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[swiftispunk]

your summer dream | joel miller x f!reader

day one–(re)introductions

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pairing: joel miller x fem!reader rating: 18+ minors dni word count: ~4.7k series summary: fresh on the heels of the worst breakup of your life, you find an unexpected kindred spirit (and maybe a little more) in family friend joel miller, who's agreed to tag along for seven days to a tropical resort with you and your parents. chapter summary: an awkward greeting, a rocky ride and a burgeoning crush, this vacation may just prove not to be a total bummer after all. series warnings etc: [NO OUTBREAK] we'll call him dad's buddy!joel, fairly soft!joel, age difference (28/50), alcohol, food, sexual tension, smut like whoa smut (will specify with each chapter), fluff, anxiety, mentions of infidelity, mentions of divorce, jet skis????, secret relationship. chapter warnings: anxiety + fear of flying, one mention of reader taking a klonopin, gratuitous descriptions of joel miller's face and body, food, alcohol, mentions of breakups, foreshadowing. no use of y/n.

A/N: stay tuned bc things will be heating up between these two all too soon ya'll. future chapters will involve less parents and more sexy times. followers suggestions in this chapter: joel in a vintage sports t-shirt, sharing headphones on the plane

"You remember Joel, right, sweet pea?" your dad says. 

It's 4:30 in the morning on a Saturday and you're standing in an airport parking lot. 

"Um, yeah," you lie. You do and you don't. You can vaguely recall a slightly younger Joel Miller at some backyard gathering your parents had hosted a few years ago. You'd been younger too, maybe already dating your ex, Chris. Perhaps that's why you don't remember him. You tended not to notice other men when Chris was around, particularly not the ones nearly twenty years your senior.

Bleary-eyed and sleep deprived, you take him in now.

Salt-and-pepper-haired and tan skinned, thighs straining against the shorts he clearly hasn't broken out in years, it's almost hard to believe the guy's fifty. As you size him up in his worn out Longhorns t-shirt, you suddenly are able to dredge up some distant memories of thinking he'd been sweet, proudly bragging about his adult daughter (Sarah?) and all her successes at grad school.

He looks a bit haggard at the moment, his own lack of sleep evident under his brown eyes, curls tousled messily around his head. You probably don't look much better in your big t-shirt and bike shorts, clinging for dear life to the iced coffee you'd picked up on the way.

"S'okay, know it's been a while," Joel says gruffly, reaching out to shake your hand. You give him your best smile, or at least the biggest one you can manage. His returning smile is brief and tight, more to the pavement than you. God, this is going to be awkward.

"Only a couple of years!" your mother protests, far more alert and chipper than the two of you.

"Geeze, has it really been that long?" your dad chimes in, disbelieving. He rounds on you, pointing accusingly in your direction with a boarding pass in his hand. "See, this is why you gotta come around the house more, sweet pea. Joel and I still go golfing together almost every weekend."

Not your dad with the guilt trip. You've been out of the house for years now and in your opinion, stop in a perfectly acceptable amount for someone nearly thirty. Plus, your full-time job is demanding enough; you're lucky you even got time off for this.

"Don't know why he keeps invitin' me," Joel admits with a grin. "All I do is lose."

"Boost his ego, I guess," you offer with a shrug. Joel's grin widens.

"Everyone got their passports?" your dad chimes in, quickly steering the conversation away from any jokes at his expense. He's far more keyed-up than you and Joel, you notice. In fact, it's his idea to be at the airport approximately four hours before take-off "just in case there's trouble at security." You don't think he's slept all week in the lead-up to today.

Neither have you, but you have your own reasons.

Mainly the fact that you hate flying. The thought of it makes your palms sweat and your heart rate soar, at times a debilitating phobia that's held you back all your life, no matter how many times you've had to face it.

All that pre-flight anxiety is really starting to mount now, only increases as the four of you make your way through check-in and security. Gearing up for the crammed seating, the noisy airplane din and the whole being-up-in-the-fucking-air thing is already enough to make your skin crawl. On top of that, you're painfully aware that you'll be sitting next to Joel, an uncomfortable prospect that's only adding to your nerves.

You should have taken an extra Klonopin. 

The nerves really hit home when you settle in at the gate, the sight of aircrafts taking off through the wall of windows beside making you recoil in on yourself, arms wrapped protectively around your knees as you try your best to breathe. 

You're finally forced to make conversation with Joel once your parents become engrossed in private discussions about itineraries and dinner plans. And while he's not the miserable killjoy you'd thought he'd be, he is…quiet.

"You ever been to Costa Rica before?" he asks, his eyes moving between you and the gate around him, like he's not sure of exactly where to land them.

"No," you shake your head, running your hands nervously up and down your legs when you catch a 767 taking off out of the corner of your eye. That'll be you soon. Fuck. 

Joel doesn't say anything else, just nods and stares at his sneakers. 

"What about you?" you inquire, too late, unable to hold back the shake in your voice as your heart pangs with stress. Why are the plane engines so loud? Why can you hear them in here? You have to fight the urge to cover your ears like a child to block out the incessant noise.

"Nope," Joel admits. "Never left the US."

"Oh."

And that's the end of that conversation. 

Silence befalls the both of you as your dread properly sets in then. You put your headphones in your ears and let your music take you away, while Joel sighs and slumps back into the hard, plastic seating. You keep the headphones in all throughout boarding, breathing deeply and counting backwards from one hundred five separate times in an effort to calm your anxiety.

Joel's forced to tap your shoulder to get your attention when you arrive at your row.

"What?" you mumble distractedly when you yank one headphone out of your ear.

"I'll take the middle, f'you want."

"Oh, okay. Sure."

You toss your carry-on into the overhead compartment as Joel takes his seat, some stranger to his left already settled in the window spot. You pop your headphone back in and sit down beside him. 

It's around then that you notice how…broad Joel is. His knees invade your already cramped space, legs splayed out like he can't help it, shoulders brushing yours between the seats. You can't remember if he's always been that way. Can't remember if you'd ever really noticed. 

Your parents take their seats in the row ahead of you and then there's nothing left to do but wait.

Take-off is blissfully uneventful, fairly smooth and not enough to truly send you into panic-mode. You turn your music up to its highest volume and squeeze your eyes shut, balling your hands into fists until the aircraft levels out, thousands of feet above the earth. You wait until the seatbelt light turns off to finally take a proper breath in and try to relax. You let your head fall back into the headrest, pulling your knees into your chest and concentrating especially hard on every minute detail in every second of every song, anything to keep you distracted from the fact that you're currently flying in the fucking sky.

It's all going fine, until the turbulence starts. 

Now, you grip the edges of your armrests for dear life as the unpredictable bumps and shudders jostle you in your seat. You try to breathe but you can't get a proper one in–just short, shallow gasps, the sounds of which are swallowed by the continuous droning of the aircraft's engines.

Then a particularly aggressive tremor has you jumping in your seat and you stare around wildly, panic painted all over your face. Surely that hadn't been normal?

You're aware then of Joel's hand on your arm but you don't hear his quiet, "Hey," till you've pulled the damn headphone out of your ear again to find him glancing down at you with concern.

"You okay?" he asks, looking concerned in a sort of paternal way. His hand is still on your arm.

You swallow harshly, trying to reign it in. To not seem like a total fucking coward.

"Don't like flying," you choke.

"Everything alright here?” another voice is asking then, to your right. A flight attendant, you realize, apparently having noticed your distress. Great. She stares down at you with condescending eyes that eventually settle on Joel, who finally releases your arm. You don't miss the way her gaze changes when she looks at him, her eyes raking over his broad form as a smile spreads across her face.

Interesting. The guy has an effect on women, clearly.

Joel smiles back at her, a lop-sided thing that makes his eyes crinkle. "Maybe you could tell us that," he says.

The flight attendant practically melts at his voice, her cheeks burning red as she directs her answer very much just to Joel, while you continue to cower between them.

"Just some standard turbulence, nothing to be worried about," she assures the both of you (Joel).

"Never been on a plane," Joel tells her. "S'all new to me."

"Really?" She sounds way too interested. Lots of people have never been on planes. Lots of very, very lucky people. "Never?"

"First time," he smirks. "Don't mind it so much. And f'you say there's nothin' to worry about, I believe ya."

The flight attendant beams.

Has Joel always been this...charming? It's been so long since you've seen him. You're sure you must have thought so, must have seen what the flight attendant is seeing, perhaps never noticing it in any sort of…concrete way. You definitely don't remember noticing his thick, honey-sweet drawl or the amount of space his massive hands take up on the armrest. The flight attendant does though. 

"I love that accent," she comments (flirts). "You know, my family's from the South."

"That so?" Joel grins but their little moment is interrupted when the aircraft shakes violently and you gasp, your arms wrapping around your middle protectively. The turbulence continues, hard and jarring and fuck fuck fuck–you can't breathe. 

Joel catches the reaction, concern taking over his features once more.

"I'd love to hear more, but I think our friend here might need a soda or somethin'," he says.

Oh, has he finally decided to acknowledge your presence again?

The flight attendant makes a face, glancing over her shoulder uncertainly.

"We don't really offer drinks while the seatbelt sign is on…"

"Maybe you could make an exception?" Joel suggests and you catch the way his eyes flick over to you, sunken into your seat with your arms over your knees, probably looking exactly how you feel–fear-stricken and on the verge of passing out. 

The flight attendant takes one look down at you and nods quickly (probably more than happy to make an exception for Joel) before darting off down the aisle and returning seconds later, expertly managing to stay balanced as the plane rocks and rolls. You, meanwhile, have to fight to keep your morning iced coffee down. Your hand shakes when you reach out for the can.

"I got it," Joel intervenes, reaching over you to take it from the flight attendant, brushing your trembling hand away with ease. 

"Thanks, darlin'," he dismisses the stewardess with one last grin which she returns in spades before sauntering off.

Darlin'? Okay, Joel Miller. 

"Here," he offers the little green can to you once she's gone. The plane jolts and you hiss through your teeth, working impossibly hard to stay level as you take the soda from him and bring it to your lips.

"Thanks," you murmur when the cool, syrupy liquid assaults your tongue, a surprisingly distracting sensation that does seem to breathe some life back into you. You can feel Joel's eyes on you as you take a few more calming sips and few more steadying breaths. A moment later and the bumpy turbulence seems to cease. A moment after that and the seatbelt light turns off. 

You exhale for what feels like the first time in hours. 

"Feelin' alright?" Joel asks eventually. 

You nod stiffly, downing the rest of your drink and leaning back into your seat. You sigh. The last time you'd been on a plane, it had been Chris comforting you through your stupid fear of flying. Not well, mind you; he had never been the best at calming you down–certainly not the type to order you a ginger ale because he'd noticed you were about to be sick, but still. You can remember the feeling of his hand on your knee, his voice reminding that it would all be over soon.

God-fucking-damnit. You're not supposed to be thinking about him. You need a distraction. You're just about to pop in your other headphone when Joel starts talking again. 

"S'weird, flyin'," he muses. He glances to his left, where the wing of the plane is just visible through the open window, backdropped by miles of clouds and empty skies that make your stomach turn. "Thought it'd be scarier, but it's not."

"Speak for yourself," you retort with a scowl.

"Looked it up, you know," he says, turning back to face you with a gentle smirk. God, his voice is low–almost sultry and he doesn't even seem like he's trying. It's strangely lulling. "Way more likely to die in a car than a plane."

You roll your eyes. "Thanks, never heard that one before."

"Just sayin', there's a good chance we all make it outta this alive."

"Well, here's hoping, I guess," you say offhandedly, making to reinsert your earbud when Joel, once again, stops you.

"Whatcha listenin' to?"

"What? Oh…Fleetwood Mac."

"Nice. Rumours?"

"Peter Green's. Their first album."

Joel shakes his head. "Don't think I've heard it."

"Yeah, I hadn't either. I was planning to listen to their whole discography on this trip."

"Not a bad idea," Joel nods, looking impressed. "Maybe I oughta do the same."

Your brows furrow–what's with this guy? You'd expected him to be a total grouch this whole time but so far, you seem vastly more miserable than he does. Which is strange considering he's apparently in the exact same situation as you right now. Is everyone in the world just better at coping with breakups than you?

"Yeah, maybe," you shrug.

Your confusion only grows when he holds out a big palm, glancing at the white wire of your headphones expectantly.

Oh. He means...? Okay.

Uncertainly, you deposit the free bud into his palm and watch him clumsily insert it into his ear. You wait a moment, just to be sure he's not pulling some kind of weird prank on you, eventually deciding he's not when he lays his head back into his headrest and shuts his eyes. You hit play, and then do the same.

You're shocked to find that the rest of the flight passes by quickly and without much incident after that. The turbulence doesn't return and you actually manage to almost relax, something about Joel's unbothered demeanor and the way he's tapping his foot beside you bringing about an odd sense of calm. You still tense up during the landing, holding your breath until the wheels of the aircraft hit the tarmac, finally exhaling a relieved sigh when you're back on solid ground. 

"That was pretty good," Joel comments, removing his earbud and handing it back to you as the passengers in first class begin to off-board.

"It was alright. Missing some Christine McVie, though."

"I agree," he smiles. 

You shuffle out of your seats into the crowded aisle, straining to reach your suitcase in the overhead compartment. Just like with the can of soda, Joel suddenly intervenes, two thick arms reaching over you to help.

"This one you?" he asks, gesturing to the suitcase you'd been fruitlessly grabbing at.

"Uh, yeah, thanks."

You watch the way the muscles in his arms flex when he hoists the suitcase down into your waiting hands. His biceps strain against the fabric of his orange t-shirt; the bag is heavy–you hadn't packed light–but the exertion doesn't seem to affect him at all. 

Fuck, but he's tan, you notice. The fabric of his sleeves pull up his arms when he reaches for his own bag, and you catch a glimpse of his farmer's tan, just the tiniest peak of paleness contrasting the sun-kissed glow of his arms. You wonder how much darker he'll get in the tropical sun, how much colour his already glowing skin will attract after a few days on the beach.

Why the fuck are you thinking about that?

Fuck. You're staring, you realize too late. You hastily avert your eyes to find your parents already up from their seats and raring to go.

"How'd you hold up this time, kiddo?" your dad asks, well aware of your stupid phobia. "Turbulence was a bit rough, eh?"

"I think she did great," Joel tells him and you frown. Does he think he needs to lie to protect your dignity or something? That's...kind of nice of him, if a little unnecessary, you think.

"We made it, that's all that matters," your mom says before you can add anything more.

True enough. You're here now. Time to make the most of it.

-

It's not just on the plane that Joel's taken your ex's place. Despite the fact that you'd been dating for three years–and the fact that you're a fully grown adult–your parents had refused to book you a single room together, opting instead for one of those conjoined suites with a shared door between them. It was supposed to be your boyfriend on the other side of that door, now it's Joel.

The door locks, thankfully, a fact your father had taken extra care to remind you and Joel of when he'd popped in from his suite across the hall to check out your rooms, sizing them up in typical dad-fashion as though he hadn't put months of research and credit-card points into booking the best bang-for-your-buck resort package he could find.

"Walls are a bit thin," he comments, tapping the off-white drywall that separates your room from Joel's.

You shrug. "It all seems fine to me."

And it does, truly. Your room overlooks the resort, glass sliding doors leading out to a balcony that offers a pristine view of the pools and beaches below. You face west–perfect for catching sunsets. Clean white sheets and a fluffy duvet line the queen size bed in the middle of the room and the ensuite bathroom gleams with a porcelain bathtub and standing shower–the latter of which has one of those massive shower heads that makes the water fall like rain.

You wish it was enough to ease your dejection. But all you can think about is the person you're supposed to be sharing it with.

You remind yourself, again, that you're not supposed to be thinking of him.

If only it were that easy.

-

You spend the afternoon getting settled, reading for a while on your balcony before taking a stroll around the resort to get a lay of the land. You do your best to enjoy being alone, letting the sounds of Fleetwood Mac's second album soundtrack your exploring as you breathe in the warm, salty air.

You wonder if you should have asked Joel to join you, almost feeling guilty that you hadn't. Your parents have each other, but Joel's just as alone as you are. Maybe he doesn't want to be.

Ultimately, you decide, he's not your responsibility, even if it almost feels that way. Maybe it's just because he'd been so...there for you on that stupid flight. No one's been that kind to you in a while. You don't know what to do with it.

You put it out of your mind and eventually find yourself sitting on the sandy beach, watching the blue waves come and go, allowing their steady swells to distract your restless mind. You're not sure how long you stay there, working to think of anything other than the reason you're so alone here, but when the sky starts to turn from blue to orange, the sun fading over the horizon, you decide it's probably time to go dress for dinner.

-

It's at dinner that you're forced to confront a rather upsetting truth:

Joel Miller is kind of fucking gorgeous.

You'd been avoiding thinking it during the flight, on the shuttle to the resort or during room check-ins. Had tried with all your might not to admit it to yourself even when you'd overheard him turning on that seemingly natural charm for every busboy and server who so much as greeted him with a smile.

But now, making his way towards your table in his patterned linen button-down and dark wash jeans, curls fluffy after clearly having taken a shower, tan skin glowing under the fairy lights that line the restaurant's patio as he respectfully shakes the hand of the host, you can't fight reality.

Joel Miller is beautiful.

Even in the nice dress you'd thrown on, you feel somewhat meager in comparison.

He seems genuinely delighted to be there, your fears of him turning out to be a buzzkill clearly in vain. He's grinning as he approaches you and your parents, his wide brown eyes constantly taking in the views around him. The patio overlooks the ocean, its clear water black under the night's sky. The sound of rushing waves backdrops the gentle music playing through the sound system as Joel takes his seat, the one beside you. You're shocked to find your heart flutters as he does.

Your parents had opted to skip the buffet for The First Dinner, opting for the restaurant option instead. Better food, sure, but way more opportunities for awkward conversation.

"Real nice spot," Joel comments reverently to your father. "I mean, seriously, real nice."

"It's not too bad," your dad agrees with a thoughtful nod. You can hear the "but" coming. "Pool's a bit small. And you two have a much nicer view than us. We should've all splurged on the ocean-view."

"You wanna switch?" Joel offers without hesitance.

The guy's too polite for his own good.

"Oh, goodness, no!" your mother insists, to your relief. She places a hand on your father's shoulder. "Our room's great. He just wants something to complain about."

You smirk, sipping at your water knowingly. It's so typical of your dad to nitpick every little thing; he's been like that as long as you can remember. Every time you moved houses or stayed at a motel, every time you so much as ate a restaurant. Always something to comment on, always something that could be improved. Your mom's always been there to reign him in, even if you think she probably agrees with his assessments. She just knows better when to grin and bear it.

They compliment each other pretty well, which is probably how they've managed to last so long.

"We're just so thrilled you could make it, Joel," your mom adds.

"M'just glad I got the invite, ma'am," Joel says sincerely.

"Better you than that extra room goin' to waste," your dad grumbles.

Joel just smiles. You can feel his eyes on you as you wring your hands together, all too aware of why that particular room had been up for grabs. You wonder how much Joel knows. You're grateful he hasn't asked you about it yet.

The server appears to take your drink orders then. You don't have to think too hard about it; you're on vacation at an all-inclusive resort and you have every intention of getting drunk at every possible opportunity, even if you are with your parents.

You order some fruity cocktail and your mom orders a bottle of pinot grigio for the table.

"I'll get the same as her," Joel says to your surprise, nodding in your direction. The server doesn't question it, just smiles and flits off to the bar.

"You want the Blue Lagoon?" you ask him with a skeptical chuckle.

"I'm tryna get in the spirit," he grins. His voice is low, just for you, his gravelly timbre drowned out to anyone else by the sounds of crashing waves.

"What would you normally get?" you ask, genuinely curious.

"Whiskey, maybe a beer," he shrugs.

"Shit, well, if you hate this, don't blame me."

"Oh, I'll definitely be blamin' you." But he says it with a playful smirk that has you smiling back at him, once again utterly charmed. Maybe you are starting to see what the flight attendant had seen.

The drinks come fast, the bar clearly a well-oiled machine despite the restaurant now steadily filling up with hungry vacationers. The Blue Lagoon is about exactly what'd you expected, obnoxiously colourful and muddled with flecks of fresh fruit, tied together with a ridiculous twisty straw. You and Joel share a small grin when the server places the glasses in front of the two of you.

"Here's to a great week," your dad toasts the table as you all raise your drinks accordingly. "To having fun–" He directs that comment at you and Joel specifically– "and focusing on ourselves."

"Cheers," your mom and Joel say in unison.

You, meanwhile, just smile tightly and avert your gaze to the white tablecloth, unappreciative of the subtle reminder that you're here without Chris.

You take a cautious sip of your drink, finding it tastes more like sugar than anything else. You catch Joel's eye as he takes his first sip, watching as his face contorts in mild disgust.

"No good?" you press him.

"It's uh..." he starts, unsure of how to go on, like maybe he doesn't want to hurt your feelings.

"It's okay, you can say it, it's fucking disgusting," you admit with a laugh, taking another sip just to be sure.

"Cheers to that," Joel grits, tapping his glass against yours and taking another reluctant gulp. You do the same, both of your grimacing against the sickly flavour.

"It'll get the job done, anyway," you remark and you're sure Joel knows what you mean, that it'll be enough to get you tipsy enough to forget your dour circumstances.

"Fuckin' right," he grunts with a knowing cock of his eyebrows.

He doesn't smile when he says it and you think it might be the first sign he's given that he's interested in the same kind of escape as you while he's here.

He gives you another cheers and downs his drink in one go. You mimic him instinctively, more to get rid of the nasty thing than anything else.

"Take it easy, you crazy animals," your dad laughs but it's all in good fun.

You stick to wine after that while Joel switches to beer.

Dinner is nice, big portions and fresh produce. The day of travelling seemingly had everyone starved and you're pleased to find that the time passes faster and easier than you would have expected. Conversation flows lightly, mostly discussions of amenities and how each of you plans to use the one free "luxury" activity you have included in your resort package.

"I'm thinking couples massages for us," your mom suggests with a hand on your father's forearm.

"No thanks," you respond grumpily. Anything but that. Maybe paragliding or something. Something to actually get your blood pumping. You go in and out of considering the possibilities until the server clears your plates.

Of course, it takes until dessert and a second bottle of wine for your mom to bring up the one thing you don't want to discuss.

"Well, Chris sure missed out, huh, honey?" she jokes, all too casually.

You instantly tense just at the mention of his name.

"Mom."

"I'm just saying!" Her voice is several octaves too high as she gestures around the restaurant and out towards the open sea. "Look at all this! The views, the food. You two would've had a great time."

You burn in your chair, catching the way Joel awkwardly takes a sip of his beer and looks away, visibly uncomfortable with the turn the conversation has taken. Not as uncomfortable as you, though.

"Can we please not talk about this?" you say through your teeth, seething. Three glasses of wine and she's already shattering your plans to avoid thinking about him.

"Aren't I allowed to be a little angry?" she pushes back. "He was such a nice boy. I mean, before..."

"Honey..." your dad warns her. Finally.

You roll your eyes. Yeah, real fucking nice, he was. "You can be angry all you want, mom, I just don't need to hear about it."

She shrugs, raising two hands innocently like she can't see the harm in her words. Joel glances at you as you cross your arms over your chest and shake your head, annoyed. That same concern he'd shown you on the plane is clear on his face now.

Your dad breaks the sudden tension with a question directed at Joel.

"Hey, how's your brother? Staying out of trouble?"

Joel clears his throat, seeming grateful for the change of topic. So are you. You sip your wine and stare out into the dark night, fuming, only half-listening to Joel talk about his brother Tommy's new wife and the baby they have on the way.

-

After dinner, your parents decide to take a walk along the beach while you and Joel opt to head straight back to your rooms, both of you exhausted.

It's quiet as you make your way back through the resort, your brain a bit foggy from alcohol and lack of sleep. Not to mention the sting of frustration and sadness still brewing under your skin from your mom's mentioning of Chris. The buzz you have on only seems to make you more emotional and you find yourself fighting to keep it together as you shuffle into the elevator, up to the ninth floor with Joel.

You're just about to tap your key cards to enter your respective rooms when Joel speaks up.

"Hey...uh, you alright?" he asks quietly. Just like he had on the plane. He's looking down at you with concern again, eyes raking over your face like he can see the emotion stirring there.

Joel Miller, you realize, is an observant man.

You shake your head. "I'm fine."

It's a lie but he doesn't call you out on it, thankfully. Doesn't pry at all, in fact. Just gives you that smirk of his that's already starting to feel familiar and unlocks his door.

"Night," he says, voice low.

"Goodnight, Joel," you say shyly, your hand around the doorknob as you take in one last sight of him. His skin is dewy from the alcohol and tropical heat, eyes alight in a way that inexplicably has your spine tingling. His shirt is unbuttoned just enough to reveal a peek of his tan chest, the skin of his thick neck gleaming in the hotel hallway lighting.

You could be wrong, but while you look him up and down, you're sure you can catch him do the same to you. Your breath catches and you quickly duck into your room.

Another truth becomes clear in that moment:

You like Joel. You're not sure in what capacity yet. You're definitely attracted to him, an unexpected and potentially problematic fact you're still coming to terms with. But there's something about him. You like that he seems...kind. Sweet and patient with you in spite of all your anxiety and general gloom. That he doesn't ask many questions but somehow never seems disinterested in you. It has you feeling almost warm in spite of yourself, the tears that had been threatening to spill over just a moment before drying in your eyes as you crash into the big, cushy bed.

Maybe this vacation won't be a total loss after all.

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[covetyou]

when we begin again

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist ⋆ series masterlist

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader rating: Explicit (18+ only!) warnings: dub-con (reader was paying a debt, less so now), oral (f receiving), fingering, masturbation, thigh slaps (three small ones), small description of a hand injury, cumplay/cumshot/cum marking, praise kink, maybe Joel has a bit of a pain kink idk, possessive slutty Joel, derogatory names ("whore"), drug reference, unspecified age gap word count: 4.1k summary: He wasn't one to lick his wounds, but after a deal gone wrong Joel finds something he'd much rather put his mouth on.

A/N: and here we be, the first of the SWAT oneshots that serves as a sort of bridge between the main series and the few ideas I have brewing and ready to go. This is a whole re-write in less than 24 hours because the original fic I was almost finished with felt too me and not enough SWAT. no one needs sad girl monologuing about life and death and grief with their porn. you're welcome.

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"Hrrrmph!"

Joel's lips crash into yours the moment you step inside. One moment he's running an anxious hand through his graying hair, and the next he's making quick work of the space between you, striding across the floor to grab you and plant his lips firmly on yours.

It's not what you'd come here for, funnily enough. You wanted to talk and, glorious as it was to have your lips against his, you couldn't talk like this.

Wretching yourself away is stupid. After everything you know it's stupid, yet you do it anyway.

"Joel -"

Cupping your head in his hands his lips find yours again before you can get another word out, teeth knocking together as he licks into your mouth, and you briefly lose yourself, turning to putty in his arms, ready to sculpt into whatever he sees fit that day. Before the bonelessness takes hold completely, you pull back once more.

Searching his face you look for the sudden need, the sudden rush, the desire to kiss you and have your face in his hands that hadn't been there any other time until now. You see nothing, his dark eyes refusing to meet yours as his hands find themselves at the front of your pants, deftly unbuttoning them before you can even question him. Before he can unzip them, your hands find his, holding him gently in place.

Joel freezes, hands stilling on your zipper, and he pulls a small, sharp breath of air in through his nose as if you hurt him, wounded him by daring to slow him down.

"You want me to stop?" he growls.

"No, I just -"

"Then quit your complainin'."

You do. Briefly. Until the zip snags as he pulls on it again and he curses in frustration.

"Let me do it." Until last time, which wasn't really like any other time, he'd always asked you to strip yourself, made you strip in front of him before he touched out. His clumsy hands on your clothes felt alien, and as it was he was being too slow, even in his desperation.

"You not want me to touch you or somethin'?" he snaps, frowning down at your pants now as he fiddles with the zipper, trying to get it to budge.

"I never said that."

"Then quit your fuckin' complainin'."

And this time you really do when you finally see the tremble in his hands and the blood on his knuckles, and it occurs to you that maybe you did hurt him, that grabbing his hand to stop his frantic movement caused him pain.

Joel hadn't been in a rush before you got here. He'd been the opposite, pacing the floor, willing himself to slow down, calm down. And it had been working - each turn he could feel himself relaxing, all the pent up energy from a deal gone to absolute shit steadily leaving his bones. But your delicate knock on the door had sent his blood boiling in a different way. He'd fought with himself to ignore it, to tell you through the door to fuck off for another day, but the idea of something warm and wet and compliant to soothe his aches and pains was too enticing to pass up. Making you in particular moan and writhe and give in to him was even more impossible to let go. In the end, the door had practically let you in all on its own.

So when his hands pull at your zipper again, yanking it in frustration, you will it down, beg with your mind for it to not snag again, and you sigh with relief when it doesn't.

In one fluid movement your pants are unceremoniously pulled to your knees, and Joel is crowding you back against his dining table, rough and aching hands on your hips to guide you. Your exposed ass collides with the solid wood, and he's pressing into you, the hardening lump in the front of his jeans poking into the softness of your belly. You can feel the frustration in him and how it twitches through his fingertips, swells in his cock, and each time you feel how the need wins out over frustration as he grinds into you, latching him onto you as his veins hunt for some kind of relief.

Another yank of your jeans and he's pulled them to your ankles, stepping on them as he pushes you to sit on the table. Your jeans stay behind, dragging your shoes from your feet with a dull thud, and Joel kicks them away. Winters in Boston are bitter, none moreso than this one, and your frozen ass barely registers the feeling of the wooden surface as you sit on it, still kitted out in your hat, coat and gloves. When you move to pull them off his hand pushes between your breasts, knocking you back onto the table. A second later there's a harsh scrape of a chair across the floor and, just as you manage to tug one glove off, he's yanking you down the table toward him.

You sit up and look down where he sits between your legs, enraptured by the softness of your skin beneath hands that glide up and down your thighs, gripping and squeezing the soft flesh more gently than the wounds on his knuckles suggest he's capable of. He's holding off, you realize then as you watch his hands, trying to slow himself from taking what he needs.

Tossing your hat to the side you lift your hips, shimmying your panties down just enough for Joel's fingers to work them down the rest of the way. Sitting back in his chair he looks between your legs, and you know that he can see what you've been feeling since you stepped onto his street. By this point, the response was Pavlovian. Each step closer to Joel's apartment you could feel yourself getting wetter and wetter, your cheeks feeling hotter and hotter. You wonder if one day he'd stop having this affect on you, or if he'd stop responding to it exactly how you knew he would, but with a knowing quirk in his brow, you know that day is not today.

"Fuck me, sweetheart. You sure no one else been down here today?"

Shaking your head, you manage one more look at him before he's pulling your legs up, hooking them over his shoulders and diving into your slick folds with a firm lick.

"N-no," you gasp, bucking slightly into his face with your legs spread over his broad shoulders. He should know that you haven't, that you wouldn't, but you think he just needs to hear the confirmation, needs to know that this thing in front of him right now is just his for the taking, and so you let him have it. "Haven't even touched myself today."

He moans into your cunt, cold nose pressing into the softness of your mound as his tongue laps and laves you. With a slurp, having cleaned up the arousal that had leaked out of you on your way here, he looks up at you, ticking his head to the side and nodding down to your bare pussy. "Well, shit, looks like all o' this is just for me, huh?"

There's no air left in your lungs for you to respond when his tongue circles your clit and makes you groan into the cold air. Whatever he needs, if this is how he was going to take it, you were damn well going to let him take everything you had.

And so, pinning you to the table he begins to devour your cunt, licking messily all over you, coating you in his saliva. He pulls you open with his arms hooked over your thighs, spreading your lips further for him. The chill hits you for just one second when you're fully spread to the cold air, but his mouth soon descends on you and all you can see are his eyes and the curve of his nose, his mouth hidden as he buries it into you.

You shuffle your jacket off, the room suddenly feeling much warmer than when you first entered it, and earn yourself a small slap to your thigh, making you squeak out a yelp of surprise, when Joel's mouth involuntarily pulls from your cunt.

"You gonna keep still? Or you gonna keep fuckin' wrigglin'?"

You shift again, biting your cheek as you test him. Channelling his energy into eating your cunt is working wonders for him and he seems calmer already, but that doesn't stop him lightly slapping your thigh again, shooting a warning look up at you.

"Got a way to keep you still if you can't fuckin' do it by yourself, sweetheart," he warns and, as if sensing you're about to test him again, he unhooks one arm from you and pushes a finger straight into your wet heat.

You moan, gasping again when he sucks your clit for good measure.

"Huh?" He's coaxing you, trying to get you to wiggle again and earn yourself another surprise. Not one to push your luck you simply moan, letting your back arch slightly when he begins to move his finger inside you. "What was that?"

"Fu-nothing. Just - fuck - so good."

You mind is liquid, seeping out of your ears and making a mess of your jacket when he licks you again, dancing the tip of two fingers around your entrance before sliding both into you. If it hurts him, he doesn't let on, but you can tell it does something to him by the groan he makes into your cunt as his fingers curl in you, making your walls clamp and twitch around his fingers.

"That's it," he murmurs. "Like gettin' this pussy ate, don't you?"

"Mm."

"Thought so. Needy fuckin' pussy. Not just your mouth that wants to be kissed is it, she needs it too?"

"Oh god, yes please, she needs it too."

And you can feel it, the moment he switches from eating your cunt to kissing it. You know the shapes, the trails he kisses, the way his tongue dances. You'd committed it to memory the past week, made yourself come at the thought of his mouth, the scratch of his beard, the feel of him beneath your fingertips, touching him as much as he was touching you. His mouth and the memory work together then, bringing you so impossibly close to coming you can feel as your moans leave you more high pitched, how you push into him, chasing and chasing that feeling that's right there -

"See," he says, stopping your orgasm in it's tracks when he pulls back, a knowing smile on his face. He pushes another finger into you too, watching as your legs twitch open wider to take him, the rim of your pussy spreading across his fingers with slicked up ease. "Don't even gotta stuff your mouth, just gotta keep this thing right here stuffed and suddenly you're actin' all nice and polite."

There's a brief hope in you that he'll go for a fourth finger, stretch you out across his sore knuckles and ready you for his hard cock, but the hope fizzles away, cast to the side and forgotten, the second his mouth joins his hand back between your thighs.

You're almost there again already, the crest of the orgasm he stole from you a moment ago barely behind you. His tongue laps rhythmically, never ceasing, and his breaths come in heavy, fanning across your folds as he feasts on you, fingers pumping so deep you're sloshing around them. You're hot, so impossibly hot in spite of the cold. You want to shed more layers, bare yourself for him, but you're so close and he's getting you there fast, goading you on with each satisfied groan into your cunt.

"That's it," he mumbles into your twitching pussy. "Fuck that's it sweetheart, come on my fingers."

You can feel it build, Joel's mouth engulfing you and lapping at everything you have to give. The beginnings of your orgasm start to shudder through you, your legs stuttering with every flick of his tongue. Your back arches from the table, toes curling in thick socks as your heels press into his back, pushing him into you. And then it hits you.

The coil in your belly snaps, letting loose an orgasm that swamps all your senses. Held down by Joel's muscular arm and pinned by the fingers hooked in you, you buck into his mouth. Quivering thighs have clamped around his ears, attempting to draw up and pull back as you squirm in his firm grip. You're screaming too, you think, a breathy high pitched shout of his name that you just can't hold back, that gets shakier and shakier the longer it goes on.

And it does go on. Joel doesn't stop, determined to wring from you as much as he can. His fingers are locked inside of you, forced to stillness by the pulsing in your pussy. Still, he can flex them, curling his pruning fingertips into you while he tongues your clit, groaning with each twitch of it beneath his tongue. You know that sound, how it's gotten deeper and more desperate as he's devoured you. It's a sound that tells you he's hard, that he needs relief and will be desperate for it the second he pulls away from you. That thought only makes you come harder, and by the time your cunt has stopped its erratic pulsing around Joel's fingers and you've fallen limp, deaf, and winded against his table, he's already standing, pushing the chair back and letting it crash to the floor.

Dragging his fingers from you he pushes between your legs, pulling his jeans open as best he can, wincing when he rasps his knuckles on the fabric a little too harshly. You reach for him, wanting to help, wanting to be a relief for him like he is for you.

"Let me -"

But he knocks your hand away, tugging down his jeans a moment later, his cock springing free and knocking into your thigh before he can capture it in his fist. It's hot against you, burning and dripping, likely feeling as achey as his knuckles do.

You expect him to plunge into you immediately, to take advantage of the position between your thighs and your pussy still fluttering with want at the sight of him, but he doesn't. Instead you watch for a moment as he strokes himself, the bloody scrapes on his knuckles contrasting harshly with the smooth, solid plains of his cock.

"Your hand, Joel, I can -"

"Fuck, my hand," he growls, resting his unmarred hand on your though to hold you still.

Your legs fall open further, his touch light on your thigh barely applying any pressure to open you up for him. Still, he doesn't take the clear route in, and you're rocking forward trying to notch his tip on your entrance just as the rough scrape of his knuckles drags across your sensitive inner thigh.

"Please put it in me," you finally beg, needing to feel the deep stretch of his cock as it pierces you.

"Nuh-uh, sweetheart, you get what you're given and you be grateful. You gonna take it?"

"Yes," you say quickly, following on with a small, "Please."

He groans at your eagerness to please. Making a man like Joel desire you so much he can't help but moan, just with small words and gasps of your own, makes you feel a power you've never had before and your eyes just about roll back in your head.

"Use your hands, show me that hole," he demands, giving you a little space to reach down and spread yourself for him. Your pussy is leaking, still, you can feel the slick spread on your fingers as you spread yourself for him. "That's it, hold yourself open. Fuck she's still twitchin'. Fuuuck. That's it."

His strokes become longer, more fluid, as he stares at your aching, empty cunt. You still want him inside, would do anything to get him there, but the desire in his eyes tells you he's getting exactly what he wants right now, and you almost want that more.

Tilting his head back as he strokes his cock with pussy drenched fingers, his bruised knuckles rub against your cunt with every stroke. Holding yourself open is easy, but keeping your legs from snapping shut each time his fist rubs your clit feels almost impossible. As if noticing, Joel pulls back, looking down where your cunt is spread open for it.

"That's it, keep it open. Good girl."

You know you're glistening for him, he'd eaten you so fiercely his saliva had been dripping from you, mixing with your own slick as you came on his tongue. He can see the evidence of it now, and the evidence of what his words do to you at the tell tale twitch of your cunt at his praise.

You can't take it any more and you beg in desperation again. "Please put it in, please."

It does nothing but earn you another soft slap to your thigh, which he rubs, grabbing the meat of you and squeezing in his large hand as his cock twitches and drips in his damaged one.

"No," he grunts, breath coming in more ragged now. "Want you to fuckin' wear me. Know who's pussy this is?"

"Yours."

"Fuck," he hisses. "Yeah it is. Pussy's mine, sweetheart. Mine."

Gripping your thigh tighter he moves in closer again, his hand bumping your sensitive nub as he jerks so closely you slick up his knuckles, soothing the soreness and jerking your clit in tandem.

"Oh fuck, that's it, sweetheart. Keep it just like that, show me that pussy. Show me," he's saying, over and over as he watches you.

A second later he's looking up, staring straight into your eyes and pinning you there on the table with them. You nod, words stuck in your throat when all you want to scream is for him to come, to cover you in it, to claim your pussy just like he needs, just like you want.

The sneer on his lips tells you he wants it too, and before you know it his tip is pressing firmly to your clit, jerking it with every frantic movement of his fist, his hips thrusting minutely into it like he can't control it, can't hold it back any more. And neither can you. The pressure and the movement on your clit is too much and you're coming again, so soon after the first it brings tears to your eyes.

"Ohhh, f-Joel, pleasecomeonme."

Looking down where he's pressed to you, he hisses a breath in through his teeth, holding it for just one second until it pushes out of him with a deep, shakey moan, cum exploding out of his tip and coating your folds, dripping through you until the last spurt coats your mound and he's left breathless.

You flop onto the table, grateful for the padding your coat offers your bones as you collapse into the wood. He's leaning over you, finally releasing his grip on your thigh and running a thumb across his mouth, cock still in his aching fist. Using the oversensitive tip, he smears the cum into your bare cunt and the insides of your thighs, catching your eyes just in time to watch them turn from glassy to rattling in your head, your mouth in a small O when he jerks your clit with his head, making you both gasp.

"You did say this pussy was mine," he says, letting a small wry smile tug at his cheeks. He pulls back then, letting go of his spent cock to run his fingers through your cum covered folds, scooping up a drop with his thumb.

Leaning leaning over you, he swipes his cum slicked thumb against your lips. You suck on it, tasting him, salty and bitter and sweet and Joel exploding on your tongue all at once. You want to thank him for it, but he pulls your mouth open with his thumb and pushes two fingers in, making you clean them with broad soothing strokes. You're careful not to catch him with your teeth, still aware of the wounds on his knuckles as you taste yourself off of his cum soaked fingers. If his hand looks like that, you wonder what the person on the receiving end looks like - the thought shouldn't make your cunt twitch, you know it shouldn't, that it's likely sick and twisted and wrong, but it does, and you moan around his fingers just has he pulls them from your mouth.

When your eyes flick to his lips, he smirks, knowing what you want without even asking. Cupping your face with his bruised, wet fingers, he makes you look at him, waits for the desperation in your eyes to ramp up to the point of frustration before he gives it to you.

Just a peck, that's all he gives, soft lips and the tickle of his facial hair so fleeting you could have blinked and missed it, before picking up the chair with a groan and settling back in it with a deep sigh, inspecting his wrinkled fingers. They'd spent so long buried in you the tips are starting to pucker, the ache that your warmth had soothed slowly crawling back down his knuckles.

Your mind is slowly pulling itself together, slowly crawling back into your ears and taking root in your skull again. Joel's eyes scan across you before finding something apparently considerably more interesting on the floor by his dining table.

"Where the fuck you shoppin' this late in the day?" he says with a frown, and you sit up, following his gaze to the floor.

Your pants are in a tangle, a sprawled mess on the floor with your shoes from where Joel had dragged them from your body and there, next to them in a messy pile, is a small stack of cards that you'd brought with you.

"Oh."

Right. You came here to talk to him, to renegotiate your arrangement, before Joel had needed more from you than a chat in that first moment through the door and pushed all thought of conversation from your mind. You clear your throat and square your shoulders, pushing away the last haze of orgasm and look back up at him. "I'm not. They're for you."

With a groan, he bends to pick them up, counting them as he stands and then raising them to you with a question on his lips.

"What're these for?"

"For the pills," you say, like it's obvious, like you hadn't been using your body as payment for months.

"I've already taken my payment," he says with a look to your cum coated cunt. "'n' if you wanna pay me for your daddies pills, you know it's more than this, right?"

"I can take 'em back if you don't want 'em. I just figured we can pay a bit now and, y'know... I wanna come here because I wanna come here, for me, not just for pills all the time." It sounded better when you rehearsed it in your head this morning, but coming out of your mouth now it sounds ridiculous.

He looks at you for a moment, taking you in, sat pantsless and dripping on his dining table.

"Y'know, there's a simpler solution to this than dumpin' cards on me without warnin', right?" If there is, you haven't thought of it. "Stop only comin' by when you need pills." Oh.

"If you want somethin' else, you know where I am. Now, if you don't wanna whore yourself for meds anymore, if you wanna be respectable, then that's fine. I'll take your cards. But I ain't takin' all of 'em. I'm keepin' these," he says raising a few cards up to you. "And you're takin' these," he pushes the remaining ones into your hand along with a small bag of pills he slips out of his pocket and you frown. You already weren't offering him enough.

"Now I get a nice respectable, good girl to fuck, and you get to pretend you're not a whore. Win-win."

"I'm not a whore," you insist, rolling your eyes, even though you know it's not exactly true.

Joel simply shrugs, shaking out your jeans and throwing them on the table next to you before placing his hand by your ass, thumb stroking delicately along the soft skin there, and leaning down toward you. He tilts your head up to face him, his nose catching yours as your eyes meet his.

"Whore or not, sweetheart," he smirks. "Pussy's still mine."

You weren't going to argue with him there.

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#joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #pedro pascal characters #joel miller/reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #fic: SWAT #coveted fics

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

Sweaty

week 2 of the Winter Writing Challenge

prompt: "I totally definitely did not just watch you chop wood outside.“ 

Summary: Things.... escalate after Joel caught you watching him chopping some wood outside in the snow.

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem. reader

Wordcount: 2.1k

Rating: E

Warnings: some domestic fluff, flirting, smut (unprotected sex), f masturbation, cum play, some dirty talk, Joel Miller really being into readers tits, humour I guess?

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Ellie was hovering behind you. 

„Stop it,“ you hummed, your hand steady as you tried yourself on the first decorative frosting of cookies in… twenty years. 

„I’m not doing anything,“ she whined. You could feel her breath on your upper arm. Turning you head to the side you narrowed her eyes at her. 

„I wanna waaaatch. It’s so cool,“ she pouted. 

You sighed. 

„Okay. But you gotta give me some space. I haven’t done this in a long time,“ you said. She grinned, taking a step to the side. 

Ellie had asked you for help.

She wanted to do something nice for Dina and asked you for advice. You ended up offering to teach her to bake some of Dina’s favourite cookies and then help decorating them with whatever you could find in the community kitchen. 

Turned out Ellie was not as creative with cookie decorating.

She got frustrated pretty quickly, leaving you to do most of the decorating, while she cleaned up the kitchen. But now she was finished and while you still hated people watching you when you worked, you couldn’t help but smile at the thought of the girl standing next to you. 

Things did not start out like that with the two of you. 

You had moved into the house they had apparently occupied when they came here the first time, leaving Ellie calling you House thief for the first months after meeting. 

More than once you had offered to move, the house being way to big just for you alone, but Maria and Joel had insisted you stayed. 

Ellie and Joel had moved into the house across from you instead, leaving you with your official first neighbours. 

They both did not talk much in the beginning, nor did you see much of them. 

Sometimes you saw them leave the house together in the early morning when you were just finishing getting dressed. Sometimes you saw Joel sitting alone outside of his porch, a guitar in his lap, his eyes far away. 

You hadn’t really talked to either of them until a month after they joined the community and Ellie had somehow managed to break you kitchen window as she played outside. 

Joel had made her say sorry before he offered to fix the window up for you. 

And it seemed like Joel found reasons to come and see you after that alone. Without Ellie around, just him and you. 

Your sink leaked? Joel would fix it. 

Creaky floorboards? Fixed within a day. 

Your back was tense, because you had spent all day cleaning out the stables? Joel’s big hands could help. 

Thinking back, him offering to massage you had been smooth as hell, but you were just too thankful and exhausted that day to notice just how much he had been flirting with you. Or maybe you were generally not used to people being very interested in you. 

Hell, to this day you went all shy when he told you all the things he wanted to do with you (or to you).

It had now officially been nine months since you and Joel started dating, and three months since both Joel and Ellie moved into your house. 

You were putting the finishing touches to the cookies, when you heard the door open and close, followed from a long released deep sigh, that brought a smile to your lips. 

„Joel’s home!“ Ellie said just before he walked into the kitchen. You looked over your shoulder, smiling at him. 

„Though patrol?“ You asked. 

„Stupid fucking newcomers want to play hero just to get knocked of their horses,“ he grumbled, walking over to you. He kissed your cheek, smiling at you. 

„Ugh, gross,“ Ellie gagged and you rolled your eyes. 

„That’s gross? Remind me who asked me to help her bake cookies for the girl she’s crushing on again?“ You sing sang and Ellie blushed. 

„Shut up. You’re like ancient…. And I do not have a crush,“ she mumbled, grabbing a cookie to hide her smile before she sprinted out of the kitchen and you heard her footsteps walk up the stairs. 

Joel’s arms wrapped around you from behind, his chin resting on your shoulder. You brought one cookie up, feeding it to him. 

He moaned softly, enjoying the taste. 

„How about you leave some of that frosting for later?“ He asked, licking his lips. You set your frosting tools down, turning in his arms with an eyebrow raised. 

„To do what exactly?“ You pursed your lips.

He leaned in, kissing you softly. 

„Guess you’ll have to wait to find out,“ he winked, pecking your lips again before he took a step back. 

„I’ll get some wood from outside and then I’ll take a shower,“ he said.

„Okay,“ you smiled.

Half an hour later you had put all cookies away, Ellie had grabbed and packed the ones for Dina and left for the birthday sleepover party and Joel was still outside. 

With the intention to look for him outside you made your way towards the front door, grabbing his extra winter jacket to stay warm, and then walked towards the back of the house. 

It was a chilly December day, snow shovelled high everywhere, yet there he was. Joel Miller, stripped off of his flannel and only wearing his grey undershirt, swinging an axe down on a log of wood, splitting it in half with what looked like ease, the wood seemingly melting against the force of the blade. 

You stopped in your tracks, your feet seemingly glued to the snowy ground beneath you, watching the man you loved split some firewood. His hand gripping the handle of the axe, the muscles of his arms flexing every time he split another log of wood. His shirt clinging to his sweaty chest.

You swallowed, your eyes tracing the veins of his arms you loved to brush your fingers on whenever you had the chance to. 

You kept watching him, for what felt like hours (or days) but probably only minutes, fascinated (and turned on) by the sheer strength of his body. 

Fuck, your man was hot. 

Joel set the axe down, his hand brushing his hair back as he groaned, brushing the sweat that had started trickling down his temples away. When he looked up he found you standing there, watching him. 

He tilted his head and you flushed, your teeth catching your upper lip between them, nervous. 

And yeah, still turned on. 

It only took seconds for Joel to access just why you were looking at him like you wanted to jump him, his left eyebrow raising in question, a smirk playing on the corner of his lips. 

Not wanting to embarrass yourself by more ogling you turned around, intending to walk back into the house, when you slipped, crying out in surprise, but before you could fall to the ground, hands wrapped around your upper arms, keeping your upright. 

Both of his arms wrapped around you from behind then, one of his hands on your stomach, keeping you close to his body. His nose in your hair. 

He smelled of leather, nature and sweat. 

„Careful there sweetheart,“ he whispered and you shivered. 

„Can’t just run from me after undressing me with your pretty eyes…“ he kissed your neck. You closed your eyes, tilting your head to give him more space. 

„I.. I wasn’t…“ you began to lie but he hushed you. 

„You weren’t watching me? Getting a little turned on?“

„… No?“ You gasped, feeling his fingers play with the waistband of the sweatpants you had on, having left the jacket unzipped as you left the house. 

„So… your little pussy isn’t dripping for me right now?“

You scoffed. 

„My little pussy is always wet for you, baby,“ you smiled softly, closing your eyes. 

„God damn right she is,“ you felt him grin against your neck. 

He had you stripped down within seconds, making you lay with your legs spread for him on your bed while he got out of his clothes, having you whimpering when he pulled his belt of the loops of his jeans with one fluent movement. 

„Touch yourself baby,“ he said, getting his shirt off. 

You brought one of your hands straight between your legs, playing with your clit. 

„Fuck, you’re so fucking sexy,“ he groaned, making quick work of his pants and underwear, shrugging them off. He spit into his hand before he wrapped his hand around his cock, pumping it slowly as he watched you. 

You moaned. 

„Can see how wet you are. Can smell you. Put two fingers inside,“ he said, his voice raspy and deep. Sinful. 

You obeyed, pushing two of your fingers inside, whimpering softly. 

„Fuck yeah,“ he hummed.

The bed dipped and Joel’s hands were on either of your knees, his gaze fixed on how you were fucking yourself with your fingers. 

„Wanna fuck you hard,“ he groaned and you moaned. 

„Do it,“ you sighed, close to your first orgasm. 

His hand wrapped around your wrist, pulling your fingers out of your pussy and into his mouth, his tongue cleaning your cum off, humming as if It was a five course meal. 

„Fucking delicious. Best pussy I ever tasted,“ he winked and you chuckled.

„Ready for me sweetheart?“ He asked, kneeling between your legs. He notched his cock against your pussy, using his hand to slip it over your clit, playing with it. 

„I’m so fucking horny for you. Just fuck me,“ you whimpered. 

„Gonna make your tits jiggle for me,“ he winked, before he lined his cock up and filled you in one hard thrust, both of you moaning.

„Oh fuck,“ you cried out. He did not give you much time to get used to the size of his cock, starting to fuck you in quick, hard movements. You stretched your arms above your body against the mattress, pushing your chest out towards him, your tits moving every time he thrusts into you. 

„So god damn wet,“ Joel groaned, pumping into you, moving your whole body with his forceful thrusts. The headboard was hitting the wall and you were thankful Ellie would be out of the house for the whole night.

„Fucking love your tits,“ he rasped and you playfully wiggled your chest, making him groan.

„Not gonna last long today. Touch that clit for me,“ he said and you did. Your hand back between your legs, parting two fingers to feel where he was filling you before you began to circle your clit, the combination of him fucking you and playing with your clit leaving you reaching your orgasm in record time, crying out his name. 

„Fuck,“ he groaned, pumping into you a handful more times before he pulled out, jerking himself off until he released a long groan, coming all over your stomach and tits.

„Mmmmhhh…“ you hummed, your eyes closed as you panted for breath. 

When your eyes opened Joel still had his hand wrapped around his cock, his eyes burning into you. Letting go of his cock he brought both of his hand down on your body, smearing his cum all over your tits and stomach, massaging it in. 

„You really like tits, huh?“ You asked and he smiled, almost shyly 

„Really like your tits,“ he winked, using both of his hands to squeeze them. He groaned as he softly let himself fall down on top of you, his weight a welcome blanket, his head resting between your tits. 

„We gonna be all sticky,“ you mumbled, pulling one of your arms around him, your other hand brushing through his hair. 

„Don’t care. `s comfortable,“ he kissed your tit and you smiled. 

„All of this wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t ogled me like fresh meat outside,“ he said and you laughed. 

"I did not ogle!" you said.

"Uh huh. You totally did watch me watch chop firewood outside," Joel said smug.

"I totally definitely did not just watch you chop wood outside,“ you giggled.

"Sure sure," Joel hummed.

You laid there in each others embrace in comfortable silence for a moment.

„So us being sticky is now my fault?“ You asked after a while. 

„Jep,“ he kissed your tit again.

„I guess I can live with that,“ you said and you felt him moving a little on top of you until his lips wrapped around your nipple, sucking softly on it, making you sigh.  One of his hand was on your other tit, softly squeezing it.

You sucked your bottom lip between your teeth before a teasing grin came to your lips. 

„Imagine if these were full of milk,“ you teased and felt him still. 

„God fucking damn it, woman.“

#my fic #stephswinterwritingchallenge #Joel Miller #Joel Miller x fem. reader #Pedro pascal #Fanficion #fanfic #fan fiction #fan fic #tlou fanfiction #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut

[wileys-russo]

I jusr re-read Mrs. Williamson and the idea of rxLeah with Alessia as the little sister is something I can't get out of my head. So I have a suggestion, I thought about her usually being a little shit (like in the story) but then also being very protective of her older sister. Maybe r and Leah have a fight and Alessia is very protective but in a sweet way not a mean way towards Leah, more like pampering r but being firm in demanding an apology from Leah. Or something along those lines, would love to read something like thins from you! :)

mrs williamson ficlet, continuing on from here

alessia had answered your call as she usually would, with a sarcastic remark about never gaining back the minutes of her life you were about to drain her from. though the very second you'd spoken and she heard the way your voice cracked she was sitting bolt upright with a frown.

"what happened? are you okay? is the baby okay?" "the baby is fine. can you come over please?"

she was there in record time, grateful to have not been pulled over the way with the way she sped through the last two sets of lights before pulling into your driveway.

the first thing alessia noticed was the lack of your wifes car in the driveway and her eyebrows knitted together, grabbing her bag and kicking her door shut she jogged up the front steps.

you'd already opened the front door before she even reached it, and her features softened seeing your red puffy eyes clearly indicating you'd been crying. "whats happened then?" your younger sister pulled you into a tight hug, rubbing your back which was aching given you were now five months pregnant.

you only shook your head not able to even speak as alessia sighed, shuffling the two of you inside and closing the door as you let go of her. "where's leah?" alessia asked gently as she followed you into the kitchen, the scoff and roll of your eyes all she needed to know the blonde was clearly not in your good books.

"not here." you muttered, moving to grab two mugs from the cupboard as alessia appeared behind you. "i'll do it, sit down please." she shooed you away ignoring your protests, helping you sit down carefully on the lounge.

"shit you're huge now." she remarked bluntly as you struggled to take your hoodie off, the piercing glare sent her way having her eyes widen. "not like that! just, you know." alessia gestured awkwardly to her stomach, wincing as you continued to blankly stare at her.

"i'll get the tea!" she announced, darting back to the kitchen as you rolled your eyes and glanced down to your phone beside you which was lighting up with notifications, turning it over and not bothering to even look at them.

alessia returned and shot you a filthy look as you made a comment you were surprised she managed to carry both mugs in and not spill a drop, your younger sister notoriously clumsy.

"so dear sister. self care day?"

~

"is it supposed to feel sort of like its burning?" you questioned with a slight frown, touching your cheeks which were coated in a charcoal facemask alessia had gifted you ages ago and had remained untouched.

"yes! that means its working to get rid of all your wrinkles." alessia mumbled as you kicked her with a glare for the comment. "hey! you're messing up my artwork." the blonde scowled, tugging your foot back into her lap where she was painting your toenails having already done your nails.

"so will you tell me now what you and leah are fighting about?" your sister asked glancing up at you curiously, not having pushed you too much but still in the dark on why it was that your wife was nowhere to be found and you'd clearly been crying when she showed up.

though as you shook your head the striker sighed but again didn't push you, knowing better than to try and get information out of you that you clearly weren't ready to share.

despite how much of a kick she got from winding you up and messing with you this was one of those rare occasions you were grateful for her, and the quiet thank you mumbled to her was all she needed for a grin to settle into her features.

you feared she'd hold this against you for her own gain in the future but for now you were just relishing in her efforts to make you feel better, no matter how much you might argue the two of you were still incredibly close and despite being younger alessia had always been fiercely protective.

which is why when the door rang and she glanced over your head to see leahs car was now parked in the driveway alessia was quick to her feet, ordering you to let your nails dry and handing you some micellar wipes to remove the mask from your face.

"leah." your sister spoke dryly as she opened the door, the older girl caught off guard as she frowned. "alessia?" she answered with a raised eyebrow. "why are you here then?" the younger blonde challenged, effectively blocking the doorway as leah gave her a strange look.

"well because i live here. why exactly are you here less?" "i'm here because my heavily pregnant sister called me crying and upset, which i can only assume is your doing. so, come to apologise then?"

"did she tell you why she's upset?" leah narrowed her eyes trying to step inside as alessia protectively spread herself to further block the door. "she didn't need to." alessia quipped back causing leah to exhale deeply.

"babe!" leah cupped her hands and yelled out into the house making alessia roll her eyes. "what?" you hovered behind your sister, eyes slit into a glare and arms crossed over her chest.

"this is so stupid love. what have you done?" leah sighed as alessia scoffed. "what has she done?" the taller girl retorted as your hand fell to her shoulder gaining her attention.

"you left me leah." "i what!?

"you left her while she's nearly six months pregnant leah what the hell is the matter with you!" alessia angrily lunged for her team mate who hastily stepped back as you pulled your sister inside by the back of her jumper and mumbled for her to stop it.

"i didn't leave you! i went to the shops!" leah gestured to the bags by her feet as alessia fell silent and took a step back as you stepped forward. "i woke up and you were gone, your car was gone, there wasn't a note and you left your house keys behind." your eyes welled up with tears as leahs face softened.

"baby i've sent you like a hundred messages. i knew you were upset i couldn't find the peanut butter ice cream last night so i've gone to like ten different stores till i found it." leah picked up one of the bags and showed you its contents.

"im sorry!" you burst out into tears as your wife hurried to pull you into a hug, mumbling sweet nothings in your ear and rubbing your back.

"sorry, pause!" alessia laughed in disbelief, leah shooting her a warning glare which was ignored. "she went to the shops for a few hours and you thought she left you?" alessia shook her head, running a hand down her face with a shake of her head.

"alessia i am pregnant and hormonal okay!" you sobbed as leah shushed you and placed a kiss to your forehead. "oh my-" alessia wasted no time grabbing her keys and pushing past you.

"if you weren't pregnant i would throw you down these stairs!" your sister seethed, pausing to take a deep breath as she caught leahs eye who smiled apologetically.

"you are hereby banned from calling me unless its about the baby, you're dying, you're in labour or seriously injured." your sister warned seriously, pointing at you with a menacing look before huffing and storming off down the driveway.

"i love you!" you yelled after her, a middle finger all you got in response as you buried your face in your wifes chest and she helped you inside, still cradling you tightly in her arms.

"darling you seriously thought i left you? why didn't you just call me or read my messages?" "again, very pregnant and very hormonal okay i wasn't able to think!" "right right sorry my love, lets get some ice cream into you then. i love you very very much...even if you're a little unhinged." "leah i heard that!"

#leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #woso #woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #alessia russo x reader #engwnt #woso community #woso blurbs #alessia russo

[sempersirens]

raising hell all over town

pairing: best friend's dad!joel x f!reader

summary: you've been a friend of sarah's since you were old enough to steal bottles of her dad's whiskey for parties. sarah was always the sensible one in your friendship, getting you out of the trouble you usually started. but now sarah has gone off to college, who else but joel could pick up the pieces?

content/warnings: 18+ mdni. alcohol. drugs. age gap. violence/fighting. smut: unprotected p in v, spanking

a/n: inspired by this gif set, and the wonderful @amanitacowboy & @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin for introducing me to that yellowstone scene kind of nervous about this, my first proper smutty fic - i find smut really difficult to write for some reason (weird because i'm feral horny 24/7) so this was kinda out of my comfort zone but i hope you all enjoy! PSA: i no longer have a taglist! feel free to follow my updates blog @breakfastupdates and turn the post notifs on to be notified when i post a new fic :)

Friday nights in Austin felt incomplete without Sarah by your side.

For years, she had been the epitome of your partner in crime; dragging you back to her place or putting you in a cab before the cops were called.

Had it not been for your fierce loyalty and protectiveness over Sarah, you're sure her dad would've barred you from the house years ago. Sarah was smarter than you in almost every way. Academically, emotionally, you name it.

Joel knew this, and he trusted the two of you together knowing you both balanced the other out. Watching the two of you reminded Joel of a younger version of himself and Tommy, always thankful that Sarah had followed in his footsteps as opposed to her uncle's.

Your relationship with your parents was rocky, to say the least, and the Miller's house had always been a safe haven for you. Joel had patched up your split lip or bloody nose more times than he wanted to admit for a girl your age. He swore he'd kill your old man one day for the states you'd turned up to their house in.

Still, he couldn't help but feel the urge to grab you by the shoulders and shake some sense into you from time to time. As much as his heart broke for you, it was also in your nature to be a damn brat. Joel had endured countless stifling days spent by the pool forcing himself to not let his eyes linger on the curves of your hips. He struggled to look you in the eye when he saw you sat on the kitchen counter waiting to leave for a party, your mini skirt riding dangerously high on your thighs.

There had been times when he had been reckless. Times that he'd had to pull himself away from your invisible grip on him and relieve his tension in the bathroom, fisting his cock onto the shower floor, biting down on the shape of your name on his tongue.

When he'd re-emerge into the living room, he knew that you knew. You'd look through your eyelashes at him and smile. His cheeks flushed, shame setting in at the speed at which he'd cum from the thought of your pussy clenching around his shaft.

He would never let it show, but something would rush through his body when he'd ask Sarah what the hell she do this time? He remembered one time in particular, as Sarah relayed the events of the night that had led to your bloody nose, he'd looked over at you perching on the counter. With blood leaking down your cupid's bow, you'd locked eyes with him and ran your tongue across your lip, revelling in the remnants of your victory.

Still, you had fine enough nights out with the girls from work. They just didn't get you the way Sarah did. They would shoot you judgemental glances from across the bar that lasted until the Monday back at work for whatever you had done this time that they disapproved of.

"They're just dull. You should see the way they look at me for literally just hooking up with guys." You had lamented to Sarah over the phone while you were both getting ready for your respective nights out on separate sides of the country.

"It's probably because they've seen you get through an entire friendship group before your second drink."

"Well, they should be taking notes. Tell me nobody at college is as fun as me." Jealousy tore through your chest at the thought of Sarah spending her time with new friends.

"Nobody here is as fun as you. They're very... reserved." You scoffed at her politeness.

"Babe, just say they're boring."

"I'm giving them a chance. Anyway, gotta go. Text me tomorrow and tell me the damage. Love ya!"

"Don't have too much fun without me. Love you too."

Despite their judging looks, you were always the first person they called upon to finish any mess they had gotten themselves into. Still, you were happy to oblige, even if it meant a few awkward minutes of silence at the coffee machine on Monday.

The group of you had poured out of an Uber into the busy bar around nine o'clock, buzzing with the confidence of your pre-drinks. Rounds of shots were ordered and consumed at a dizzying pace, and soon enough, bags of powder were discreetly distributed across the table.

"Bathroom?" Hannah, one of your closest and least judgmental co-workers nudged you.

"Thought you'd never ask." The two of you sauntered away from the table, hand-in-hand, quickly bundling into a tight cubicle.

The bathroom filled up as the two of you tried to be as silent as possible, scooping your pinky nails into the small bag.

"Hurry the fuck up!" Someone from outside the cubicle called, thudding her fists against the door.

"Get fucked." You called back, muttering this bitch under your breath to Hannah.

As the two of you packed your things back into your handbags, the cubicle door jolted half open, smacking Hannah in the shoulder.

"Are you fucking serious?" You shouted at the small brunette on the other side of the door, checking Hannah over for injury.

"You hit me, you bitch." She straightened herself up, rubbing her shoulder.

"I'll do worse if you don't fucking move." The brunette hissed in her face.

You screwed your face up and shoved her, making her stumble backwards into the sink. The other girls in the bathroom grabbed their bags and scurried to the exit, evidently not wanting to be caught in the crossfire.

"Apologise." You said, moving toward the girl who was now pulling herself up with the help of the basins on either side of her.

"Fuck you." She spat, saliva hitting your cheek before she lunged forward.

Your fist connected with her nose before she even had time to swing, and your right hand secured a tight grip on the back of her hair.

"I said, apologise to my friend."

"I'm sorry." She choked, pathetically. Her face shrivelled in fear and pain.

"Not so fuckin' big now, are you?" Hannah said, which was ironic, considering the girl who had bruised her was now quivering under your fist.

Content with her apology, you released your grip on her and re-entered the bar with Hannah trailing behind you. As you both rejoined your table, you felt a tap on your shoulder.

"Our friend said you just attacked her in the bathroom." Another petite girl looked up at you, one hand on her hip.

"She hit my friend, here. Was just trying to teach her some manners."

The entirety of your group was now turned to face you, exchanging harsh whispers of your name followed by just leave it.

"You broke her nose!" The girl shrilled. You looked over her shoulder to the girl doubled over, clutching her bloody nose with an ensemble of people crowding around her.

"No, I think it just looks like that."

You grinned at the rage growing behind her eyes, your smile unfaltering even as her fist collided with your cheek.

"Harder." You shouted, rolling your neck from side to side.

"What?!"

"Come on, hit me harder. I know you got it in you." She didn't take much convincing; her next punch knocked you backwards onto the table as everyone rushed to tear the two of you apart.

You stepped forward to finally let her have it when a pair of strong hands pulled you back.

"Get off!" You shouted, kicking against who you assumed to be security throwing you out. You just hoped they weren't calling the cops, too.

"C'mon, doll. You've had enough fun for one night." A familiar Southern drawl cooed, dragging you out into the warm night. "Now, that wasn't very ladylike of you, darlin'."

He let you go from his grip and you turned to face him. To your surprise, you were met with the smirk of the younger Miller brother.

"Tommy." You breathed, "I didn't see you in there."

"Well, lucky I noticed you ain't it." He grinned.

Spending so much time at the Miller's had you well acquainted with Sarah's uncle Tommy. He'd seen you in much worse states than this, and in turn, so had you.

"Didn't need you to swoop in and save me, Tommy."

"Wasn't saving you, sweetheart. Was savin' that poor girl." You both smiled at the tone of pride in his voice.

"You got somewhere to go, trouble? Don't think you should be hangin' round here for too long."

"Can't exactly go home bleeding from my face." You sighed, realising you probably hadn't thought this through. You missed Sarah.

Tommy fished around in his pocket for his phone before raising it to his ear.

"Hey, big brother." Your stomach flipped. "No, no- it's not me. Joel, listen." You could almost hear Joel on the other end of the phone, witnessing it in person more times than you could count. It's not even ten o'clock yet, don't tell me you're locked up already.

"Our favourite little troublemaker needs a place to crash tonight. I'd drive her over but I've already had my fair share of beers. Okay, great. I'll tell her."

Once he'd hung up, Tommy told you that Joel was on his way to come and pick you up. You could feel your heartbeat in your stomach. You'd never been alone with Joel for longer than a couple of hours at most, let alone spending the night at his while Sarah was out of town. Something inside of you twitched in excitement, a warm rush settling deep in your belly.

You told Tommy to go back into the bar, that Joel wouldn't be long and you'd walk down the street to meet him in case those girls came out looking for another round.

As you made your way underneath the streetlights toward the direction of the Miller's house, you pulled your compact from your bag and touched up your make-up, re-curling your lashes and dousing a thick layer of clear lipgloss onto your lips, not bothering to tend to any of the blood trickling down your skin. You spritzed yourself with perfume and ran a brush through your hair, smiling at the thought of Joel seeing you waiting on the curbside for him.

Right on cue, his truck pulled around the corner. You raised your hand and wiggled your fingers, a small smirk spreading across your cheeks.

You were grateful for your earlier decision to wear your knee-high boots with a denim mini-skirt, adding a little extra sway to your hips as you made your way to the passenger side of Joel's truck. You climbed in and turned to face him, flashing him a toothy grin, well aware of the blood staining your teeth.

"You're a damn mess, princess." Something deep inside of you came to life at his words, causing you to visibly clench your exposed thighs together. "S'there I was, thinking to myself how thankful I am for a peaceful night after workin' lates all week. When my phone rings, just as I'd sat down and made myself comfortable."

"Peace is overrated." You replied.

"So, what did you do this time? Steal another cop car? Break into a hotel pool? Make out with someone's husband?"

You played with the hem of your skirt as he spoke, blushing as he listed a few of your past activities he'd either bailed you out of or heard about from Sarah.

"I didn't start this one." You said, a slight whine in your voice. "Someone hit my friend, I was just looking out for her."

"Your friend can't fight her own battles?"

"You never have a problem when it's Sarah I'm throwing punches for."

He scoffed. "Now, you know I've always taught her to never start a fight but always to finish one. You on the other hand, I don't think nobody's taught you anythin' of the sort."

"And are you gonna be the one to do that, Mr Miller?" You mimicked his Texan accent, which was much thicker than yours, and parted your legs in your seat ever so slightly.

"If I didn't know you better, darlin', I'd think you were tryin' to get me in some sort of trouble."

He pulled into the driveway and switched the ignition off before jogging to your side of the truck and holding the door open for you, as well as offering you an outstretched hand.

"Always such a gentleman." You smiled, looking at him through your eyelashes as you stepped out, hand in his.

He exhaled out of his nose, shaking his head softly as he slammed the door shut behind you. His hand moved to the small of your back, guiding you into the house.

"Sarah's bed is all made up, I'm sure you know where her clothes are f'you wanna change into something more... comfortable." His eyes trailed down your figure, your clothes hugging all the right places.

"Do you not like my outfit?" You pouted, holding your hands behind your back and sticking your chest out, swaying from side to side.

"Course not, y'look real pretty. Just thought you'd wanna watch TV before going to sleep is all." Joel brought a hand to the back of his head, rubbing his neck nervously as his eyes shifted to the floor.

For such a handsome man, he was so damn insecure. Maybe it was the gentleman in him, thinking that it was wrong for someone his age to want someone the same age as his daughter. He knew you didn't think like that, Sarah had told him multiple stories about the older men you'd hooked with at the bar.

He'd even caught you making out with a kid from your school's dad a few years ago when he'd come to pick you and Sarah up from a party. Joel had seemingly known the man, and you remembered how he'd stalked out of his truck and toward you both, grabbing him by the scruff of the neck and warning him that his wife wasn't going to like hearing about this.

So, you kicked off your boots and took yourself upstairs into Sarah's bedroom. Not bothering to close the blinds, you peeled your clothes off and looked at yourself in the full length mirror.

The warmth of your earlier drinks still coated your inhibitions. You knew you looked good in your black lace set, breasts sat perkily on your chest and your ass cheeks the perfect handfuls.

Fuck it. If he wasn't going to be ballsy enough to make the first move, maybe you should.

You kissed the tips of your fingers and pressed them against a framed photo of you and Sarah giggling at whatever was going on behind the camera.

"Sorry, Sarah." You whispered, before making your way down the stairs.

Joel heard you coming but was too preoccupied fighting with the TV remote control to turn around and face you just yet.

"If I can get this damn thing to work I think they're showin' Scarface at ten, I know you said you ain't seen it so thought we could watch it."

"Sounds good," you spoke, your voice more honeyed than usual. "Hey, Joel. Do you think this will be comfy enough?"

He whipped his head around quickly, ready to give you the same kind of answer he did whenever Sarah asked for his opinion in a changing room. It took a second for him to register what he was looking at, but when it clicked he dropped the remote to the floor and turned his whole body to face you.

"What the hell," his face turned bright red, unsure what to do with his hands. You could give him a few ideas.

"You not like it?" You asked, voice low as you walked slowly in his direction.

His trousers began to tighten around his hardening cock and you smiled, glad that you were indeed on the same page.

"Course I- I, what the hell are you playin' at?"

"Come on, Joel. I gotta make up for interrupting your peaceful night somehow."

You closed the gap between you both and placed a hand delicately on his chest, tracing circles with the tip of your long, manicured nails.

Joel swallowed hard.

"This ain't right." He said weakly, his eyes betraying his words as they devoured the sight of your body before him.

"Cut the shit, Joel. I know you want me, and I want you."

He didn't answer, but instead threw you over his shoulder and carried you up to his bedroom, placing a couple of firm smacks on your ass as you wriggle against his strong grip. Your stomach did backflips, exhilarated at the prospect of what was about to happen.

Upon entering his room, he threw you roughly onto the bed and worked at undoing his belt as you scrambled onto your back, resting on your elbows.

"Y'know what I really thought when Tommy called, tellin' me I needed to come pick you up?" He said, although it didn't sound much like a question. "I thought, this dumb slut needs some sense fucking into her."

You moaned at his words, basking in the side of him that you knew always existed.

“Thought t’myself, she needs teachin’ some fuckin' manners f’once.”

Joel stalked around the side of the bed and sat and patted his lap. Wordlessly, you shifted your weight next to him and dangled your legs over the side of the bed.

He brought his right hand in between your thighs, making you shiver at the feeling of his coarse fingers grazing your skin. He ran his fingers up and down the length of your thigh, each time stopping short of the hem of your skirt.

"This is what you want, ain't it sweetheart?" He spoke lowly, voice gravelly and as rough as his touch. Each night spent tangled and alone in your sheets, fingers grazing your soaked folds with his name on your lips felt redundant. Nothing could come close to the feel of his skin on yours.

Pulling you from your trance, he slapped your inner thigh hard when you didn't respond. "Need t'hear you say it."

"Yes,' you moan through gritted teeth, surprised you can even find your voice. "This is what I need."

Sick of his incessant teasing, you clamber onto his lap and hook your fingers around the back of his neck.

"But I think you need this just as much, Mr Miller. You must get so lonely in this house all by yourself. Sarah always tells me how you never have any lady friends hanging around."

You straddle his lap and grip his neck for support, softly grinding yourself on the hardness of his lap. He moves a hand from your waist to roughly seize your chin, tipping your face down to meet his gaze.

"Your old man must've forgot to teach you some manners, little girl." His low voice tore through your body.

Joel hoists your skirt up to your waist and flips you underneath him in one swift motion. His body looms over yours, fingers trailing a rough and jagged line down to where you need him most. He moved at an antagonising slow pace, but you can't bring yourself to give into his little game by begging for more.

"Here's what we're gonna do, darlin'. You're gonna be a good girl f'me and tell daddy exactly what happened tonight." The mouth on him.

The way your body writhed and squirmed at his words didn't go unnoticed. With no warning, he plunged two thick digits inside of you and held them deep in place, his face inches away from yours.

"N'if you stutter, or lie, or say anythin' I don't like for that matter, you'll be over my knee, red-raw," his fingers curl inside of you and you bite back a moan, desperate to not let him have the upper hand.

"No matter how much you cry those pretty little eyes out, I won't quit 'til you've learnt somethin'. Understood?"

You suck a breath in through your nose, a sharp sting reminding you of the open wound still decorating your face.

"Yes, sir."

part 2 coming soon

taglist: @cool-iguana @nostalxgic @chaotic-mystery @beardedjoel

#my fic #the last of us #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader #tlou fanfiction #joel tlou #joel miller x female reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfic #dee rambles #pedrohub #joel miller fanfic #joel miller #joel x reader #no use of y/n #the last of us hbo #the last of us fanfiction #tlou hbo #tlou #joel miller smut #the last of us series #tlou series #dee writes

[quitesins]

Katsuki Catching you on the Sims

Masterlist

Tags: Sfw, suggestive, fem!reader, friends to lovers, short drabble, no edit just vibes

“Is…is that us?” The voice startles you and you immediately go to cover your screen, embarrassment hitting you like a truck.

“What- no- Kats’ what-” You scramble out the words, snapping your head to the side.

“Oh it fucking is, isn’t it?” You can hear the smirk, Katsuki shoving you lightly to the side and taking seat. “Go on, show me.”

You shake your head harshly, still clutching the laptop, not making any moves to close the game.

“Nah, I wanna see.” Katsuki can be stubborn and you know you aren’t going to get out of this one.

“Fine…” You whisper out, reluctantly slipping your hands down and finding the mouse pad.

God, it’s embarrassing.

You can’t even try to hide the resemblance between the character of your game and the man beside you. His name is in bright capital letters, admitting your lies for you.

“Huh, it really is me.” Katsuki muses, eyeing his Sims counterpart. “Got my skull shirt and all.”

The sim in question walks around the screen, throughout a large but homely house. The two of you watch it for a moment, when suddenly a notification pops up. Oh no.

“This sim is feeling…” Katsuki starts to read, and you wish for the ground to swallow you. “Flirty?”

You don’t even want to look at the screen anymore, but Katsuki does, following along the character as the camera pans. Soon another sim is in view. One that’s evidently you. And before you can even attempt to pause the game, divert the character away or even throw the laptop off you, there goes Katsuki’s sim, pulling yours into a kiss. A grand, dramatic, and undeniably salacious kiss.

Not a word is said. All you can hear is your own heart beating tremendously. You wonder if he can hear it. Then, abruptly and loud, Katsuki laughs.

A genuine- from the belly- laugh. He doesn’t stop, even when you shake him in protest, whining that he’s being a prick. There’s tears in his eyes, his head is tilted back and his hands rest on yours as they jab at him lightly. If you weren’t so flustered you’d probably appreciate the rare display of unrestrained joy.

“Shut the fuck up! Katsuki!” The laptop is pushed off you by now, and you’re practically atop of the man, shaking him to stop.

His laughter starts to taper but with a chuckle still in his voice, he says. “You’re an idiot, y’know that?”

Katsuki doesn’t give you a moment to take in the words, already pulling you to him, clutching your face in his hands and kissing you.

One grand, dramatic, and undeniably salacious kiss.

It surprises you for a second, but then you melt, almost asking for more. You’re on his lap, by your own movements and his. Nothing on your mind but the feeling of his lips against yours.

When the two of you finally pull apart, you can see how he blushes, how his chest falls and rises. Just like you- he’s in his own fluster.

“Could’ve just asked.” He breathes, the two of you calming. “I’d give you anything from that shitty game.”

The hint of jealousy makes you giggle, resting your head on his shoulder. “Even the multi-billion dollar house I designed?”

You can tell he rolls his eyes, but his voice is soft and full of love.

“Yeah, even the fuckin’ world.”

-

“Holy fuck [Name], do we have kids in this shit?”

“KATSUKI!! STOP LOOKING!!!”

I’m currently trying to re-download sims because the last I played was when I was 16 and I miss it! Bout to make my whole genshin team and start a fight club 💪

Edit: this is getting loads of reblog comment thingies and I really want to say thank u!!! But IDK HOW TO REPLY??? THIS APP IS SO HARD TO USE???!??

#fanfic #x reader #fanfiction #mha x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou x you #bakugo x reader #bakugou imagine #katsuki x reader #katsuki x y/n #bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki imagine #bakugou drabble #drabble #bakugou fluff #mha fanfic #quite shorts #quitesins bkg

[morallyinept]

For anyone who needs to hear this today...

Dieter and I are just weighing in on some of the conversations floating around where people are feeling like they're not wanted here, or who feel like they might want to leave...

You ARE absolutely wanted here.

Whether you're a creator, reader, silent lurker. It doesn't matter if you have 1 follower or 10k. Whether you write one chapter every few weeks, or churn out fics on the daily.

This is a fandom, not a competition.

You. Are. All. Wanted. Here.

Tumblr, for want of a better analogy, is a crap factory of a website. 😝 It's gone down the pan in the last decade massively, and it's the complete opposite of what other social media platforms do, (in terms of likes and algorithims etc... you have to re-blog everything - not like it - here to get any traction) you get out of Tumblr what you put in, effectively.

No-one here is better than anyone else, we're all part of that big Pedro table and continuously squish up to make room for everyone. And if anyone isn't doing that, then they should be the one's to leave, not you.

I get it. I feel it too. I've contemplated leaving several times. Yeah. It's a hard place sometimes to try and make a tiny space of it your own.

☝🏻But remember, even the biggest blogs on here started off with zero followers and had to build their niche from scratch. Rome wasn't built in a day.

It takes time and effort. It might look like it's easy for others, but it really isn't. And I'm in no way a "big blog" in the slightest.

But I stay here doing my own thing, because ultimately, I love writing and creating - it makes me happy, and I love the sense of community here.

I get immense joy out of making my silly banners and posts, and having a giggle with like-minded people when Pedro shaves his beard off (🫠). I ignore the drama and focus on having a positive time here.

But I get that doesn't work for everybody. Sometimes it's hard to tune all the fuzz out, right? It's massively overwhelming some days on here - I feel ya, bub.

The level of talent in this fandom is incredible, but it often leaves you feeling like "where do I begin?" Or "who do I talk to?" And "how do I talk to someone without coming across as weird?" And "how the hell do I re-blog everything and reply to comments and remember to answer DM's and Asks, whilst remembering to update my WIP and see what my fav blogs have posted, and catch up on that fic I like..? 🤯

In short, you can't.

You simply can't do everything.

And you shouldn't try to either as that's when you'll burn out and when things start feeling overwhelming. Then your enjoyment wanes and then that's when you feel like you want to give it all in.

Just breathe.

The best advice I can give (and I'm no expert!) is to curate your own experience here as best as you can.

Eliminate that overwhelming feeling to make your Tumblr time and space enjoyable.

Make it work for you and your needs.

Some easy things you can do that might help:

Update your notifications - I personally filter out the likes, otherwise I find I miss notifs like new followers or comments etc... Tumblr can be glitchy as hell too, so by removing the likes, you can see all the stuff you don't wanna miss. To turn them off, go into your activity (app version) and hit custom, scroll down to custom again and then untick likes:

There's a new option now to subscribe to specific blogs you like and adjust your home feed settings to that. You click on the blogs themselves and add them to get notifications and then they'll appear under Blog Subs on your feed. You can then switch through feeds to just see the blogs you've added, rather than everyone you follow. It's then easy to switch between feeds:

Limit your time here - if it starts to feel overwhelming, take a break! That's your brain telling you that you might need it. We'll all still be here when you come back. Don't compromise your peace of mind or happiness for the sake of scrolling for hours.

If you're a creator and have writer's block etc... again, take that break! Whether it's a day or a week, or a year. Take as long as you need. Those that are worth it will still be here and will wait patiently for you. Don't put unnecessary pressure on yourself. And if anyone does pressure you, block them.

Forget the numbers. I know, I know, it's easier said than done. Of course we want re-blogs and engagement, it's why we're here and putting our work out there. We wouldn't do it if we didn't want that engagement. But don't let the numbers be the main reason why you do it, otherwise your expectation can often be met with a harsh reality when it doesn't go how you think it will. Do it because it makes you happy, first and foremost. There will always be someone who looks forward to what you put out there.

If you want engagement, you need to engage back. This community survives and thrives on sharing. Re-blog everything you like. Re-blogging is the number one must on Tumblr. It's how the site works. Likes are lovely, but it's simply just a book marking feature here, which is essentially useless as your likes get pushed to the bottom of your like pile the more you like things. RE-BLOG EVERYTHING. By re-blogging you can also use tags so you can easily find things again. Liked that Frankie Morales fic you read last week? Re-blog it with the tag 'Frankie Morales' for example, and then you can search your own blog to find everything you've ever tagged with 'Frankie Morales'. You can even schedule re-blogs in advance too. You can't do any of that with likes. You'd have to scroll through every single like you've ever liked to find it again... and ain't no-one got time for that. If you're someone who is asking for engagement, you need to be prepared to give it back. I repeat, RE-BLOG EVERYTHING!

"Yeah, but if I re-blog everything, my aesthetic will be compromised, or my blog will be bulky and I might annoy everyone by appearing on their feed too much..." These are all valid concerns, but you can simply make a side blog specific for re-blogging things if you want. Whatever way you choose to do it, re-blog, re-blog, re-blog!

Be bold and reach out using DM's and ASK's. I don' think there's a single writer or artist out there who doesn't like getting a comment or a message complimenting their work. And we all love to chat about it, and that's an easy way in and to make friends too! It can be daunting, but I assure you if you're polite and kind, people will want to engage back with you. We all have one thing in common here at least - Pedro! 🥰

Sometimes, it can feel like everyone has their own friend groups or cliques and it can be hard to find your own community within a community. Almost everyone I engage with on a daily basis here, new and old users, are some of the nicest, kindest people I've spoken to. You really have nothing to be afraid of. They're just like you - they want to talk and make friends.

These are just some tips that I've found have worked for me on my own Tumblr journey with quelling that overwhelming feeling. And I hope they can help you in some way, especially if you're contemplating being here right now.

You might feel that what you put out there isn't appreciated because it doesn't get the notes or engagement you want, but I promise you, there is always someone who you have touched with your words and work.

Be kind to yourself and know that you really are a valued part of this fandom.

🖤

YOU. ARE. STRONGER. THAN. YOU. THINK. 🖤

Do you. Then do Dieter.

Self-Care With Dieter & Jett

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fandom #self care with dieter & jett #dieter bravo #you are stronger than you think #do you #then do dieter

[meownotgood]

new message !! / CSM x reader

the texts they send you when you're away.

includes: aki, denji, & yoshida

genre: headcanons / fluff

note: this post is sfw, but this account contains nsfw content. please do not follow if you are a minor.

☆ AKI basically never uses his phone. He doesn't have any social media; you can coax him into installing some if you want, but he's not going to use them. If he wants to speak to you, he'll usually opt to call you rather than send a text because he prefers to hear your voice. But in situations where he can't, or when he just wants to let you know he's thinking of you, he'll send a message your way.

14:22 [ aki <3 ]: Hey.

14:25 [ aki <3 ]: I miss you.

14:29 [ aki <3 ]: Do you want to go out tonight? We can go anywhere you'd like. My treat.

Even though Aki pays little attention to his phone, if you ever text him, he's usually quick to reply. If you call him, the phone will never go more than three rings without an answer. For one, he's memorized your special ringtone (it's a song you texted to him the first time he gave you his number). And for second, you, Denji, and Power are the only ones who ever send him texts, so he knows if he gets a notification, it's probably important.

In the rare cases where he happens to miss your call though, the texts he sends immediately after are always extremely apologetic.

22:46 [ aki <3 ]: I'm sorry I missed your call.

22:48 [ aki <3 ]: Are you okay? Do you need anything?

22:51 [ aki <3 ]: Call me back when you get the chance.

Sometimes Aki sends you goofy pics of whatever mischief Denji and Power are getting up to, or pictures of Meowy when he's sleeping on Aki's lap. He also loves to send you pictures of the view from his balcony when he's having a smoke.

7:14 [ aki <3 ]: (1 image attachment)

7:17 [ aki <3 ]: The sunrise over the city is really beautiful today. I wish you were here to see it.

Aki rarely takes or sends pictures of himself. He'll take pictures with you if you ask, and if you beg to see him hard enough, maybe he'll send you a selfie. Maybe. Only after he re-takes it a thousand times to make sure it's perfect.

Aki's texts are always professional and proper, just like his demeanor. He always capitalizes his sentences, always uses correct grammar, and never uses any emojis or abbreviations. The one exception to this rule is if he's drunk. Aki tries to stay away from his phone when he's plastered, but if he manages to get his hands on it, you can expect to wake up to several incoherent drunk texts.

2:35 [ aki <3 ]: hi sweeetheartv

2:36 [ aki <3 ]: im drunk sorry

2:36 [ aki <3 ]: but I lpve u so much

2:36 [ aki <3 ]: myy anwgel

2:38 [ aki <3 ]: miss u terribly. come out 2 drink w us nextt time yeah??,

After texting you for a while, Aki developed a small habit of texting you good morning and good night. When you told him you liked it, he made certain to never forget to send you a good morning and good night text every single day. Your contact in his phone is the first thing he sees when he wakes up and the last thing he sees before he goes to bed.

23:41 [ aki <3 ]: Goodnight. Sleep well and have sweet dreams. Text me when you wake up tomorrow.

☆ DENJI asked you for your number as soon as Aki bought him a cell phone. He had absolutely no clue how to use it at first, but thankfully, you were there to teach him. And double thankfully, phones have built in autocorrect, so he doesn't have to worry about spelling everything wrong (most of the time).

Now he can talk to you whenever he wants! And boy, does Denji send you a lot of texts. If your phone is vibrating like crazy, you know it's probably Denji. He essentially uses your inbox as his way to tell you everything he's thinking at any given point.

10:34 [ denji ^^ ]: Dude at work rn SOOOO BORED

10:34 [ denji ^^ ]: I wanna hang out with u

10:34 [ denji ^^ ]: This suckkkkzzzzzzzz

10:35 [ denji ^^ ]: What are u doin?

10:36 [ denji ^^ ]: Hey check out what Power just showed me lol 8====D~~~~~~

10:36 [ denji ^^ ]: It's a dick

Once Denji figured out how to send pictures to you, he had his heart set on sending you pictures of literally everything. He sends you pics of all the stuff he comes across that he thinks you might find cool. He also sends lots of pictures of Power and Aki. Sometimes Meowy too, if he can get the cat to hold still.

They're all blurry and incomprehensible most of the time, but you suppose it's the thought that counts. Besides, you can still make them out... kinda.

18:19 [ denji ^^ ]: (1 image attachment)

18:19 [ denji ^^ ]: Shit its blurry

18:21 [ denji ^^ ]: (1 image attachment)

18:21 [ denji ^^ ]: Look dude I beat Powers ASS at mario kart

18:21 [ denji ^^ ]: You should come over and play its really fun

18:22 [ denji ^^ ]: If u want to

Of course, Denji loves when you send pictures to him, too. It's crazy to him that he can see what you're doing and where you are through his little phone screen. He saves every picture you send (after he bothered Aki to show him how), but the pictures you send of your face are his favorite. Denji will never leave you on read, so if your message says opened for a while, trust that he's just admiring your picture.

13:57 [ denji ^^ ]: CYTE

13:57 [ denji ^^ ]: CUTE

13:58 [ denji ^^ ]: I mean

13:58 [ denji ^^ ]: Your cute

14:07 [ denji ^^ ]: Hey how do I make it my background???

Denji hasn't quite figured out how to use all the features on his phone. Honestly, you're not sure he even knows what Google is. You don't really want to tell him though. You won't admit it, but you secretly like when he comes to you with every single question he has.

17:25 [ denji ^^ ]: Do u know what 12 x 7 is

17:25 [ denji ^^ ]: I dunno

17:26 [ denji ^^ ]: Aki tell me to look it up but idk how

17:32 [ denji ^^ ]: Can u come over

☆ YOSHIDA is super popular and super cool, so it took you a while to work up the courage to ask for his number. Although he gave it to you gladly, you weren't sure if he would even bother to text you after the exchange. You know he's in a ton of group chats with his classmates, and he has a lot of followers on social media. He probably didn't care to text someone unimportant like you... right?

Well, you soon found out that you were very wrong. Yoshida was waiting for this for a long time, actually. And he has no problem ignoring all of his other messages and notifications just to text you back.

15:26 [ yoshida ❀ ]: hey, you weren't in class today, what's up?

15:28 [ yoshida ❀ ]: i can come over and show you what we went over today if you want

15:29 [ yoshida ❀ ]: i'll bring iced coffee too :)

Yoshida uses the fact that you two are classmates as an excuse to text you more than necessary. He sends you pictures of the white board or last night's homework answers, even if you didn't ask for them. Somehow, he always ends up as your partner on group projects. He's just texting you a lot 'cause he wants to get to know his partner, that's all.

His favorite pass-time in class is texting you instead of paying attention. He knows he's going to ace this test anyways, and the current lecture is soooooo boring. The time will definitely go by quicker if he spends it messaging you and stealing glances at you when he can.

9:15 [ yoshida ❀ ]: im totally gonna fall asleep

9:15 [ yoshida ❀ ]: i hate this professor

9:17 [ yoshida ❀ ]: hey. look over here

9:18 [ yoshida ❀ ]: did you see me wave? :)

9:18 [ yoshida ❀ ]: your outfit today is cute btw

Yoshida is no stranger to sending you pictures of himself, too. He has a little bit of smugness about it. Yoshida knows that he's handsome and he knows that he's effortlessly photogenic, so whenever he sees a photo opportunity, he's going to take it.

18:04 [ yoshida ❀ ]: (1 image attachment)

18:06 [ yoshida ❀ ]: (1 image attachment)

18:07 [ yoshida ❀ ]: which one should i post? or which one do you like more?

18:10 [ yoshida ❀ ]: next time i see you, you should take a picture with me. i want to post a pic of the both of us. ^.^

Yoshida really enjoys texting with you, even if you end up texting back and forth late into the night, when he should be sleeping so he can get up early for school tomorrow. He's a night owl anyway, so honestly, he's fine with sacrificing on the sleep so he can talk to you. And if you call him? Even better. He could listen to your voice forever.

Speaking of, his favorite thing is sending you voice messages. It's a bit more convenient than texting, plus he knows you're a sucker for his smooth voice. He almost always sends you a voice message in the morning while he's walking to class.

7:25 [ yoshida ❀ ]: (1 voice note)

7:28 [ yoshida ❀ ]: (1 link)

7:28 [ yoshida ❀ ]: here's the playlist i was talking about in that voice message

7:29 [ yoshida ❀ ]: give it a listen when you can, i think you'll like it <3

#aki hayakawa x reader #aki x reader #yoshida x reader #yoshida hirofumi x reader #denji x reader #csm x reader #chainsaw man x reader #aki hayakawa #denji #yoshida #yoshida hirofumi #chainsaw man fluff #chainsaw man headcanons

[missmonsters2]

—AGNOSTHESIA | FIVE

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x OFC/Fem!Reader

Summary: After the talk, things were going well, or so Wednesday assumed. You've been distancing yourself and Wednesday is forced to sift through her past behaviors to see why and comes to a realization that makes her violently ill.

Warnings: Angst. Jealous!Wednesday. Enid, has to spell it out. Thing, wants more dew drops. Xavier, rip.

Series Masterlist | Library Blog | AO3

Reminder there’s no taglist but you can follow my library blog for notifications 💘

Note: we're making waveEees (slow burn mode) 🥺💘

Part Four

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Agnosthesia: Noun. The state of not knowing how you really feel about something, which forces you to sift through clues hidden in your behavior, as if you were some other person—noticing a twist of acid in your voice, an obscene amount of effort put into something trifling, or an inexplicable weight on your shoulders that makes it difficult to get out of bed.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

You've been distancing yourself from Wednesday.

"Not quite, Henry. Try crushing the seed instead of chopping it; you'll get more juice out of it that way."

You've been distancing yourself from Wednesday.

"Yes, use the flat side of your knife, just like that—careful."

You've been distancing yourself from Wednesday.

"Well done, Henry!"

Wednesday slams her textbook down on the desk.

"Ow!" Xavier yelps, the tips of his fingers caught under the textbook. He yanks them out. "Jesus fucking Christ, Wednesday, my fingers!"

"Quit blubbering," Wednesday unapologetically tells him. "They are still attached to your body, are they not?"

"For now," Xavier grumbles, rubbing his bruised fingers. "What the hell is your problem, anyway?"

"I don't have a problem," Wednesday's eyes briefly look at him before looking back at her own flask. "Why would you think that?"

This was her third time re-making the elixir. 

The textbook had said to cut the seed to extract the juice inside, but after Xavier nearly lopped off his finger the first time, Wednesday took over the second time. The only issue was that despite her flawless knife work, they could hardly squeeze any of the juice out from the seed's hard shell. 

Xavier was plucking at her last nerves with his suggestion to try again—as if the seed would suddenly get softer. 

Wednesday clenches her jaw. She should've declined to be Xavier's partner. Even Bianca would suffice better because at least she would feel no inclination about holding back on murdering Bianca when they finally got fed up with each other. 

But this was only an issue because—

"Because tooth fairy has refused to be your lab partner, like, what, 3 times now?" Xavier whispers.

Wednesday doesn't say anything, but her expression gets more contemptuous, her mouth pinched, and Xavier doesn't say anything more. She doesn't even comment on Xavier's horrible epithet that he's been sticking to despite your immediate veto. His only reasoning was that you had a nice smile, which Wednesday was inclined to agree with reluctantly. 

But it was true. It was a rather new development when you began growing closer to Wednesday, especially after they resolved the tension regarding Wednesday not asking questions. It was going well, or so Wednesday had thought. 

Now, you jumped at making sure someone else was your partner before the teacher would even finish telling everyone to partner up.

Looking up, Wednesday stares at the back of your head, willing to burn a hole through it so you'd look at her. 

You don't.

"That guy has been hanging around her often," Xavier comments, his eyes narrowing a little. "Pretty sure he's a legacy. His dad went here—Henry Morrison? Can’t believe he named his son the same name."

"Why are you telling me this irrelevant information?" Wednesday cuts in before he can say anything else. 

"Is it irrelevant?" Xavier smiles, though the corners of his mouth don't make it too far up. "Thought you, of all people, should know this: know any potential rival—lest you want someone else to swoop in."

'Rival?' Wednesday thought with confusion. She looks at the boy next to you. 

There was no way this lanky, pitiful, stuttering boy could be her rival. If she were to look at anyone as a rival, it'd be Bianca. 

The siren looked way too smug and haughty every time you spent time with her. Every time Wednesday caught a glimpse of you two, Bianca would have this aggravating smirk that would send Wednesday into a burst of rage that Thing would have to suffer through while she ranted. 

"How's psychitect going? Getting better?" You ask.

Henry nods eagerly. "I-I can almost make a fully functional mindscape. You should come to see it," Henry says with a shy smile. "Y-You have a free period during that time, right?" 

You nod with an easy-going smile. "Sure, I don't have much else to do, and it sounds pretty cool."

Wednesday purses her lips unhappily, stabbing the seed with the tip of her knife precisely, and Xavier moves his hands away just in case. 

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

"Wednesday—"

"No."

"You haven't even heard what I'm about to ask—"

"No."

Enid exaggeratedly pouts, clasping her hands together in front of her. "Wednesday..." she pitifully drags.

"Enid," Wednesday grits her teeth, holding firm. "No."

"C'mon!" Enid continues to plead. "One of the girls broke her arm! We're short a girl again this year."

"How tragic," Wednesday says without care. "But that, unfortunately, wasn't my fault. I applaud your efforts to torture me but I have no inclination to join the boat race this year."

"But don't you remember that satisfying feeling of beating Bianca?" Enid tries to entice Wednesday instead. "What was it that you said last year? A dark, vengeful spirit."

Wednesday raises her brow. "I have no additional quarrels with Bianca this year. I get my satisfaction from beating her in fencing."

Enid lets out a groan. She knows she's running out of options, and she's about to give up when something pops into her mind, and a mischievous smile that Wednesday doesn't like appears.

"Oh, well," Enid says with a dramatic sigh. "I guess we'll just have to ask someone else and risk losing to Bianca."

Wednesday narrows her eyes. "It appears so."

"And with Fae watching in the crowd, I bet she'll be so impressed with Bianca taking that trophy," Enid continues, astutely turning away as she says it, a smirk on her face. "Man, how embarrassing. I can't believe I'll have to explain to Fae that we lost because my roomie didn't want to get into the whole school spirit thing."

Enid sighs one last time as she sits on her bed, looking at Thing, who sits beside her. "Oh, well. I'm sure Fae will be thrilled to celebrate Bianca's victory."

Wednesday clenches her fist. She's not unaware of Enid's horrible attempt at manipulating her. It was tragically embarrassing on Enid's end but what was more embarrassing was that it was working.

The idea of you celebrating Bianca's victory was making Wednesday more sullen than she already was. 

So, for the second time this year, despite Wednesday's reluctance to win the Poe Cup again as it made her more similar to her mother, she was going to make Bianca burn with the taste of utter defeat. 

"Enid," Wednesday scowls. "It would be wise to sleep with both eyes open after the competition is over."

"I love you, too, Wednesday."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Wednesday is at a loss. 

Despite her attempts to ask more questions and discover what could possibly be the reason why you've been distant, you've stonewalled her. 

It is a very sickening feeling. 

"How could she do this to me, Thing?" Wednesday seethed at the disembodied hand as it was just the two in her room. "This is the second week she's cut our time short. That's 14 days, Thing. Our usual 38 hours a week have been cut down to a mere 15 hours."

Thing taps and signs.

"Why are you asking if I did something?" Wednesday glares.

Some more tapping.

"It's a fair assumption," Wednesday concedes. "But I haven't done anything out of the ordinary as of late. You must know how painful it is for me right now to admit I am at a loss."

Thing taps.

"And she has said nothing to you?" Wednesday glares suspiciously.

Thing taps more firmly, and Wednesday lets out a sigh through her nose and lets it go. Checking the time, she finds you'll be here any minute now.

As of late, you've been insisting on meeting Wednesday in her room at night instead of your fae studio realm. Enid seemed to catch on and was happy to hang out with Ajax or Yoko for an hour or two until you left.

It only served to remind Wednesday that it used to be four hours at your studio. Wednesday bitterly thinks you've done it on purpose because it was easier for you to leave her space than to make her leave your space. 

There's a knock on her door. 

Right on time.

Wednesday looks at Thing before glaring at the door.

"I will not accept defeat tonight," she ominously declares as she walks towards the door. 

When she opens it, Wednesday finds you smiling at her but there’s something about it that makes her feel disgruntled. 

“Hi, Wednesday,” you say in the exact same way you’ve said hundreds before. “Enid out again?”

“Of course,” Wednesday deadpans since not even Enid knows about your wings.

“Cool,” you reply before looking out the window. “Can we open the window? It feels a little stuffy in here.”

Wednesday looks at Thing, who scuddles to the window and cracks it open. There’s a slight breeze that makes you sigh with ease as you take off your sweater and sit down on the floor at Wednesday’s bed. 

There’s a momentary pause as Wednesday stares at the familiar sight of your back before your opulent obsidian wings slowly grow out, stretching as much as they could with a ruffle. 

They were healing quite well, Wednesday notes. Soon, you won’t need to meet with her every night for treatment. 

You still need to meet her now but you’re already distancing yourself. 

Wednesday feels self-pity, rage, and dour. She won’t admit it, though, as she pulls out the tub of salve and sits behind you. 

Your wings trill as Wednesday moves her fingers through the feathers.

The way you won’t even tell her it tickles anymore. 

“Did you enjoy your day today?” You ask conversationally and Wednesday clenches her jaw.

“No,” she grits out.

“Oh,” you seem surprised at the admittance. There’s a delay and Wednesday knows you’re debating on inquiring further, but you make up your mind. “Why?”

“Why do you think so?” Wednesday asks instead, her voice flat and unimpressed that you’d sink to playing stupid. It was beneath you.

You remain silent.

“I don’t know,” you eventually say, your tone even and unassuming. “Has Xavier finally tried to hug you?”

You’re lightly jesting to avoid the confrontation but Wednesday won’t have it. She applies the salve slowly, knowing full well it was making you antsy. Wednesday was going to drag out tonight so painfully slow, you were going to regret having ever been the reason for Wednesday’s dreadful days. 

“No,” Wednesday answers, “And I doubt he ever will if he wants to live.”

You laugh but it’s not very sincere. “I guess he could always ask Enid to pass along a hug for him.” You’re jesting again but there’s something in your tone that sounds bitter.

Wednesday doesn’t know what to make of the comment, so she ignores it since it’s not like you can see her glare right now.

“You’ve been partnering up with the lanky boy lately,” Wednesday shifts the subject, sounding flat as if it were just a mere observation.

“Henry?” You say confusedly but Wednesday doesn’t confirm or deny. “I mean, I guess,” you shrug.

“Why?” Wednesday demands, asking what she really wants to know.

“I mean,” you say slowly. “Why not? You and I are some of the people with the top grades. It’s obvious we’re adept and Henry needs help.”

“So, why must you be the one to help him?” Wednesday clenches her jaw.

It’s a miracle how gentle she’s still applying the salve despite how uncomfortably irritated she feels. 

“Why? Are you offering to help him instead?” You ask wryly.

“I think if he’s destined to fail, then we should not interfere,” Wednesday bluntly and callously reasons. “Is he not the same boy who first saw you and could barely get a word out, leaving you with such a dull sobriquet?”

“It’s just a class, Wednesday,” you dryly say, awkwardly shifting. 

Wednesday’s jaw is set tightly in place, and she feels utterly humiliated right now.

“I heard you’re joining The Poe Cup race again this year?” You say, changing the subject as the atmosphere was tense. 

Wednesday feels her body relax ever so slightly at the new subject.

“Yes, at Enid’s relentless and piteous begging.”

“Oh,” you say softly.

Wednesday feels uncomfortable and she’s unsure why. 

“Have you considered joining the race?” Wednesday spits out to keep the conversation moving. 

“No,” you answer softly again. “Even though there are no rules preventing sabotage against other teams, Principal Weems and I agreed that my powers would be a very unfair advantage to fight against.”

Wednesday’s curiosity rules over all other emotions. She wants to ask exactly what powers you’re talking about when you suddenly stand up and Wednesday realizes that you could feel when she’s finished applying the salve to the end of your scars. 

“Thanks again for helping me,” you tell her softly as you turn around, making your wings disappear with an uncomfortable grimace. You put your sweater back on and zipped it up. “I have some assignments with my other project partners I have to meet up with. Catch you later?”

Wednesday is left sitting on the floor, seething with rage and defeat as you walk out the room, shutting the door with a resounding, sickening click. 

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Enid returns home from her date with Ajax, feeling joyous and charmed. She immediately spots Wednesday at her desk on her typewriter.

“Hey, Wednesday,” Enid sing-songs. “Did you have a good night?”

“It was fine,” Wednesday says sharply, which has Enid looking over to Thing, who signs to not ask. 

“O-kay,” Enid replies, taking off her jacket before sitting on her bed. 

Wednesday is typing aggressively on her typewriter, each push so hard it sounds punishing. 

“So—”

“Not now, Enid,” Wednesday icily cuts in, continuing to type as if she wanted to break her typewriter. “I need silence.”

Enid doesn’t reply, only letting out a soft sigh as she puts her headphones on and rests in her bed. She opens a magazine and Thing shuffles over to her to look along with her. The sad thing is that Enid can still hear Wednesday aggressively typing, but she ignores it knowing her best friend and roommate needs the time to cool down before attempting to talk.

The only problem is an hour and half passes and Wednesday is still typing as if the typewriter has personally wronged her.

Enid yanks off her headphones, closing her magazine before she slams both down on her bed. She frostily looks at Wednesday.

"Wednesday, this was cute and funny to watch the first two weeks, but now it's getting sad," Enid purses her lips at her roommate. "Stop moping and go fix it. And don’t play stupid, I know you know what I mean."

"Enid," Wednesday says with thinly veiled anger, her typing coming to a stop. "Whatever it was between us has clearly taken a nose-dive and hit solid concrete and died. It was nothing and I'm not affected by—"

"Wednesday!" Enid snaps, and it makes Wednesday close her mouth. Her bright roommate rarely snapped. "Stop dismissing your own feelings."

"I'm not sure what you're—"

"Oh, yes you do," Enid cuts in, and Wednesday wants to remind her that it is a rude habit. "Maybe your big brain hasn't caught on yet, but if you spent time looking at your behaviors and actions of late, you'd be able to get on the same page as the rest of us."

Wednesday frowns, glaring at her roommate, who glares back.

"I implore detective Wednesday to make an appearance and annoyingly obsess over the clues she's given to herself," Enid scrunches her nose. "I'll be at Yoko's and when I'm back, I expect you'll have come to the correct conclusion. I'm taking Thing as well."

Enid doesn't wait for Wednesday's reply as she turns and leaves the room with a resounding click of the door shutting. With her alone in her room, Wednesday initially ignores Enid's words, going back to sit at her desk and placing her fingers on her typewriter, but nothing comes to mind. 

After sitting in frustration for 10 minutes, Wednesday curses her blonde roommate as she contemptuously gets up and goes to lie down on her bed, staring at the ceiling. 

It's almost embarrassingly easy to think back to the beginning. Wednesday remembers seeing you for the first time and thinking nothing of it. It was only two weeks of your friendly smile and greetings, despite having yet to be formally introduced, that she noticed you more. And then she couldn't stop noticing you because you never endeavored to say anything more to her than hello, even though you were diligent in getting to know everyone else. 

Then, it was the slow desire to know every single thing there was about you. Wednesday was still mostly ambivalent about her phone, but she had wanted your number. It was the gruesome butterflies, the discovery of your secret place, and your wings that began to make this year thrilling.

Wednesday had never suffered through so many hypothetical conversations in her head—she had considered admitting herself as a patient to a mental ward rather than being the usual enthused visitor. 

It was easy to admit that, on some level, she thought of you as hers to protect and would carry out any revenge needed. 

But this was normal, wasn't it? Wednesday bargains. This could all be construed as friendship, the same as whatever she had with Enid—just with more curiosity. 

The foundation of that reasoning was pathetically shaky, she knew.

It was the smaller things that Wednesday analyzed. 

Wednesday thought back and reluctantly admitted there were too many times she's felt jealous and sullen because of you. She thinks about how she would take the long way to her class just to bump into you down the halls. 

The way she would ensure her nightly plans were left completely free to spend with you. Quite frankly, Wednesday planned her days around you, and if there was something she could not put off, then she was sure to include you. 

It was coming horrifyingly clear. Wednesday has always told herself she wasn't sure how she felt about you to give herself plausible deniability. But her own actions and behaviors have ratted her out. 

And it was such an outrageous revelation. 

Damn it all. Wednesday Addams was romantically interested in someone. 

How unfortunate. 

The door jiggles before opening, revealing her blonde roommate returning with Thing on her shoulders. Wednesday looks at the time and finds she's been lying in bed for an hour.

"So?" Enid drawls. "Did you figure it out yet?"

"Yes," Wednesday tightly replies, looking at Enid briefly before glaring back at the ceiling.

"And how do you feel?"

"Enraged." 

"Enraged?!" Enid's in disbelief but then sighs. "But of course you'd be."

Wednesday suddenly sits up. It's well past midnight, but she doesn't care.

"Thing," Wednesday writes a quick note, folding it before giving it to Thing. "Go deliver this."

Thing grabs it and scuddles off while Enid stares at her roommate with curiosity. "Are you going to go meet up with her?" Then, excitedly. "Are you going to confess?"

"The only thing I will ever confess to is a murder," Wednesday flatly says. "But yes, I will be meeting up with her and I will make her suffer as I have."

Enid winces, looking doubtful. "Really?"

Wednesday is silent for a moment before she says, "No. But I will be getting to the bottom of this, and I will come out victorious."

Wednesday puts on her boots and sweater.

"Are you sure she'll even meet up with you? What did you say in your note?"

Wednesday grinned wickedly. "I told her to meet me, or I would set fire to her forest until it was nothing but ash."

Enid sighs, turning to get ready for bed. "Good luck."

Wednesday doesn't reply, walking to the door. It is pathetic she's romantically engrossed in someone, but as it happened, she couldn't undo it. 

Therefore, as the object of her affections, she could not allow you to distance yourself without a sound, robust reason. 

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Wednesday makes it to your studio before you do, but she can hear your footsteps heavy with annoyance. 

"What the hell is wrong with you, Wednesday?" She hears you huff. "Why the hell would you send me a note that you're going to burn down—"

"You've been avoiding me," Wednesday turns around and hisses, anger written all over her face. "Why?"

You’re stunned silent, shocked at the sudden confrontation and venomous tone from Wednesday. For a second, Wednesday thinks you won’t answer and turn around to leave, risking your little haven burnt to a crisp.

"I have not," you say slowly, rising to the challenge as you raise your brow at her. "We still see each other every night, don't we?"

"But we don't..." Wednesday pauses. "You don't..."

"What?" You tilt your head. "Spend all my time with you?"

Wednesday remains silent, her blood silently burning inside her. She's so filled with disgruntlement. It's always better to suffer the truth than to be blissfully unaware, but Wednesday wishes this entire realization wasn't her truth. 

"Should I start prioritizing you?" You say with no inflection, but it feels almost malicious. "I'd have never thought Wednesday Addams would demand so much of my time."

Wednesday would never, ever admit that something as silly as words could hurt her. They were just words, and she'd have to care enough to let them affect her. Even Enid's rare spiteful words were more of something she used to reflect on rather than let them dig at her. 

Yet, here she was, clenching her jaw and feeling her throat constrict. 

Wednesday clenches her fist. "This was a mistake." She turns around and starts walking away, feeling violently ill. She only gets a few steps away before you're chasing after her.

"No, Wednesday—wait," you grab her hand, and Wednesday absolutely detests the way it soothes her. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it." Your tone is full of regret and sincerity.

Wednesday stands still in her spot a moment longer before she slowly turns back to you. You don't let go of her hand, and she doesn't pull away.

"Then, why?" Wednesday asks, even though she isn't in a position to accuse you, as she's the exact same when lashing out.

"Because..." you let out a deep sigh, holding Wednesday's hand more tightly. "Because I'm jealous."

Wednesday's eyebrows furrow. She is thoroughly at a loss. "Jealous?"

You shrug and then nod. "Jealous, upset, lamenting—whatever you want to call it."

"Of what, exactly?" Wednesday frowns. 

"Enid."

"Enid?" Wednesday is even more confused. "Why would you be envious of Enid?"

"It's not necessarily Enid as a person. I know she's your best friend," you sigh. "It's more of Enid as a concept."

"As a concept?" Wednesday raises her brow, prompting you to continue on.

You stare at Wednesday, studying her entirety with a focus that begins to make Wednesday uncomfortable even if she doesn't show it. 

"Everybody talks about last year," you reveal slowly. "Since I wasn't here, everyone is excited to share last year in detail."

Wednesday nods. Even her group talked about last year's events when you hung out with them from time to time. 

"The only thing I can think about when people talk of it is how different you've become," you say quietly. "Which isn't a bad thing, but I'm very aware of the fact that Enid was a big factor in your change."

Wednesday lets the words soak in, analyzing them before she nods in agreement. "Enid has left an enduring mark on me, and she continues to—do not repeat that to her."

You give Wednesday a wry grin. "Yes, Enid is..." you sigh. "She's warm like the sun—like basking under the rays. I can't blame you because I feel it in her presence too. She's genuine and bold. What you see is what you get, and you can't help but be charmed."

"I would say Enid is more like a fungus that grows on you and you have no choice but to be fond of, but continue on."

Shaking your head with a chuckle, you look at Wednesday, mirroring her impassive eyes. "I'm not like that."

Wednesday raises her brow. "And?"

You swallow, and Wednesday sees something dim behind your eyes. "I will never be warm like the sun, and what I show others will always be different—always a mask. Wednesday, despite you being grim, solemn, and interested in all morbidities, you're enticed by the sun and moved by its warmth." It was such a miserable smile. "And that will never be me."

You drop Wednesday's hand, and there's something so hollowing about it that Wednesday wants to tell you that you're such a fucking moron because the lack of your warmth is upsetting her. 

"Did you fall on your head when I wasn't watching?" Wednesday snaps at you, and you merely stare back at her. She grabs your hand back, almost crushing it to punish you. 

"Basking in the sun is only tolerable when you're sitting under the shade," Wednesday follows your ridiculous metaphors. "I will admit that Enid's warmth has taught me that while I enjoy solitude, it is a choice—not a condemnation."

"I will also admit that Enid has her whims indulged by me more," Wednesday rolls her eyes but looks at you sternly. "But so do you. I could argue I let you get away with more."

"Do I?" You ask with a tilt of your head.

"If anyone consumed my thoughts and put me through such self-pity and suffering as much as you do, I would have already turned them into the next true crime documentary."

You can't help but crack a smile.

Wednesday looks at you, her eyes softening, and she evenly says, "It is easy to adulate the light." Her thumb brushes over the back of your hand. "Show me your darkness."

You squeeze Wednesday's hand gently, and the tension in your fades, your shoulder becoming relaxed.

The anger subsides within Wednesday, quelling as she knows this stupidity is coming to its end and you will no longer be avoiding her. 

It comes to Wednesday suddenly how much emotional labor you put her through, and she's in disbelief that you think you aren't capable of changing her.

"You are..." Wednesday huffs with frustration. "Unpleasant."

You can't help but laugh. "You are, too."

"You already knew that," Wednesday plainly says. "I told you I would devastate you at some point."

"I wouldn't say I'm devastated," you smile amusedly at Wednesday's dramatics. 

"Nevertheless, this is still a mistake."

"And what a grand mistake it would be," you muse. 

"We clearly don't know what we're doing."

"I guess we just have to keep going until we do."

"Quite frankly, even if we do, we will still both needlessly suffer," Wednesday warns.

You hum, drawing Wednesday closer. Wednesday looks a little wary, but she allows your proximity. Her eyebrows are slightly tense as she gazes at you. 

"I heard your mother named you after her favorite poem," you say softly, your hand grazing Wednesday's fingers before you entangle them together. For someone who enjoyed the cold so much, her hands were warm. "Wednesday's child is full of woe."

Wednesday only nods slightly because moving too much would make her lips graze yours. 

The tension is so thick, Wednesday could suffocate in it. How lovely. 

Your lips graze against Wednesday, and she tightens her hands against yours when you pull away. You look at Wednesday's eyes so vehemently, and she experiences opia all over again. 

"But did you know?" 

Wednesday can feel your breath on her face.

"Love is suffering—and we get the honor of enduring its torment."

Your lips press warmly against the corner of Wednesday's mouth, and she finds you're veracious. What torture it is—and Wednesday takes delight in it.

PART 6

#wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams imagine #wednesday x reader #jenna ortega x reader #wednesday addams fanfiction #wednesdayedit #wednesday addams x you #mm: my fics

[konigsblog]

i was wondering what your favourite cod tumblr accs are? i need some recs to follow plsss<33

(also on a serious note orla you're absolutely insane, the amount of content you put out is just crazy. please remember to take care of yourself so you don't burn out. you're a treasure!)

here's my favourite accounts!! i have a lot more, but these are probably my top :) 🤍🤍

@nrdmssgs amazing art, amazing work. always captures my eye whenever i see that they've posted !! i honestly love everything about könig especially, but all their works for each character is amazing and has so many good aspects about it 💐

@rowarn my notifications are on, and i haven't read ‘experience’ yet as i haven't had time, but i already know it'll be amazing!! their work is amazing, super good, amazing writing style :) 🎀

@sweet-as-an-angel the main reason i started my blog honestly. got me back into the yandere fandom, and i just love all their works, can't get enough of it !! i love going through their cod masterlist every now and then, it's too good ☀️

@httpsghostie their posts always interest me and leave me giggling and kicking my feet. i always enjoy their work whenever they post, amazing ideas and a writing style i enjoy personally!! i cant get enough of it, amazing work and i would definitely follow if i wasn't already 🤞

@katz-chow if i could follow multiple times, i would 🥹 their work is so... MFMFLFNDK, i cant really put it into words but it's always so so so good, and i adore each work posted !! great ideas that make me kick my feet.

@diejager i dont even need to explain why their work is so good, one read on their account and you'll understand 😵‍💫 as a dark content writer, i LOVEEEE reading other people's dark content, it's TOO GOOD. i can't get enough of könig and price, re-reading so many stuff because it's everything. i appreciate everything this creator posts !!

@barefoothighlander amazing ideas and concepts that have me blushing. i love everything posted by this account, and the writing style is AMAZING 🌷🌷

#orla speaks #call of duty modern warfare #modern warefare ii #cod mw2 #cod imagine #cod modern warfare #cod headcanons #cod mw22 #cod x reader

[changes]

Friday June 16th, 2023

🌟 New

We've renamed the menu option “This particular post isn’t for me” to “Dismiss”. This option allows you to dismiss a post that you don’t like. You can see this option in the meatballs menu of a recommended post (Based on your likes, Liked by a blog you follow, Based on a tag you follow, posts on the “For you” feed).

On web, we’ve added post permalinks to the timestamps in the post headers and reblog headers, to make it easier to get to the posts directly. You’ll need to enable “Show timestamps” in your dashboard settings to see these timestamps.

Also on web, you can now Command+Click (Mac) or Control+Click (Windows) on the empty space of a post header or a reblog header to open that post in a new tab or window.

🛠 Fixed

On web, the styling of the Delete blog button on the blog settings page has been updated to make it less easy to accidentally click.

On web, the meatball menu in the blog view header will show the “Get notifications” option after you’ve followed the blog.

🚧 Ongoing

We’re aware that there is currently a bug with re-arranging photosets on Android. We have a fix for that in the next release!

🌱 Upcoming

Nothing to report here today.

Experiencing an issue? File a Support Request and we’ll get back to you as soon as we can!

Want to share your feedback about something? Check out our Work in Progress blog and start a discussion with the community.

#tumblr update

[twogyuu]

Head in the Clouds (Landing Among Stars)

Pairing: Wonwoo x fem!reader

Synopsis: You're busy. He's busy. Doctors are busy. Pilots are busy. But somehow, he always found time for you - including pretending to be your boyfriend for your cousin's wedding.

Genre: Fluff, crack, minor angst(?), pilot!Wonwoo 😭💔, resident doctor!reader, mentions of an unspecifed ex, implications of dj!Johnny Suh, fake dating, friends-to-???

Warnings: Profanity, alcohol use, food, photo is not my own (screenshotted it from the RWY Special Behind SVT YT video. LMAO THANK YOU FOR ALL THE BEHINDS PLEDIS🙏🏻)

WC: ~4.5K

Permanent taglist: @sleeplessdawn @sadkidwarexpert @rockwidthyou @woozarts @wonuziex @bibinnieposts @nanamioo @joonsytip

A/N: Remember when I said it's not my fault if you see this in the next 24h? This is 50% the fault of @wisteria-woo 😭💔 and 50% Wonwoo's fault. It's Friday past midnight - I should be out with friends, maybe studying more, maybe working on fixing Reel Love, finishing that Seungkwan drabble, maybe starting the first few paragraphs of that Hao crazy rich asians!au fic, or maybe writing about Jeonghan and Wonwoo fighting over cereal - but NO - I'm sitting here with Wonwoo fever 🥲

Anyways- IT'S WONWOO'S ANATOMICAL LEFT eyebrow, not his right 😭 Though I re-watched the video and he depresses his anatomical right eyebrow so it just looks like he lifted his left one whyamievenlookingthathard

This is purely self-indulgent and unedited (per usual). I am so ill rn and in DISTRESS - tumblr made this so much harder to post than it needed to be 😭. I am sorry for blowing up your notifications . . . I also sincerely apologize if none of this makes sense.

GOOD NIGHT 😭

Feel free to make fun of me swinging in a direction that isn't even one of my usual biases @aceofvernons.

“Maybe he’s right, Wonwoo.”

Your voice grew small until it fell silent, finally pausing in your rambling. He gave you a minute to collect your thoughts, busying himself with adjusting his navy blue double breasted suit jacket on the white plastic hanger. His fingers grazed against the uneven surface of the gold metallic buttons with delicate engravings as he slipped them through the slits. Though seemingly engrossed in straightening his jacket, his mind was preoccupied with thoughts of you sulking on the edge of his full-sized bed in the other room. Your camel-colored peacoat would still be shrouding your shoulders that were rounded in a slump, your purse still slung across your body. Your index finger was probably hooked loosely around the silver keychain he bought you for your birthday last year. Maybe your eyes were bleary, gaze falling on his cream colored carpet. A sharp inhale, followed by a heavy exhale.

Stepping back, eyes scanning his jacket for a speck of dust, he called to you, “He really said that?” Wonwoo reached to adjust the shoulder pads, “That you never have time for him? You spent all your days off with him the last time I checked – this is the first time I’ve seen you in-person . . . three months?”

“I know,” you mumbled, your voice muffled. Your hands must be covering your face.

“You’d think he’d know what he’d be getting into, dating a resident doctor, huh?” Wonwoo asked rhetorically.

The only response he got was a small ‘puff’ that echoed into his walk-in closet – the sound of your back meeting his comforter. Wonwoo chortled softly to himself. Satisfied by the look of his suit jacket, he tucked his hands into the pockets of his slacks and made his way out. The right corner of his lips curled into a small smile as you came into view just as he expected: Flopped onto his bed with your legs dangling over the edge, still dressed in your outerwear, hands covering your face.

“I’m gonna end up lonely as fuck because of my job, god,” you groaned, “Why did I think it’d be a good idea to be a doctor all things considered? I’ve been fucking up my left and rights since second year of medical school, I work six out of seven days of the week, I’m probably vitamin D deficient with how little I see the sun – there are no windows in that closet of an office they give residents in the hospital, it’s dark when I arrive, the sun is already setting when I leave. The only good thing out of this is that I don’t have to dress up for work and can live in scrubs – for now.”

“Aaaww,” he cooed teasingly, “You won’t be lonely.” Leaning against the white painted door frame, Wonwoo unbuttoned the cuffs of his dress shirt, rolling them up his arms. “You got me.”

“That’s different,” you deadpanned. “You’re missing the point, Wonwoo.”

“And you’re being dramatic,” he berated, running his hand through his jet black locks to loosen the tight and groomed style he was sporting earlier. “Who needs a man when you’re going to be a six-figure-making physician in a year or two? You can take care of yourself.”

“I’ll be fine in two years maybe, but not in two months,” you sighed, pushing yourself up from his bed.

“You’re gonna let a mere man ruin your next two months?”

“No – I mean, yes, I’m gonna mope because I’m a little heartbroken and I really thought he was . . . it.”

“Oh god,” Wonwoo scoffed. You weren’t looking, but he pointed at you anyway. “For the record, I told you from the beginning I never liked him.”

“I told my mom about him,” you blurted.

Wonwoo fell silent, his lips pursing into a small o-shape. This was no laughing matter now. You lived several miles away from home and have been doing so since starting medical school when he met you through a mutual friend. It wasn’t that you weren’t close to your family, but because of your busy schedule, there were only select parts of your life you ever told your mom. You were a listener more than you were a talker – opting to listen to your mom’s anecdotes of what’s been going on at home rather than sharing your day-to-day at the hospital over your weekly phone calls. Not to mention, Wonwoo recalled you told him that your parents were rather invested in your love life, stuck in a traditional mindset, terrified that you’d become a spinster unless you brought home a promising candidate before you hit your early thirties. Though Wonwoo could respect it, he wasn’t sure he could ever quite understand your parents’ urge to get you married so quickly, let alone if it was with the wrong person.

“My cousin’s getting married in two months and I’m flying back home for the wedding,” you explained, “He . . . was supposed to be my plus one . . . meet my cousin, my brothers . . . meet my parents.”

Wonwoo nodded slowly, eyes falling to the side and gazing out his bedroom window. The two of you were getting that serious. He was surprised you hadn’t burst into tears already – perhaps you already did or you were just a tougher cookie than he thought.

“Have you told your parents about your break up?” Wonwoo inquired.

You shook your head slowly. “I . . . I-I’m scared,” you sucked in a sharp breath, “They seemed so . . . ecstatic to meet him? And they told all my aunts and uncles I’m dating some hot shot . . . I’d hate to take that away from them – or worse,” your eyes widened at your sudden epiphany, “I get scolded for being dumb and letting a boy play me.”

Wonwoo furrowed his brows together, the last comment catching him off-guard. “He didn’t and it wasn’t your fault though?”

“It takes two tango, so maybe it was,” you noted, “And my parents don’t see it that way.”

“It wasn’t and they won't.”

“Maybe.”

Wonwoo sighed seemingly hopelessly, pushing himself off the doorframe. His footsteps shifted side to side as if he was contemplating something – uncomfortable even. The space between your brows dipped slightly as you narrowed your eyes, continuing to observe him. As if the room was suddenly feeling stuffy, he let out a long and heavy breath – not out of fatigue or relief, but rather . . . nerves? His hand came up to tug at the black knot at his throat. It must've been tight because his (anatomical) right eyebrow quirked in distress, his fingers flexed harshly as he pulled it loose – you were able to make out almost each tendon running along his metacarpals.

“Date me instead,” Wonwoo stated firmly.

You blinked at him owlishly. “W-what?”

Pulling the shorter end out from behind the black piece of silk came undone, falling limp in his hand. His thumb and index finger came up to unclasp the opaque plastic button below his Adam’s Apple that bobbed up and down as he gulped down the invisible lump forming in his throat.

“I’ll go with you to the wedding,” Wonwoo continued, his eyes flickering from the tie in his hand and back to you. “As your plus one.”

“D-don’t you have work?” you stammered, still processing his offer, “Planes to fly? Places to go?”

He tilted his head to the side nonchalantly, turning back around to re-enter his closet. “I’ll rearrange my schedule to ask for vacation time off – fly as a passenger for once.”

“But –”

“When’s the date?”

. . . .

And so that was how you found yourself here, dressed to the nines in a flowy lavender silk evening gown with Wonwoo’s warm (and surprisingly smooth) hand wrapped around your own sweaty fingers. His grip wasn’t too tight, but not too loose – comfortable, if you will. Visible and connected enough to show that you weren’t single, but also not squeezing the life out of you to make it obvious that the two of you were trying to hide a bigger secret. Your cheeks ached from grinning so widely in front of your parents, hoping they’d buy your fake love story with your handsome friend.

On the contrary, Wonwoo was seemingly a natural at this. He looked almost no different from his daily uniform: Sans the heavy navy blue jacket, he wore a crisp white collared shirt with black detailing on his (anatomical) right shoulder paired with a pair of black slacks. The shirt fit him nicely, slightly loose around the shoulders and tucked in tightly at his waist, highlighting his broad shape. Shoulders rounded back, his usually messy bangs slicked back neatly to the side exposing his forehead and better highlighting his sharp alluring eyes, he stood tall and confident. Despite how simply he dressed relative to other guests and against the extravagant gold and blue decorations, he stood out. A genuine and warm smile played on his lips as he greeted your parents.

“Pleasure to meet you both,” he bellowed, pulling away his hand from your father and bowing his head slightly at them both.

You could tell from the way your mother’s mouth was held agape and her eyes were lit up like fairy lights lining the walls, she was an absolute goner for him Wonwoo.

“So, uh,” your father grunted, eyes zeroing in on your intertwined hands. He waved a finger between the two of you, “How long have the two of you been together?”

Wonwoo turned to look at you and because you felt obligated to in order to simulate chemistry between the two of you, you did too. He took you by surprise though – his gaze a little too loving, the small curve of his lips into a shy smile a little too affectionate.

Your breath hitched; the story the two of you rehearsed on the airplane ride here got trapped in the back of your throat. His stare was hypnotizing as if he turned your brain into mush.

“Gonna tell them or should I?” Wonwoo whispered.

The saccharine in his voice was heart fluttering – you weren’t sure if you wanted to vomit or laugh right there. Frankly, you were growing concerned if you were going to be able to pull this off. You still had half of the cocktail hour and the rest of the reception to go.

“I-I, um, w-we,” you fumbled, tearing your gaze from him. You let out a breathless chuckle, racking your brain for the timeline of your fake relationship.

Tugging you close to his side, Wonwoo turned back to your parents, grinning. “We’ve been friends for almost four years now – met through a mutual friend, but have been seeing each other for the last year and a half.”

“Oh,” your mother hummed softly. “Why didn’t you tell me he was one of your friends? If I had known you had someone so handsome in your life–”

“Mom!” you protested.

“What? I’m just stating facts,” she replied.

Wonwoo gave your hand a tight squeeze, a deep, breathy chuckle bellowing from his chest. “Y/N’s . . . a little shy when it comes to how we got together. No one really expected it – not even us.”

“And what is it that you do for a living then, son?” your father jumped to the next question.

“Dad,” you deadpanned. Of course, he’d ask about Wonwoo’s occupation.

“A pilot, sir,” Wonwoo replied without hesitation.

Your dad raised his eyebrows, nodding fervently with an impressed look crossing his face. “You must have great eyesight.”

“I can see a thing or two,” Wonwoo joked in return.

“Well,” your mother finally intervened. You saw her waving at one of your aunts from afar. She wrapped a hand around your father’s arm, gently ushering him to move. “It was lovely meeting you finally Wonwoo – can’t believe she kept you hidden from us for so long, but Y/N’s father and I have a few more guests to greet. We’ll see you both around, and please, do enjoy yourself!”

Wonwoo and you bid your parents goodbye, waving at them mostly to watch until they were out of earshot and you could finally stop fake smiling.

As your lips flattened, Wonwoo took you by surprise. As if it was second nature, his hand slipped from your own, snaking past the small of your back and settling on your hip. Heat crept onto your cheeks as he pulled you close into his side. His lips grazed against the shell of your ear – you could feel him smiling, his warm breath raising the hairs on the back of your neck. From afar, anyone would think of it as two lovers whispering sweet nothings to one another. However, a stern warning came instead.

“If you keep grinning like you shit your pants, someone’s gonna catch onto us tonight,” Wonwoo whispered. He pulled away and glanced back at you. It terrified you how easily it was for him to smile so . . . warmly at you, like you were the apple of his eye – the love of his life. “Relax, hm?”

You swallowed harshly, your throat growing dry. You nodded – your face still straight nonetheless. He rested against the granite bar, spinning you to face him, his hand never leaving your waist once. Teasingly, he brushed the tip of your nose with his finger before letting both hands now rest on your hips.

“You’re freaking me out,” you muttered.

He tilted his head coyly at you. “Just doing my job as your,” he paused, his voice dropping an octave, leaning towards you, “fake,” he leaned back, his voice returning to its normal volume, “boyfriend.”

“This isn’t your first time being recruited as a fake date, is it?” you folded your arms across your chest. “Bet – Younghee invited you out when she needed a plus one back in January to her aunt’s renewal of vows.”

His nostrils flared ever so slightly, his nose ridge crinkling, eyes disappeared into crescents as his smile widened. Your heart pumped erratically, the memory of that one drunken night where you told him you liked this particular smile. He had claimed it manifested this way because his eye muscles were attached to his nose muscles.

“Seungkwan went with her if you don’t remember,” he explained. One of your relatives must’ve breezed by behind you, watching because Wonwoo’s eyes tracked after someone. He continued, indifference in his tone, “I just . . . really like you.”

With a heavy sigh, you patted his shoulder, slipping your hand back into his – ignoring the way your chest tightened at just how well your hands slotted into one another. “Uh-huh, yeah,” you did your best to hide the squeak in your voice, turning to face forward towards the tall linen-draped tables, “We have a long night ahead of us, so keep it up, buddy.”

. . . .

The evening flew by surprisingly fast without an issue – well pertaining to your fake relationship that is. Cocktail hour ended smoothly, Wonwoo meeting a few more of your cousins. No one batted an eye when you accidentally spilled some champagne down the skirt of your dress – their attention was locked on your handsome date as he indulged in their questions about his job as a pilot and where in the world he’s visited. You rejoined your parents and your younger brothers during dinner. Surprisingly, Wonwoo bonded really well with them, finding common interest in FPS video games and anime shows (you didn’t even know Wonwoo was into anime). A few of your aunts came by during cake cutting and desserts to meet him as well. You chuckled at the way he didn’t have to do much to charm them, merely nodding and smiling as they rattled off about how much they’ve already heard about him from their kids, themselves, and their own families, wishing their own kids brought back someone as dashing as him. There was a hint of jealousy and jab in their words, but nothing you couldn’t handle.

First dances were danced, bouquets and garters were tossed, and the lights of the reception hall were finally dimmed for a lively evening. Guests flooded the dance floor as the DJ, a lanky young man dressed in a snapback and a heavy black jacket with zipper detailing on the pockets, turned on a heavy dance beat and colorful flashing lights. A set of large headphones around his ears, the DJ (one of your other cousin’s boyfriend you’d later learn), bopped on his own as he twisted the various knobs on his beat board. Neither of you quite the dancer, Wonwoo and you stayed in your seat, watching your cousins, sober and drunk, shimmy on the floor.

“I’m gonna go get something to drink,” you announced after a little while. You peered at him through your lashes. “You want something?”

Wonwoo leaned forward by your ear. “Just water,” he shouted over the beat.

You nodded, gathering the skirt of your dress as you got out of your chair. On your way over, someone caught your elbow. You spun around, pleasantly surprised to see Rina, one of your childhood friends you grew up with, greeting you with a bright smile.

“Hey!” she squealed while linking your arms.

“Hi!” you replied. “How are you? I haven’t seen you all night.”

“I don’t blame you,” she chirped as the two of you reached the bar counter. She was quick to hail down the bartender, requesting a green tea shot. You asked for Wonwoo’s glass of water and your lemonade.

Rina’s eyes flickered behind you. “Been busy introducing everyone to tall and handsome,” she walked her index and middle finger up your forearm playfully, smirking when she noticed the sheepish smile gracing your face. “Heard he was a friend turned lover? A pilot too – caught yourself a good one finally.”

“He’s alright,” you muttered.

“Are you kidding?” Rina scoffed, “If a man that handsome looked at me like the way he looks at you, I’d melt right here and now – I wouldn’t give a damn it’s my cousin’s wedding they’re cleaning me up at.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion, taken aback by her comment. Your mind was already flitting through the memories of the day with Wonwoo – how did he look at you exactly?

“What?” you shook your head, “You’re being dramatic.”

“Ladies and gentlemen,” she held her fist to her mouth to mimic an announcer with their mic – she used to do this all the time in high school to tease you. “This is why they say love is blind.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not how you’re supposed to use that phrase,” you chuckled.

The bartender made his way over with your drinks. You both offered him a small thank you and tip, before parting from the counter and continuing your conversation.

“It’s not,” Rina lifted the opaque mint green liquid to her lips, “But you must be really blind not to see how his eyes go all soft and heart-shaped whenever he looks at you.”

He’s just naturally a good actor.

She tilted her head back, downing the drink in one ago. With a satisfied sigh, she turned back to you, a silly grin on her face. “Seriously though, I’m really happy for you – he seems to really like you.”

But it’s fake.

“Thanks,” was all you could say. You gave her a tight smile – though, Rina could tell it didn’t quite reach your eyes. The two of you slowed to a stop a few tables away from your date.

She narrowed her eyes coyly at you. “Just . . .” she clamped down on your shoulder and gave you a firm squeeze, “Think twice before you let him go.” Rina turned, her body perpendicular to your own, her eyes set on Wonwoo who was peering over curiously. She waved at him, offering him a warm smile. He returned the gesture, eyes then flickering to you.

“That,” she formed a rectangle with her fingers, “is a man in love, sweetheart.” Rina turned to you, giving your arm one last firm squeeze. “It was good to see you,” she winked, “With him.”

Not a single drop of alcohol in you that night, your mind started to spin as you watched her frolic between the tables like a happy little girl in a field of daisies, joining her friends back to the dance floor. Your legs suddenly felt wobbly – you worried you wouldn’t be able to make it back to Wonwoo in time without spilling your drinks.

There was no way in hell Wonwoo could, let alone would, love you by choice. Yes, he loved you as a friend, but no more, no less. He’s been by your side since your second year of medical school. He’s wiped your tears (and your snot) when you feared you would fail your board exams. He’s seen you at your wildest, handing out your number to strangers like gum when you were tipsy at the bar. He’s picked you up from the hospital when you could hardly open your eyes, the stress of an overnight shift hanging heavy on your limp body. Not in a single one of those moments, did anything he did ever suggest he could possibly be in love with you.

Rina was just drunk.

She wasn’t thinking rationally – just seeing things because her vision was going blurry.

Even if Wonwoo liked you . . . what did that mean for you?

“Everything okay?” Wonwoo asked slowly as you settled into your seat. His hand settled into the small of your back and for once that evening, it wasn’t soothing – it was burning hot. You jumped at his touch. “Whoa.”

“I’m fine,” you quipped, swiping at the invisible hair in your face. You shoved his glass of water into his hand. However, rather than drinking it, he placed it to the side; that same hand coming to caress your own.

“Uh . . . did your friend say something?” he asked. “Something you didn’t like?”

Yes – but you might have liked it.

“No,” you lied.

“You’re lying,” he squinted at you.

Fuck – were you just that easy to read or did he just . . . know you that well?

“It’s . . . umm . . . getting hot in here,” you chuckled half-heartedly, “I’m gonna go get some fresh air, okay?” You moved out of your seat, breathless suddenly. “J-just stay here – please.”

Wonwoo frowned, watching you back up towards the grand doors. Normally, he’d respect your boundaries and let you be. You were the type to need space when you were distressed – you knew to come to him when you needed to. However, right now, that didn’t seem like the right thing to do as he watched you spin around, bundling up your dress in your fists so you wouldn’t trip as you dashed into the red carpeted halls. He stood up taking the widest strides he could to reach you without drawing attention.

Standing in the wide doorway, his head whipped left and right, frantically searching for you. He caught sight of your dress rounding a corner and took off jogging after you. It was fortunate you weren’t the best at walking in heels – in combination with his long legs, he caught up with you quickly, reaching for your elbow. Breathlessly, Wonwoo pulled his weight back to slow you down, causing you to stumble into his chest (rather un-elegantly might you add). He was quick to catch you, setting you against the wall. When you tried to duck and escape, Wonwoo was a beat faster, bringing his left arm up to cage you in.

“Can we not be cliche and do this here?” you complained.

Wonwoo tilted his head to the side, ducking his head to try and catch your downcasted eyes. “Mind telling me what’s going on then?”

Your breathing grew shallow and uneven. With how quiet the surroundings were, you wondered if he could hear the erratic beat of your heart like you could. It boomed in your ears, drowning out the bass of the party a couple doors down.

“Hey,” he tried again, his voice softer.

Wonwoo was good to you – too good now that you think about it.

Patient.

Caring – even if he teased you a lot.

He listened.

He laughed when your jokes weren’t that funny.

And the scariest part?

He made time for you – pilots were busy.

They flew everywhere: Hong Kong, Paris, LA, Osaka, Milan, Dodoma.

But when you needed him, he was there – hell, even changed his work schedule to accompany you to a wedding in a small city with no attractions (except for the fountain that mimicked the one in Rome) and voluntarily subject himself to the scrutiny of your family.

Even now when you were tearing down the hall, he was tender in drawing the answers out of you.

In the one in a thousand chances Rina was right, how could you confront him now? You weren’t even sure of your own feelings. Had enough time passed since your break up? Did you want him in that way? Or were you too just caught up in the moment?

Slowly, but fearfully, you willed yourself to look up at him. Eyes wide boring into his own, you noted the concern that was etched into the space between his brows, the slightest frown downturning the corner of his lips.

“Would it be insane to think,” you started softly, pressing your back flat against the wall. The plaster felt cool against your skin, sending shivers down your spine, curling your fingers into fists. “That you might . . . like me?” you gulped, “More than a friend?”

Wonwoo’s face was stoic at first, his eyes studying your face. They traced your features from your hairline to your black mascara coated lashes to the cute tip of your nose that he touched earlier that day, finally falling on your lips – the remnants of your lip gloss probably stained on the lip of the cup of lemonade you were sipping on earlier. He wondered if your lips tasted like the drink – sweet with a hint of bitterness from the lemons they were made of.

Gradually, his features softened. The dip between his brows rising again, a tender glint flashing in his brown irises. The corner of his lips finally curving up – his nose following suit. Like he’d always explain - the muscles of his face were all connected.

Technically, he wasn’t wrong.

Wonwoo leaned in close, his bangs that fell out of the slick tickling your lashes.

His voice low with a hint of rasp, he whispered, “Took you long enough.”

. . . .

Read the epilogue here :)

#wonwoo x reader #wonwoo fluff #wonwoo angst #wonwoo scenarios #wonwoo imagines #seventeen x reader #seventeen fluff #seventeen angst #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #gonna go lay down #im so delusio-

[miralunawritez]

Pt 2 of my Velvet x Fem!Popstar!reader

warnings: kissing, slight make out

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After the show, Velvet decides to message you again, "Hey" she types, thinking about if she should send it or not. She twirls her thumbs over the keyboard of her phone before she sends it, setting her phone down immediately, walking to her vanity to look at herself in the mirror and touch up her makeup. She hears her phone buzz, her heart races as she slowly gets up to go check it.

You were getting ready for the after party of the show, re-applying your false eyelashes when you hear your phone buzz. You pick it up to check the notification and smile while squealing when you see who its from. "Heyyyy" you type, sending it immediately. You continue to touch up your makeup, hoping to see Velvet at the after party.

Velvet looks at your message, a very small smirk creeping onto her face. "Are you going to the after party?"

"Hell yeah I'm going" You reply

Velvets heart drops to her ass when she realizes she's catching feelings for you. She gets sick to her stomach, "I have to avoid her at all costs" she says to herself. Leaving you on seen. She continues getting ready, thinking about her feelings for you. She frequently checks her phone, looking to see if you have been texting her.

The after party comes around, you walk in, everyone greeting you with cheering, whistling, yelling, etc. You look around for Velvet, not seeing her. "Maybe she isnt here yet," you thought to yourself. You pull out your phone to text her. "Hey, I'm here!!" You put your phone back in your pocket, starting a conversation with a fan. After the conversation ends, you check your phone again. "Seen 10 minutes ago?" you say to yourself. You start to worry until you spot Veneer talking to some girl.

"Hey Veneer! Wheres Velvet?" you say, in hopes for an answer. "Shes over there" he says, pointing to her from across the room. You make your way over to Velvet. "Hey girl" you say, smiling at her. She looks at you with a stank look before walking away from you. You cross your arms, "Whats her problem?" you ask the person she was talking to as they shrug their shoulders. You follow after Velvet, lightly grabbing her shoulder, spinning her to face you. "Whats up with you? I thought you were starting to like me?" you ask, concerned. "Can you just leave me alone?!" Velvet yells, her blood running cold, immediately regretting yelling at you.

You took a step back, "Alright, fine." you turn around, walking away. Velvet watches you, "(Y/n).." Velvet says, a part of her wanting to scoop you up in her arms. You turn back around and face her, "What?" you say, a hint of sass in your voice. Velvet looks around the room nervously before walking up to you, wrapping her hands around your waist, pulling you in and slamming her lips on yours. You instinctively put your hands on the back of her head, tangling them up in her hair while pushing your body up against her.

Your move your hands down to her face, that kiss turning into a make out session. You pull away a minute later, panting while looking at velvet. She pulls you in again for a hug, wrapping her arms around your back. You dig your face into her neck, wrapping your arms around her neck aswell. You never wanted the moment to end. "I really like you Velvet, a lot" you confess.

Velvet reciprocates those feelings, holding you tighter than ever. A few seconds pass, and you start hearing camera clicking, you look up from Velvets neck and see paparazzi taking pictures of you and Velvet..

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Finally finished pt 2 😙

#velvet trolls #fanfic #imagines #oneshots #scenarios #trolls 3 #velvet and veneer trolls #velvet and veneer #velvet x reader

[aemonds-fire-writes]

The Sapphire Spell Ghost Aemond x Fem Reader Part Two - Cabinet of Curiosities

Summary: Can a spell cast by Alys long ago bring Aemond Targaryen back to life centuries later in Westeros? When the remains of the Kinslayer are found and put on display in a Cabinet of Curiosities, the ghost of Aemond discovers the proprietor’s beautiful daughter is the only person who can see or hear him.

Word Count: 2315

Warnings: None

Not beta read. Any mistakes are my own.

@fire-scribbles is a fic only side blog I'm using instead of taglists. Please follow and turn on notifications.

The Sapphire Spell Masterlist

Aemond Targaryen Masterlist

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Enjoy! Reblogs and Comments are much appreciated.

Centuries later

“Good morning, father,” you say cheerfully, leaning down to kiss his cheek before joining him at the small dining table. Once you are seated, he says a short prayer before beginning to help himself to breakfast. “What are your plans for today?” you inquire while taking a sip of your tea.

“Ah, my lovely girl, today is the day,” he exclaims, looking at you with a twinkle in his eye and a happy smile on his face. “My latest acquisitions for the collection will be delivered this morning. We have a great deal of work to do, much to prepare for our newest arrival.”

You stare at him with surprise. ”Oh, I finally get to know what this wondrous item is." You truly cannot remember seeing your father more excited than he has been recently. He still has an almost childlike wonder for new things, an enthusiasm unmatched by most for the curiosities of the world. “Will you at least give me a hint? You have tormented me long enough,” you ask him playfully.

Smiling mischievously, he says, “I suppose I could tell you that a former resident of the Red Keep will be brought to their new home today, but that is all I will say."

“The Red Keep? I didn’t think there was anything left in that old ruin,” you say, looking at him curiously. “What could have possibly been found there?” you ask him.

“Let’s just say that everyone in this city knows my reputation for paying good money for interesting objects,” he smiles, finishing his meal. As he gets up to leave, he tells you, “I’ll be next door; I’ll see you there after your lessons.”

After he leaves, you continue to linger over your tea, intrigued by your father's excitement. The Red Keep had long been abandoned, falling into ruin for well over a century. New rulers had built new palaces, and new government buildings were constructed. A fire several months ago mostly destroyed what remained. Workers have been toiling away for weeks, clearing through the rubble. What could have been found to cause him this much excitement, you wonder?

Hearing your tutors' arrival in the front hall, you hurry off to begin your lessons. While you are grateful for your father’s insistence that you continue your education, focusing today will be a struggle.

After seeing the tutor out, you rush to find your father in the adjacent building. Walking past the numerous displays of natural and man-made artifacts and oddities, you cannot help but smile, thinking about how your family’s fortunes changed in less than two generations.

Your family originally came from Flea Bottom, eking out a meager existence for generations. Your grandfather was born as one of six children. As a young boy, he dreamt of the sea, spending as much time as he could outside the Mud Gate of the city, where ships docked. Willing to learn anything he could about sailing and willing to do any task, he managed to gain favor with a ship's captain, who took him on as a cabin boy. At a very young age, he began a life at sea, steadily working his way up, taking on more responsibility with each voyage, and eventually meeting the great explorer, Lord Swann.

He was a member of Swann’s crew when the lost treasure of the Stepstones was found. With his share, he bought a respectable home in the city, away from Flea Bottom, married a pretty widow, and began a family of his own. He still continued sailing with Lord Swann for several more years. During his sailing years, he amassed a number of unusual items he found during his travels to far-off lands. After injury ended his career at sea, his time was spent with his growing collection, eventually buying the property next door and opening the first Cabinet of Curiosities Museum in King's Landing.

Your father inherited everything when he passed. He had grown up with a love for the collection, but he was also blessed with a flair for the dramatic and a sharp mind. He saw opportunity in the public’s fascination for things never seen before and kept expanding the collection. He said that most of the items in the collection were authentic, but admitted that a few forgeries were included.

There was still quite a bit of work to be done before the grand reopening of the collection in two days. Since your family had been adding oddities and artifacts for over fifty years, the assortment was getting quite large. It now took up the entire first floor of the building. The new exhibit is part of an expansion to the second floor. Flyers had been distributed throughout the city, promising something new and exciting. The temporary closure of the collection also allowed your father to have renovations done to the building. The major improvement is the installation of the new innovation of electric lighting, not only in the Cabinet of Curiosities Museum but in your own residence next door.

Once you find your father, you immediately understand his excitement these past few weeks, for this particular display is like nothing else in the collection.

He sees you standing back with a look of shock on your face and laughs. Coming over to put his arm around you, he says proudly, “I’d like you to meet the Kinslayer, Prince Aemond Targaryen."

The Kinslayer, the infamous second son of King Viserys. He claimed the dragon Vhagar as a boy and started the Dance of the Dragons when he murdered his nephew. He was named Prince Regent when his brother King Aegon II was seriously injured and went on a rampage, burning the Riverlands after Kings Landing was taken by his half sister Queen Rhaenyra.

Besides his horrific deeds, not much is known about him. It’s as if he was a stain on House Targaryen that they tried to erase from memory.

Displayed before you are the remains of a man; his bones are already laid on black velvet inside a specially made glass coffin, his skull bearing the damage caused when it was struck by the sword Dark Sister. The suit of night black armor he wore, sword and dagger attached, has been cleaned and reassembled next to the case, as if standing a ghostly guard. Hanging on the wall over the case is a somewhat damaged painting of a young man wearing an eyepatch. He has the trademark silvery-white hair of the Targaryens.

Stunned silent for a moment, you finally manage to ask, “How did you find this? I thought the Targaryens always burned their dead."

As you continue to examine this new display, your father explains, “While clearing the rubble from the fire, an underground chamber was found. Most of it had collapsed, but one corner of the room remained unscathed. These remains had been placed there in a stone sarcophagus, with the painting and armor stored nearby.”

“Why his body was not burned, I cannot say, but the fact that he was found under the Red Keep, along with the research I’ve done, convinces me that these are the remains of the Kinslayer,” he continues. “Now we have him, his armor, and his portrait. Once word spreads, people will be lining up outside to see him. He is going to make us a fortune.”

“The only thing missing is the sapphire he reputedly wore in place of his eye,” you remark, noticing the prince was a rather tall man from the looks of his skeleton.

“That has never been found and is still presumably at the bottom of the God’s Eye. Small chance of anyone ever seeing that again,” your father sighs.

You chuckle. “If it is ever found, I’m sure you will find a way to acquire it.”

Smiling, he says, “I would try.” Looking at the empty crates and packing the artifacts were delivered in, he says, “I’ll get the boys to clean this up. We still have a lot of work to do if we are to be ready to reopen.

Taking one last glance at the portrait of the Targaryen prince, you follow your father to see what you can help with.

The next two days go by quickly as you spend most of your time making sure everything is in perfect order. Your father’s enthusiasm is contagious, making the work more enjoyable. You are both optimistic that more people will be eager to see the new and improved museum, and they will be willing to pay the increased admission price. While you are not wealthy, it is a profitable business that affords you a very good living. Despite society’s expectations that you should be looking for a husband, you are happy with your life.

You also find yourself drawn to the painting of Aemond Targaryen, finding yourself standing before it several times. You can’t help but notice how regal he is, unsmiling but strikingly handsome; he has a strong jawline, good cheekbones, and a natural curve to his lips. His characteristically Targaryen silvery-pale hair, pulled back from his face, is long and straight. The eye patch over his left eye, with the scar trailing above and below, gives him a rather dashing appearance, you think.

As you remind yourself there is work to be done, you become aware of the freezing cold air around you, and you swear something grazes your hand. Startled, you whirl around to look behind you and find yourself alone in the exhibit. Nervously, brushing back the tendrils of hair that have escaped your loose chignon, you sense there is another presence here with you.

Trying to steady your breathing, your eyes dart around, but you see no other person near you. You can faintly make out the voices of some of the staff you employ, but they are distant. With a quick shiver from the cold, you shake it off and head downstairs.

Finally, the time has come to reopen the Cabinet of Curiosities Museum to the public. With a glance out the window, you can already see a crowd has begun to line up for the ticket window. Joining your father just inside the entrance, you can’t help but think he looks rather distinguished today. Your father is a natural showman, which is one of the reasons the collection has remained a popular attraction in the city. You love watching him, dressed elegantly in a tailcoat tuxedo, enthrall an audience with history and somewhat embellished tales of artifacts.

Playing your part as well, you are dressed in a fashionable gown with your hair styled up and adorned with jeweled combs. You act as a hostess for the collection, guiding visitors and answering questions.

You smile, knowing your father will be in rare form tonight, telling the tale of the Kinslayer from the Age of Dragons.

The afternoon and evening pass by in a blur. The grand re-opening is a stunning success, with high society rubbing shoulders with common folk. It seems that regardless of one's status in life, all share a fascination for the unusual and mysterious.

Several times, your father holds court, telling the tale of Aemond Targaryen. Captivating the crowd with the story of the villainous prince who murdered his nephew to begin the Dance of the Dragons, how he declared himself Prince Regent, mercilessly burning the Riverlands, and consorting carnally with a witch.

It was long past nightfall when the last patrons were ushered out and the doors locked. Your father brings out a bottle of the finest Arbor champagne for you and your small staff to celebrate the night’s success.

By the end of the week, you are tired from the constant activity and crowds of people that have surrounded you, and you are glad the museum will be closed tomorrow for the weekly day of worship of the Seven. After you and your father visit the Sept in the morning, you look forward to a more peaceful day with a pleasant walk if the weather allows. But as you prepare for bed, your mind is once again drawn back to Prince Aemond.

Whenever you are in the museum, you feel compelled to visit his display. You’ve found yourself looking down at his remains that lie on black velvet, staring at the bones of his hands, noticing how long his fingers are and how much larger his hand would be compared to your own. You’ve even had the strange urge to open the glass case, to reach in and touch him. But it is his portrait that captivates you the most. While his angular features may not be considered conventionally handsome, you see a strikingly unique splendor to his image. His scar and eye patch only deepen his mystery to you.

You confess to yourself that you find it difficult to reconcile this portrait with the accounts of the cruel monster he was said to be. The story of his short life and terrible deeds should repel you, but they intrigue you more. You have an intense curiosity about him. ‘What was he thinking as he sat for this portrait? What did his voice sound like?’ Questions like these have been going through your mind all week.

Also on your mind are the odd feelings you have when in the museum.

Many times, you have the feeling of being watched. You feel sudden, icy cold drafts that come out of nowhere and make you shiver. A few times you feel as if someone is standing beside you or behind you, much closer than would be proper, and each time you are alone with no one around. And tonight, as you were preparing to leave, you thought you heard a hushed voice whisper your name.

Your last thought as you drift off to sleep is that it all began when the remains of Prince Aemond were brought to the museum.

#aemond fanfiction #aemond fic #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen fic #hotd fanfiction #house of the dragon fanfiction

[brighter-by-the-daly]

Millie Bright x Reader

Part Two: Lover’s Auction

Millie’s perspective:

Sam grabbed my arm holding it out straight to display the phone number that was still visible on my skin, I’d scrubbed at it in the shower this morning which made it fade a little but was still clearly readable. I knew training would be a show and tell this morning so tried to cover it with a long sleeve under top, but in a blind haze after a rigorous training session I mindlessly pulled up the sleeves. “What’s this then Mills, you cheating on me?” the Aussie joked as I tried to pull the top back down to cover the writing, of course my friend wouldn’t let me as she continued with her probing questions. “I knew you were hiding something, you never wear long sleeves!” her voice became loud and squeaky in excitement, the way that it does when she’s making fun of me. “It’s just a phone number!” the enquiry made the smirk on my face hard to hide as it’s been years since my last relationship, I was kinda hopeful that this might lead to something good. “Is this what that dorky smile on your face has been about all day?” Sam poked my ribs as the commotion drew Erin nearer to the drama that followed us around everywhere. “Is it a giiiirlll?” Sam continued to tease until I broke my cover. “Maybeee” I couldn’t contain my smile at admitting it as I felt my cheeks grow a warmer shade of red. “Well, you gotta tell us all about it, weren’t you at that function last night?” they linked their arms together as they skipped back into the changing room, dragging me along with them. I didn’t have a choice but tell them all about the girl I had met last night at some random charity event I didn’t even want to go to - not if I wanted to get out of here alive anyway! They couldn’t believe she hates Chelsea and didn’t have a clue who I was! I said that maybe that’s for the best, since the World Cup it’s hard to find someone who doesn’t know who I am and it could be refreshing to not be on edge about ulterior motives. A lot of people I meet only want me for my money or to get into places for free, there tends to be people out there that think I earn a lot more money than I actually do, I’m able to live comfortably but still have to watch the pennies and save for the things I really want. Packing up my gear to leave my phone lit up with a message, “is that her?!” Erin pulled my arm in her direction as they peered over to look for a photo that wasn’t there, I explained they would have to wait and see what happens before I expose the identity behind the phone number. My friends made their annoyance known through loud groans as I left to go home, “bye sweeties!” I waved sarcastically leaving them in the lurch.

Your perspective:

The sun rise shining through your bedroom window made your eyelashes flutter open, shielding the sun from your eyes you squinted at the clock to see it was barely 8am. Mascara stained your hands as you rubbed your eyes, annoyed that you’d forgotten to do your skin care routine when your got home last night. Tapping your phone to light up the notifications you noticed a text from an unfamiliar number, “hello pretty girl, hope your head isn’t too sore!” You guessed it was from Millie but pulled the shirt she’d written her number on from under the bed to double check before replying which lead into texting all morning. Opening Google to search the footballer you noticed she was telling the truth - she is a defender for England and Chelsea! Looking at a few photos you had an epiphany and realised last night wasn’t the first time you had seen Millie. Wrapped in your duvet you shuffled to the sofa and re-downloaded episodes of Eastenders that you’d deleted from the Sky box, spotting the familiar blonde a few weeks ago on The One Show. Sending her a picture of the TV screen you laughed to yourself.

Y: knew that wasn’t the first time I’ve seen you! 🤭

M: you didn’t recognise me? 😂

Y: well no, my recording of Eastenders caught the last few minutes of it… I fast forwarded 🙈

M: Charming! 😳

Y: Next time you’re on TV, I’ll record it. Happy? 😇

M: Why don’t you come watch instead, I’ve got a game tomorrow?

Y: Oh.. idk, I haven’t watched football for two decades 😕

M: That’s okay, you record it then, you don’t have to watch 😘

Y: I’ll think about it 😉

Millie said she was off to training but would like to see you again, inviting you on a date tonight and saying she’ll pick you up on her way home. The next time you heard from her was when she called you walking out of the training ground. You’d barely said two words to each other before being interrupted by some of her teammates, “is that her!”, “let’s say hi!” you heard from down the phone. Millie groaned “bugger off guys! Stop embarrassing me!” she yelled making you pull the phone away from your ear as she argued with them, reluctantly telling you that they wanted to say hi and held the phone out towards them against her will. One grabbed her arm to pull the phone up to her mouth as the other tapped the speaker button. “Hi Millie’s girlfriend!” an Aussie accent called as you heard the phone be pulled away by another person. Millie could be heard in the background loudly contesting what was happening, “what’s your name, Millie won’t tell us!” a Scottish accent asked, you laughed and told them as they screeched with glee, there was a lot going on even if you couldn’t see them – the noises coming through the phone sounded like they were being attacked; the rummaging and fumbling of the phone between different hands, the laughs of the two girls and Millie getting more and more irate before hearing heavy footsteps run away. “Errgh, sorry they’re a nightmare!” she groaned then told you that was her best friends at the club Sam and Erin, usually Guro is around too but she’s injured and not at training today. “I haven’t told them you’re my girlfriend don’t panic, they just saw your number on my arm” she insisted as she threw her bags into the boot of the car and you heard the door slam shut. “Okay, I’m safe now. I’ll come pick you up.”

Waiting outside your house as she arrived you clambered into her car, “hey girlfriend” you joked as Millie’s cheeks turned bright red. “How’s the hangover?” she asked, shifting into first gear and pulling away. “Better for seeing you, where we going?” The blonde asked whether you had to be home by a certain time, you didn’t have work the next day so you were free to spend as long as you wanted with her and as long as she wanted you! It was mid afternoon and she was being very secretive about where she was taking you, knowing it wasn’t going to be a quick date when she joined the motorway heading towards Essex, you know the journey well but didn’t let on that you had an idea of where she was taking you. The longer you drove the more you were certain about where she was going, looking out of the window you saw how the scenery had changed since you were a little girl, the last time you drove this route was with dad in 2003. It’s like you remember every bump in the road, counting the bridges until you got to your destination, your mind fell back into that routine of counting the bridges until you reached the coast. Millie must have realised you had spaced out, placing a comforting hand on your thigh when you pulled into the seaside town and asked if you were okay. Smiling and nodding you pushed those thoughts to the back of your mind, you were right with the destination – Southend-on-Sea.

You walked hand in hand along the seafront, rode the train along the pier and shared chips on the beach while watching the sunset. You talked non-stop about yourselves that it felt like you’d know each other for years, not less than 24 hours! After eating your chips you took a wander down the beach towards the sea, kicking off your shoes Millie followed suite as you dipped your toes into the water. When the sky started to turn to pink hues she asked you the question you knew was going to come up sooner or later, “what were you thinking about in the car.. when you went quiet?” You took a deep breath before replying, “I used to play for Southend Girls” you said, plunging the conversation into a long silent pause. “I didn’t know that” Millie responded cautiously, anxiously looking down and playing with her thumb ring. Her response caused you to chuckle lightly, “how the hell could you have known that?” pushing her further into the sea so the cuffs of her rolled up jeans got a little wet. “Hey!” she shouted trying to drag you in with her but you were quick and slipped your arm from her grip, running back up the beach as she chased you. Seeing the lights of the arcades still glowing you kept running, stopping at a bench by the road before going any further to swipe the sand from your feet and replace your shoes as you waited for your date to join you. “You’re quick!” she puffed, breathless from the unexpected sprint. You asked her favourite game in the arcades as you took her hand and lead her to the cash machine, pulling your purse out to feed a £50 note into the machine so it spat out £1s in return. Splitting the money between two pots you handed hers over, “did you just put a fifty in there?!” seemingly astonished at the amount you were willing to waste on 2p machines! “It’d cost about that in petrol” you shrugged, seeing it as a fair swap, she drove and you pay for the plastic tat you’re about to win together! Millie darted straight to the basketball machine and you set yourself up at a 2p machine nearby so you could watch her top rise above her hips to show a little skin when she took her shots. It felt like she spent forever on that machine, glancing over to you every now and again between games as the tickets piled up at her feet. You floated between machines, collecting your prizes and tickets until you felt her arms wrap around you and her chin balance on the crown of your head. “Are you winning?” she asked, peering into your prize pot that was almost full, “there’s more in here!” you laughed, opening your bag to show off all your useless prizes. You had so much fun in the arcades but before you left you had to have a battle on the dance machine and swap your tickets for sweets to share on the journey home, you didn’t want the date to end!

Stumbling out of the arcade in fits of laughter and a handbag full of prizes the sky had turned dark, you wondered if Millie would suggest going home but she didn’t, instead spotting a pub close by that seemed lively and went to have a closer look, “there’s a band playing in there!” she chimed excitedly. It was The Chinneries, one of your old haunts as a teenager, you’d jump on the train and meet your friends to go and watch different bands nearly every month. As Millie spoke to the bouncer, you skimmed the posters on the wall and noticed that playing tonight is one of your old favourite bands. “Are there any tickets left?” you called over as Millie nodded in response, “can we go in?” she nodded again, reaching out her hand for you to run over and take. Shuffling into the small bar you stood near the back, you’d entered around the half way mark of their set and shuffled around the people to be able to order a drink. Millie was much taller than you and could easily see over people’s heads but made sure she found a space that you could enjoy the show from too. Right after you got comfortable they started to play one of your favourite songs, screaming in excitement you immediately started bouncing up and down singing the words at the top of your lungs. Millie had never heard of them before but she enjoyed watching you be happy, posting a short video of the back of you to her Instagram story with “she’s cute” written over the top. You couldn’t be identified by the video as it was just the back of you singing with your arm in the air but it made you happy when you spotted it on her insta later that night.

“I think this has been the best first date I’ve ever had Mills!” you gushed walking out of the pub, it was getting late and you really should be heading home soon. “Ohhhh, pet names already!” her voice squeaky and high pitch as she shoved herself into your side jokingly. Your hand slipped easily into hers when she draped her arm over your shoulder, crossing your arm over your chest to keep hold of her hand. “I agree.. (y/n/n)” teasingly using your nickname too. You asked who she was playing tomorrow and what time when you were driving home, you were astonished that you still found stuff to talk about! Her hand was on your thigh the entire drive and when you pulled up in front of your house the anticipation of whether you were going to kiss or not was overwhelming. You desperately wanted to but didn’t want to rush things, the date had been perfect and all the signs were there that Millie really liked you but you wouldn’t know for certain until.. “can I kiss you?” her soft words interrupted your overthinking.

The engine was purring as she unclipped your seatbelt, nodding your head gently as hers came closer, stroking your fringe behind your ear her hand lingered to cup your cheek as your lips touched in the softest entanglement. You could feel the goosebumps raise on your arms as your eyelashes fluttered against her skin, her nose grazing yours as the kiss sealed off a perfect day. “I’d love to see you again” she whispered, her forehead pressed softly against yours. Her blue eyes gazing deeply into your soul, willing you to answer her. “Me too, I’ll take you out next time” leaning forward to peck her lips one last time before leaving. Entering the home you share with your dad he was already at the front door waiting to hear all about your date. You’re still not convinced that he didn’t set this up on purpose but you’re thankful that the events at the auction had lead to a dark time in your life actually bringing you joy.

Part Three

#millie bright #millie bright x reader #lionesses #lionessss x reader #woso x reader #woso masterlist #woso community #woso fic #woso imagine #woso one shot #woso fanfics #wlw fanfic #fanfic series

[allmcl]

hi!! do you also write for armin (separately)? ive been craving some armin content for a while and i found your account, your writing is so amazing, and i was wondering if you'd write something where candy and armin arent back together yet in UL and, after a night in the snake room with alexy, rosa, priya and the others, armin decides to fight for her love not knowing he doesn't need to fight for it since she's head over heels for him

STILL HERE │ Armin Keenan.

When a reunion with an old love reminds Armin of everything they experienced together, he decides that after so much time, it's now or never that he should get you back.

pairing('s). armin keenan x f!reader

genre. fluff, angsty.

content wanings. mentions of breakup, alcohol consuming, cursing, kissing, suggestive themes.

author's note. MISSED THIS BOY SO MUCH DURING UL, hope you like this!! (tysm for requesting, sorry it took so long!) AND BTW, i found like a lot of lastnames and i decided for this one (not sure if is the canon one ://)

I was sure that my return to the city would be harder. After all, I couldn't blame anyone for being angry with me. If one of my friends just left, without even saying goodbye, I wouldn't be happy either. But, luckily for me, they had a much better reaction than I expected.

At the moment, I only saw Rosa and Melody. Although perhaps I didn't know how to show it at the time, having seen them after so long squeezed my heart so much that I still feel my emotions on the surface.

To tell the truth, I'm scared. Although I used to seeing eachother very often in high school, whether to go out for a drink or just to walk around the city, this is not high school anymore. And it's now, when I'm getting ready to go out, that I feel like I'm getting ready in my old room to go shopping with the them. The phone vibrates, and brings me out of my melancholic thoughts.

I look at him out of the corner of my eye, the screen glows with a notification from Alex.

Alex…

I refrain from further worries and simply read it from the preview.

"[Y/NNN]??? we are waiting for youuuu"

"Years waiting to see you, and you still late🙄​"

I smiled wistfully. I know he says it jokingly, but the guilt is real. But that's not important now, because it's once and for all my time to fix that, and to get back on track with my life here. I type a quick, “on my way,” before pocketing my phone and heading out the door to my campus room. Although the phone rings again, I don't bother checking it and I hurry to arrive on time.

I look at the time on the screen: "11:48." I curse under my breath. I'm a little embarrassed to admit that I'm lost, and that even though I've been wandering around on the same street for more than twenty minutes, I still can´t find the bar. On the other hand, who would think of inviting someone to a place and not sending the address?

When I start to stress again, I recognize a voice in the distance that I would recognize anywhere. It's Alex. I follow the sound, although I don't pay attention to what it says, none of it matters when I see it. His eyes light up and he falls silent immediately. As I expected, he almost hugged me to the ground. Rosa also briefly joined our hug, smiling as she watched us interact.

"Finally!" He screeches in my ear, and although it dazes me a little I laugh out loud. "I missed you like crazy…" He whispered to me, and I had to separate myself for a moment to not burst out crying in my place.

"I missed you, Alex.." I sighed, but he seemed to notice my mood, changing the subject slighlty.

"You´re back, all that matters." He jokes, and I smile. "I hope you're ready for the surprise then."

I raise an eyebrow. "Surprise?"

"Yes, I told you by text." He emphasized obviously, gesturing towards his phone.

Of course, the text I didn't read. I nod briefly, so he thinks I know what he's talking about. Their surprises honestly scare me. They can go from something exciting to something illegal, you never know what to expect from these two. I'm nervous yes, I assume the "surprise" is inside.

"It's not bad at all." Rosa calms me down, she seems to read my mind sometimes. "I promise you'll be happy"

Well, now I'm scared.

Alexy wastes no time in cutting off the conversation, and Rosa simply presses her hand on my back lovingly, urging me to enter the disco-bar, "Snake Room." This was definitely not there when I lived here. Well, most of the things I see now didn't used to be there. Upon entering I immediately notice the loud music, the smoke and the smell of alcohol, the lights blur my vision a little, and it is difficult for me to discern where Alex is.

Rosa guides me a little to the table near the bar, which seems to be one of the quietest places in the place. But that's when the colored lights hanging near the stage allow me to catch a glimpse of him.

"I thought it would be nice for you to see each other again." Alex says, trying to calm the tension in the air.

My breath stops for a few moments. I don't know how to feel, but my body responds on its own. I'm shaking a little, and at this point I don't know if it's the flashing lights or their presence that's making me dizzy. I can barely move to get close to greet him. He changed a lot. Of course his essence is still there, I can tell, but it's definitely different.

"Welcome back." His voice is also different, deeper I could say. It throws me off a little. Well, all of him does. I curse myself internally. I was convinced I was ready for this, but I see I'm not.

I smile at him reflexively, and sit down across from him. The silence feels quite loud now that I feel his gaze on me, even though I avoid making eye contact. Rosa clears her throat, and gestures indiscreetly at Alex. I would laugh, if it weren't for the fact that this whole situation has me totally overwhelmed. I look at him for a few seconds, but he was already looking at me. God, I don't know if I can handle this.

"I imagined you´d be happier…" He smiled with amusement, and I couldn't help but feel my heart skip a beat at his expression. He looks boyish, in a strange way. It's as if for a moment, his expression took me back to high school Armin.

"I'm surprised, that's all." I laugh nervously.

"Well, he came all the way here just to see you." Alexy clarifies, but Rosa waves him off with a glare.

I look at him with my eyes slightly open. "You´re not living here?" The question escapes me before I can think about it.

"Not quite." He clarifies, and takes a sip of beer. It's now that my throat feels a little dry, but I don't feel like drinking alcohol. I could end up doing things i´ll regret. "Although now that you're back, I'd think about it." He winks at me.

I looked to the side, and felt my cheeks burn a little. It looked like it was going to be a long night.

"I thought you were tougher." Rosa reproaches, tripping a little, but Alexy holds her steady. "Now you go to bed early and don't drink. You've become an old man." He grimaces, and a laugh escapes us.

"It's not that!" Alex complains. "I just wanted to greet [y/n] sober." He looks at me smiling, and I smile back. "I'll take care of the old drunk" Rosa exclaims a "hey!" and hits him lightly on the shoulder, but he doesn't flinch.

"Are you back on campus?" Armin asks me, and then I remember that he is, in fact, still here. He looks at me, waiting for my response but I freeze instantly. Every time he speaks I experience the same embarrassment.

"Well, I'll leave you, lovebirds." The idiot does it on purpose. But for the first time, I notice that I'm not the only one embarrassed, Armin's cheeks turn pink, and he sends a reproachful look to his twin, who smiles innocently. Some things never change, I see. "Take care of her." It sounds more like a threat than a request, to which the black-haired man rolls his eyes and nods.

I watch Alexy walk away in the opposite direction.

Silence falls between us, and it is until we see the two disappear after turning down the street that I understand that I am alone with him. I smile awkwardly at him before taking a couple steps back.

"I'll walk you back." I open my eyes a little, and look at him with surprise. He seems sure of his words, and looks at me expectantly with that smile of his that I still have to get used to. "I don't like the idea of ​​you walking alone,"

"As much of a gentleman as I remembered." I reply, a flirtatious smile escaping me and Armin simply smiles wider. "It's close, anyway"

"I insist." His expression is confident, and well, I don't mind his company either.

With a slight nod of my head, Armin understands that I agree, so we start walking towards the campus. The silence this time is not awkward, and although we don't talk about anything, it really feels like there are an infinite number of topics to touch on. Not very pleasant topics. After all, we can't ignore that we were together, and that the break-up wasn´t the most pacific thing either.

"I was also glad to see you again." I whisper, and even though my voice sounds quiet, he hears me. He always does.

"I figured you'd be mad." He confesses, and although I don't see his face I know he's looking at me.

Deep down, yes I am. But I'm not sure if that was enough of a reason to ruin the evening and Alex's surprise. It would have been nice to have mentally prepared myself so that I wouldn't have reacted like a schoolgirl to seeing him.

"Well, it's been a long time…" I clear my throat a little. "I have my reasons to be tho."

"Yeah, but I bet you forgot all of it with how good I look." He mocks, smiling widely.

I click my tongue. "You can't use your face to change the past."

"You're right, but I can use it to change things now." A lopsided smile appears on his features, and his comment takes me by surprise.

I tense up suddenly and simply look away. I hate that probably if he tried… "You're too cocky." I complain.

Deep down, I wonder if that would bother me. It's stupid. Armin didn't care that we broke up, I really wonder what his intentions are now. But, I can't deny that the memory is still alive in me. Everything about him remains in me as if he had never left, and it bothers me that I couldn't change that in this embarrassing amount of time we were apart.

"I just feel like I'm not the only one." Armin grumbles, shoving his hands into the pockets of his baggy pants. Now I also notice that his style is different. It doesn't seem like his brother intervenes as much in his clothes as before, that is, he maintains a bit of his own style more than anything. More calm and informal.

"What is that supposed to mean?" I grimace, crossing my arms before looking back at him.

"I say that because I notice the way you look at me." His words make me even more angry. Sometimes I feel like there is no one who can read me like he does. It was always like this, since we were young. One expression on my face was enough for Armin to decipher what was happening to me.

"I―no.." I stuttered and he noticed it, however, he didn't continue probing and I remained silent.

The walk to campus was getting shorter, and I wasn't sure I knew how to say goodbye. Everything was so strange. It's not that I want to see him, but knowing that he was going to leave made me feel like I couldn't just leave him like that. My heart is beating fast, I feel like even he can hear it.

And although it seems like things can't get any worse, several drops falling on my hair bring me out of my frantic thoughts. The chance of rain was quite low today, but of course it has to rain anyway.

"This weather is a bit nice." Armin points out, extending his palm to feel the raindrops on it, which slowly intensify.

"Nice? I'm soaking my clothes." I grumble, trying to cover myself a little.

"On one of these days we kissed for the first time" Armin smiles to himself, and simply lowers his gaze to look me in the eyes.

Shit. I didn't expect to have to think about this again. Less now that he´s here. Of course I remember it. I invited him to eat at the restaurant where we made that ridiculous double date that I actually still remember as one of my most precious moments.

On the way back home, rain started pouring and us, like idiots, hide nder a tree until it calmed down a bit. I wouldn´t forget something as special as that.

"You have no right Armin." I feel my eyes water at the memory, but I am relieved to know that because of the rain it is not very noticeable. "You can't say that now."

"It's not easy to pretend that I don't remember anything that happened." He frowns a little and stops in the middle of the street, forcing me to do the same.

"I'm not asking you to do it but…" I stop, feeling a sudden lump in my throat.

"And you can't pretend that the same thing doesn't happen to you."

And he is right. He always is when he talks about my feelings. He is correct, of course. Since I saw him, I knew that in fact, nothing of what I felt for him had managed to dissipate over the years. My heart still belongs to him.

"I lost you once, [y/n]. I can't let you go again…" His words hit me like a bucket of cold water. "When I knew you were coming back I―…"

I interrupted him. "Do you think it's easy for me?" I raised my tone of voice slightly, the fierce rain drowning out the noise a little. "Your lack of interest tired me out, Armin. You can't come back into my life like this and expect me to throw myself into your arms like it was nothing."

"I know I did things wrong, but I can still show you that I changed!" He raised his voice too. My heart was racing, and his blue eyes looking at me like I was the only thing in the world made me feel like a teenager again. "I'm not the same one who made mistakes. The only thing that remains of me is the love I have for you, [y/n], it's the only thing I couldn't change."

Tears are streaming down my face, and I don´t think it comes unnoticed by him anymore. He sheepishly tries to dry them, but the water keeps running down.

"Look at me," Armin approached me and forced me to look at him with a gentle movement of his hand. He pressed his fingers a little on my chin. "I love you." And now, in his bright eyes, in his warm hands and in his smile that I never thought I would see again, I see the truth.

Without being able to get the words out of my mouth, frustrated, angry, I let myself go and as if my hands knew their way, they wrapped themselves around his neck and pulled him closer to me. Our breaths merge and his arms end up around my waist. We are so close I memorize every feature of his face, every new thing my eyes notice.

"Are you going to kiss me or keep making me wait?" He murmured, and to silence him once and for all I kissed him.

I felt safe, at peace. Like I've been waiting for this forever. His lips fit perfectly on mine as always, his grip tightens and I need to hold on to him as I feel my legs shake a little. It's passionate, fierce. It's not like the way he kissed me before, so innocent and clumsy.

The butterflies that I thought were dead begin to flutter in my stomach again, and the only thing that separates me from jim is the lack of air. But even though we break the kiss, Armin doesn't let me go, he keeps me close to him and brings our foreheads together.

"This time I'll make you stay." He sighs, and kisses me again to seal his promise.

©allmcl !

#amor doce #amour sucre #cdm #corazon de melon #mcl #mcl armin #mcl boys #mcl castiel #mcl high school life #mcl kentin #my candy love hsl #my candy love #armin x reader #armin fluff #armin fic #armin mcl #mcl fanfics #mcl oneshots #mcl fluff #mcl headcanons #mcl lysander #mcl nathaniel #fanfic #fic #fluff #sucrette