighting over warfighters meant you were numb to just about any stimulus. Except Reacher.

“Fair,” You nod, trying to keep your mind clear as your whole body screams to push back against Reacher, goad him on so he can finally give you what you’ve craved for over a decade, “But we both know you’re not here for sentimentality and feelings.” You breathe, trying so damned hard not to grind back against him.

He wants something, whatever this is will cost you.

“Correct.” He grumbles before a hand falls from the bar, resting against your hip instead, “Tell me to stop, tell me you don’t want this and I’ll walk away.” He pants against the clammy skin of your neck as you try to wrestle control from the primal part of your brain that would let him rail you right now, against the bar in front of everyone.

“Why now?” You ask, the logical part of your brain interrupting at just the wrong time, you want to take it back, let Jack play his game, maybe let him win for once, then let him fuck you into oblivion but that simple question shatters the illusion.

“Never mind, have a good night, see you ‘round Teach.” Reacher’s tone is clipped as he detaches from you with surgical precision. His body melds back into the crowd instantly as he flees from you retreating back to reality once more.”

What do you think? Do you want to read it? I hope so as I had so much fun with this one.

#jack reacher #reacher #reacher x reader #reacher x f!reader #jack reacher x f!reader #jack reacher smut #reacher smut #x reader #x you #reacher x you #jack reacher x you #smut #Alan Ritchson #Alan ritchson reacher #excerpt #excerpts #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #fanfiction #reacher fan fiction #jack reacher fan fiction #ViWrites #AuthorVi #angst #pining

[a-little-bit-of-ravioli]

20 questions for fic writers

Tagged by @the-real-azalea-scroggs! Had to wait until I was of my phone because doing these is a nightmare on mobile lmao

1. How many works do you have on A03?

18 as of a few days ago!

2. What's your total A03 word count?

157,937! Which is. Only a fraction of the word count in my Docs folder. Be prepared.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

I mainly write for The Legend of Zelda; specifically Linked Universe! In fact, that's all that's posted on my Ao3 currently, since my fall into that fandom began with me uploading there! Pre-Ao3 I wrote for Black Cat (Anime/Manga), Megaman NT Warrior, various Pokémon things, Assassin's Creed, Yugioh, Final Fantasy XIV and Octopath Traveler! Some of these I still write privately, but I haven't gotten around to re-posting any.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

Whistling on Deaf Ears - My longest fic on Ao3, focusing on Wild and Twilight's friendship and how good intentions can lead to disaster.

Iconoclasm - Warriors deals with the room full of portraits in Cia's palace. The Chain also deals with it, but with a bit more fire.

Deserving - Twilight finally tells Rusl that he was the wolf in the village during TP, but that also means dealing with some heavier topics. Colin half overhears them and forms his own conclusions.

Something Greater - The start of the "Hyrule can see magical auras" series! In this one we deal with Legend and his many rings.

Ocean Magic - Mermaid Legend and Zora Time have a race and then fight one of the Big Octos from WW! Fun times.

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Every single one!! I love comments, they give me an excuse to ramble about my fic more!! I am always down to ramble about every single insignificant detail of any line and/or section. If you ever want more background info about one of my fics, look to the comments!

So please, I adore comments, I treat them like treasures, not responding to them would be a CRIME.

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

There's no contest; Inevitable, my (so far) only MCD fic.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Hmmm, that's hard to quantify. I usually try to end fics on a hopeful note regardless. I'd say possibly either Deserving, where Twilight reconnects with his family, or Shimmering Blue, Striking White, where Time meets the Fierce Deity settled down on Satori Mountain and they both get closure.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Thankfully, no! I've been blessed with mostly amazing and patient readers, even when my upload schedule isn't the best.

9. Do you write smut?

No, not really. I've attempted it, but I'm too asexual for it lol

10. Do you write crossovers?

Very, very rarely. Mostly privately, and only very specific ones. Only a single one has had an actual plot, so far (more on that one in question 15!).

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Nope!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Also a nope! I tend to write for smaller fandoms, where these things don't tend to happen a lot!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I have! But it's been a while. Over a decade, in fact! I tried to find the fic to link it here, but it was on the German fanfic website fanfiktion.de, and my friend who posted it back then must have deactivated her account, because it's nowhere to be seen (I still have the Word file though!). It was a Multi-Crossover that started as an RP in a forum, and we took turns turning the RP into prose one chapter each. "If a Hero Turns to Dark" was its title. We were edgy teenagers.

14. What's your all-time favourite ship?

Hissssss. Bad question. Shoo. They are all equally important!!

But it's probably TenRose from Doctor Who.

15. What's the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

One of the very few crossovers I've ever worked on; a crossover fic between Assassin's Creed and Doctor Who, that I have mapped out in both chronological and timeline order, and yes, those are different. I only ever wrote about a quarter of it, since my primary audience of it disappeared when we graduated. I doubt I'll ever pick it back up properly, and if I do it'll probably go through heavy rewrites first since it's so old. Finishing it is a nice thought, but realistically, after 9 years it'll never be high priority enough for it to actually happen.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Dialogue, especially arguments, and emotional impact. I've been told I do really well making characters feel alive and believable! Also I like to believe I'm decent at setting a scene and giving it the vibe I want it to have!

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I struggle with dialogue tags when nothing much is happening besides the talking. I always feel it's too bland, and fall back on the same phrases. My scene transitions could use some work too.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I've done this with Japanese phrases, because I was a massive weeb. Usually I followed them up with their own translations, though; I'm not the biggest fan of footnote translations, unless they are properly linked to. Simple dialogue tags are my favourite way of indicating a language switch.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Black Cat the Manga/Anime! It's a series about an assassin turned bounty hunter trying to live a life separate from his murdery past, but getting dragged back into things by still wanting to avenge his best friend's death. The series has a special place in my heart and my bookshelf, it left an imprint on 13-year-old me that will never leave.

20. Favourite fic you've ever written?

Probably Jailbreak, uncharacteristically enough! It's one of the only fics I never got stuck in once. Writing it was a great feeling from start to finish. I love writing all of my fics, but that was a special few days.

Tagging @ahrva @nowhere-to-go-but-down @silvercaptain24 and @aeghina! And anyone who wants to do it, really, go wild

#rav rambles #rav writes #ask game #linked universe #thank you Aza I rambled a lot lmao #rambling is cathartic sometimes #I had a good time!