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avaf00rdxx · 3 months

Text

Little shits Pt 3

Arsenal women x Teen!reader

I know a promised this a few days ago but it actually took ages.

Like always enjoy!!

Warnings: spelling mistakes in too tired to read over xxx so if something doesn’t make sense it probs doesn’t

part 1😚

part 2😚

————————————————————————

“What time will you be ready?” Asked Katie through the phone. Whenever she went grocery shopping she would take you with her so you can do your shop. Then she claimed she could also make sure you buy the right foods for a girl living on her own.

You actually liked grocery shopping, it was so much fun now that you were living alone and got to pick the foods for your own kitchen. “Like now. Head over now”

She soon hung up the phone and found herself out the front of your building. You go down the lift and found the white car. You went to walk to the front seat when you found Caitlin in the front. She poked her tongue out at you from behind the glass as you smiled and hopped in the back, only to find a grinning Kyra sitting on the other side of the row. “Kyra!” You exclaimed as you hugged the girl.

“I’m coming” smirked Kyra at you

“Yeah and no being little shits!” Caitlin exclaimed from her seat

“Hi Cait” you said kissing her cheek, Katie pecked your shoulder as you hugged her from behind her seat. After 20 minutes on the road, Katie pulled her car up to the parking lot of the grocery store. Before leaning back to face you and Kyra.

“Ok no going crazy. Specifically you Kyra” Katie said as Kyra gave the older girl a ‘really?’ Look before she continued “have you got your list y/n?”

“Yes mum” you dragged out the last word as you got onto your notes app to check. Kyra only came along cause she was apparently ‘bored’. She already went shopping with mini, even though mini had only been in London a week, she was not happy with the 23 year old’s kitchen.

You all walked in the entrance with you grabbing your shopping basket. After 10 minutes, you were grabbing pasta stuff in one of the aisles, when exiting said aisle. Kyra and her obese puffer managed to knock down one of the cardboard-built shelves, with bottles of fake tanner on the shelves. The noise of 30 bottles of tan falling to the ground made the entire store turn around. You felt embarrassment standing next to the girl so you walked away from her, hiding into the next aisle, trying to hold onto your laugh.

“Sorry” Caitlin announced quietly to workers and other shoppers around as Katie and her knelt down to help the very embarrassed girl. You finally finished all of your shopping as you lined up to pay for yourself. You felt a light shove to your back from behind.

“Oi why did you leave me” Kyra complained “that was the worst thing I have ever experienced” she winged leaning into your shoulder whining.

“Are they done?” You asked Kyra, motioning to Katie and Caitlin

“Apparently not” Kyra said now standing behind you with her bag of chocolates, full on pushing in front of the middle aged woman in the line.

——————————

You were in your room packing a suitcase for Switzerland. Arsenal had some brand sponsorship situation with a travel company that you didn’t understand. But all you know is that the company was sending you, Alessia, Kyra, Vic, Caitlin, Katie, Teyah, beth, viv, Steph, Lia, Kim, Jen, Lotte, Laia, Leah and Amanda all to Switzerland. All in one house. Leah told you to get super excited cause the house in the mountains must be huge to fit 17 girls in.

You texted Leah to ask if she was done packing so you could come down to her apartment. Leah lived in the apartment below you so she took you to things often, you would both drive to the training grounds together so you could get on the bus for the airport.

“This is gonna be sick” you said later sitting at Leah’s kitchen island as she filled up her water bottle.

“Yeah it’ll be cool” she laughed screwing on the lid of her bottle

“I brought my Aussie rules ball” you said wiggling your brows at her, she was horrendous playing it. She let out a huff remembering it.

“We are gonna be in the cold mountains, no one is gonna wanna play with it”

“Ouch”

“Sorry. You know what I mean. Anyways are you ready?” She yelled across the flat, heading to her room to grab the suitcase. You propped yours up on its wheels, turning off all of Leah’s lights for her. You both drove peacefully in the car to the facility, you quickly connected tour phone to Leah’s car when she turned up her own music.

“Ew you just like old people music” you said turning on your preference

“This is not old people music. This is the greatest album of all time”

“Meh meh” you mimicked her as you turned on Nikki Minaj.

“Watch it Missy. And your music taste is just awful” she giggled next to you

“Watch it missy” you said back.

When you sooner arrived, you jumped out of the car and grabbed your suitcases from Leah’s boot, you kindly grabbed Leah’s out and setting it down upright next to the car. “Thank you tiny” she smiled as you both walked towards the other girls waiting neat the bus.

“Ah I do too much” you sighed shrugging

“I did just drive you here. Ever thought about me helping you apply for a driving test?” She looked down slightly at you as you walked together

“Why would I if I have a whole starting eleven who would do it for me?” You said motioning your hands towards the large group of girls ahead, all in their twenties. You noticed Viv’s back towards you as you sped up towards her, before quickly jumping on her back. “Missed you vivvy” you said sweetly.

“Ow you nearly did my spine” Viv whines as you hop off her.

Beth shoved you away from her girlfriend and pulled you into her. “How are you tiny?” She asked kissing the top of your head

“So excited” you hummed, squeezing her tight.

A few media staff would be coming with you. Since you were on the trip with some arsenal sponsor brand, they would film some fun media on the trip. Said staff announced that you could all leave your bags where they were and hop onto the bus. You got onto the bus last and saw Lia sitting on her phone in one of the front rows, you loved Lia. She was one of the sweetest people in the world in your opinion. So you pointed towards the seat, reading ‘is this taken?’ on your face, quickly before she moved her hat that was sitting on it motioning for you to sit next to her.

“It’s so cool we get to go to Switzerland, you have to show me everything” you said to the brunette. Your excitement to go to her country made her heart warm up as she pulled you into her side for a hug.

“You are gonna see everything. I think best travel guide right here” she pointed towards herself, making you giggle. The bus was still too cold for you so you unzipped your backpack to grab your warmer jacket out, you felt the front pocket vibrate where your phone was so you went to grab it. You saw a text from Kyra

Kyra

Im 6 rows behind turn around

You and Lia stupidly both turned around to look at the row before two scrunchies were flown at both your faces, Vic and Kyra both laughed loudly, while you whined at the stinging on your forehead. The elastic flying at both your faces actually hurt.

“Four victims down lets go” Kyra said high-fiving vic with a wide grin.

“You better get her on behalf of both of us” Lia sighed settling back down in her seat.

“The idiot better sleep with one eye open I say” you said making Lia giggle before opening her own phone.

———————

Later on the plane you found yourself sitting across from Kyra and Alessia. You again, sitting next to Lia.

“Y/n” kyra whispered from across the aisle. You peeked over Lia before Kyra waved at you. You thought it was weird but slowly waved back before mouthing a ‘what?’.

Kyra quickly turned to poor Alessia who was peacefully on her phone, “please switch with y/n/n” she held up being hands and pulled out her puppy dog eyes towards the blonde.

Kyra huffed followed by a laugh before getting her stuff and heading over towards where you were , you didn’t realise kyra had requested this until Alessia had made her way over to you. You were honestly getting bored of the sleepy Lia next to you. So you smiled at her before gabbing your bag and going over to Kyra.

“Absolutely not!” Leah slightly yelled from the other end of the plane, who caught you shuffling over next to Kyra.

“We won’t be loud I promise!” You said peeking over to see the blonde. She raised her eye brows at you before giving in to your begging eyes. You and kyra soon pulled up the games on your phone you could play together, you first started by playing Fifa mobile together.

“Aha! Goal!” You yelled throwing your arms up jolting out of your seat, you scored your eighth goal in the last few seconds “I win” you smiled before settling back down in your seat. Avoiding making eye contact with some of the other girls sending you glares due to your volume.

———————

You found yourself and 16 of your teammates at this random building having a briefing with an older man. He told you a bit about the house you would be staying at and how the next three days would look like. You really weren’t fazed by any of the given information, instead just excited to get there. It was already freezing you had put on your large puffer jacket, scarf and beanie. You were hoping to see snow while here.

You all hoped into multiple mini black vans to head to the house, you cuddled into Viv’s side of how cold it was. Both vehicles slowly pulled up a long driveway, you were first to notice the house “what the fuck-“ you said in shock looking at the house.

You received a slap to the shoulder by viv and an “oi” from Steph. But most were also in awe of the house, some taking photos. When you got out of the car there were wide faces and glowing eyes at the large house. The house was huge, covered in dark timber, still managing to give it a cozy feel due to its size, you could tell by the large number of balconies, that there would be many rooms. A wide scene of mountains surrounded the outside, which got you excited for the views from the rooftop you spotted. Lia held the list in her hand of how to unlock the door with the key and code, as all of you girls trudged your suitcases up the front stairs.

You noticed Kyra walking up in front of you, you grabbed a small pile of snow in your fist and threw it at her beanie-covered head. “Ow y/n!” Kyra wined.

“Don’t” Caitlin told you. You made a few of the girls laugh either way, so you didn’t really care.

Lia and Leah struggled for a few minutes to get the door unlocked with the code. But it was a success a moment later and everyone was trying to get in the door.

Lots of “oh my god”, “shit”, “this is huge” words could be heard from you and your teammates. A large staircase could be seen in front of you, leading to a range of bedrooms above. The biggest kitchen you had ever seen in your life to the right, with a floor length window containing the best views of the snowy mountains.

“Ok ok rooms, some get their own, some share, made by the staff” Kim said getting people’s attention, “Little room 1, sweet! Foordy and McCabe room 2, Teyah and Vic room 3, Jen room 4, Beth and Viv room 5, Lotte and Less room 6, room 7 Kyra and y/n - wait no” Kim said as most of the girls agreed, you two could not under any circumstances share a room for the next 3 nights. “One of them is gonna share with me. You two pick, who wants to share with me?” Kim asked you and Kyra.

“No its fine one can share with me” Steph said “you get a good sleep” she laughed at Kim.

“Ok I’ll share. At least ill be safe with Steph, Kyra watch out” you mentioned to the girl, noting that you would get her back for the bus.

“You already got me back with the snow to my head!” She exclaimed

“No more pranks” Steph smiled pushing you from behind slightly towards room 9. When the door was opened, Two huge queen sized beds were in the middle of the room, the comfiest looking beds you were sure you had seen in your life.

“Omg omg” you squeezed jumping up and down like a toddler.

“Insane!” Steph grinned wide admiring the room and its view from the large window behind the beds. You both unpacked your suitcases in the respective suitcases provided.

———————

“Hurry up you two!” You yelled at Katie and Caitlin who took a while to come out and play in the snow an hour later. “Cheeky girls” you smirked at Caitlin before Katie shoved you slightly and Caitlin threw snow at your face. The older girls broke out into laughter as you felt it go down your jumper. You shook your head and moulded the largest snowball you had seen and threw it right at Caitlin’s chest.

Those actions broke the sweet hour of all you girls making snow angels and snowmen into a full snowball fight. Everyone was after everyone at that moment, a hard throw from Amanda to the back of your head had you slowly falling over. You pulled at her feet from the ground, which caused her to join you in the slippery snow. You both were collapsed laughing. You saw Leah next to you, both you and Amanda looked at each other before throwing a snowball to her head. She groaned at the cold feeling.

“What happened” Jen laughed at her

“Just got 2 balls to the face”

“And that my friend is a rare occurrence for Leah Williamson” you smirked before hiding behind Amanda. Since you were on the ground, Leah easily and quickly threw snow at your whole body.

“Your disgusting tiny!” She yelled as you got up and tackled her into the snow, both of your stomachs hurting from laughing.

—————

Later you were snuggled into Lia’s lap on one of the large campfire chairs. A blanket covering the two of you. All of you girls were working up around it while Kim, Jen and Katie attempted to get the pizza fire maker working.

“What are we doing tomorrow tour guide” you said to the girl with her arms around you.

Everyone all turned their heads, curious for the girl to tell what she had planned. “Well we should all go into town tomorrow morning and get drinks and food there for breakfast. I could see the lights from my bedroom so it shouldn’t be a long walk” You all nodded smiling, “then definitely snow boarding for sure!”

“Yay!” You said in excitement. You felt a buzz in your jacket pocket, you pulled it out and opened your phone.

Mum

Hey girl. Hope your having the best time there! So so happy for you, give me a call when you can chick. Mama loves you.

Your eyes stung looking at your phone, You always got emotional when you received texts like this from your family. Managing to get out of Lia’s arms you smiled at her “just got to call my mum”. Steph brushed her hand against your back in comfort as you walked inside the house.

You were on the call for a good 30 minutes, it made you start to tear up. You didn’t get to see her for the last camp in Australia, so it had been months. You talked to all your older siblings as well as your dad on the FaceTime call. You showed them the house and view briefly. When the call ended you went into the bathroom to check your face didn’t look too sad and teary. When it was all clear, you turned off the light and walked out with a sigh. You went back out. There was now an open seat just next to Beth and Steph.

“You good tiny?” Beth nudged you with a warm smile.

“Yep” you smile back at the older girl. Caitlin and Steph both shared looks, with Caitlin then settling her eyes on your face which staring at the ground. They knew how you got homesick whenever you called your parents.

“Pizza time!” Jen yelled loud, filled with pride after finally getting the pizza oven to work.

———————

After a very filling dinner made by Jen, Kim and Katie. You all headed back inside and were just chatting in the living room, nearly all of them having a glass of wine. You tried to get a glass, as Vic went to pour you one Kim quickly stopped her at the stupid idea. Everyone was starting to get tired and you announced you would head up to bed first.

“Night” Lia and Leah softly said hugging you as you were sitting in the middle of them.

You walked up the halls, as your’s and Steph’s room was on the bottom floor, when you reached the room you quickly opened the door and fell on your bed. You put your face in your hands, your heart tonight was slightly sinking at the though of missing your family in Australia. You told yourself you wouldn’t let stars fall. You were on one of the best trips of your life with your team. So you took a large breath before getting up to shower the smell of smoke off your body. You heard the sound of laughter get loud for a moment as you were in your bed. Signaling someone was opening up the door, the person shut it before you shot up to see who it was. Honestly scared for a moment since it was a huge house in the mountains.

You expected Steph, but not Caitlin trailing behind. “Gosh you scared me” you said softly making the other girls smile.

“How are you going puddin” Caitlin said sitting next to you on the bed.

“Alright why?”

“You sure?”

“Well I was feeling a bit homesick before, like missing mum and stuff. But its all good” you said looking at the sheets, slightly fidgeting with them.

“You don’t have to, But we really want you to talk to us when you feel like that. You know we are here for you” Steph said softly. You swore she had said those words 30 times since you moved alone to London to join Arsenal. You still felt insane comfort when around the two girls.

“I won’t lie. You two make it easier. It just reminds me of home with you two.” You said to the two of your Aussie teammates, “Kyra…not so much” you giggled.

“Yeah no not her” Caitlin laughed

“She’s alright. Sorry for always being so annoying with her, and like Caitlin I actually feel terrible about your fridge like so so bad. You need to send me your transfer details so I can give you the money to fix it-“

“Absolute nonsense. No need. It wasn’t even you it was kyra” Caitlin said softly

“Still”

“And you’re not annoying. You are one of the sweetest people I know I won’t lie to you. Sure you anf Kyra get a bit too pipped up sometimes but we still love you” Steph said

“Yeah like little shits!” Caitlin exclaimed adding to her words, Steph nudging her with a giggle from both of you.

“Thanks mum and dad” you laughed as you hugged them. “Ok I’m gonna get ready for bed too now.” Steph said getting up.

“More wine for me!” Caitlin said before skipping off to the living room.

———————

#woso #arsenal women #caitlin foord #matildas #katie mccabe #arsenal #leah williamson #kyra cooney cross #kyra cooney cross x reader #arsenal x reader #arsenal wfc #Arsenal x teen #x teen!reader #woso x teen reader #woso x reader #lia walti #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso community

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127tyong · 2 months

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Earthquake

Pairing: Boss Johnny X Personal Assistant Reader

Genre: Smut, Breeding Kink, Marriage out of convivence

Warnings:

Word Count: 1.5 k

“Johnny! You’re here!” You smiled as Johnny walked into you two’s personal office, arriving an hour after you.

You were hired as Johnny’s personal assistant a few months ago, and had a decently close work relationship with him. Your application was desperate, saying you would do anything to work with him, and anything he wanted.

“Hi hun.” Johnny always talked to you sweetly, despite his reputation of being a cold businessman. “I have to have lunch with my family today, but that should be fine, yes?”

“Yes.” You immediately said, knowing his entire schedule off the top of your head.

“Perfect.” Johnny sat down at his desk and turned it on. “Is my coffee ready?”

You stood up, getting his coffee for him, then putting it on his desk.

“Thanks.” Johnny mumbled to you.

“Hey, I have a question.” You waited for Johnny to nod at you. “What’s the lunch for? Sorry if that’s a personal question, but you never go back to see your family.”

“They said they wanted to talk. Probably something stupid.” Johnny smiled up at you in between sips of coffee before setting the cup down. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it. I’ll come back with some pasta for you, it’s supposed to be some of the best Italian food around.”

“I cannot deal with that bitch’s stupidity.” Johnny huffed, loosening his tie and slamming the to-go box on his desk. You stood in the corner of the room, next to the door, holding a clipboard with his to-do list.

“Mr. Suh, if I may-” You started to speak, silenced by Johnny raising his hand.

“Cancel my other plans for today. I need a fucking break.”

“...Yes, sir.” You quickly went to your desk, across the room and made a few calls.

“My fucking father thinks he can tell me who to marry…” Johnny mumbled, laying on the couch, pinching his nose bridge.

“Sir.” You stood up, understanding the issue. You always knew Johnny’s dad was rough, to say the least. A controlling, self centered man. “Would you like to do something fun with me?”

“Fun?” Johnny scoffed, as if that was the last thing he wanted. “Just… sit next to me.”

You pulled your rolling chair across the room next to him.

“My dad wants me to marry another conglomerate heir. But the problem is… She’s only 14.”

You audibly gasped. “What?”

“I know. I’m pushing 30 dating a girl less than half my age…” Johnny groaned. “I can see the headlines now. Billionaire marries a child. Johnny Suh goes on a date with the heir of a major tech company, a 14 year old. I can only imagine what would happen.”

“Oh, Johnny…” You rubbed his shoulder.

“This is his way of threatening me. Telling me that if I don’t get married soon he’s going to make me do… This.” Johnny sat up.

“Why can’t you marry someone else then? I can make a list of potential prospects for you-” You stood up, but Johnny grabbed your wrist, forcing you back.

“Marry me.” He looks in your eyes, desperately. “At least for a year. Please, I need you to. I can’t let my reputation get ruined like this. You’re the perfect woman for this, you’re intelligent and know how to handle potential issues.”

Johnny’s reputation was everything to him. A stoic businessman, even if in the office he was nothing but kind. His reputation was how he got his way, and you knew it. He always gets told “yes” no matter the situation…

“Johnny…” You looked back at him, trying to comprehend the question.

“You’ll be a millionaire. I’ll give you anything you want and more, just please… Marry me.”

And that’s how you ended up marrying one of the richest men in all of Korea.

Instead of the headlines reading “Billionaire marries child” the headlines read “Billionaire marries his personal assistant, love story shocking the country”.

And he kept all his promises. He bought you a penthouse apartment in Seoul, and a house in your hometown. He bought you any car you asked for, and he took care of your family.

There was no romance in your marriage, but you found Johnny to be an amazing husband. He was very likable, and you two spent a lot of time together, just hanging out. He was great with cooking and cleaning, and never asked you to do anything, but still took you on “dates” wherever you wanted. But the one thing you noticed was he never crossed the line. You slept in the same bed, per his request, but still had separate blankets. You shared a bathroom, but he asked you to shower at night, since he showered in the morning. And he never, ever, asked about your love life. You knew that was his way of telling you that you could date other men, and that he would see other women.

The only problem in this set up was his family. His mother was a gossiping, evil witch that talked bad about everyone, especially you, but his dad was a whole other issue. And every time you saw either of them, they asked if you were pregnant yet.

“I’m home!” Johnny walked into the penthouse as you were inside, cooking dinner. “Smells good.”

“Hey Johnny.” You served the meal. “Food’s ready.”

“Hey… I have to talk to you about something.” Johnny sat at the dining room table, his face cold.

“Yeah?” You placed the bowl in front of him, and sat next to him.

“I need to have a kid with you.” He looked up at you and read your shocked expression. “I’m so sorry, I know I was the one who said you’d never have to do this but I-”

“I understand, it’s just kinda… out of nowhere.” You sighed. “Give me a minute.”

You went up to the bathroom and got in the shower, not knowing how to feel.

When you stepped out of the bathroom in a towel, Johnny was waiting for you in the bedroom. “You don’t have to do this.” He stood in front of you.

“I know.”

Johnny’ s lips crashed onto yours, his hands gripping your wet hair. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry…” He picked you up and tossed you on the bed, your towel falling off. “You have no fucking idea how long I’ve been waiting for this.”

“Johnny, wait, what do you mean-” His lips pressed against yours again, his tongue licking your bottom lip and asking for permission to come in. You opened your lips slightly, and his tongue slid in, searching your mouth for your tongue, the tips of your tongue meeting.

You pulled away from the kiss after a few seconds. “Johnny…”

“I think I love you. You’re all I ever think about…” Johnny kissed your neck, licking it in areas that slightly tickled but still made you moan.

“Johnny…” You moaned out, and his large hands pressed against your thighs, massaging it. “Slow down…”

“I’m sorry…” He breathed into your neck. “But I’ve already been waiting for several months.”

His mouth went to your breast, sucking your nipples until they hardened. “God, you’re just so beautiful.”

“Johnny…” You moaned out. You wrapped your hands into his hair and he laid on your chest. “Stick it in.”

“Okay…” He quickly took off his pants, already hard without you ever even touching him.

He stuck it all in at once, shocking you. “Fuck!” You squealed, trying to catch your breath. “Johnny, you can’t do that next time…”

“So you’re already planning the next time?” He began to slowly thrust, allowing you to regain your composure but his impatience still getting the better of him.

“You’re way too fucking big, Johnny.” You tried to relax, but he was still filling you up. “You can’t just shove your dick into a girl, you’re gonna break the next girl you fuck.”

Johnny leaned down, his face near yours. “I told you I love you, and you think I’m fucking other girls? God, I thought you were smart. I’ve liked you ever since you became my assistant. You’re capable, beautiful, and amazing to be around… I wanna make you happy.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck. “Give me a baby. I wanna have a kid with you.”

“Oh, I’ll fucking put a baby inside you…” Johnny mumbled into your neck. “Just keep squeezing down on my dick the way you are right now and I might just cum in around ten seconds.”

“Please Johnny! Please, please, please…” Your voice kept him going on, begging him.

“I wish I fucked you on our wedding night, fuck, you’re so perfect…” And with that, you felt the warmth of Johnny’s cum shooting inside you.

“Johnny…” You croaked out.

Johnny laid on top of you, his dick slipping out of you, causing the cum to drip out of you. “I’ll change the sheets later.” He sighed.

“How are you feeling?” “I still love you, if that’s what you were wondering.” “Good.”

#nct fanfic #nct smut #nct x reader #nct 127 smut #johnny smut

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dumbpilots · 2 months

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bradley's been looking forward to this dinner reservation forever. it took four months to get his name on the list and it was only because he knew a guy who knew a guy. so when natasha calls him 30 minutes before their reservation to say she can't come (impeccable timing, really), bradley's not only disappointed, he's pissed.

"nat there's a $200 hold on my credit card that they're going to charge if i cancel this late!"

"i'm sorry bro. there's no way i can get there in time. anyone else you can take? or put on your big boy pants and eat dinner by yourself."

"they'll still charge me $100 for one person cancelling, nat. you better venmo me for this." he hangs up on her.

---

and that's how bradley finds himself loitering outside the restaurant, scoping out unsuspecting passerbys, looking for his mark.

he asks a total of four people (#1 "dude, no?", #2 completely ignored, #3 "sorry, not interested", #4 "ew, creep") before he starts to get hopeless. the reservation has already started and he only has a 10 minute window before he's out $200. just as he's about to call it a loss and head inside to the restaurant, he locks eyes with him. well, here's goes nothing.

"excuse me! i'm so sorry to bother you, but i have quite an insane ask."

"oh yeah? shoot." his eyes are sparkling. don't ruin this, bradshaw.

"well, i made reservations with a friend to this restaurant here." he points behind him. "but she just cancelled on me. they're going to charge me $100 if i go in alone, or $200 in about... seven minutes if i don't go in at all."

"ahh... sounds like quite the predicament." bradley can feel his eyes on him.

"soo.. what do you say? fifteen, twenty minutes tops of your time and a drink on me?"

"you got yourself a date. i'm jake." he quirks a smile and extends his hand.

"bradley." he has a good feeling about this.

---

one drink turns into three, the food tastes like paper for all he knows. he's too busy concentrating on the new language that is jake seresin.

(bradley's pockets are much lighter when they leave, but they burn with the weight of jake's phone number)

#hangster #sereshaw #bradley's in charge of his own destiny #but nat would say she is #bradley rooster bradshaw #jake hangman seresin #tgm au ramblings #i watched a tiktok of someone complaining about rezzie fees #and then this happened #meetcute #nat requests a $100 venmo because she deserves a thank you #bradley denies it

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marchofpain · 2 months

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Above is the first official March of Pain prompts list and some alternatives. All of those will also be typed out at the bottom of this post for accessibility.

March of Pain is similar to things like Whumptober, Comfortember, and Hurtcember: That is to say it's a list of hurt/comfort and whump-oriented prompts for writers, artists, etc. to fill throughout the month of March.

RULES

1. You can write/draw for any fandom or pairing

2. You can write/draw SFW or NSFW content, just label it accordingly

3. Please tag any Tumblr posts sharing your prompt fills with #marchofpain2024 so that we can find and repost them

4. If you post your works to AO3, please add them to this collection and add "March of Pain" and/or "March of Pain 2024" to the additional tags of your prompt fill(s)

5. The challenge officially starts on March 1st but feel free to write/draw before then and/or submit things after the month ends officially, whatever works best for you

6. Be kind to other participants

7. You DO NOT have to do every single prompt if you don't want to. The point is to have fun and spark creativity, not to feel like you're doing a chore

PROMPTS LIST

1. Depression

2. Apologies

3. Screaming

4. Self-Inflicted

5. Anxiety

6. Career-Ending Injury

7. Bankruptcy

8. Broken

9. Vomiting

10. Flashback

11. Sick

12. Tics

13. Nerve Damage

14. Dissociation

15. Abuse

16. Burden

17. Work Injury

18. Miserable

19. Heavy

20. Addiction

21. Unlovable

22. Pain

23. Cut

24. Stomach Bug

25. Meltdown

26. Worthless

27. Food

28. Burn

29. Scars

30. Crying

31. Shutdown

ALT PROMPTS

1. "I'm sorry"

2. "I love you"

3. "Please"

4. "Help me"

5. "I'll be better"

Yes, this is by the same event runner as the @hurtcember challenge, so if you did that challenge and noticed any similarities, that is why.

#writing prompts #writing prompt #dialogue prompt #fic prompt #whump prompt #dialogue prompts #story prompts #art #fanart #fiction #fanfic #fandom #whump writing #whump community #whump #hurt/comfort #prompt list #march #challenge

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penciled-palominos · 7 months

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Hello Horseblr!! It's your resident horse girl once again! Today I come with a gift!

MY OWN HORSE-TOBER PROMPT LIST!!! I've never seen one of these done before but I thought hey! Why not make my own!! Sorry, it's so close to october when I'm posting this for the first time, I meant to make this like a week ago but I forgor

I actually made 3 different versions, just for fun, all technically have the same words but they're split differently, we have all 31 days of October in the first list, then only the odd days, and only the even days, just for people who may choose to only do it bi-daily :))

PLEASE FEEL FREE TO TAG ME IN ANYTHING YOU MAKE WITH THIS LIST IF YOU SO CHOOSE TO USE IT!!

Feel free to also do any days you feel like and don't feel pressured to do all of em or even do to em on the day they're meant for! Just have fun!!

[Image ID: Above is pictured 3 peices of paper reading at the top in bigger lettering "Horse-Tober 2023" [a mix of the word horse and october] Below that is each day of October numbered out 1-31 followed by a prompt placed to the right of the number, they read as follows:

1. Desert

2. Food

3. Pinto

4. With other animals

5. Mythical

6. Fandom

7. Draft Horse

8. Party

9. Donkey

10. Pottery

11. Spirit

12. Ocean

13. Meadow

14. Games

15. Relaxation

16. Old West

17. Plushie

18. Skeleton

19. Painting

20. Foal

21. Flowers

22. Vintage

23. Buttons

24. Wild

25. Fear

26. Technology

27. Racing

28. Fairy

29. Costume

30. Pumpkin

31. Kelpie

The other two photos read off the exact same header of the page "Horse-Tober 2023" but each only has either the even or odd numbers of the 31 day list End ID ]

This is my first time attempting to add like an ID to a post, so I really hope I did it well?? If there's something to fix, please let me know

#Horse-Tober 2023 #< oh also use this tag maybe #thatd be pretty cool if you wanna #but i hope yall have fun if you choose to do any of these and please tag me i will be going feral if i see even a single drawing #id #horseblr

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cherrycola27 · 1 year

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Red, White, and Rooster

Series Warnings: Language, alcohol consumption. Enemies to lovers, relationship of convenience. Political situations. Allegations of affairs, military and political inaccuracies. Eventual smut. 18+ Minors DNI. Banner Credit: @thedroneranger

Series Master List Previous Part Next Part

...........................................

Chapter 1: The Election

The news of Bradley's heroism spread like wildfire across the media outlets, causing him and Jake to sky rocket in the polls.

Two weeks later, it was Election Day. You were up bright and early, putting the finishing touches on his victory speech. You didn't prepare one if he lost, that wasn't going to happen.

You'd been keeping track, and with all the early votes counted, Bradley had a slight lead. You watched results come in all morning.

At 9:30, you, Bradley, Jake, and the rest of the campaign staff went to the polls to vote. You were buzzing as you clicked the box next to his name.

You'd been busy all morning fielding phone calls, sending emails, and answering questions. The only thing keeping you going was iced coffee and sheer adrenaline.

It was approaching 1pm, and Bradley noticed he hadn't seen you eat anything all day. He came over to your desk with a sandwich and a bottle of water.

"Can't have my main girl passing out on me." He said as he placed them on your desk.

You rolled your eyes but thanked him before shoveling down your food.

When the polls closed at six on the East Coast, Bradley and Jake's lead had increased. The three of you sat with baited breath as one by one, the news outlets from across the nation announce the official closing of the polls. Once the West Coast polls had closed, you still had another three hours to wait until Hawaii and Alaska closed, but you knew the six total electoral votes they held wouldn't matter. Especially when California declared their winner.

Bradley and Jake were sitting comfortably at 238, either projected or confirmed electoral votes. Even if, by some chance, they didn't win California, their opponents wouldn't have enough to overtake them to win.

It's exactly 2:13 in the morning D.C. time when the official announcement is made.

The office was quiet. You'd sent everyone home for the night. You, Bradley, and Jake had stayed huddled in your office. Jake had just stepped to the bathroom when the news came through.

Bradley Nicholas Bradshaw was the president-elect and will be the 47th president of the United States. He had done it. You had done it.

You and Bradley jumped up and down, screaming your heads off like a bunch of kids. You went to hug him, but in a moment, that caught you off guard. He grabbed your face and kissed you.

You both froze as he pulled away. "I—uh— sorry—" He stuttered.

"It's fine. We just got caught up in the excitement. No harm, no foul." You brushed it off. "We can pretend it didn't happen. No worries." You smiled at him.

You turned away to watch the announcement again and to answer your phone. Your mom was calling you to congratulate you. You missed the flash of hurt that crossed his face.

"I heard the yelling from down the hall! Did we do it? Did we win?" Jake bursts into the room out of breath from running.

"Yeah, man, we did." Bradley tells him in a sullen voice.

"Did something happen while I was gone?" Jake asks, looking between you on your phone and Bradley.

"No, I'm just—" Bradley shakes his head. He doesn't know what to say.

"Rooster, you're going to be the fucking president! Smile! Scream! Cheer! Call Maverick and the gang while I get the bubbly!" Jake shakes him before heading to the kitchen. "We won the fucking White House!" Jake cheers as he heads down the hall.

.......................

After the election, you stepped into your roll of Cheif of Staff seamlessly. You made sure everything was ready for inauguration day, which was finally here.

An unexpected perk of your new position was the clothes that came with it. With you being in the public eye, fashion brands were reaching out to send you clothes all the time. It came in handy for days like today.

For Bradley's inauguration, you were wearing an Alexander McQueen coat dress in a lavender shade. It had an asymmetrical skirt and pearl button details. You'd paired it with a nude pair of Jimmy Choo pumps, pearl earrings, and a set of simple layered silver necklaces. You'd taken care to make sure Jake and Bradley coordinated with you. Purple had been a theme during their campaign, and you planned to continue that during their term.

You were waiting with Bradley, Jake, and a few other officials when a member of the inaugural planning team came up to the three of you.

"Excuse me, Ms. Wiseman, Mr. Bradshaw, Mr. Seresin. We seem to have a problem." He spoke.

"What? Is there a security threat?" You asked, ready to take action if needed.

"No, ma'am, a logistical issue. We have no one to hold the Bible." He clarified.

"What?" Bradley furrowed his brows. You sighed. How could you have forgotten that.

He looks at you for clarification as you explain, "Traditionally, the First Lady holds the Bible or sacred text that the new president gets sworn in upon. But you don't have a First Lady. So I guess we could get—"

"You're going to hold it for me." Bradley states, cutting you off before you can say anything else.

"Excuse me?" You look at him baffled.

"I said you're going to hold it for me." He crosses his arms over his chest in a matter of fact way.

"Why? Because I'm the highest ranking member of your team or because I'm a woman who needs to fill a specific gender role?" You shoot back at him.

"Because I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you. You made this possible." He tells you. Your gaze softens, and you relax your shoulders.

"Fine." You sigh. You don't have the time to argue with him.

..............

You can't hear the crowd over the rush of blood in your ears. You're standing on the steps of the Capital Building, Bible in hand, just as Bradley is about to be sworn in. He places his hand on the cover, and you give him a smile as he repeats the oath of office.

Cameras click and flash, and it takes everything in your power not to jump up and down as soon as the Cheif Justice shakes his hand and says "Congratulations Mr. President."

It was real. It had happened. You had done it. You let out a sigh that you had been holding in for over a year as you put on a picture-perfect smile for the camera before getting ready for the inaugural parade.

..................

After the parade, your things have been moved into your room in the White House. You'd been given the Queen's Room. You rolled your eyes when you heard that was where you would be living, but you were thankful to have your own tucked away area to yourself.

You were finishing getting ready for the inaugural ball. You'd traded out your lavender suit for a deep burgundy, off the shoulder ballgown. It had a tasteful slit, and most importantly, pockets for you to keep your phone and other necessities in with out having to worry about a purse.

Your hair was swept up in a low bun. You'd paired the outfit with delicate diamond earrings and a diamond tennis bracelet. You worn classy makeup, but a red lip, the same shade of your dress, adorned your face.

You had just fixed your earpiece to make sure it was out of sight when you heard a knock on your door.

"Come in!" You called out as you fiddled with an earring in the mirror.

"Hey, I—wow." Bradley stepped in. He paused to take in your appearance. Sure he'd seen you dressed up before, but nothing like this.

"You look beautiful." He told you with a twinkle in his eye.

"Thank you." You smiled at him. He had come in here for a reason, but now he couldn't remember what it was. Every thought in his brain went away the the moment your red lips quirked up into a smile.

"Is there something I can help you with, Mr. President?" You goaded him.

"Oh—urm—my tie." He gestured to it. "You always tie my tie." He looked at you sheepishly.

You let out a breathy laugh before striding across the room to help him.

Your perfectly manicured fingernails made quick work of his tie. "It's black this time." He remarked.

"Thought a black bow tie would go nicely with your tuxedo." You tell him. "And you're wearing red. What happened to the purple?" He joked with you.

"I'm wearing burgundy, which is a purple based red." You shoot back, cutting your eyes to look up at him. "Plus, you're official now. We can change it up some. Alright, all done. You look good, Mr. President." You pat his chest and step back.

He catches your wrist before you can walk away. "Wait! I have something for you. A thank you gift." He says.

He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a long velvet box. He opens in. Inside is a beautiful, oval diamond pendant on a thin silver chain.

"Bradley!" You breathe out. "It's beautiful, but it's too much. I can't accept it." You tell him.

"You can, and you will." He says sternly. "You got me the Oval Office. Thought I'd get you something oval, too." He grins.

"Help me put it on?" You ask him. He nods his head as you move to stand in front of the mirror.

He carefully takes it out of the box and comes to stand behind you. He pauses for a moment and swallows thickly before brushing a few stray hairs from your neck. He doesn't miss the small hitch in your breath.

He brings the chain around you. You hold it in place as he hooks the clasp. His fingers linger for just a moment. You smile at him in the mirror. Your perfume fills his noses. His senses are overwhelmed. He thinks about how easy it would be right now to lean down and place a kiss to the spot where your neck meets your shoulders.

Another knock at the door and a voice in your earpiece causes both of you to jump.

You clear your throat as both of you move to exit.

The party is in full swing when you step onto the stage. The room gues quiet as you walk up to the podium.

"Ladies and gentlemen," you being. "It is my pleasure to introduce to you, President Bradley Bradshaw and Vice President Jacob Seresin!" The crowd applaudes as then men stride out.

They both give speeches and mingle for a bit.

You're happily sipping on champagne when the coordinator for the evening comes up to you. "Ms. Wiseman, it's time for the president's first dance." She informs you.

"No, you must be mistaken. We decided not to do a first dance, seeing as there is no First Lady." You tell her.

"Ma'am, the president himself specifically requested this at the beginning of the evening." She insists.

You groan and set your champagne down. "Where is he?" You ask her. She quickly tells you his location, and you brush past her to find him.

"Y/N! There you are!" Bradley smiles at you. "When were you planning on telling me you changed the schedule? Who are you even going to dance with?" You scold him.

"You." He says. "What? No! I already held the Bible for you. I have filled my stereotypical gender role for the day! I have emails to send and calls to return!" You yell at him.

Before you can do anything else, he snatches your phone out of your hand and tucks it into his suit pocket.

A low warning sound, similar to a growl, leaves your throat as you stare daggers at him.

"Relax. One dance and you can have it back." He tells you. You flare your nostrils and take a deep breath.

"Fine." You grumble out. He takes your arm and loops it around his as he escorts you out to the crowd.

He sweeps you around the room as "I've Had the Time of My Life" is played by the string quartet.

As soon as the music is over, something more lively is played, and everyone joins you on the dance floor. True to his word, he gives you back your phone. As the night winds down, the secret service assures you that they have everything under control and they will come find you if something happens.

You thank them and sneak off from the party. Once you're back in the safety of your room, you press your back against the door and sigh.

One day down, one thousand four-hundred sixty to go.

So I just wanted to say thank you for the love the prologue got! I hope yall enjoyed chapter 1!

Taglist: @daggerspare-standingby @thedroneranger @shanimallina87 @teacupsandtopgun @hecate-steps-on-me @roosterscock @roosterbruiser @roosterforme @seresinsbabe @startrekfangirl2233 @soulmates8 @xoxabs88xox @avengersfan25 @blackwidownat2814 @loveforaugust @mak-32 @cottagecori @amysteryspot @heyimmadisonn @princess76179 @bradshawseresinbabe @sunlightmurdock @lt-bradshaw @cassiemitchell @die-cunt @mj-l4 @shipinabluebottle @malindacath @violyn20 @imawkwardlysoc @books-for-summer @blackroseboulevard @recordblues @desert-fern @luckyladycreator2 @katieshook02 @samhapner6 @sebsxphia @roosters-girl @diorrfairy @je-suis-prest-rachel @chicomonks @mizzzpink @a-linabean @amklibrary @gretagerwigsmuse @jstarr86 @actuallyazriel @krismdavis

As always, likes are great, but comments and reblogs are golden!

#cherrycola27 #top gun maverick #top gun #rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster top gun #bradley bradshaw #rooster smut #bradley bradshaw smut #lt. bradley bradshaw #top gun rooster #top gun smut #tgm fanfiction #tgm smut #tgm fic #tgm #top gun 2 #red white and rooster

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ador3sturniolo · 5 months

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Stargirl

An - omg I feel like I haven’t posted in a year what. Okay so earlier this week I went to a hockey game, and something happened while I was there and I wanted to write a fic about it. And I wanted to do Nate because I love Nate, and we need more Nate fics out there asap. And the song has nothing to do with the fic, it was the song I kept playing while writing this 😭

Paring - Nathan Doe X FemReader

Summary - You go to one of Nate’s hockey games

Warnings - Kissing, NOT PROOFREAD

Requested - Nope

ALSO YALL, I FIRST WROTE THIS IN THE BEGINNING OF OCTOBER SO THERE WILL BE HALLOWEEN THEMED THINGS HERE, SORRY IT TOOK ME SO LONG TO UPLOAD

I hadn’t realize how late I had slept in until I heard my alarm go off more than 30 times, most of which I had just sleep through. I check the time and see it’s a little past 3. Shit. I had so much to do and had it all planned out. I was to clean my house, get a gift for Nate, go grocery shopping, and decorate for fall. I’ll just eat some food while I’m out but right now, I need to clean up my place. I have u til 6:30 to get everything done on my list. Considering Nate’s game starts at 7.

I clean my house, lighting candles and turning on fairy lights I have setup around my house. I take a quick shower and put on my freshly clean clothes. I do a slick back bun, not trying to do anything fancy. I get into my car and make a quick stop at Starbucks to get a drink. I also did an online order for my favorite lunch place in town so it’s ready for pickup when I get there. I pickup my lunch and eat in my car as I drive to target. I put my Starbucks in the cup holder of my cart and push it too the food section.

I grab my list of food and start putting it in my cart. I decided to grab some cookie dough for me and Nate to back after his game. I go over to the floral section and grab a bag of white, blue, and purple pair and place it in my cart. I’m on my way towards check out when I spot the cutest pair of matching pj sets. There was a vampire, pumpkin, and ghost option. They were all so cute but I decided to get the ghost ones. I check out and go home to eat dinner and decorate.

I decided to make something, quick, easy, and delicious. I play my fall playlist as I grab my last year bin full of pumpkins, signs, pillows and blankets. It only takes me around 30 minutes considering I cleaned earlier. I looked at the time, with not much time left I had to get ready. I put the totes back and head to my room. I put on a pair of leggings and his hockey jersey that he gave me. I take out my hair and do two French braids. I take some face paint type makeup I have and write his number on my cheek.

I put on my shoes and grab his flowers and teddy I bought him earlier that week. I grab a blanket so I don’t get cold at the rink. I drive to the rink in only 10 minutes. I head inside and get a ticket. I’m greeted inside by the triplets. They all look over at me and walk my way.

“Finally, we’ve been waiting for like 5 hours” Nick says rolling his eyes

“Nick, we got here 5 minutes ago-“ Matt chimed in

“Oh hush.” Nick says, crossing his arms, clearly annoyed.

“I’m so excited to watch my boyfriend play!” Chris says clapping his hands. Nick, Matt and I slowly turn towards Chris, giving him a confused look.

“Fine, I can’t wait to watch her boyfriend play” Chris says sarcastically but rolling his eyes.

“That’s what I thought.” I say pushing Chris a little bit jokingly. We all walk to the rink, getting a rush of cold air as the door opens. I could feel goosebumps approaching my skin. I wrap the blanket around my shoulders and sit down with the triplets. We sat and waited for the game to start. It only took a couple scrolls on insta before the players came walking out of the locker room and onto the ice to warmups. It wasn’t hard for me to find him, considering I had his number imprinted into my brain. Before I the warmups ended, I went to the snack bar and got myself a water and chips for me and the triplets. I head back just in time for the game to start. We all stand up and start to cheer, like the rest of the crowd. I only had my eye on one player the whole time. Every time he scored a point and I would jump up and down and scream for him. The three looked at me like I was insane but I didn’t care.

The game was over and Nate’s team won! We all wait for Nate outside of the locker room to finish up, but before he comes out I need to use the restroom. I come back not too long and see the brothers talking to a man I wanted to hug the first I saw him on the ice. He noticed me and started walking towards me. I ran up to him and gave him a hug.

“You did great tonight, I’m so proud of you.” I say giving him a peck on the lips.

“And these are for you.” I handed him the flowers and teddy bear, he then looked up at me with a smile that would make my heart melt.

“Thank you so much baby.” He said as he went to the side of me and wrapped his arm around my waist. He turned back and waved to the brothers as he started to walk with me out of the building. I help him load his things into my car, and we get inside the car after.

“So I had a really fun night planned out for us, but if you don’t want to do it, that’s okay and we can do something else.”

“It’s whatever makes you happy my love” I couldn’t help but blush at his words.

“So, my house is all decorated and I had candles going so it smells really good in there, and the house is clean so a bonus! And I was thinking we could make cookies and watch a movie together? And there’s also a surprise with that.” I say almost out of my seat from how happy I was.

“If that’s what you wanna do.” He says smiling back at me.

“Of course it’s what I want to do, but I wanted to know if u wanted to do it.” I say turning on my car, pulling out of the parking lot.

“I’m okay with anything you want to do.” He says looking out the window. I smile as I continue to drive back to my place. I pull into my driveway and get out of my car.

“Let’s take showers first tho.” I say unlocking my front door. He nods as I unlock the door and walk in. We take off our shoes at the front and walk to my room where my shower is.

“I’ll go first, I’ll be quick.” I say as I start to take out my hair. I hop in the shower and wash my face, get out, and wrap myself in a towel. I walk out into my room and too my closet, telling him it’s his turn on my way. He gets off the small couch I have in my room and head into the bathroom. I quickly get dressed into the pajamas I just bought for us. I sit down at my vanity and start doing my night skincare. I hear the shower turn off and with Nate walking out with the towel around his waist. He points at the pair of clothes on my bed.

“What’s this?”

“It’s yours, to wear! Tonight! To match with me!” I say turning around, show I’m in the matching set. He gives me a sigh but walks with it into the bathroom to get changed. I do a little clap of achievement, as I turn back around to finish my skincare. I hear the bathroom door open and see him walk out, giving me a sigh and looking down in disappointment.

“Hey! You look amazing! Don’t give me that I hate this energy, it’s supposed to be fun!” I say putting all my things away and getting up.

“I feel so weird in this.” He says throwing his hands like a baby

“Why? You look so cute!” I say walking towards him.

“Can I just take the shirt off? It feels tight.” He says scratching his neck

“Not yet! I wanna take a picture” I say grabbing my phone out. His arm wraps around my waist as I put the mode to 0.5x and turn on the flash. We smoosh our heads together doing a kissy face as I take the picture. I look at the picture to make sure it was okay then I put my phone down.

“Okay, let go make some cookies” I say kissing his cheek and walking out of my room. He follows close behind me. I grab a pack a Pillsbury cookies from the fridge and preheat the oven.

“How about you put on 6, and I put on 6” I say grabbing a tray from my cabinet.

“Good with me” He says giving me a smile

“Can I take my shirt off now?” He says whining

“Fine, Stop acting like a baby” I say as I start to put on my cookies.

We both finish putting on our cookies and put them in the oven. I walk over to my couch and turn on the tv.

“What would you like to watch?” I say looking up at him.

“I don’t know, you pick.” He says sitting down next to me

“Mhm, Corpse Bride? The Nightmare Before Christmas?” I say leaning back and laying my head on his chest

“Corpse Bride, The Nightmare Before Christmas is a Christmas movie.”

“No it’s not!” I say as I scoff

“It is tho!”

I shake my head and get up to go take the cookies out. I put them on a plate and organize them in a cute way. I bring the plate to the couch along with a blanket.

“Hold the plate while I put the blanket on us.” I say handing him the plate. I sit down, covering our legs and a little bit of my waist. He sets the plate down on the blanket.

“Do you like tonight?” I say putting my head on him again.

“Of course” He says kissing my head. I smile in happiness that I was able to make tonight special.

“I love you” I say lifting my head up.

“I love you more” He says giving me a peck on my lips

—————————————————————

An - OML I AM SO SORRY ML FOR NOT POSTING FOR A MONTH. I KNOW THIS ONE IS BAD BUT I FELT LIKE I NEEDED TO POST SOMETHING OR I CANT FUNCTION RIGHT SO HERE IS THIS 🫶🏼

#nathan doe #nate doe #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo #the sturniolo triplets #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo edit #sturniolo fanfic #nicolas sturniolo

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accioprocrastination · 9 months

Text

Another Bad Date

Bradley Rooster Bradshaw x Reader

A/N: I haven't proof read this so it's probably terrible but here's a fluffy meet cute.

Summary: Reader meets Rooster

The date starts worse than you were imagining... Tyler has already: ordered food for you, got you an alcohol free drink after you said you wanted a gin and tonic, commented on your figure and checked someone out across the room. You've not even been here 30 minutes and you need a reason to leave.

Excusing yourself to the ladies room, you take your bag to go text your best friend for help.

Scrolling quickly to find her name on WhatsApp you type your message:

I need an excuse to leave a date early

Phoenix is across town in the hard deck when her phone pings with the text message. Hangman comes up behind her to give her a beer but reads the text over her shoulder.

"Family member was in an accident; Friend is having a crisis; my ex just text me; I'm sick; I'm needed at work" he reels off his answers, placing the beer in her free hand. Phoenix gives him a look of disapproval in response.

"Don't read my texts Bagman!" She orders him.

"What does your friend look like, If she's hot I'll go be the crazy ex." Hangman winks at Phoenix.

"Absolutely not! It's Y/N, she's not your type and I'm not saving her from a shit date by pushing her in your direction." She states rolling her eyes as he smirks.

Nat this is urgent help me. You text again to chase up her answer, needing a response as soon as possible lest Tyler thinks you've got some form of gastrointestinal problem.

Sighing at her slow typing you exit the bathroom and collide straight into a tall brunette guy, dropping your phone in the process. "Shit, sorry." You instantly start apologising as he stabilises you, placing his hands on both of your shoulders.

"Are you good?" He asks moving his hands down your arms slightly, leaving goosebumps in their wake as you nod. "Yeah, are you?" You respond as he reaches down to grab your phone. He laughs slightly at your concern and says, "I'm bigger than I look, I think I can take it."

"You know Phoenix?" He queries, unable to stop himself looking at the screen as he hands your phone back over to you, enlarged on the contact photo of her from how you were holding it before you dropped it. "Yeah, I met Nat when she was in flight school. Guessing you're an aviator too?" You respond glancing him up and down to assess the outfit - not really something her associates would be caught dead in but he's toned and has got expensive sunglasses attached to his Hawaiian shirt so it's not completely out of the realm of possibilities.

He nods with a smile blossoming on his face. "Yes I am. I haven't seen you around before; I wouldn't forget that face." He remarks making you blush slightly.

"What do you do?" He asks unsure of whether you're in the Navy or know Phoenix through something else.

"I'm definitely not a pilot, as you can see I have zero hand eye coordination. I work for the government." You say with a giggle, not really telling him anything about your job.

"Ooh pretty and smart." He doesn't register himself thinking aloud until it is too late.

"What brings you to fighter town, this is literally the middle of nowhere." he remarks. You smirk slightly because he's right.

"Work asked me to come here for a bit... I live in Washington so not really used to having so little to do here." You comment.

"Do you want to get out of here and grab a drink?" He asks. You look between him and the table where your date is sat.

"Sorry if that's too forward, I haven't asked anyone out in ages... For all I know you're here with someone, there's no hard feelings if you say no." He waffles, nervous talking.

Your phone pings with a text presumably Nat responding to you.

"You're cute, I think I could make that happen." You say to the beautiful stranger whose name you're still unsure of.

You glance down at your phone to see a list of excuses signed off by Hangman. You roll your eyes having met and disliked Jake from the offset but his list gets so obscure by the end that you have to laugh.

"Boyfriend?" He raises an eyebrow, suddenly concerned that you are laughing at your phone.

"No but I am here with someone... I was literally just texting Nat for excuses to get out of the tinder date from hell, but it looks like Hangman has taken her phone judging by the unhinged message he just sent me." you explain the situation.

"He wants me to tell this guy that I've got to go because my fish drowned." you state in utter disbelief at Jake's list of excuses. The brunette chuckles across from you, and gives you such an animated smile that you feel your heart flutter in your chest.

"Give me two minutes to go let him down then we can leave." You state looking up from your phone and into his honey brown eyes.

"Okay, I'll go tell my friends that I am abandoning them then we can figure out where to go?" He questions raising his eyebrows. You nod in agreement and temporarily part ways.

Tyler has a momentary meltdown at you saying this is not going to work out and decides to start shouting at you from across the table. Bradley is back by your side in under a minute backing you up.

Once he's spoke Tyler down he grabs your hand and pulls your out of the restaurant.

"Thank you." You say squeezing his hand.

"No need to thank me, that guy was an asshole." he says making me smile slightly.

"Maybe if I went with the fish excuse he wouldn't have been so pissy." You mutter making him giggle.

Your phone pings with another text, Hangman still clearly has Nat's phone and has sent you a photo of your best friend head down on a bar. You smile at the photo, knowing he's gentleman enough to take her home and make sure she's okay.

You turns the phone around so Mr Hawaiian shirt can see what you're giggling at. "Ooh that looks messy! Thank god we don't have an early start tomorrow" He says sarcastically.

You're so glad that you don't have to deal with their kind of early starts... Morning people are unhinged.

"Do you want to go to the hard deck and meet up with them or should we go get food?" you ask him.

"Definitely food!!" He responds excitedly jumping.

"Great that's the right answer! Where's good around here?" you look to him for an answer. He looks around thinking for a minute.

"Nowhere in our immediately vicinity stands out but there's a really good place like 30 minutes away, they make a mean Hamburger." He exclaims.

You nod, "That sounds perfect, lead the way!"

"Whose car are we going in?" He asks me.

"I walked here from my hotel, so yours." I answer. I'm not afraid he's going to kill me because he just saved by life from my incel of a date who seemingly hates women, and I can see his dogtags under his shirt, so I know he's telling the truth about knowing Phoenix. That instantly put me at ease because she is an amazing judge of character.

"Where were you from before Washington, you sound English?" Bradshaw remarks.

"Yeah, I grew up over there in a tiny town in the Midlands... I moved here after uni." you answer.

"What did you study?" He asks walking alongside you to wherever he's parked.

"Pol sci and international relations." You respond.

You two mindlessly talk about your lives and what got you into your careers as you continue to walk to his car.

After what feels like twenty minutes of walking you stop and turn towards him. "Are you really shite at parking or something?" you question with a smirk held on your face.

He starts laughing.

"I got a lift here, I'm parked at my place." He responds grinning ear to ear. "It's just around the corner." He adds as you give him a look of disbelief.

You're watching him intently as you round the corner, noticing the sudden purpose in his step as he walks towards not a car but the front door to his apartment.

"I feel like I was warned about stranger danger." You say meeting his eye as you cross the threshold. The corner of his mouth lifts slightly into a smirk.

"You also agreed a burger in a place thirty minutes away was a good idea, so welcome to the only place that's good around here." He says leading you into his kitchen.

"Ah... Very smooth." You say as he swings open a cupboard door and raises two bottles in what you presumed was going to be a silent question: wine or gin.

"I can offer you some uncomfortably warm wine or gin... but I'm not sure if I have tonic?" he says raising his eyebrows, tone of voice implying he's asking you if he has tonic water somewhere.

"Wow, I can see why this is your favourite place around here. I bet the reviews are glowing." You tease him. Bradley doesn't verbalise the butterflies that break out in his stomach in response to your wink.

He laughs about to feel guilty for bringing you back here to his limited drinks options when he opens a different cupboard and pulls out a single can of tonic.

"Ah there we go - one of us can enjoy our evening." He says making you giggle.

He raises both again at your lack of a definitive answer.

"I want the gin but I feel bad that you only have one tiny tonic water... If you want that I'm good to go on the warm wine front." You respond and he gives you an unreadable look that you don't recognise.

"What was that look?" You whisper feeling oddly nervous at how good looking this man is.

"What look?" He whispers back, the look no longer visible on his face. His eyes are squinting, laughter lines visible on his face as he stares back at you full of a giddy playful energy.

You watch in silent amazement as he pours your drink without breaking your eye contact. You know without tonight going any further, without even knowing his name - this is not a one time thing.

#tgm #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley rooster x reader #rooster x reader #rooster top gun #bradley bradshaw #top gun rooster

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joels-shitty-puns · 6 months

Text

The Key To Your Heart - Track 7

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x Musician!Reader

Series Summary: After writing your feelings for Pedro into a song, it gains a lot more popularity than expected. Ultimately it brings both criticism and support, with new possibilities around the corner.

Series Warnings: 18+ only (MDNI). Fat shaming, name calling, kissing, angst. Mentions of food, weight loss, weight gain, dieting, weighing, potential eating disorder, food guilt. Potential for puns/dad jokes (name of my blog, and the fic) should give that away. This is my first fic which should be its own warning, lol. Also some cursing. Mentions of masturbation (f) maybe more smut later idk. Sadness, reader is pretty depressed. Poor body image. Rude people. Bullying-ish and just lack of support? Anxiety. Age gap! Reader is in her mid 20's, Pedro is current age (48).

Other stuff: Reader is plus sized. AFAB. Inexperienced. Also has a dog, but you can pretend it is another creature probably. Further, in case it isn't clear, italics almost always are the reader's inner thoughts!

Word Count: 6.6K!!!

Series List: Here!

Miss last chapter? Here!

Hi guys! I'm so sorry this took a little extra longer than usual. I've had a lot of ideas for this chapter for a long time and I struggled with putting it all on paper. I'm also on vacation 🤪 but I really wanted to get this one out there, especially before Halloween. Also I'm sorry if the spacing and stuff is crap, I did this from my phone/iPad while falling asleep at 3:30 AM. Hope you enjoy! Thanks for reading!

__________

You awoke with a start, your alarms blaring through the bedroom. Giving the snooze button a smack, you reach across your mattress, touching the sheets to find the other side of your bed empty.

It was still warm, but missing the actual body that you fell asleep cuddled next to. Blinking your eyes a few times, you called out into the bedroom. "Baby?"

You climbed out of bed, making your way down the hall to the living room, where you finally saw him on the couch. Sound asleep, eyes gently closed, a soft snore passed from his mouth. At the sound of your footsteps, he opened his eyes, giving a big stretch and wagging his tail.

"Good morning Skippy, my little sunshine! I missed your cuddles this morning. Why'd you move to the couch?"

He looked at you and yawned, his eyes closing once again. You giggled and headed for the shower to get ready for another day. Some of us have to actually work and get stuff done in this house!

_____

The day at work was busy, leaving little time to chat with Pedro. You couldn't help but smirk to yourself as your coworkers buzzed about your new album freshly released the day before. They still hadn't figured it out, but you decided you would continue to let it be your little secret a bit longer. They didn't need to know. Just you and Pedro could share this for now.

On your lunch break, you finally opened your phone to find a few text messages from him. "Good morning! I had fun video chatting with you last night. I'm so glad we listened to your album together, and it was nice to finally get to see you." His message made your heart skip.

Second text from Pedro: "Hey, I hope work is going well for you. I was thinking, maybe if you'd like, we could chat again later? If you don't want to video chat anymore, no pressure, but I enjoyed it and thought maybe if you wanted to, we could."

You replied. "Hey P! It's been a crazy day :) but a good one. Especially waking up happy after enjoying a lovely evening. I would really love to video chat with you again too."

Pedro breathed a sigh of relief at your answer. He couldn't help but feel nervous to ask you, despite having just video chatted last night, and he also didn't want to make you feel pressured; especially with someone as private as you are. But with your response, he smiled as he felt his stomach fill with butterflies at the thought of seeing you again.

_____

Later on, after work, the two of you were texting and deciding on the time to video chat again. However, before you called, Pedro texted you again. "Hey, I had a question for you, but I didn't want to ask it over the phone or video call and make you feel pressured. But, there's this Hollywood Halloween party coming up in a few days. I know you still want to keep your identity, but I thought if you'd like to, each guest is allowed to bring a date, and I thought you could mingle a little with some other musicians and actors. I can just tell people you're one of my friends from a set if you don't want to give your real name. You don't need to tell them anything you don't want out to the public. Plus I would love to spend some time together in person too, if you want to. I know it's a lot, so if you would rather not go, I understand. But I'd love to meet you."

The idea of going to a party filled with other celebrities, AND Pedro, had you filled with mixed emotions. Nervous. Excited. Terrified. Love-sick. Hesitant.

After a bit of thinking,you decided, and the answer seemed obvious from the start. The party sounded terrifying, and was completely unknown territory. But you also knew that if you didn't go, you'd surely kick yourself and regret this chance forever.

Finally you replied. "Okay! I'll go. I'd love to spend time with you, too, Pedro. Thank you for inviting me."

He replied again: "Really?! So, will boo be my date? 👻"

You: "That was a little too.. (candy) corny. I may have to ghost you. 🎃"

Pedro didn't miss a beat. "Okay, you're driving me batty. 🦇 Want to call and talk about our costumes?"

Oh shit, I forgot about costumes.

The two of you chatted, easily falling into the comfortable conversations you always do. Fitting together like two peas in a pod. Even though neither of you were dressed up fancy anymore, it didn't feel like you had to be someone else, or dress up. Things were comfortable. Easy.

Pedro suggested a matching costume, which made you want to scream and pace through your living room. Unfortunately, due to your camera situation, pacing and screaming would surely cause some alarm. After dancing around things like pirates, ketchup/mustard, and movie characters, you finally had an idea and suggested Cinderella and her prince.

"It just feels kinda fitting you know? Nobody knows who I am, but I go out for once, I meet this prince, and he lets me have this fun night. But then at the end of the night, everything goes back to normal, and I'm unknown again."

Until he eventually can't stay away and they both fall in love and live happily ever after… but that's neither here nor there. Totally not my intention.. pffft…

"That sounds like a wonderful idea. Should I send a carriage?" He joked with a wink, but you could tell he was a little bit serious. You couldn't help but feel like he would have reserved a carriage ride in a heartbeat had you said yes.

"Absolutely not. Way too big of a scene," you laughed. "In fact, I actually have work that day. Would it be possible for me to just meet you there after I get off work? I can just take an Uber across town. My work isn't too far from the party and I'm sure parking will be a mess."

Pedro agreed, although he felt bad you'd be taking a ride-share service alone and continued to offer a ride if you needed. He also felt a bit disappointed he wouldn't get to have any time alone with you beforehand, but he wasn't about to tell you that detail.

Either way, the two of you agreed on your plans, and as the days led up to the party, you grew more and more eager. You also felt more and more dread in the pit of your stomach.

But this will be good. It has to be. Right?

_____

The night of the party came quickly.

You got off work, took a quick shower, changed into your costume, did your hair, and added a little bit of makeup. The costume felt silly, but you kept telling yourself it was Halloween and everyone would be in costumes. Plus, you have a handsome prince waiting for you inside. As your mind and heart raced, the Uber driver pulled up to the curb, dropped you off, and you were met with a line to the entrance.

The line to the party was lengthy, filled mostly with eager fans, paparazzi, and journalists hoping to gain entry. Occasionally you'd see a celebrity pass by, but they were quickly ushered in once they were recognized.

You, however, were unknown by all. So you stood in line, surrounded by others who hoped desperately to meet their favorite celebrity. Not unlike yourself.

Having finally made it, you sent a quick text to Pedro. "Hey! I'm here :) sorry I'm late."

Your stomach twisted in knots. Sure, you were excited to meet Pedro. Especially with as much as the two of you have been talking over the past couple months now-

Geez, has it really been months?

But despite your connection, you still had that nagging self-conscious worry that he might not like you. Maybe he's just been talking with you to be nice, and the second you're together in person he won't give you the time of day. Maybe he will find you boring in real life. Maybe he will think you're ugly. Or weird. Or fat. Or -

"Next!" The bouncer at the door yelled after sending yet another hopeful fan away. Your stomach dropped and your mouth was dry.

"Hi, I-"

"NAME?" He barked, clearly done with this whole event.

"Well, actu-"

"Speak up princess, I can't hear ya when ya mumblin," the man said with a thick New York accent.

You cleared your throat. "Actually my name isn't on the list, I'm a guest of Pedro Pascal."

The man, towering over you, let out a bellowing laugh. "YEAH, I'm sure ya are, toots. You and every other woman in this joint."

"But I-"

"And trust me, I've turned away much prettier broads than the likes a' you at this doorway," he said while looking you up and down with an amused look as if he had just told the punchline at a comedy club.

Your heart sank. You always said things like that to yourself on the inside, but it wasn't often that people were that blunt to your face.

The man sneered while smacking his gum and arrogantly moving it to the other side of his mouth with his tongue. That gum. You wanted to punch him if you had to hear him smack it one more time.

"Back a' the line, kid. Y'ain't gettin' in here tonight, but I appreciate the self-confidence," he said, laughing at his own joke.

Disheartened, you didn't even care about meeting Pedro anymore. Your mood was dampened, your ego was hurt, and all you wanted to do was go home, get out of this stupid costume, and cry on your couch. With a short nod, you bit your lip to choke down the tears, turned, and headed towards the exit.

"Hey!!! There you are- wait where are you going?"

You'd recognize that voice anywhere. Pedro.

You turned around, swallowing down your emotions and putting on a fake smile, despite the wave of hurt and anxiety pooling in your stomach and chest. "Hey, Pedro! You found me."

Pedro smiled at the guard and snuck past, telling him "hey, she's with me." Fans in line squealed, which he greeted with a kind wave and charming smile. At last, he reached you and gestured for the two of you to head inside to the party. You gave a nod and a small, half-hearted smile.

You didn't want him to know how upset you were. Not only did you feel pathetic and slightly agree with the bouncer, but you also didn't want to ruin Pedro's night.

As the two of you entered the crowded party, you looked around at the decorations. Filled with purple and green lighting, the Halloween music blared and monsters danced the night away. A bowl of green punch sat on a table to the side, surrounded by bowls of candy and platters of snacks. An open bar was on the back wall, providing both normal booze, and Halloween themed drinks topped with gummy worms or syrup made to look like blood. To the right of the bar was a door to the large rooftop balcony which held tall, dark-green potted hedges, perfectly trimmed and shaped underneath rows of charming fairy lights. Beyond the shrubbery, the deck had several nice patio tables and chairs, a few people catching their breath outside or chatting, and a gorgeous view of the city below with the sparkling sky above.

Back inside and off to the right of the patio door, away from the dance floor, was a door which you assumed was the restroom, based on the long line of women.

"I'd like you to meet some people, if you feel up to it," Pedro yelled to be heard over the booming music from the dj.

"Okay!" You yelled back.

He led you over to a couple of people off to the side of the dance floor, one you recognized as his friend Sarah Paulson, who was dressed in a shimmery witch costume.

Pedro introduced the two of you. Sarah was very sweet, and while you talked music and acting, Pedro touched your shoulder and spoke into your ear to avoid yelling. "I'm going to grab a drink, can I get you anything?"

"I'll just take a soda, thanks!" Although some alcohol might help your nerves, you wanted to maintain a clear head and maybe not do or say something to Pedro that you might regret.

"You got it," he replied, turning on his heel towards the bar.

Once he had left, Sarah gave you a look.

"What?" you laughed.

"You know, he talks about you all the time. I know you already love some other guy based on that hit song of yours, but I gotta say I think he might be smitten with you."

"Oh please, no he isn't. We're just friends!" You smiled at the idea, but inside, you kept hearing the bouncer's words on repeat. There's no way Pedro could have feelings for you. Even if you wanted him to have those feelings more than anything, it couldn't be.

"Whatever you say," she said with a smirk.

A pause before she added "just… don't hurt him. I know you love someone else, but he's a good guy," she pleaded, letting her protective side show.

On his way back from the bar, Pedro ran into Oscar, whom he tagged up with and headed back to your small group. "This is my friend Oscar," said Pedro, introducing you to Oscar as his friend.

Friend. Remember that. Friend. That's all. All you'll ever be.

"Nice to meet you Oscar!" You gave him a cherry smile.

"Nice to finally meet the woman of the hour! Pedro here just won't shut up about you," he said with a smirk, looking at Pedro mischievously. Pedro blushed and looked into his drink cup, taking a sip while trying to hide himself.

"Yep! It's always 'she said this, she said that, can you believe she can do that? She's so smart, funny, sweet…' yada yada yada," he said, smirking again and taking a side glance at Pedro, who choked on his soda. "Shut. Up. Oscar." He quietly threatened through clenched teeth. But despite his quiet tone and a loud party, you heard him.

I mean, I say kind things about my friends that way sometimes. It's nice he's so appreciative of his friends. Because that's what I am. A friend.

Sarah chimes in. "That's what I was telling her! But she claims they're just friends," she air-quotes around the words 'just friends.'

Pedro's heart sank. He knew deep down that's all you were to him, but hearing it second-hand from you still hurt. Just friends… he thought.

"Yeah right," Oscar rolled his eyes, talking to Sarah as if the two of you weren't standing literally right next to them.

"Believe what you want Oscar, but it's true," Pedro answered with a shrug.

Now it was your turn to feel heartbroken. Just friends… you thought.

You cleared your throat, "anyway, I'm going to go get another soda. Can I get anyone anything?" They all answered no, and you headed for the bar.

Deep in your thoughts, you walked over to the bar when a woman slammed into you. She spilled her red, bloody Halloween cocktail drink all down the front of your costume. "Watch where you're going, fat bitch," said the woman, appropriately dressed in a devil costume, her skin-tight red dress barely covering her ass and breasts.

You sighed. At this point you decided to skip the refill and head toward the bathroom to clean up your now wet front. You looked back to see the devil herself headed right towards Pedro's direction. Typical, you thought with an eye roll. She wants him and is mad I was talking to him.

You turned away from that scene and reached the line to the bathroom. It was lengthy, but luckily it was moving fast. Once inside, you finally could let your emotions out a little bit. You wanted to put on a brave face for Pedro and not ruin his evening, but ever since the bouncer made his comments, you couldn't get them out of your head. And now with that woman spilling her drink on you, you had another reason to be upset. You felt undeserving to be here to begin with, and their comments really solidified the imposter syndrome.

Despite wanting so desperately to see Pedro in the flesh, you hadn't even been able to really make eye contact all evening. Your nerves about meeting him were still there, but now you were just upset about the whole night. Even though you wanted to look at him, really see him, you felt like you didn't deserve it; and your nerves warned you not to look or else he'd figure you out.

If he realizes I like him, it's game over. It'll be like that guy I liked before. He'll eventually say it's weird. Weird for me to have a crush on him, weird for me to touch him, weird for the two of us to talk about relationships or sex. It's 'weird' with you.

You really started to hate that word; weird.

Perhaps you were destined to be a single hermit forever. Or maybe just become a nun.

Cleaned up and having let enough tears out for a couple more hours, at least until you could go home and really cry, you walked out of the bathroom. Heading back toward Pedro, you saw a tall, thin, beautiful woman wearing a tight black dress with a slit down the thigh and skeleton makeup on her face.

The woman was standing close to Pedro when you saw her touch his bicep. Slowly running her hand down his forearm, she batted her eyelashes and twirled her hair with her other hand. She said something to him you couldn't hear, but the two of them began to smile, Pedro's eyes growing wide with his grin. He said something to her and they both laughed, him throwing his upper half forward in a classic Pedro laugh.

That's it. I can't do it. I can't be here and see this.

Turning on your heel, you made for the patio door. The crisp air hit your face, urging the tears to fall immediately.

_____

Pedro laughed as the woman, Tricia, held up both hands in defense. "I SWEAR, Pedro. That's what she did. She touched my arm like that, twirled her hair, batted her eyelashes, and said "hey baby. Come here often?"

Pedro laughed, "oh man, that's so cheesy."

"I know!" Tricia laughed, holding her stomach.

Pedro raised an eyebrow. "Okay, you agree it's cheesy, yet I feel like every time I've seen you two together tonight, you're the one that can't keep your hands off of her," he stated with a sassy smirk.

"Alright, you caught me," Tricia replied with a laugh, right as her girlfriend Sam walked up in a matching skeleton costume. Sam handed Tricia a cup of purple liquid and asked what they were laughing about.

"I asked how you two got together," Pedro replied with a chuckle.

"Oh, gosh, I can only imagine how she's spun the story this time!" Sam replied with an eye roll and a quick kiss to Tricia's lips. Seeing the two love-birds kiss made Pedro long to experience that with you.

Where did she go? There's no way she's still getting a drink.

He excused himself and headed towards the bar, but you weren't there. Then he walked towards the bathroom to check the line. Nope.

Finally he looked to the left and saw you, leaning against the balcony which overlooked the city.

He pulled the sliding door open, slipping outside into the cool October night. The patio was mostly empty, apart from a few stragglers on the far side of the rooftop, sitting at the patio furniture underneath a heat lamp. Most of the guests had gone inside when the temperature began to dip. He walked towards you, saying your name to gain your attention, but you didn't turn. Too deep in your thoughts.

"Are you okay? What are you doing out here all alone?" He touched your shoulder gently.

Startled, you tried to quietly sniffle and wipe your wet eyes without him noticing, careful to avoid smudging your mascara.

You turned to face him, planting another fake smile on your face. "Yeah I'm fine, just needed some air, that's all. You?"

"I can tell you're not okay. What's wrong?" He frowned, stepping closer to you and eyeing the red stain on your dress. Confusion laced across his face.

You stepped back a half-step away from his touch. "It's nothing, it just seems it isn't my night I guess… but you look like you're having fun. Get back in there and dance with Sarah and Oscar," you said with a gentle smile. "I think I might head out. Skipper is probably wondering where I am, anyway."

"I'm sorry you're not having a good time. Let me at least give you a ride home," he pleaded with his brown eyes. This was the first time all night you had actually made eye contact with him, finally seeing just how handsome he really was in person.

Yeah. There's no way he'd go for me. That's for sure.

"No, no please, you stay, I'll just get an Uber. It's fine! Thank you for inviting me tonight though, Pedro. That was really sweet of you."

"I'm not letting you take an Uber home when I'm right here."

"No, dont. I don't want you to miss the party…" you added.

"I've partied enough tonight. Come on, I'm taking you home. No arguments," he pressed, puppy dog eyes unwavering in his demand.

Seriously this man could get away with murder the way he looks with those eyes.

"Okay. Fine, if you really don't mind," you finally agreed, not that it was even an option.

He gave a quick explanation to his friends with a brief wave before the two of you headed out the front door. You scowled at the guard as you walked past.

Thanks for ruining my night, asshole.

After receiving his car from the valet, Pedro pulled open the passenger door for you, gesturing for you to climb inside.

Nobody has ever opened the car door for me before, other than my dad.

What a gentleman...

Just because you were upset didn't mean you weren't zapped with a feeling of adrenaline and love at his chivalrous action. Whoever ends up with him is a lucky person.

You climbed in the passenger seat and he went around the car, entering the driver's side.

Not only did you feel like you ruined the party, but you worry you may have ruined your shot altogether. Why would Pedro want you after you didn't even talk to him your first night out together?

_____

*Pedro's POV*

As he climbed into his seat, buckling up and starting the ignition, he couldn't help but wonder where the night went wrong.

Did I say something to offend her?

He began to replay all the conversations you'd had tonight, trying to figure out when your sadness began and what could have caused it.

The party conversations? The texts? The phone calls?

Nothing came to mind, which worried him even more that he could be so ignorant to have said something hurtful without realizing.

Pedro looked over at you in his passenger seat. You were curled toward the side, arms scrunched toward your body and looking out the window. Silent. Just the occasional sound of a sniffle, or a road direction for him to take toward your house.

He wanted so badly to reach over and touch you. Hold your hand and rub his thumb over your fingers to comfort you in any way possible while driving. Then, he'd pull you into his arms the second you two got out of the car.

But he knew he couldn't. You weren't his to hold.

Was her crush at the party too? Could he have hurt her somehow?

He felt anger flare into his system at whatever could have made you cry. You deserved the world and he wished he could spend every day trying to prove it to you.

_____

*Back to your perspective*

About 20 minutes later, you quietly said "this is me."

Pedro put the car in park, and told you to wait. Confused, you sat, but he ran around the car and opened the door for you.

What. The. Hell. Is he real?

You stood from the car, fluffing down your ruined princess dress. "Thank you Pedro. You really didn't have to give me a ride, I feel bad you went out of your way. I'm sorry if I ruined your night."

"Hey, whoa, don't apologize. There's no way you ruined my night, and don't worry about the ride. I feel better knowing you made it home safely from me than some taxi service," Pedro placed his hand on his heart.

"Well, thank you either way. It was nice getting to finally meet you in person…"

"It was nice meeting you too," he shifted his weight, awkwardly wondering how to proceed.

"You should go. Get back to your party before you miss anything else! I'm sure Oscar and Sarah miss you," you prompted.

"Oh, I'm not going back. I'll just call it a night and head home. It's not as fun without my date, anyway." He smirked, and you couldn't help but wonder if he was flirting with you. Probably just being nice.

"You aren't going back??"

"Nah, I'm good. But…" he rubbed the back of his neck with his palm.

"What?" You felt nervous.

"Can I ask why you're so upset? You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. It's just… if I did something or said something to upset you… I'm so sorry," he said, and you could actually feel the genuine sadness in his voice.

"Oh, Pedro. No. You did nothing wrong. It's just," you sighed. "Do you want to come in?"

You worried about asking and seeming too forward, but now that it's out there it can't be taken back.

Friends go over to other friend's houses. It's totally fine and normal.

"I, uh, sure," Pedro stumbled over his words. "I'd love to. If you don't mind." He seemed nervous and a little surprised at your invitation.

You unlocked your door and the two of you entered. Instantly, you were greeted by your boy, who was all too happy to have a new friend. His tail wagged, smacking against nearby surfaces.

Pedro's face lit up instantly, and he crouched down to Skip's level. Letting Skipper get a good sniff, you heard Pedro gently coo to your dog. "Hi buddy!! I'm Pedro. I've heard so much about you." He scratched behind his ears.

Your heart swelled. Here they were, two of your favorite boys, bonding like old friends.

Pedro stood up again, giving a final scratch to Skipper's head before turning to you. "So, do you want to talk about it? What happened tonight?"

You ushered him to the kitchen table, asking him if he would like a drink. "Sure, thanks. Just water, please."

You poured two glasses of water and sat at the table near him, finally delving into the events of the evening. You told him about the bouncer and the woman with her drink. "I also saw that one girl talking to you and being really touchy and flirty and I felt like I was intruding."

I was also really fucking jealous…

"Wait, what girl?"

He repeated the evening's events through his mind. He wasn't flirting or being touchy? Who were you - Oh. Tricia, when she was describing Sam. Were you jealous of her? He allowed his mind to wonder, slightly hopeful that you might want more.

"I guess I just… I don't really feel like I fit in here. I don't look like I fit in here. I don't act like I fit in here. I honestly don't even know why you're as nice to me as you are. I wonder why you want to be my friend. Not that I'm not happy about it, because I am, but-"

He cut off your ramblings. "Whoa, whoa, hey. Sweetheart. You belong here. People just don't know you yet. That bouncer was totally out of line and a complete asshole. That woman, who spilled her drink on you, was rude, offensive, and nasty; and I don't tolerate that kind of behavior. Especially towards those I care about. The second she came over, I could tell she was a snake. I didn't give her the time of day. And lastly, the girl you saw being touchy was my friend Tricia. She was describing how her girlfriend picked her up in a bar," he laughed.

"Oh," you listened to his words, still not making eye contact, looking at your hands on the table.

"And as for you," he prompted, "I'm nice to you because you deserve it. You're sweet and funny, and I'm so thankful to have met you. I talk to you because I like talking to you. I enjoy spending time with you, whether it's on the phone, or, even better, when I get to see your face. Although I have to say I hate to see it crying." He brushed away a tear from your cheek, and you gave a small laugh, wiping the rest of your face.

"Thanks Pedro. I'm sorry if I brought down your night. I just really wanted tonight to be special, and it felt like my carriage turned back into a pumpkin before I even started." You gave another defeated laugh.

"You didn't ruin my night. If anything I'm just disappointed you didn't say anything, so I could help cheer you up or we could go do something else." He paused, brushing your hair from your eyes. "By the way, I never did get to tell you how beautiful you look in that dress, princesa."

Your cheeks heated under his gaze. "T-thanks Pedro. You look pretty handsome there, yourself," you answered nervously. It was the first time you had truly looked at him all night, and he was more beautiful than you ever could have imagined. Even pictures didn't do him justice. Dressed in a white suit with golden epaulets and golden buttons on the jacket, he was the most charming prince you'd ever seen.

Pedro rubbed his neck. "Thank you." He smiled. "But, hey, just because the night didn't go your way doesn't mean we can't turn it around."

You smirked. "That's true. Do you wanna watch a movie or something? Because if so, I think I might change out of this costume real quick," you began to stand.

"Whoa, not so fast princesa," he grabbed your arm.

You turned and gave him a confused look.

"Not before I share a dance with you in that dress. I've been waiting all night," he held out his hand.

"Really?" The grin on your face lit up, and you pulled him towards your music room where you stored your records.

"Wow. This is amazing. You have so many records and instruments in here! Is this where you write your music, too?"

"Yep! Here's where the magic happens," you answered with a laugh, pulling out an old record filled with slow love songs of the 50's and 60's. You placed the needle on the record, hearing a soft crackle as it began to play.

Pedro pulled you into his chest, grabbing your right hand with his left and gently placing his right hand on your waist. You slid your left hand up to his shoulder and smiled up at him as the two of you gently swayed to the music.

One song turned into two. Then three, and finally four; the two of you holding each other, silent except for the soft music turning from your record player on the desk. At some point you took the risk and decided to rest your face on his chest while the two of you swayed. His head rested on top of yours, both of you breathing softly, eyes closed, with you listening to the rhythmic drumming of his heart in his chest.

The record crackled with the end of the first side and the two of you looked at each other. You didn't miss the quick glance he stole from your eyes down to your lips, and you began to slowly lean closer.

Is this it?! Am I finally going to have my first kiss?!

You continued leaning closer, both his and your eyes gently closing. You could feel his breath fanning across your nose when-

Clunk clunk clunk. Pant pant. Whine.

You and Pedro opened your eyes, confusion painting your expressions as you turned your faces away from each other towards the sound. Still held in each other's arms, you peeled your eyes away from each other to see Skipper looking at you both with a big doggy grin on his face. His tail smacked the table with a thump thump, and he let out soft little whines and coos for attention.

The two of you laughed, the moment over, as you both kneeled down to give pets while Skip wedged between the two of you. Although you were disappointed the kiss was interrupted, you can't be mad at such a cute face. Still scratching your dog, you looked across to Pedro on the other side of Skipper. The two of you shared a soft look and smile, filled with so many unsaid words and feelings.

"So, uh.. how about that movie?" Pedro asked, still smiling.

______

You changed out of your princess costume into a comfier movie watching outfit and he changed out of his prince costume. He had some clothes in his car, which he changed into, looking handsome as ever. He wore a navy blue sweater with jeans, both fitting him perfectly. The two of you settled on your couch and turned on a movie. Although you sat next to each other, you kept a friendly distance, neither of you wanting to push the other too far.

As the movie rolled on, you had a hard time focusing on the plot with him so close. He looked so cozy and soft, you just wanted to climb in his lap. You wanted him to hold your hand. You wanted to finish that kiss. He smelled nice, he looked nice, and you wanted him more than anything else in this world.

Without realizing it, you gravitated closer. Your body inched toward him, and without him realizing it, he inched closer as well. It wasn't long until your leg was brushed against his. Just the slight touch of his leg on yours was enough to send an electric feeling pulsing through your body. The tension was as tight as an electrical cable, slowly fraying until it eventually snaps into sparks.

Pedro's fingers twitched at his side, his jaw clenching and unclenching. Your eyes kept sneakily darting over to him, his doing the same at opposite times. Your hearts were racing, breathing quick and shallow. The movie finally ended, neither of you able to tell someone the storyline if asked.

You nervously turned towards Pedro, rubbing the back of your neck. "So that was some movie…"

"Yeah, that ending… it was-" his eyes darted to your lips. "Something." He looked into your eyes, hand settling on your thigh as the two of you once again began to lean in closer. You had just shut your eyes, noses brushing together, when he pulled away.

What the heeeeeeeellllll??? Whyyyy!?

You couldn't help but let out a whimper as you opened your eyes after the second failed kiss of the evening.

Pedro sat with his elbows on his lap, holding his face in his hands. "I'm so sorry…"

"What? Pedro? Why are you sorry? What's wrong? Did I - did I do something wrong?"

Do I smell bad? Does he not like me? Was this some sick joke?

"I don't know what I'm doing. I'm sorry. I let my feelings get in the way, and I shouldn't have done that. You're in love with someone else. I can't steal your first kiss. You deserve to have it with the man you really love."

"Pedro-" you tried to pry his hand from his face.

"No. I'm sorry if I ruined things. I should probably leave-" he began to stand up, but you grabbed his forearm and pulled him back down.

"Stop. Pedro," you begged.

He sat back down, looking into your eyes guiltily.

You continued. "Please don't apologize. I wanted you to kiss me…"

"But that guy in your song. You deserve to be with him. I've been letting my feelings take over and stealing all your time away on the phone and text, video chat, and now in person. I almost stole your first kiss from you twice tonight and-" he rambled on, once again throwing his hands over his face before you interrupted him again.

"Pedro.." you pulled his hand away from his face, leaving yours to hold his cheek instead, but he still avoided your eyes. Taking a deep breath, you figured it was time to take the plunge.

"It's you, Pedro."

His eyes glanced up to yours. "What?"

"It's you. It's always been you. You're the one I like."

"Wait, so you mean-"

"Yes. The songs, the interviews, our chats… I've been talking about you this whole time. I really, really, like you."

Pedro gave a gentle smile, leaning his face into your hand. "I like you too, baby," he whispered.

His hand moved from his cheek to yours and the two of you leaned in. Closing your eyes, you brushed your noses together before you whispered "please kiss me.

You could feel a soft smile as he pressed his lips to yours, first gentle and soft, then stronger and more desperate. Although the kiss was still very tame, you could both feel all the emotions you've been harboring for each other for so long.

Breathless, the two of you pulled back, falling into a gentle laughter. "You don't know how long I've been waiting for that kiss," you spoke softly, wanting to keep the words as quiet as possible, heard only within the tiny bubble you currently shared.

"Me too," he smiled, pressing another kiss to your lips.

"I think you were worth the wait," you pecked his lips.

"I think you were too," he rested his head on your forehead with his hand on your neck, lightly stroking over your hair.

"I like you." You giggled.

"I like you too." He grinned. "But, you know, if I remember correctly, 'like' wasn't the word you used in your song…" he teased.

Your stomach flipped. "I don't want to scare you off too soon, P."

"You won't, sweetheart. You couldn't if you tried. I feel the same way." He kissed your forehead.

You looked at him, and feeling slightly nervous, yet calmed by his deep brown eyes, you told him those important words that have been spilling from your chest in silence.

"I love you Pedro."

"I love you too," he grabbed your face, once again pressing a kiss to your lips, this one much deeper than the others, before pulling you into his arms. The two of you were finally together. Finally you had love. All the things you wanted were coming true.

Turns out you got your happily ever after tonight after all.

__________

To be continued...

That's all for now! I hope you liked this chapter. I've received a lot of kind messages and DMs saying how much you guys relate to the reader and I just want to say thank you. It really means a lot to me that people are finding something to relate to. I'm essentially just using this fic as my diary, because she is pretty much just me. So to see others feeling the same way, it makes my heart so full! I send hugs to all of you.

Next Chapter! Here!

Taglist: (Want in? Let me know!) If I forget to add anyone, I'm sorry!

@pedrotonin @starcrossed02 @lightupsketchersperson @cartoon-garbage04 @tyferbebe @maryfanson @gwendibley84 @faithfullyyours2000 @brilliantopposite187 @hc-geralt-23 @jenniferpendragon @winchestergypsy90 @red-red-rogue @theendwhereibegin @lottieellz101 @oliversaurus @kyga01 @milly-louise @titabel @taz-97 @stefanibear003 @marantha @fandomoniumflurry @ilovemybrown-eyedbabygirl

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x you #a! wrote a fic #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal x afab!reader #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x musician!reader #pedro pascal x plus sized! reader #pedro pascal rpf #rpf #pedro pascal x y/n #key to your heart

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justagalwhowrites · 4 months

Text

Halcyon - Ch. 3: Why don’t we try to actually get our shit together?

You and Joel come up with a plan. A continuation of Halcyon from the prologue through Ch. 2, a modern no outbreak AU TLOU fic found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Some mild diet talk, no explicit mention of reader's weight or size (beyond she is smaller than Joel but my Joels are all giant, OK? Joel is like 6'5" Joel is a big big man, big big man). Modern No Outbreak AU, No use of Y/N, Slow burn, 18+ only, Minors DNI

Length: 5K

AO3 | Main Master List | Prologue | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

“Sir, I can’t just… Well, I understand that you say that but…”

Amanda, the sophomore girl who worked the front desk of the English department offices, frowned, phone clutched against her head.

“I understand that,” she said again. “But she’s a special case, Professor…” She flinched and glanced up to see you coming in, looking relieved. “Sir? Give me just one second and I can check…” She pressed the hold button and lowered the receiver. “Professor, I am so so sorry, I know we’re not supposed to send unexpected calls or emails through to you but do you know a Joel Miller? He’s insisting he’s a friend of yours and…”

You raised your eyebrows before answering.

“Yeah, I know Joel. Go ahead and transfer him back to my office. And if he ever gives you a hard time again, tell him to fuck off.”

Amanda looked relieved and took Joel off hold as you went to the end of the hall and unlocked your door. You didn’t have to share an office like a few other people in your department. One of the perks, you imagined, of being a big name that got the university some attention. But you hadn’t done much with the space yet, the only thing on the wall a framed poster that the dean had waiting for you when you started there.

Your phone rang just as you set down your bag and you picked it up, tucking it against your shoulder.

“Yes, what do you want, I’m busy being very famous and important,” you said with a slight English accent.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize best selling authors were such a hot commodity,” Joel said. “Should I make an appointment?”

“Probably,” you replied. He snorted. “What’s up?”

“Did you know that you tried to put your number in my phone the other night?” Joel asked. “Note that I say ‘tried’ because what you actually did was put something in my notes that has four numbers and then seven symbols which, if you’re counting, ain’t even the right number of digits.”

You scoffed.

“You’re lucky I didn’t change your passcode or set an alarm for 4:30 in the morning,” you said. “Sounds like you got off easy.”

“You’re a menace.”

“I know,” you said, smiling a little to yourself. “So why were you looking for my number on a Monday morning?”

“Because I was looking for your number on a Sunday morning and ended up shit outta luck,” he replied. “Figured I could catch you at work. They got you all locked down over there, huh?”

“Trying to discourage random readers from contacting me here is all,” you said. “There was a problem with that at Brown right when the book first got popular. I don’t think it’d be as much of a problem now but still, administration thought it was smart. Speaking of which, don’t be a shit to my office aide.”

“Makes sense, I guess,” he said, ignoring your last comment. “Think you can put me on the list of people who are allowed to talk to you? And on the list of people who are allowed to bring you food?”

“Bring me food?” You frowned.

“Well, yeah,” he said. “I was hoping I could do that. Like… today. In an hour or so. If you’re not shaping young minds or whatever.”

“Don’t you have work?” You laughed.

“New job starts tomorrow,” he said. “And I don’t exactly have a lot of time without Sarah where I’m not at work.”

“And you want to see me?”

“No, I figured I’d just call and annoy your secretary as a new hobby…”

“Office aide.”

“You free for lunch or not, Goldie?” He said, exasperated. You resisted the urge to laugh.

“Yeah,” you said. “Yeah, I’m free. I have a class gap from 11:30 to 2. I can meet you somewhere…”

“I’ll just come to you,” he said. “Assuming that a fancy schmancy professor will still eat tamale lady tamales…”

“OK you could have opened with tamale lady tamales,” you said. “Buried the lead there, Miller.”

Joel laughed.

“I’ll give you my number and you can text me where your office is,” he said. “Then I’ll have a way to contact you that isn’t fucking gibberish. See you in two hours.”

You put his number into your phone and texted him. He responded with a screenshot of your note with the message literally none of those numbers are right which made you laugh.

It was hard to focus as you taught your next class, checking your watch every few minutes to see just how much time had passed. You were keyed up, stomach tight, and you tried to talk yourself down as you walked half way across campus back to your office.

It was Joel. Just Joel. Sure, before Friday, you hadn’t seen or talked to him in years but falling back into friendship with him had felt so easy so far. He was safe and comfortable. You’d spent every day with Joel once upon a time.

But that felt so long ago now. You were different people then. Joel was a jock who pretty much just hung out with you and tried to speed run his way through every hot girl in school. You were a geek who spent her entire life either trailing along behind Joel or with her nose in a book. A lot had changed in the last decade and a half. Joel had a kid. You’d gotten married and divorced. Well, almost divorced. Nothing was finalized yet but you’d stopped wearing your wedding band when you moved to Texas even though it still sat on the ring stand on your bedside table.

After Friday and Saturday, you weren’t entirely sure if you were going to see Joel again. You hadn’t gotten his number and you remembered nothing of trying to put your number in his phone while you were drunk. You weren’t sure if it was going to be a fluke, just a blip on the radar of your lives that had gone on totally disconnected paths for more than a decade, or if this was something that would continue.

You weren’t sure what you wanted. Losing him the first time had hurt. It might have been the worst thing that had ever happened to you, even worse than losing your mother, than watching your sister sister fall apart in slow motion over the last decade, than your father entirely. Was it something you could survive again? Was it something you’d need to dig back up and talk through with Joel now that you were speaking again? If that was what he needed, was that something you could handle doing? You weren’t sure about any of it.

But you were already starting to think that you’d go along with anything Joel wanted as long as you got to keep him around this time, just like high school. He’d been the sun and you’d been caught in the gravity of him. You wondered if you’d ever escaped it at all.

You straightened up your office a bit, not that you’d had much time for things to get too messy. Most things were submitted virtually now, though you insisted on poetry being printed to make sure formatting was maintained, and most of your personal notes were contained to planners and notebooks that were in orderly piles on your desk. You were absently checking your email when there was a knock on the frame of your door and you looked up to see Joel standing there, a foil covered plate in one hand, two glass bottles of Dr. Pepper in the other.

“Oh my God, is that Dublin Dr. Pepper?” You gaped at him.

“Technically no,” he said, coming in and setting a bottle down in front of you. “Stopped making it at the Dublin plant years ago but basically the same thing. Hi, by the way.”

“Hi. And I’ll take basically the same thing,” you said, leaning forward to peer into the hall. “Do me a favor and close the door?”

He nudged it shut with his foot and you took the bottle, popping it open on the edge of your desk. Joel sat in the chair on the other side of your desk before he followed suit, smirking as he did.

“I didn’t want witnesses if I broke the desk I’ve had all of a month, OK?” You said.

“Goldie, I don’t think you could break the desk if you tried,” he said, taking a sip of his drink. You did the same, humming a little in appreciation. You rolled the liquid on your tongue like you would a wine, the bubbles crackling and dancing there before you swallowed it.

“God, that’s good,” you said. “I can’t remember the last time I had a soda that wasn’t diet…”

“Christ you sound like a Yankee,” Joel laughed, sitting back in the chair. “That’s a Coke in your hand, darlin’, not a fuckin’ soda.”

“Oh God,” you groaned and laughed, too. “That was such a hard habit to break! I’d ask my roommate if we had any Cokes, she said no, I’d go in the fridge later and see Diet Pepsi and have a what the fuck moment.”

“Strange world out there,” Joel smiled slightly, turning the glass bottle that looked so small in his large hands.

“Are these the tamales?” You asked, nodding at the plate.

“Oh, shit, yeah,” he said, taking the foil off the plate. The corn husks glistened and you groaned a little. Joel pulled two sets of plastic wrapped silverware out of his pocket and handed you one. “How long’s it been since you had one of these?”

“I don’t even want to own up to it,” you said, unwrapping the fork and knife. “I’ve basically been on a diet for the last decade of my life, these look incredible.”

You wheeled your office chair around the desk and sat next to Joel before peeling back a husk and cutting the end off with your fork and taking a bite. Your eyes rolled back in your head and you slumped back in the chair with a satisfied moan.

“Jesus Christ.”

“That good, huh?” Joel laughed.You just nodded, mouth full, and sat up to cut off another bite before you even swallowed the first one. “Diet for 10 years?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, covering your mouth with your hand until you could swallow. “There was the book tour, they wanted me to look a certain way. And… well, my husband has a type so…”

“Fuck that guy,” Joel said, opening another tamale and taking a bite of it. You rolled your eyes a little. “Mean it, fuck that and fuck him.”

“Oh, so you don’t have a type?” You asked, brows raised. “Because I seem to remember a very distinctive type in high school…”

“Oh lord,” he rolled his eyes.

“Pretty, for sure,” you said, teasing a little. “You definitely seemed to be a bit of a boobs man…”

“If I were with someone I sure as shit wouldn’t make them fucking diet to be my type,” he cut you off. “He’s a fucking idiot, Goldie.”

“You’re making a bigger deal out of this than it really is,” you waved him off.

“No, I’m really not,” he replied. “If we’d been talkin’ I’d have fuckin’ come to Rhode Island and kicked his sorry ass.”

“Joel,” you rolled your eyes.

“What?” He asked. “I would’ve. And he’d fuckin’ deserve it.”

“Anyway,” you said, cutting off another chunk of tamale. “You’ve got a new job starting tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “It’s one that I’m actually lookin’ forward to, too. Get to be a little more creative…”

“You don’t normally get to be creative?” You frowned.

He scoffed.

“Not on any of the big shit,” he said. “Owners and managers get to do that. They toss me the smaller projects here and there to plan and run, this one is some owner’s suite remodel. Doin’ the bathroom, fancy fucking closet, that kind of shit. They’re letting me run it so I’ll shut up about never getting to do the fun stuff.”

“How long have you been working there?” You asked.

“Since I was 20,” he said. “So… fuck, 13 years? Jesus, I’m getting old…”

“And they’re not letting you do the creative stuff?” You asked, brows raised.

“I’m apparently ‘too valuable’ runnin’ the crew,” he used air quotes. “They throw a few of these little jobs to me every year but mostly I just make sure shit goes right on site for bigger jobs. Get it all done on time, all that.”

“Do you like doing that?” You asked.

“Not really.”

“OK,” you frowned. “So why are you still there?”

“Well, mostly because I tried paying my mortgage once with dreams and they told me to fuck off,” he said dryly and you glared at him.

“You know what I mean,” you said, cutting off a chunk of his tamale.

“Hey!”

“Shove it,” you popped it in your mouth before he could take it back. He rolled his eyes. “You’ve been doing that work for a while is what I mean, I’m sure somewhere else would hire you and you could do the parts of it you liked.”

“What I really want is to start my own company,” he said. “Well, what I really want is to play music but that ship’s sailed. Realistically, I’d like to start my own company. I think I could make some really cool shit if I had the chance.”

“So do it,” you shrugged.

“Oh yeah, easy for you to say,” he scoffed. “What, you just write your fuckin’ book?”

“No,” you said. “It took a lot of work and editing and rewriting and I’m not sure I’ll ever do it again but I did it. You can do it.”

“What do you mean you’re not sure you’ll ever do it again?” He frowned. “Thought I saw somethin’ about you writing another one.”

You looked at him for a moment, frowning a little, fork frozen over the plate. You were contracted for another book but that wasn’t something that had made national news, just an item in some industry publications after the press release from the publisher.

Why would Joel know that?

“What?” He asked. “Why are you starin’ at me?”

“Oh,” you said. “Just got something on your face…” You dipped your fork into some of the drippings on the plate before smearing it on Joel’s cheek. “Just there, nothing crazy.”

He pursed his lips and looked like he was struggling not to laugh.

“You’re the worst person I know,” he said, wiping his face with a tissue from the box on your desk.

You smirked, sitting back in your chair and putting your legging-clad legs in his lap, the way you used to sit with him on the couch back when you were teenagers.

“I know.”

“I’m serious though,” he said, the hand not holding the fork going around your calf just like it always had. “What do you mean you might never do it again?”

“I don’t know,” you sighed, peeling the husk off another tamale and cutting off a bite of it. “I don’t know that I have another story to tell. I’ve been trying to tell another one and I just… haven’t found one. I think I had one good story in me and I told it. That’s the end.”

“That’s bullshit,” Joel said.

“It’s really not,” you shrugged. “When I wrote the first one it just kind of flowed. At least the first draft did. I wrote it in about six months after my mom died and Gale…”

“Brad.”

You glared at him.

“Gale,” you repeated. “Edited it and workshopped it with me.”

“Oh I’m sure he was a fuckin’ natural at that,” Joel said, voice dripping in sarcasm. You glared at him. “What, you’re telling me I’m wrong? I don’t think I am…”

“He was well equipped for the job,” you allowed. “And yeah, it took a lot of edits and rewrites before it was ready to even start trying to show to agents, it was years of work… Who would I do that with now? I don’t know that I can do it by myself…”

“Do it with your publisher and shit,” Joel said. “Come on, don’t tell me that jackass is what’s holding you back…”

“It’s not just that. I really don’t know that I have anything else to say. And even if I did…” you took a deep breath. You’d never said this aloud, not even to your agent. “If I did, what if it’s not as good?”

Joel waved you off.

“Of course it’d be as good, the fuck are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about the fact that everyone freaked the fuck out about the fact that my ‘debut novel,’” you put the words in air quotes, “was so brilliant and shit, what if I never write anything better? What if everything I ever make after this is a let down? What if I never do anything good again? Everyone who took a risk on me, everyone who read my first book, everyone who ever thought I could do something will be let down by it. Jesus, one reviewer said it was the best debut novel since To Kill a Mockingbird, how the fuck am I supposed to live up to that? Starting to understand why Harper Lee didn’t publish anything else for decades…”

“Goldie,” Joel said gently. “I’m sure you’d write something great.”

You poked at your tamale, staring at it as you did.

“What if the only great thing I ever made was great because of him?” You asked quietly, eyes darting to Joel for a second before looking back at the plate. “What if it was just fine when it came from me and it only became what it became because of him?”

“Anything you’d write would be great, got nothing to do with fuckin’ Brad,” he said. “Not sure you can write something that’s not great.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Joel, you read the articles I wrote for the school paper,” you said. “I don’t think you’re a fair judge.”

“And your lit mag stuff,” he said defensively. “Look, I’m not a genius or anything but I’m smart enough to know when something’s great and you’re great, alright?”

“Yeah, well…” you nudged his leg with your knee. “So are you.”

He just looked at you for a moment until you frowned.

“What?”

He leaned forward with his fork, smearing some tamale drippings on the tip of your nose.

“Got something right… there.”

You laughed and he squeezed your calf and you cleaned your face before you went back to focusing on the food and life outside of your broader ambitions. Before what felt like too long there was a knock on your door and Alyssa poked her head in.

“Sorry, didn’t realize you had company,” she smiled, her eyes drifting to where your legs were still in Joel’s lap. “I was just going to put a note on your desk, I figured you’d be at your next class already. Have you written your midterm yet?”

“Not yet,” you said, looking at your watch and you realized it was far later than you realized and you had less than 10 minutes to walk to your next class. “Shit, I have to go!”

Joel released your leg from his hold and you scrambled to collect your things as Joel cleaned up the remains of lunch.

“If you wanted to write midterms together,” Alyssa said as you slung your bag over your shoulder. “Maybe next week?”

“Sure,” you said, looking around at your desk and grabbing your gold notebook before standing next to Joel. “Email me?”

“Yup,” she smiled, looking Joel up and down. “Absolutely will. Hi.”

“Hi,” he said, smiling a little. You looked between them and fought the urge to groan. She was just Joel’s type.

“Alright, some of us have to go teach,” you said. “Out of my office so I can lock up.”

You ushered them both into the hall.

“Have fun teaching,” Alyssa waved, giving Joel a last look before heading to her office a few doors down from yours.

“Oh I’m sure I will,” you said, taking Joel’s hand and pulling him along behind you before he could start gawking at her and then you were really late for school. “See you later…”

“What was that about?” Joel laughed as you spilled out into the hall that was tight with the press of students.

“I know your type,” you said. “And I don’t have time to wait for you to be done doing your thing…”

“My ‘thing?’ And you know my type?” He asked, brows raised. “Really? Well, in that case…”

“Oh shut up,” you rolled your eyes and he laughed.

“I came by to see you, for the record,” he said. “And apparently feed you properly since you aren’t gonna do it yourself…”

“Thank you,” you said, sincerely. “That was really good. And it was really nice, hanging out with you.”

“It was good to hang out with you, too,” he said, smiling a little, his hands shoved in his pockets. “Should let you get to class though. Those minds aren’t gonna shape themselves. And I have your actual number now, not the fuckin’ hieroglyphics you tried to leave me Friday…”

“And I have yours,” you smiled back. “But I do have to go…”

“Right,” he said, leaning in and pulling you into a hug and holding you close for a second. He was warm and his chest was firm and there was something about the way his arms fit around you that was so all encompassing you were certain that you belonged there with him. That, somewhere in the universe, the root of you both had grown together and separated just to find each other again. He pulled back. “Don’t let those college kids give you too much trouble.”

“I won’t,” you said. “Don’t let Sarah give you shit.”

“Oh, I will,” he said. “Can’t help it. Bye, Goldie.”

You smiled.

“Bye, Joel.”

You were three minutes late to class. You didn’t care.

When you got home, you went to one of the boxes you hadn’t unpacked yet, one that sat in the extra bedroom that you hadn’t found a use for yet. You knew exactly which box, the one filled with things you only looked at when you were feeling especially strong or particularly weak. You sifted through old notebooks, past one of Joel’s faded band t-shirts that you’d swiped at his house when Tommy had knocked a cup of Kool-aid over when you were wearing a white shirt and Mrs. Miller and scrambled to get your top in the wash to get the stain out and then you’d never given it back, down to the shoebox of photos. You pulled it out and looked through them. Joel at 16, a confused look on his face as he lay on the wheeled contraption he used for sliding easily under his truck and you surprised him with camera, a splotch of grease on his cheek. You, 17, in Joel’s letterman that was big on him so it was massive on you, sleeves shoved up around your forearms as you stuck your tongue out at the camera. The two of you, 16, sitting on opposite sides of a restaurant booth, your legs stretched out on the benches, a basket of fries and a milkshake between you. You were flashing a peace sign at the camera and Joel was looking at you, a soft smile on his face.

It was easy to remember what friendship with Joel had been. It would be so easy to fall back into it. It felt like you were always supposed to be this way, lives so intertwined they were built on the same foundation. It had seemed an impossible thing, to blow it all apart. You’d loved it then. You missed it now. But it had blown apart and you weren’t sure you could survive losing it again.

You sighed, flipping to the back of the box to the photos from prom night. Your mom had sent them to you after you’d moved to Rhode Island and they’d languished at the photo lab for weeks. There was a simple note: “Thought you might want these,” a little heart drawn at the end.

You found the picture of the two of you together, your hand on his chest, his arm around your waist. You were looking up into his eyes and he was looking into yours, a small smile on his face, just enough for the beginnings of his dimple to show. You looked at it for a while before you signed, packing everything else away and moving to your office, propping the photo against your computer as you sat down to write.

***

Sarah had been in rare form that night. Very skeptical about why she needed to do homework at all and trying to logic her way out of needing to do it for as long as she possibly could.

“Kiddo, if you just sat down and did it, you’d be done by now,” Joel had groaned at one point.

“But if I just didn’t do it, I’d be done by now, too,” she replied.

He took a deep breath. Sometimes, this girl…

“Not on the table, Baby Girl,” he said. “You can either do your homework now and have time to watch TV before bed or you can not do your homework and fight me on it, not watch TV and get up early tomorrow to finish your homework. Up to you.”

She groaned, picking up her pencil, bouncing her leg impatiently under the dinner table. Joel wasn’t sure who was happier when the damn worksheets were done, him or his daughter.

Once Joel was certain Sarah was asleep, he went to the back of his closet and found the box that he kept stashed away. He didn’t have to look far, the two copies of your book right on top. One was signed. He didn’t open that one, just looked at it now and then, held it when he wanted to touch something you’d touched once.

The other had a worn spot on the spine, where the structure of the book had cracked and bent enough times because he’d tried to read it dozens of times but could never bring himself to go past the first page.

He liked the cover of it, certain that you’d had a hand in picking it. It was simple, an orange sun with a gilded flower in front of it, the title, Halcyon, in bold letters below the abstract image. Joel flipped past the pages of praise, the title page, the table of contents, the forward written by fucking Brad. He turned until he got to the words that were yours. He knew they were yours, he recognized the voice of you, even on paper. No matter what you said, there wasn’t an ounce of Brad there. At least, not on that page.

“The sun in Texas was hot in summer,” you’d written, “melting ice cream and asphalt in equal measure. But it was the heat of his palm that made my cheeks burn…”

He closed the book, looking at the back cover with your picture on it. Your arms were folded so that one was in front of you, the other vertical alongside your face. Your gaze was intense, a knowing smile on your lips, as though you were staring at him, teasing him, tempting him. “The answers are all here, Joel,” your picture said. “If you could just make yourself read it, you’d know.”

He put the book down and got his phone out of his pocket, finding your number in his contacts.

You answered on the second ring.

“Oh my God, you’re so demanding,” you sighed in faux exasperation.

Joel laughed.

“I know, I’m so fucking needy, don’t know how you stand me.”

You laughed back.

“What’s up?”

“Been thinking,” he began.

“You?” You said. “Really?”

“Shut up.”

You giggled.

“Anyway,” he continued. “Feel free to tell me to kick rocks but… Sounds like neither of our lives have exactly gone the way we’ve wanted them to.”

“You mean you didn’t plan on being a single dad and I didn’t plan on being divorced at 32?” You gasped. “Color me shocked!”

“We were always good at holding each other accountable,” he said, ignoring you. “Hell, you’re the only reason I graduated high school…”

“And you’re the only reason I started at the school paper,” you said. Joel smiled at that, the memory of standing outside the newspaper office while you talked to the teacher so you couldn’t back out.

“Right,” he said. “Well… what if we did that now?”

“Now?” He could hear you frowning through the phone. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” he said. “Why don’t we try to actually get our shit together? You make me better, always have…”

“You, too,” you said quietly but you at least sounded serious now.

“When are you supposed to have your next book done?” He asked. “Assuming there’s a contract with a deadline for that shit, right?”

“End of next year,” you sighed.

“Great,” Joel said. “Alright, let’s give ourselves to the end of next year to set ourselves straight. You finish your book, whatever else you want to get done…”

“Finalize my divorce,” you said.

“That’s a good one,” Joel said. “I’ll see about starting my own business…”

“And having a stable relationship?” You asked.

“Sounds like a good goal,” he answered, his stomach twisting a bit at that. “What do you say? We come up with a list of shit and go from there? You know we’re better when we’re on a team than when we’re not.”

You were quiet for a moment.

“Yeah,” you said eventually. “Yeah, let’s do it.”

Joel smiled a little, looking down at the box, the cover of your book looking back at him.

“It’s a deal,” he said. “We’ve got this, Goldie.”

You laughed a little.

“Hell yeah we do.”

Next Chapter

A/N: So sorry for the long wait on this! Should be weekly updates from here out for a while, promise <3

Thank you thank you thank you for reading! I'm so excited for what's coming up for these two, I just love how they love each other and yes. I can't wait to explore it all with you.

Thank you for being here! Love you!

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x oc #halcyon

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thelightsandtheroses · 6 months

Text

Three: I found it hard to find someone like you

Your Hand In Mine | Joel Miller x female reader

Chapter Summary: You have an unexpected encounter with Ellie before meeting Joel off bench at the Tipsy Bison. Word Count – 4.4k Chapter Warnings - 18+ blog minors DNI, no specific warnings for this chapter, please see the series list for the full list of warnings though. Reader has a backstory and while her age is not truly specified (in my opinion) an age range is somewhat implied (likely late 30s) and she’s a parent of a teenager.. Notes: Thank you so much for the kind feedback and comments so far - they have meant a huge amount to me. The chapter title is from Streets by Doja Cat.

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“I think I’ve made a mistake,” you say as you dramatically careen towards the kitchen gardens. At this time of day, there’s usually no one else there yet but Sean, so this is your best opportunity to speak to him.

Sean looks up immediately, the alarm clear on his face.

“A mistake?” he asks nervously and you can almost see him mentally running through a list of what could have happened.

“A small one,” you clarify, “I hope.” His face relaxes immediately and he turns his attention back to the seedlings he is tending for a second.

Sean found his place in Jackson easily. It turns out he has a green thumb and even since he started helping in the gardens and greenhouses, the yield on crops has significantly increased, as has the variety of food grown. He barely goes on patrol these days unless he has to. He spends his time instead tending to each crop. He’s always asking if you have more books in the library on agriculture, gardening or cultivating food.

He’s found real purpose in his life here, as has Beau on the patrol team.

It must be peaceful for them both.

“So, what have you done then?” he teases.

“Why do I have to have done something?” You fold your arms in annoyance.

“You’re the one who said that you made a mistake.”

“I said that I think I’ve made a mistake. Think!”

“Sorry, sweetie, you said you thought you made a mistake.”

You smirk at his correction. “I may have - so you know that I go for a wander sometimes when I can’t sleep?” It’s a polite acknowledgement of your chronic insomnia; your attempt to make it palatable.

“Yes?”

“And -”

“I knew you had a hook-up!” he cries triumphantly. “I fucking knew it. Go you!”

“I do not have a hook-up … exactly.”

“What are you talking about then?” Sean asks.

“I’m not the only insomniac in Jackson.”

He raises an eyebrow at you.

“And recently, I’ve been talking to someone else around that time. You see, they also can’t sleep and then-“

“I’m sorry, are you telling me you’ve basically running an underground insomniac anonymous in Jackson?”

“It’s not like that.” It’s really not that formal, you think, it’s also technically above ground.

“And they said you weren’t a joiner, I’m so proud of you,” Sean teases.

“Whatever. So, I think we’re friends now. Well, as much as you can be in those circumstances. He asked me for a drink today.”

“He asked for you a drink?”

“And I said yes?”

“And now you’re panicking,” he observes gently.

“This thing works at night. It works in limited circumstances and what if I ruin it by going along with this?” You sink down to sit on the edge of a planter and place your hands on your lap nervously.

“Do you like him?” Sean asks softly, curiosity in his voice.

“I think so,” you admit. It’s the first time you’ve vocalised your feelings for Joel. The first time you’ve conceded that perhaps you feel something more for him than you originally anticipated.

You think of Joel. You think of the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles, the dry humour that occasionally surfaces, and the genuine kindness that permeates so much of what he says. It’s the way that despite everyone’s assumptions about Joel Miller, when you are with him you cannot help but feel a little safe.

As for whether you like him the way Sean’s implying … images flash of Joel over the past few weeks and you can’t deny that you find him attractive, that you think about him more than you should.

It’s never that easy though. What were you thinking saying yes?

Sean pulls himself up and sits next to you on the planter. “You haven’t really dated anyone since we got here. There was that one date and you -”

You nod, stopping Sean in his tracks. You remember that too well; how it had all started so well and then it had changed. The wrong words, innocently said, of course, and you’d ran out the Tipsy Bison and that had been the end of that.

“I know - I’ve just had other things on my mind,” you say, “I mean, the library is really coming together now.”

Sean cocks an eyebrow at that and you choose to ignore it.

“So, who’s the lucky guy then?”

“Well, that’s the other thing.”

Sean says your name, looks over at you with both encouragement and confusion as you watch him try and mentally work out who it is, trying to work out who else could be an insomniac.

“It’s um, Joel Miller. Tommy’s brother,” you add.

“Shut the fuck up.”

You shrug and for a moment Sean is silent.

“Well, he’s definitely kinda hot. He’s got presence.”

“Mmhhmm.”

“Is he nice to you?”

“Nice? Are we five? Yeah, absolutely, he’s been an unexpected surprise, I guess. That’s the thing, Sean. We’ve literally only ever talked though in the middle of night. I … what if it’s different if I go?”

“It’s a drink, babe, not a marriage proposal. Do you want me and Beau to be around? We can be back-up for you.”

“You’re asking me if I want you both watching me like a hawk and putting even more pressure on the situation? I love you both, but no.”

“So, Joel Miller, huh?”

“Sean!”

“I can see it. He’s definitely your type.”

“What - a fellow insomniac?”

“Tall, dark hair, kinda broody. Hints of grumpiness and mystery. I mean, that’s definitely you. He’s got that whole single parent vibe as well. Anyway, Beau seems to think he’s okay. He had patrol with him a couple of weeks ago.”

“And? Did he say anything about Joel to you?”

Beau is a fair judge of character; ever since you and Sean ran into him so many years ago, he’s been a guiding force through this changed world. He’s made a lot of mistakes, you know that, but him and Sean - well, they reminded you of the way love can endure.

You trust Beau though; you trust his judgment and character assessments. They’ve saved you all time and time again.

“Uh, just that he was good on patrol.” Beau had already said that to you before, you’re hoping he expanded on that with Sean though. “He said he was quiet but seemed a good guy. He wanted to contribute, you know, help Jackson and be part of things. That’s a good thing.” Sean pauses and you know he’s holding something back.

“Sean?”

“It’s nothing. It’ s just that Beau said he could - he could recognise some similarities between him and Joel, that’s all.”

Beau has a past. Before he joined your group, you know he survived the only way he knew how. His survival was marked with blood and anger, mistakes and choices that you know he is less certain of now.

“Oh,” you say flatly.

“Beau likes him though,” Sean says brightly.

“That’s good.”

You’ve all done things to survive, things you would rather not talk about. Even you.

Flashes of flames rising through the building, the sound of everything catching alight. An unnecessary distraction it turned out.

The smell of burning, of gasoline invading your senses.

Thick smoke in your throat. Your heart was thumping so loud you were sure he could hear it.

A weapon in your shaking hand.

Choices.

You remember the way your ears were ringing, louder and louder each second to an unholy crescendo.

Sean says your name loudly and you look at him.

“Are you going to meet him then?”

You think of Joel again, bring every detail of him to the forefront of your mind. What do you want to do?

“Yeah, I am,” you say resolutely.

You like it when the library is full. It reminds you of different times; a childhood spent curling up with books and browsing everything at the library. You remember how exciting it was when the library moved to a digital database, when you could search on the chunky PC for any book or author you might like.

You’d spent many happy hours in your local library over the years, which was why when you joined Jackson and Maria asked you what you’d like to be involved with, this was the answer.

Two years ago, there were few books, no DVDs or CDs and a very disorganised system. You’ve built this place up; you might not know the Dewey Decimal System like a real librarian from before, but what you’ve made works. It’s a community space, it’s inviting. There are books. So many books. Tommy even found an old stamp while on patrol and you have fashioned a library card system of sorts.

This is one of the things that keeps you in this town.

A class of teenagers from the school are browsing the shelves . The school doesn’t have a separate library so you pool resources wherever you can, work together as the town tries to give as rounded an education as it can under the circumstances.

You take a sip of tea and occupy yourself with sorting through a pile of returned books.

“So, what’s your deal with Joel?” Ellie asks bluntly, idly scanning through a pile of comic books.

“My deal with Joel?” You ask, confusion growing. Has Ellie followed Joel to the bench? How else would Ellie know you even speak to Joel?

No. No. Surely you would have heard her.

“He looks at you sometimes,” she says, eyes still narrow with suspicion.

“He looks at me?” you ask nervously and her face changes completely.

“Not - fuck - not like a creepy way. Just like he knows who you are and I’ve noticed him staring a couple of times. It’s clear he’s - he knows you more than just as a stranger. It’s not like - otherwise I wouldn’t be here. I’m not that fucking stupid.”

“I never said you were and I wouldn’t say that, for the record.”

Ellie shrugs appreciatively.

“So, a few days ago, I might have heard Joel leave the house in the night -” she starts, avoiding your eyes and looking at the battered wood counter.

“You followed him?”

“Would you believe me if I said I was worried?”

You put your hands on your hip and pull a face.

“Fine, then I was curious.”

“And you know that killed the cat.”

“Huh?”

“Oh, it’s an old saying from before.” You shudder, feeling every bit like the transformation into your mother is underway.

“Right.” Ellie sounds sceptical.

“ Regardless, you followed Joel and?”

“I didn’t listen to anything, I just -”

“You saw us talking?”

Ellie nods, shuffling awkwardly on the spot. “So, what’s your fucking deal then?”

“We’re friends,” you say calmly, idly sorting through a pile of books. You notice one on space and hand it to Ellie. “You’ll like this one.”

“Friends?” Ellie takes the book. “Thanks.”

You nod. “If we’re both up at the same time, then sometimes we just hang out and talk. It’s not - there’s nothing you need to worry about, okay. Does Joel know that you know about this?”

“No. You can’t tell him either. He wouldn’t want to know that I know about the whole not sleeping thing.”

“Right.”

Ellie looks so young for a moment. There’s a vulnerability in everything she says, in every detail of how she’s standing. Her fists are dug deep into her hoodie pockets, she’s avoiding your eye contact and biting her lip awkwardly.

You want to reassure Ellie. You can tell she’s worried about Joel.

It makes you wonder what Gabriel knows. Has he ever noticed you leaving in the middle of the night? Do your family worry about you on your insomniac wanders?

“He’s okay though, right?”

“Yeah, Ellie, from how he is with me … he seems fine.”

“Okay, that’s good. So,” Ellie picks up an old Blockbuster DVD and turns into over in her hands. “This is different from the FEDRA library.”

“I hope so.”

“Is it like what libraries were like before?”

“Not completely, but that’s the hope. We get what we can and it was always a hub in communities - more than just books or videos and music, it was a gateway for people.”

“The old library in the QZ never had movies or music.”

“Huh.”

“I like it though.” Ellie smiles broadly. “Thanks for the book.”

“Any time.”

“I - uh, I guess it’s cool that you and Joel are friends. You seem ... okay.”

“Thanks, Ellie.”

The Tipsy Bison is already getting busy. There’s a hum of conversation and noise around you as you walk into the bar. The clink of glasses on tables, hearty laughter and a hub of activity.

You feel nervous walking in, imagining people’s eyes on you, wondering if you’ll be first to arrive. You immediately scan the room and realise that Joel is already there, nursing a glass of alcohol.

When he looks over and sees you, you can’t help smiling and notice the way a smile briefly flashes across his face too. It fills you with relief.

Joel’s picked a table on the edge of the bar, a slightly quieter space, that you immediately make your way towards.

With each step, the anxiety starts to abate and your butterflies settle.

This is Joel.

He’s wearing a clean green plaid flannel shirt, dark jeans and a brown jacket. His hair is neater, not the unruly mess of curls you usually see on the bench. There’s something about the fact he’s made an effort that makes your body heat up slightly, that sends tingles up your spine.

You wonder how long he’s been here; whether he wondered if you would even show up. Whether that mattered to him.

“Hi,” you say as you sit on the chair next to him.

“Hi.”

Part of you wants to acknowledge it’s strange meeting somewhere that isn’t your bench, but you don’t want to make things awkward. Any more awkward.

“What can I get you to drink?” Joel asks.

“Oh, I can -”

”I invited you,” he says firmly, but with a kind smile. “Please.”

You look over at the amber liquid he’s drinking. “Okay, well the same as whatever you’ve got would be great. Thank you.”

“I’ll uh, be right back.”

You take the few minutes of solitude to gather your thoughts. You sweep imaginary dirt off your jeans, wonder what you should talk about, how you should behave. It feels like you’re in high school again. That nervous question of whether you’re even on a date, while being hyper aware of representing yourself as well as possible while still being you.

It’s funny; the world ended twenty years, but still these anxieties permeate your mind, invade your conscious.

Joel returns, placing the glass in front of you. You wonder if anyone else has noticed the two of you together, but then you meet his eyes.

Suddenly you don’t care.

You take a sip of your drink. This is perhaps one of the real selling qualities of Jackson, the quality of alcohol and food. Sure, it’s as safe as a settlement like this can be, but it’s true value lies beyond that. After years of FEDRA approved rations and bathtub brewed booze, Jackson is a breath of fresh air. It’s been two years and you still can’t get used to it.

“Still not got old, huh?” Joel asks.

“Nope.”

“Can’t quite get over it either. Tommy keeps threatening that bacon’s on the horizon too.”

“I’ve heard rumours. It’s like - I never realised how much I missed some of those things.” It’s not just food, it’s the idea that a settlement can be like this. It’s the idea of democracy.

You hadn’t found anywhere like this since before. Every other settlement you’d been involved in …

You don’t want to go there right now.

“I don’t think Ellie’s ever had food like here,” Joel says. “Boston QZ was … a culinary experience.”

“That’s one way to describe FEDRA food. I get it, Gabe was the same when we arrived.”

“How old was he then?”

“Ooof, he would have been about Ellie’s age, maybe? She��s fourteen, right?”

Joel nods. You haven’t broached Gabriel much. He knows you have a son; you’ve never hid this from him. You’ve been pleasantly surprised that he hasn’t made any of the faces or comments you’ve grown accustomed to over the years. In fact, if anything he looks like it’s reminded him of something else, like he’s been transported back in time into his own memories.

“His birthday was partway through our journey here actually.” You remember the meagre celebrations you’d been able to muster, celebrations that still felt joyous in being away from the QZ, even if nothing else was certain. You’d wanted to give him a better birthday next time. In Jackson, it’s been different … more like birthdays before.

“Did you know about here already then?” Joel asks.

“Nope, we were just looking for anywhere better than Kansas.” For a month you’d holed up in a cabin near Cody. It was through a chance encounter with Tommy that you’d ended up in Jackson. “Did you?”

Joel’s face slips momentarily and then he fashions a neutral expression. “No, I didn’t.” His words feel stiffer though, there’s a story he’s not ready to share there.

“You came here from Boston though? Well, you’re not originally from there with that accent, but Ellie said she grew up in the QZ?”

Joel nods. “I’m from Texas. I’d been in Boston for years though.”

”That’s a long journey to here.” You’d thought the journeys you had made over the years were long but Joel’s route here - there was so much open country.

Joel nods. “Yeah, I guess it was worth it though.”

“I guess so.”

“Sounds like you had a tough journey too, right? Travelling with a kid … hell, having a kid in this world after everything. It was hard enough before.”

“It’s been - I’m really lucky to have Sean and Beau. They’re the best Uncles to him, they’ve always been there for him.” You smile lightly. “And we’re here now, in a place I didn’t think could exist again.”

“I’ll drink to that.”

You raise your glass and smile, looking around at the crowded bar. It’s a hub in the evenings and you can see the natural cliques and groups that have formed in this community. It’s calm though, even with the noise and the chaos.

It’s rare.

“He had his first mini patrol a couple of days ago,” you say softly.

“That must have been hard.”

“Yes and no. Beau was with him and I guess this is the world now. I need him to survive in it.”

”You sound like you’re close.”

“We are. Well, he’s a teenager so it’s not exactly like it was. He’s a great kid though.”

Joel smiles.

“What uh- actually, don’t worry about it.”

“You wanted to ask about his dad?”

“You’ll tell me what you want to and when you want to. I won’t pry.” You may have never liked Joel Miller as much as you do in this moment. It’s such a small thing, that he won’t chase your stories or ask about your past. It means so much though.

You look over at him. “You’re something else, you know, Joel Miller.”

He shrugs.

“There’s so no big story,” you say, “it was … it was what it was and he got bit.”

Orange illuminating the sky as a building burns.

The gate so close, yet so far.

What have you done? What have you done? What have you done?

“I’m sorry.”

“No-one’s fault.” You’ve told the story so many times it feels easy now, rehearsed the lines, fashioned the right expressions.

“We’re here now though, right?” you say, allowing as much optimism as you can muster through.

“Yeah.”

“Though unfortunately it’s not karaoke night tonight,” you say with a smirk, eyeing the machine in the corner of the bar and taking it as a welcome distraction.

“I’m devastated.”

“I expect so. What would be your song?”

“I don’t do karaoke.”

“Oh, come on. It can be fun, if you’re with the right people. Are you more of an open mic guy then? I could see that.”

For a moment you picture another world, another night. Joel sitting on a stool with a guitar, playing guitar. You imagine yourself with one of those sugary cocktails you always fantasised about, in a world where the most controversial thing you thought about fungi or mushrooms was whether they belonged on a pizza.

“What about you? What’s your song then?”

“Well, maybe if you come here for karaoke night then you’ll find out.”

“Oof, you’re asking a lot, sweetheart.”

“Then you’ll never know.”

The mood feels lighter, easier. You run your fingers over with the edge of your glass. You can’t remember the last time a friendship, let alone a date, felt this easy.

“I’m guessing you’re a Fleetwood Mac girl,” he says after a moment.

You don’t reply and just raise an eyebrow instead.

“What makes you say that?”

“Intuition. Am I right?”

“Actually, you are. If Sean pours me enough alcohol, I have been known to blast out some Backstreet Boys.”

“I’m going home right now.”

You tilt your head back in a genuine burst of laughter, one hand over your mouth.

You meet Joel’s gaze as you settle yourself “I’m thinking maybe … Pearl Jam, definite grunge vibes and maybe Johnny Cash for you? And Springsteen, I’m feeling some karaoke Springsteen for you.”

“Maybe.”

“I thought - I thought this might only work on the bench,” you admit.

“Nah, I knew we’d be fine anywhere,” Joel says confidently, looking straight into your eyes. He looks at you as though he’s drinking in every detail of your face in this scenario, in this bar away from the torchlight you have previously gotten to know each other over.

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah. The bench is just a bench.”

”So, it’s actually about the company, you’re saying?”

“Maybe.” His mouth twitches with a smile.

“Joel Miller, you better be careful saying things like that. If anyone else overhears it, you may lose that tough reputation you’re cultivating.”

He shakes his head at you. “Really?”

“Uh huh.”

The conversation continues to flow, you notice that you’ve got closer over the evening, close enough your knees are touching.

“Can I walk you back?” Joel asks, ever the gentleman as the two of you start to go through the emotions of getting ready to leave.

You’re not far from the Tipsy Bison but you’re not ready for this to end.

“Sure.”

The two of you walk step in step and there’s something about being outside, the crisp air and the sound of both of your pairs of boots hitting the ground that instantly grounds you.

“So, you think we set off some conversations in there?”

“Most definitely,” you say with a smile. “I think Seth looked ready to run and tell everyone in the town.”

“God, I hate small towns.”

“Says the man from Texas. That’s like, the embodiment of small-town culture. I bet the suburbs there were just like a small town, I bet you had nosy neighbours and -”

“Okay, okay, you’re right. How was where you grew up any better?”

“It just was,” you say, folding your arms which makes Joel chuckle.

“Okay then, I believe you.”

“This is me,” you say, pointing at home in the near distance. The kitchen light is illuminated but you can’t see if Gabriel’s still up as his room faces the back.

“Thank you,” you say, awkwardly walking up to your porch. “For the drink, and the company.”

“Same to you. I uh - I had a nice time.”

“Just nice?” You like seeing this playful look in his eyes.

“I had a good time then.”

“Me too.“

Somehow you are now leaning against the wall next to your front door and Joel’s right by now. He doesn’t feel threatening though, there’s a careful distance as though he’s still gauging whether this is an option.

You nod in subtle encouragement, placing a hand on his arm, wetting your lips in anticipation.

He places a hand against the wall, framing your body and gently moving you slightly to one side, further from the door.

You’re never sure what to expect in a first kiss. Some people move straight to desperation and want and fire, some start slow and build up, set a fire inside you until you’re burning. You try and assess Joel, analyse which type he might be.

This is happening.

His lips meet yours. He starts off tentative, as though he’s confirming you’re on the same page still and then as your hands move up his arms to wrap around his neck, he deepens the kiss, presses his body closer to yours as you back up against the wall.

He’s illuminated in your porch light, a warm yellow glow shining on him.

For a moment it’s just the two of you. It doesn’t matter that you live in the world you do, or that it’s cold and damp outside - none of it matters.

You can feel the warmth of his body, familiar heat starting to pool in your stomach as he runs your hands down your shoulders, skimming the side of your waist down to the edge of your jeans.

“I should go,” he says, voice honeyed and low.

You don’t want him to. Even if it’s sensible.

There’s a slight silence, the nerves rising between you both as you try and figure out what to do next. You point at the blue painted front door next to you.

“I should go in.”

“Yeah. Good night.” He kisses you briefly on your lips and murmurs your name like it’s precious before turning away.

You notice Sean and Beau sitting at the kitchen table as you walk into the hallway. Sean has a Cheshire Cat grin on his face that makes you want to throw the nearest thing you can find at him.

“Evening,” Beau says with a mock drawl. “How was the Tipsy Bison?”

“I hate you both.”

“No, no you don’t.”

“Where’s Gabriel?”

“He went up to bed about half an hour ago but I think he’s actually playing on his console.” Electricity, consoles, another reason to stay in Jackson.

You can still feel the ghost of Joel’s lips on yours.

Maybe there are a few more reasons to stay here.

Tag List

YHIM: @orcasoul @pedropascalsbbg @yoursoulsunbreakable @iamskyereads @genetics4life @everyth1ngfan @frickatives @perennialdoll247 @darkroastjoel @noisynightmarepoetry @pedrobaby @noisynightmarepoetry

Everything Pedro tag-list: @harriedandharassed @pedrostories @hiroikegawa @pedrosaidsheispunk @pastelnap

If you want to be added to (or removed from) one of the tag lists, let me know or you can get notifications for @thelightsandtheroses-fics if you prefer. If you do not have an age or age range showing you are over 18, I will not add you to this list. I block ageless and blank blogs

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x female reader #joel miller #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal character #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us #your hand in mine fic

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dotster001 · 1 year

Note

I just had an idea for a request! What if MC is asked to cook the meals for each dorm when there's a special occasion? And everyone believes that she can't do it but, lo and behold, she manages to cook up a whole feast. I hope this is okay!

Caterer

A/N: Fun fact, it takes me a long ass time to get to requests...so I hope you're still around anon 😅

CW:Fem! Reader

"Alright, you said you need food on Thursday for Sebek's birthday, right?"

"Yes, preferably by three."

"Okay, and you guys need food for the basketball club on Saturday?"

"Yeah. And Floyd wants to remind you he wants shrimp on the menu."

"Duly noted."

How did you get here? How did you become NRC's most popular caterer? Well…

Three months prior

You had stopped by the Heartslaybul Dorm to visit Trey, who was still recovering from his broken leg. It appeared you had stepped into a warzone.

"Sevens! What are we supposed to do?"

Riddle was pacing back and forth, while an exhausted Trey looked on.

"We can ask Octavinelle. I'm certain Azul will have dishes worthy of an unbirthday party."

"And be indebted to Housewarden Ashengrotto for the rest of my life? Absolutely not."

"Wait, you need food for an unbirthday party?" You finally piped in, startling both the boys.

"Yes, but as you can see, Trey is still incapacitated. And the freshmen he has been trying to train are not ready to take on the project."

"I can do it," you offered.

Again, both boys just stared at you.

"You do know the unbirthday party is…tomorrow, right?" Trey asked. "It's not that I don't believe in you, it's just a lot of food to take care of at the last second."

"Well, I don't believe in you," Riddle said dryly. "There's only one person I believe can pull off something like this alone, and he's laying in that bed."

"Thank you?" Trey questioned.

"Well, just for that, I'm gonna do it! Just to prove you wrong!"

"Y/N…"

"What time do you need the food by, housewarden?"

"1:30 tomorrow. Think you can handle that? Cause if not-"

"I know, I know. It's off with my head or whatever," and then you stormed off to the kitchen.

"Please don't be too hard on her…"

"It'll be her own fault for promising the impossible. That will be all on her."

….

Ace had wandered down for a late night snack. The closer he got, the more it sounded like someone was in the kitchen. Which didn't make sense, because Trey was still injured, so who could possibly…

"Sorry, no entrance if you aren't on the list."

He looked down to see Grim standing in front of the door like a bouncer.

"The fuck is that supposed to mean, rat?"

"It means you aren't allowed entrance. Cause you aren't on the list."

Ace knelt down to Grim's level with a smug grin.

"Oh yeah? And what are ya gonna do about it?"

Then the door opened, revealing you in an apron, covered in flour.

"Grim, please remove the distraction from the premises."

"I'm on it, oh great food master. He was just leaving," Grim responded, shoving Ace for good measure.

"Hey, wait, wait, wait! Whatcha cookin, I'm hungry!" Ace began attempting to push past Grim into the kitchen.

"Back off Ace. I'm not playing this game with you tonight. This is for the unbirthday party."

"Wait what? Dude, Trey starts like a week ahead of time, isn't that tomorrow? There's no way you're gonna finish anyway, just let me have a bite!"

You glared for a moment, before looking at your kitty companion.

"Grim, remove the trash please."

"Yes, my lady," he began kicking Ace's shins as you returned to the kitchen.

….

Ace returned the next morning, with an entourage of Jack, Epel, Sebek, Deuce, and, of all people, Jamil.

Before Ace could say something snide to you or your kitty bouncer, Jamil called into the kitchen,

"Hey, it's Jamil. I was wondering how things are going, or if you need any help?"

"Nah I'm good, but thanks for the offer," came your reply through the kitchen door.

"Ace and Sebek have 30 madol on you not finishing in time," Epel said with a snicker.

"Grim, tell Ace to fuck off."

"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to leave," Grim said, kicking Ace's shins again.

Jack took the opportunity to speak to the door, "Y/N there's no shame in asking for help, it's a lot of food…"

"And Heartslaybul has the highest retention rate of all the dorms, so it's more food than any other dorm," Deuce added.

"It just can't be done, human! Allow the canine one to help you!" Sebek called.

"Look, Mr Doubter, I'm almost done. In fact, you be here at 1:30 to join the unbirthday party, so you can eat my food, and your words!"

There was a crashing sound from within, and all the boys almost burst through the door, if not for you peeking out from it yourself.

"Not to worry, I just hit an empty tray with my elbow, everything is okay. Now go away!"

The six boys, confused and concerned as ever, made their departure.

….

As the clock struck one, a crowd had set up outside the kitchen door. Students from nearly every dorm had huddled outside to see what the end result would be.

Then they heard a shout.

"Finito!"

And Grim hushed the crowd.

You emerged dramatically from the kitchen, and looked around at your audience, calm and collected as ever.

"I need some volunteers to set the table."

Immediately, some students joined you in the kitchen, and then they were parading out tray after tray, stacked high with shimmering desserts of all kinds; tarts, cookies, macarons, and a three tiered cake, decorated in red and white hearts. Then came the teas. It appeared you had brewed at least five varieties of teas.

The crowd outside stared in wonder. Silent murmurs of awe passed through the crowd, before Rook Hunt pushed his way to your side, kneeling at your feet.

"My Lady, Pomefiore would like to request your skills for a ball next weekend."

Before you could respond, Azul had elbowed his way forward, and placed an arm around your shoulders.

"Prefect, have you ever considered working for the Mostro Lounge?"

Leona somehow made his way over.

"Shove off, tako, the herbivore is going to be cooking for us!"

And thus, the Ramshackle Prefect became NRC's caterer. And no, you obviously are not getting paid for it. Who the fuck are you kidding?

....

Tag list-@shytastemakerthing @leonia0 @eccedentesiast-sapphic

#twisted wonderland #riddle rosehearts #trey clover #ace trappola #deuce spade #jack howl #jamil viper #epel felmier #sebek zigvolt #rook hunt #leona kingscholar #azul ashengrotto

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lokigonnakmsforbucky · 1 year

Text

insecure (DW x reader)

A/N: So sorry for the long wait for another story! I have been at college🙃

Dean Winchester x Insecure! reader (I think this is Season 4, Dean) Request: can you do a dean Winchester NSFW blurb/headcanon? some praise is included if that’s ok :) maybe the reader feels insecure and Dean discovers and proves to her how much he loves her. :))

Warnings: MINORS BEWARE, NSFW AHEAD AFTER THE CUT, and fluff if you not into cutesy stuff. I also am making a tag list!

View my masterlist

*Gif is not mine

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

You couldn't last remember the last time you had an "off" day from hunting. It must have been forever since the last time you could finally breathe without fearing someone or something to come after you.

You and Dean were sitting at the dining table in the motel room in Lawrence, Dean was "attempting" to do research on Sam's laptop while he was out getting some food at some burger joint. You could see how frustrated he was getting at the laptop, it was very cute. Seeing him get upset by technology like a little old man, Dean was not old at all. He was only 30, but if you asked him he would say he felt like he was 50 with back problems.

You often thought about how lucky you got Dean. His excellent looks weren't a huge thing but it was definitely. He was so strong, the strongest you ever knew. Plus, he was brilliant. Even though he wouldn't admit that he was. You felt so safe being around him no matter the situation, your safety was his number one priority.

But, you couldn't help but think that you didn't deserve Dean.

That someone else is out there. Stronger, more intelligent, prettier, perfect skin with no scars from random demons, vampires, or ghosts. Someone was out there and he hadn't found them yet.

"Hey." His gruff, voice snapped you out of your thoughts. You hadn't realized that he has been staring at you losing your mind quietly. "What's on your mind sweetheart?"

Dean slowly closed the laptop, and slid it to the side so his entire attention was now on you. His green eyes were something you loved. Loved for him to be on you, but right now his eyes were watching you like you were on fire. You could fill your cheeks slowly and get warmer and warmer. The effect the man has on you was truly something.

"Nothing. I don't even remember what I was thinking about." You look at his green eyes and hope he buys it. You don't want to talk about how you are feeling. Not yet at least.

Dean leaned back in his chair, arms crossed and his eyes piercing into you. Like he was staring into my soul. He always had a way of getting me to talk. To spill all my deepest, darkest, secrets. Not this time, you're not gonna give in. "Sweetheart, tell me."

"There is nothing to tell Dean." you stood your ground, not looking into his eyes.

Dean stood up, pushed his chair in, and turns your chair towards him. Kneeling in front of you. "Nothing? Yeah, I don't believe that. Ever since we got here you have been sitting in this chair staring off into space like a deer when they see headlights." Dean takes your hands now, "What's going on?"

You look back into his eyes and could fill the tears starting to build in yours. You should have known he wouldn't give up until you told him how you feel. "I..." The tears were now on your face, Dean's hands were on your cheeks slowly trying to wipe your tears.

"Sweetheart, what's wrong?'

"I'm not good enough for you." You finally spill what you held in. The six words you have been thinking about for months are finally out. Silence hangs in the air for a few seconds before Dean finally breaks the silence, his face confused. "Why would you say that?"

You stand up and walk away from Dean, towards the mirror looking into it. "I'm not strong, I'm not Pretty, I'm not Strong, I'm just not good enough for you Dean." You put your hands on your face, trying to hide your face, sobbing.

Dean gets up and wraps his arms from behind, slowly rocking you back and forth, "Shhh". He turns you around so you could cry on his shoulder. His hand rubbing your back felt good to let all of this emotion out. For months you have been putting on this strong face. Trying to prove yourself to Dean.

"You're wrong." Dean finally breaks the silence again, You pull your face away, tears leaving wet marks on Dean's Gray shirt.

"You're just saying that." you wipe your nose on your sleeve.

Dean turns you around, so you were now looking at yourself in the mirror, "I am not just saying that. I'll prove it to you. When you look into the mirror, what do you see?"

Before you could even begin your sentence Dean cuts you off, "I see a beautiful, Strong, Smart woman right there." You shake your head and Dean speaks again, "No. You're gonna listen to me. Everything that your head is telling you is wrong. My life before I met you had no meaning. I was running in, not caring if I got hurt. Then, I met you. The woman that excepts me, this job, and everything that comes with it."

You could feel Dean's breath beside your ear, "Let me show you how much I love you."

Before you had a chance to speak, Dean turned you around towards him, with his lips on yours. You could feel the passion, the love he had for you just in that kiss. His hands went under your shirt, lifting it over your head. His head started kissing down your face. Your cheek, neck, and your chest. His hands now unhooked your bra, leaving you bare on the chest.

"These are beautiful, everything about you is beautiful." His hands were now rubbing around your stomach, touching every blemish, scar, and even the small birthmark you had. "These are beautiful."

Dean then slowly brought you to the bed and laid you down on it. His mouth back on yours, his hands now all over your breasts. You let out a small moan while kissing him, and he breaks the kiss. His lips traveled from your lips down to your neck, till they landed on your nipple. You let out a moan, your hands traveling to his hair, pulling slightly.

You could feel his tongue around it, sucking a little. You feel your whole back arch into him. Allowing him to know how good you are feeling, Your moans feels the room as he uses his free hand to unbutton your jeans. Sliding them down your legs.

Your hand finds his shirt, tugging slightly. Dean lets go of your nipple with his mouth and speaks, “No… sweetheart. This is all about you.”

He kisses down your stomach, kissing all your scars and stretch marks. He stops when he was on the edge of your underwear. He takes the rest of your pants off, and then slips your underwear off and throws them on the floor.

“Let me take care of you, baby girl.”

Deans's hands spread your legs apart as he bent down in between them, you could feel his tongue lick up and down. Slowly working his way toward your clit. You let out a small moan as he works on your clit and continues to pleasure you with his tongue. Dean lifts his head up with a smirk on his face, "Does that feel good baby?"

You nod your head, "Yes.. so good. More."

After hearing those words, you could feel Dean's fingers rubbing you and you could feel his two fingers slide into you. Curling into you and letting his two fingers working in and out of you, slowly letting them drag over your g-spot.

You feel your back arch and let out a loud moan.

"Such a good girl... look at how responsive you are." Dean's fingers started going quicker in and out. You could feel your orgasm getting closer and closer. Dean just kept going faster and faster.

"Dean.. I'm gonna-" You let out another moan, "I'm gonna cum"

Dean leans up towards you, going faster in and out of you now. Using his free hand to hold you in place. "Cum for me baby."

When he said that you could feel your orgasm overtaking you. Letting out a long moan, Dean's fingers still moving slowly waiting for you to calm down before sliding them out of you.

"You did so good sweetheart," Dean says leaning up to kiss the top of your head, laying beside you. You felt like nothing ever happened. Even though a lot did.

"You mean so much to sweetheart." Dean started playing with your hair, "You are everything to me. Never forget that."

"Your my girl"

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whatsnewalycat · 11 months

Text

Designated Person | Chapter 7

Pairing: Francisco “Catfish” Morales x F!Reader

Chapter 7: Dirty Laundry

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Word Count: 7.5k+

Content / Warnings: Reader POV, infidelity, past romantic & sexual relationship and related flashbacks, angst, food, AA meeting mention, alcoholism, lying, conflict avoidance, crying, female masturbation, unprotected piv sex, send nudes pls, hold the moan/secret sex, text message chains, movies, fluff, awkwardness, praise kink, daddy kink

Notes: I don't really have any notes! Just excited to share, I hope you like it.

[ Previous Chapter ][ Series Masterlist ][ Next Chapter ]

The first time you wake comes a result of Frankie clomping around the house as he gets ready.

It used to annoy you, how loud he can be in the mornings. But you’ve come to find it kind of comforting. Each cupboard slam and heavy footfall serves as a reminder that you’re not alone. That you’re safe.

You stay cocooned in your sheets while he goes about his noisy routine, eyes closed, cradled in that warm, fuzzy space between awake and not. Content.

When he leaves, a high-contrast silence takes his place. The slow rhythm of your automatic breathing lulls you back to sleep.

You’re surprised when your eyes flutter open at 10:34 AM.

Thanks to your opaque curtains, the room is drenched in darkness, despite the daylight trying to sneak in through the cracks. You squint into the brightness of your phone screen and read the text messages that came in while you were sleeping, all about a half an hour apart starting at 7:00.

> RORY: > Good morning beautiful > How are you today? > I get off work at 3 today, wanna do something? > I miss you

“Oh my god dude, chill out,” you scoff under your breath while typing a reply.

< ME: < Sorry, just woke up. < Yes! I’m cleaning today but that’s all I have planned. What’re you thinking?

He reads and responds immediately.

> RORY: > We can check out that trail by the lake? Grab a bite to eat afterwards?

< ME: < Sure

> RORY: > Pick you up at 3:30?

< ME: < See you then 😘

You toss the phone aside and sit up, scrubbing your hands over your face. Your eyes burn when you grind your fists into them and welcome a big yawn that stretches your lungs’ limits. A spasm catches your breath, shoving out a fit of coughs that leave you a little winded.

Yeah, go on a hike today, that will be fucking fun.

When you tiptoe through the kitchen, you find the coffee pot still on from when Frankie ran it this morning. Your nose wrinkles at its contents. The stale brew will be muddy and unsatisfying, but you pour it into a mug with some half & half anyway.

You settle into your spot on the old couch in your living room and pull the notebook out from under your arm. Between sips of terrible coffee, you jot down the nighttime thoughts still floating around your head.

Hard time falling asleep. Kept thinking about puppies, thinking I should have adopted that dog last year. Regret. No nightmares I think. Woke up at 10:30, feel tired still. Don’t want to go on a hike with Rory, but I am an idiot who can’t say no to people. I would rather stay home and be alone. I want it to be

You pause here, staring at the passage.

A jolt skitters across your ribcage. Blood rushes to your face. You glance around self-consciously, then cross out the last two and a half sentences. A few moments go by before you decide it doesn’t seem like enough, so you cross it out again and again, scraping dark lines into the notebook paper until the sentiment beneath is unrecognizable.

Then you drop the ballpoint of your pen a few lines below the redaction and start writing out your to-do list for the day.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” you mutter to yourself.

Frankie’s damp clothes stick to the circumference of your washer’s stainless steel drum. The rank scent that emanates from the machine reminds you of your grandparents’ house in the summer.

With a sigh, you empty your dirty laundry on the floor of the mudroom and pull his clean clothes from the dryer into your basket, replacing them with the damps, then replacing those with your dirties. En route to his bedroom, with your laundry basket propped on one hip, you text him.

< ME: < I stg you leave your clothes in the washer dryer on purpose so I’ll fold them

He must be on his lunch break, because he texts back right away.

> FRANKIE: > I would never 😉

The door opens with a creak when you step through the threshold, dropping your basket on the floor next to his bed. You take a selfie from the middle of the room and send it to him along with your response.

< ME: < K well I’m gonna lick all your stuff after putting away your clothes

> FRANKIE: > Promise?

< ME: < Shut up lol

> FRANKIE: > You look cute btw

Heat floods your cheeks. A smile spreads across your face as you fall back into his bed. The musk woven between the threading of his sheets tugs at you. Your skin tingles with want, and you find yourself pulling the covers over your body and burying your face in his pillow.

The phone buzzes beside you.

> FRANKIE: > Feel free to take a nap or do whatever you want in there

You sit up and whip your head around, then text back.

< ME: < Are you watching me

> FRANKIE: > Are you in my bed?

< ME: < … what if I was?

> FRANKIE: > I wouldn’t mind one bit > What are you doing in there?

< ME: < It’s comfy, I’m laying down

> FRANKIE: > Can I see?

Your stomach flips. The warmth in your face spreads, sprouting up all over your body. You lick your lips and smirk, then open the camera and take a picture of yourself and send it to him.

> FRANKIE: > Wow 😍 > I’m going back to work. See you later tonight, sweetheart

You start and erase about five variations of a response before just locking your phone screen and slamming it down at your side. Your hands fly to your face. All your organs melt and pool hot between your thighs.

Fuck, you hate that he can make you feel like this.

… but you love it, too.

It’s intoxicating.

You know him well enough to know that, throughout his day, whether he’s tinkering around in some commercial airplane, or running diagnostic tests, or chatting with coworkers, he will be thinking about you. Wondering what you’re doing. Hoping that when he arrives home there will be a spot in his sheets marked unmistakably yours.

He always held a particular fascination with you touching yourself, a fact proven true last week when he got off watching you masturbate.

The memory pricks your skin. Your squeaky mattress. The exchange of gasps and whimpers and moans. His lust-blown eyes, all wild and black as they watched you.

Even before that, though.

When you were working for him, he would sometimes text you specific locations in his house, asking you to masturbate there, send him pictures, and leave your panties. Of course, you were happy to oblige.

There were a few times when he had you choose a place to fuck yourself. You gave him three clues, and if he guessed the location correctly, that’s where he would fuck you when he got home.

One Saturday night, you were watching Sarah while he and Angie went out on a date. He texted you exactly one minute after Sarah’s bedtime.

> FRANKIE: > Baby in bed?

< ME: < Yeah

> FRANKIE: > Good > Can you do something for me?

< ME: < Maybe, what?

> FRANKIE: > Go in my upstairs bathroom and take off that pretty dress > Film yourself getting off in the mirror > Then send it to me

< ME: < Where are your manners sir

> FRANKIE: > Pretty please 😘

So you did. You tiptoed into the bathroom and pulled your dress off over your head, which is all the effort it took to strip down to a red thong. You stood in front of the huge vanity mirror and pressed record.

When they came home, Frankie ushered an extremely inebriated Angie to their bedroom. He emerged a few minutes later and coaxed you into the bathroom. Between heated, whiskey-soaked kisses, he told you, “We have to be quiet.”

You nodded and raked your fingers through his hair, responding to his urgent mouth with your own. He locked the bathroom door and dug his phone from his pocket, propping it up on the bathroom counter before he pressed play.

You pulled your dress off, watching his reflection in the vanity mirror for telltale signs of him being shitfaced. A stumble or slur. Compared to other nights where he spent hours at the bar, he seemed fine, which was a relief.

From his phone, you heard your own whimper. You looked down and watched the past you, video you, flick your wrist beneath the cover of your underwear.

His belt clanked as he undid his pants, pulling your attention back to his reflection. You met his eyes through the mirror and watched the darkness in them churn. He slid your thong aside, head of his cock nudging against your entrance.

A rasp tickled your ear, “Look at you, the dirty little movie you made me—what were you thinking about?”

Your gaze dropped to the video. To video you grabbing your tits and biting your lips. He plunged forward, splitting you open, pulling a gasp from your lips, “Ffffuck—”

“Thinking about fuck?”

He started to roll his hips, driving his cock into you, slow and deep. Pleasure rippled up your spine. Video you slid your thong off and showed the camera your pussy.

Your lips parted to answer his question, but the words caught in your throat. It felt so wrong to tell him. He grabbed your shoulder and pulled your body against his, snapping his hips, pumping into you with sharp, hard movements.

“Holy fuck, Frankie—”

“Tell me what you were thinking about when you were playing with your pussy.”

“This,” you breathed, arching your back into his thrusts, each one a heatwave across your body, “You fucking me—trying to be quiet—trying to be a good girl—”

“You’re doing so fucking good, baby,” he purred, “Can’t get enough of this sweet pussy—drives me fucking crazy, Jesus Christ.”

Little whimpers and gasps started wriggling up your throat. Your eyebrows threaded together and lips parted with a croaked, “Frankie—”

“Fuck yes, baby, take it,” he hissed through gritted teeth, fucking you harder, faster, repeating under his ragged breath, “Take it, take it, take it.”

His cock rubbed along all the right parts of you, sending your pulse racing, adrenaline spiking when you remembered Angie asleep in the other room while he was there with you, dark gaze flicking between your video playing on his phone and your body bouncing off of him.

Your whimpers morphed into moans, immediately muffled by his warm, rough palm.

“Gotta be fucking quiet, sweetheart,” he panted in your ear, “I know it’s hard but you gotta do that for me, ok? Can you be a good girl for me, be quiet?”

You nodded. Calmed your moans into frenzied breaths. Lowered your gaze to the phone screen, where video you sank two fingers into your cunt and moaned, fucking yourself, just for him.

“That’s it,” he panted, wrapping his arms around your torso to hold you in place as he fucked up into you, hot breath heating the crook of your neck, “Fuck, that’s it, such a good girl for daddy, hmm?”

You couldn’t help the choked moan that escaped you.

“Say it, say you’re such a good girl for daddy—”

“I’m such—such a good girl for daddy.”

“Fuuuuck yes,” he groaned, one hand finding your clit, drawing frantic circles that flooded your body with a gooey, electric, pulsing energy, “Pussy so tight, feels so fucking good, fuck—”

“Oh my god,” you gasped, pushing against his thrusts, nodding your head, “Daddy I’m gonna fucking cum—”

“Holy fuck—that’s it, sweet girl, cum on daddy’s dick, you can do it.”

You lost yourself, forgetting all about the concession to be quiet—whining and moaning as your bodies slid together with this sick, wet, sucking noise—consumed by the throbbing fire at your center, amplified with each snap of his hips, with his dirty little praises whispered in your ear, cock filling you again and again until you couldn’t fucking handle it anymore and your pleasure reached a fever pitch.

Frankie released a deep, guttural moan as you clenched down, pussy fluttering around his length, white hot static vibrating across your body.

He plunged into you once, twice, three more times with a shudder, spilling inside you.

“Holy shit,” you panted, collapsing forward onto the bathroom counter. His grip softened and he went slack against your back. A few blissful moments went by like this before the spell broke.

“God, I wish you could stay,” he told you in a breathy murmur, pressing a kiss into your bare shoulder, “Wish I could wake up with you.”

And it sounded sweet on the surface, but you knew it was your cue to leave.

You think about it now.

About Frankie, and the video that you sent him while he was on a date with his wife. How she was under the same roof when the two of you fucked in the bathroom. How he had you call him daddy, and how you were such a good girl for him.

You think about how it is between you now, how good it would feel to give in to those reckless desires and fuck like you used to.

Your touch trails down between your legs as you imagine him here in the bed with you, cooing filthy things in your ear, rubbing your clit, laying heated kisses on your neck.

You grab your breast and pretend it’s him squeezing your flesh. Imagine his soft lips around your nipple, the roll of his tongue against it.

“Fuck,” you breathe, rolling your hips into your hand.

A whimper bubbles through your lips and the brazenness of it stokes your insides. Another whimper, this one louder. Tingles shoot up your middle.

You drag your fingers along your slit, moaning at the puddle of arousal pooling at your entrance, spreading it, coating your pussy in the slick substance.

“So fucking wet,” you gasp, gripping your tit harder, imagining Frankie there, touching you, watching you with awe, telling you how fucking good you’re doing.

Your fingers move faster, sliding easy against your lubricated nub, and you release a throaty moan, “So fucking good, daddy, you make me feel so good.“

The words out loud jolt your insides. You think: What if he saw me like this? What if he heard me? What if he knew I still fantasize about him?

A burst of feral energy overtakes you and you crawl up onto your knees, pulling your loose cotton shorts and underwear aside so your cunt is exposed to the room. You work one hand hard and fast against your clit. The other sinks two fingers inside you.

You roll your hips, fucking your hand, moaning out, “Fuck yes, Frankie, fuck me just like that, so fucking good, daddy, you’re gonna make me cum—”

Uttering the words out loud electrifies you. Heat churns beneath your touch, growing brighter and hotter as your wanton moans hit his bedroom ceiling. Pleasure starts to swell and your movements grow frantic, desperate, chasing that feeling as you whine, “Don’t stop, don’t fucking stop—”

You convulse around your fingers and gasp, twitchy prods of pleasure gushing at your center each time your slick fingers graze your clit, slowing as the waves ebb into a fuzzy kind of bliss that occupies your whole body.

You fall back in his bed, chest heaving, and try to gain your bearings.

Shame starts to creep at the edges of your post-orgasm fog. Without prompting, your brain tells you: I hate myself.

It stings.

You gulp and shake your head, whispering out loud, “I love myself.”

The correction soothes your hindbrain’s outlash enough for you to release a content sigh. A smile creeps across your face. You blink over at Frankie’s dresser, then rise to your feet and start folding his clean clothes.

As you tuck the folded clothes away in his dresser drawers, you find the underwear he snatched from your bedroom last week. Teal lace, all stiff with his dried cum.

You chuckle to yourself and shake your head. That familiar, reckless kind of satisfaction spreads through your veins.

It’s fucked up, but the thought of him getting off on the scent of you fills you with pride.

This is rocky territory. More than rocky, honestly. It’s dangling-off-a-cliffside-while-your-grip-is-slipping territory.

You both know it. It’s like neither of you can help it. Over and over, you fall back together like opposite poles of a magnet.

Are you drawn to each other because there’s something real? Or is it because of the thrill?

You remind yourself that there is something more between you and Frankie than sexual desire.

You laugh together, support each other, and enjoy your shared time. The bond you’ve formed is genuine. He has come to be one of your best friends. Second only to your sister, Leah.

There’s a softness when you’re with him, too. A saccharine kind of intimacy that curls around your body and makes you feel at home. It has always existed between you, even if he never admits it. He used to push it away, but more and more, it’s become commonplace when you’re together.

You swallow hard and shake your head, finding that you’re still staring at these cum-encrusted panties. You know Frankie won’t be able to bring himself to throw them in with the rest of his laundry. That would mean washing your scent, throwing your gift away.

A little flint of arousal sparks at the base of your spine.

After dropping the teal lace into your laundry basket, you shimmy your shorts and underwear down your legs, then wipe yourself off with the gusset of your floral cheeky bikini. You shove them into his dresser drawer in place of the spent pair.

Two flimsy cardboard boats slide out onto the "PICK-UP HERE” window’s ledge. A booming voice follows, “Order number 32!”

Rory glances down at his receipt, then tucks it in his pocket as he steps through the crowd of hungry onlookers and approaches the rusted-out food truck. He returns holding one basket in each hand, a victorious smile dawning on his face, “Where should we sit?”

You squint around your surroundings and spot a shaded patch of grass beneath the gnarled trunk of a buttonwood tree, then point to it, “Ooh, over here!”

“Got it!”

Rory jogs ahead and lands on the grass before anyone else can claim the spot. You catch up a few seconds later and sit down next to him, crossing your legs. He hands you your shrimp tacos and you murmur a thanks to him while balancing the basket on your knee.

Under the eaves of the buttonwood tree, you find relief from the unrelenting sun. Your skin, all heated and gleaming with sweat, thanks you profusely. The cool earth somehow feels icy against your palms when you lean back and stretch out. You pull your sunglasses up on your head and tilt back to look up through the twisted branches of the tree, “Fuck, it’s hot out.”

You’re never really sure how to start conversations with him.

“Yeah,” he follows your gaze up into the tree, quickly losing interest. A deep breath expands his lungs as he looks around the park, finally settling his gaze on a playground, “You ever take the kids you babysit out here to play?”

Your nose wrinkles a bit when he calls you a babysitter. You follow his line of sight to and watch hordes of squealing, laughing children crawl all over the playground.

“Not this park, but I take them to the one by their house. It has a splash pad and this playground with water features. They love it, it’s pretty cool.”

He nods.

“When I worked for Frankie and his wife, I took their daughter, Sarah, here a lot. She was still just a little squish, but, you know, there are all these trails with cool trees and there’s the lake, and another playground further down that-a-way.”

You point to your left. He doesn’t seem to care much about what you’re saying, but asks, “Is that a job you see yourself having long-term?”

It’s a question you’re familiar with answering. Always tainted with judgment, insinuating that your job is that of bored teenagers trying to make a buck over the summer.

“Yep,” you tell him with a close-lipped smile, tilting your head as you wait for him to say more.

“How will that work when you have kids? Do you want to be a stay-at-home mom, or will you bring the kid with you, or what?”

With a shrug, you tell him, “Figure I’ll see where I’m at when the time comes and go from there.”

Rory hums and nods, brow furrowing at the ground like he’s soaking this in, then he says, “It’s nice that you do that. I like that you’re a caretaker.”

It takes you by surprise. His gaze meets yours and you smile at each other for a moment.

“Thanks,” you say and bring your attention to the boat of shrimp tacos resting on your knee, finding them cooled down enough to eat.

After finishing your food, you and Rory start off towards his vehicle, hand-in-hand. The trail winds by the playground you were watching from afar. Like playgrounds often are, it’s total chaos. Children screaming, running, climbing, crying.

You spot one little girl sitting in the sand, digging a hole between her splayed legs. She seems oblivious to the world around her. The dark ringlets dangling around her cherub face wiggle as she talks to herself, eyebrows raising expressively like the one-sided conversation is intensely interesting.

She must feel you watching her, because her spine straightens and she looks around. When her dark brown eyes meet yours, her face lights up in recognition, and she squeals your name.

You stop in your tracks and can’t restrain the wide smile from spreading across your lips, “Sarah!”

Aside from the brief glimpse you caught of her the day Frankie moved in, and the grocery store shortly after, you haven’t seen her in over a year. She’s grown so much. Her chunky, wobbly baby legs have elongated and grown more capable, allowing her to run towards you, arms outstretched.

When she reaches you, you scoop her up, twirling her around as you give her a big hug, “How are you, sweetheart? I missed you!”

Sarah squeals with delight and says, “Missed you!”

A cool rush of panic spreads across your skin when you look around and ask, “Where are your parents, sweetie?”

“I’m digging a hole!”

“Oh wow, you’re digging a hole?” you laugh and shift her onto your hip as you continue to study the sea of faces, ears growing hot when you remember Rory standing behind you. The last time you saw Angie, she insulted you in broad daylight. How the fuck would you explain that to Rory if it happens again?

“Hey!”

The familiar voice is sharp with outrage. Frankie’s hand grips your shoulder and spins you around to face him. His chest is heaving, jaw clenched, eyes aflame with fury.

You have never seen him like this.

Your eyes widen and you hold your palm up to him, “Just me, sorry!”

He studies your face, still red-hot anger, then it seems to come into focus for him. His shoulders relax with a relieved exhale, then his features soften and grow apologetic, “Oh, hey.”

You bring your hand back to your hip to support the weight of Sarah and chuckle, “Sorry, I wasn’t trying to scare you—”

“No, no, it’s ok.”

“We were just walking, and, umm,” you gesture back at Rory, trailing off when you see Angie approaching, arms crossed, beautiful face squared off in a stern expression.

Frankie’s gaze flicks to Rory and he gives a nod of recognition before returning his attention to Sarah, “Did you see your friend and go to say hi?”

Sarah smiles sweetly and nods, then starts wiggling to be put down. You grant the request, lowering her to the ground and letting her go. She gallops back to her hole in the sand, while you call behind her and wave, “Bye, Sarah!”

Your face scrunches up into a wince when you meet Frankie’s eyes again, and you shrug, “Sorry.”

“Don’t sweat it,” he waves you off with a smirk.

“Hey,” Angie greets, surprisingly calm. Her fingers curl around Frankie’s bicep and she blinks at you.

“Hi, Angie,” you give a nervous nod, plastering on a smile that’s too eager, “I was just passing by with my, um,” you swallow hard and turn to Rory, waving him forward, “My boyfriend, Rory.”

Your voice is shaky. This is a nightmare.

Rory’s arm wraps around your waist from the side and he gives a polite wave, “Hi.”

“This is Angie Morales, Frankie’s wife,” you tell him.

“Pleasure to meet you,” Rory smiles and extends a hand to her. Angie says nothing, just shakes his hand while wearing this Mona Lisa smile and steps back beside her husband.

The silence that follows is painful.

“Ok, well, sorry again for the scare,” you sigh, looking down at your feet, “It was really nice to see Sarah, I miss her a lot.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Frankie says, and you look up to see his brow knit together, dark eyes all apologetic, “I’ll see you at home, yeah?”

You nod at the ground, then tell Angie, “Good to see you.”

She raises an eyebrow and laughs at this. It feels like a slap. You suppose it’s better than her screaming insults at you, though. Or, like, a real slap.

When you turn and walk away, Rory’s hand finds yours again. His grip is warm and steady, and he frowns over at you, “You ok?”

You forgot to adjust your face. The pain bubbling up inside you must be obvious. Traitorous tears spring to your eyes, thankfully hidden behind the dark of your sunglasses. You clear your throat and nod, “Yeah, I’m fine.”

It sounds watery and false.

“Hey,” he stops walking to turn towards you, “What’s wrong?”

You shake your head and sniffle, “Nothing, I’m fine.”

He raises his eyebrows, searching your face, “Really?”

Your teeth catch your tongue. Dull pain wells up in each section of the soft muscle you clamp down on, providing a microscopic release. With a deep breath, you look down at your feet and shrug, “I just—I guess I missed her more than I realized.”

“Come here,” Rory murmurs, ushering you into a hug. You oblige. His body seems to awkwardly wrap around you, but it brings you a small dose of comfort. Even if he doesn’t feel or smell like home.

“What’s the deal with his wife, why did she seem mad?”

Fuck. You were hoping he wouldn’t notice, or ask.

“She, um… she thinks I stole something from her,” you tell him, “That’s why I don’t work for them anymore.”

Misleading, sure, but not entirely a lie.

He hums, rubbing your back, “You care about her a lot, huh? The little girl?”

“Yeah,” you croak. A few tears spring from your eyes. You squeeze your eyelids shut and wish them away.

Rory kisses your hair and gives you a tight squeeze, “Should we keep going?”

You sniffle and pull back from his embrace, flashing him a tight smile as you nod, “Yeah.”

When Frankie comes home, you’ve already resigned to your room for the night, content to wallow in self-pity you have no right to feel.

His footsteps creak against the floorboards as he makes his way through the kitchen, into the hallway outside your room. A knock comes at the door.

You sigh and pout to yourself, then call out, “Come in.”

Frankie opens the door and hovers in the threshold. You pause Stardew Valley and look over from your laptop, raising your eyebrows in question.

“Hey,” he says, puppy dog eyes in full force, crossing his arms, “How’s it going?”

“Oh, you know.”

He hums and studies you for a moment, shifting his weight into the doorframe, “Earlier was… It was weird, right?”

Your eyelids flutter. You shrug, “She didn’t call me a slut this time, which was… nice.”

He chuckles at this. You don’t crack a smile.

When your lack of amusement registers to him, he clears his throat and pushes off of the door frame. He makes his way around the bed and sits down on the opposite side, scooting close to you. You roll your head on your shoulders and watch him reach out to touch you, then decide against it, fingertips curling onto his lap instead.

“Look, I’m really sorry,” he says finally, but doesn’t look at you.

“For what?”

“I know you miss Sarah. And I know my reaction earlier was—was,” he sighs and shakes his head, “It wasn’t great.”

“Frankie, you thought I was a abducting your child—”

“I mean after that,” he turns to you now, sincerity etched in his features, “I could have let you hang out with her, or been nicer or something, I don’t know. I just—I know, in my gut, that I could have done better. And… I’m sorry.”

An ache of affection spreads across your chest. You reach out and rest your hand on his forearm, thumb grazing his skin as you search his face, “I appreciate that, thank you.”

A small, relieved smile graces his lips. He nods, “Of course.”

Then he seems to relax a little, leaning back onto one elbow as he squints at your laptop screen, “Whadda you have going on here?”

“Exploring caves, fighting monsters.”

“Sounds nerdy,” he teases, “Figures you’d like it.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” you laugh and give him a playful shove, “You think I’m a nerd?”

“Maybe,” he grins.

You scoff and shoot him a mock glare, “On what grounds?”

He frowns, looking up at the ceiling like he’s thinking about it, then shrugs, “Basically just this, but you’re cute when you’re all riled up.”

“Wow,” you laugh, covering your face as it heats up, “So rude.”

He grins and lays back in your bed like he’s making himself at home here, so you join him, resting your head on his shoulder. His cheek presses into the crown of your head. You resume playing Stardew Valley.

Some time passes like this, cuddling with him while he idly plays with your hair, asking you questions about the game like he’s interested. When the sun sets and you both start yawning at regular intervals, you tuck the laptop away in your nightstand. Frankie doesn't move.

You return to your pillow and roll on your side to face him, tucking your hands under your cheek. He mirrors the action, just a foot or so away. His warm gaze works around your face and he murmurs, “Do you want me to go?”

It’s so quiet you can hear your pulse pounding through your arteries.

“Not really.”

A small smile flicks across his lips. He looks down at his clothes, “Do—do you mind if I, um…”

“What, you don’t wanna wear jeans to bed?” you snort.

He chuckles and shakes his head, “They’re not great pajamas.”

“Go change, I gotta wash my face and stuff anyway,” you yawn, rolling onto your back, stretching your arms into the air.

The two of you go about your bedtime routines. When you return to your room, Frankie is laying on top of the covers, arm tucked behind his head as he scrolls on his phone. He changed into gray basketball shorts and his old, worn out Metallica t-shirt.

“That shirt is gonna crumble into dust one of these days,” you tease while plugging your phone into its charger.

He sets his phone down and looks at his shirt, then grins up at you, ��Until it does, I’ll be wearing it.”

You shake your head at him, peeling back the covers with shaky hands. He sits up and wriggles between your sheets as you turn off your bedside lamp and crawl in beside him.

For a few moments, it’s just quiet in the dark. Neither of you move or say anything. You imagine he’s staring at the ceiling with tingling nerves just like you, filled with uncertainty and fear and want. Not sure what the “line” even looks like anymore because it’s been blurred so much it’s indistinguishable.

Every other time you’ve fallen asleep together since he moved in, it could be chalked up as either accidental or, like when you were sick, necessary. Excusable if brought forth as evidence by others, or each other, or yourselves.

But this is different.

It’s intentional. No plausible deniability in sight. Heat blooms in your chest and between your legs. He feels so far away.

“Frankie.”

“Hmm?”

“Would it be weird if I asked you to hold me?”

He lets out an amused scoff. The bed squeaks and shifts as he rolls on his side as you scoot closer to each other. His hands find you under the covers and he pulls your back to his chest, tucking one arm under your head while the other wraps around your belly.

“It’s not weird,” he murmurs, pausing for a second before saying, “It should be, but it isn’t.”

This makes you smile. It’s a relief to hear him say it. You relax into his embrace and rest your arm atop his at your waist.

The darkness surrounding the two of you seems to hold space for honesty. It’s that sort of feeling you got at sleepovers when you were younger, when you and your friends would whisper secrets to each other in the dark.

“I have nightmares sometimes,” you tell him.

“I know.”

You know he knows. He’s been there to wake you from them and calm you down in their wake at least a dozen times. Regardless, there’s this buzzing under your skin like you need to tell him.

“I can never remember what happens except—except, um,” you blink your eyes open and swallow the thickness in your throat, shaking your head, “There’s this feeling, like… I know that he’s chasing me, and if he catches me, I’m never going to escape.”

His body seems to tense a little. He looks down at you, “Who?”

“I don’t know. I can’t remember.”

You can feel the question occupying his tightened muscles, and say, “It’s not you.”

“But if you don’t know—”

“It started before you,” you lace your fingers with his, letting your eyelids drift shut, “And, besides, I don’t feel like that with you. I feel… safe.”

He relaxes around you with a sigh that sounds like relief.

“When I lived alone it was hard. I’d wake up alone and scared, and I couldn’t fall back asleep,” you murmur, “But it’s been better lately.”

He hums. The noise vibrates against the nape of your neck. His thumb brushes against your midriff.

“I don’t know why I’m telling you this,” you admit, “I guess… I just want you to know it’s nice having you here.”

The wet swallow of his throat makes you start to worry you said too much, that you showed too much belly. You brace for him to pull away. But when his voice breaks the silence, it sounds raspy and damp. Heartfelt.

“You don’t think I’m a burden?”

You almost laugh. Not because it’s funny, but because it’s ridiculous.

“Not even a little. I’m happy to have you.”

“I’m happy to be here, mariposa.”

The nickname stings a little. A sharp, precise prick to the center of your chest. But his arms squeeze around you tighter, bringing you closer to his warmth.

Your lips curve into a slight smile and you feel the tug of drowsiness on your limbs.

“No funny business back there tonight, Franklin,” you mumble out, your words fuzzy with fatigue.

“Yes ma’am,” he nuzzles into your hair, his own voice groggy and low, “Best behavior.”

That warm, soft intimacy settles deep in your bones and makes you feel at ease. Safe. Loved. And it’s not long at all before sleep overtakes you.

Your Friday nights used to be synonymous with drinking.

It meant going out to the bar to get drunk and dance and maybe find another lonely soul to spend time with. It meant blackouts and bar tabs and spending your Saturdays absolutely fucking miserable.

Truth be told, you much prefer your new Friday night ritual: Movie Night.

You and Frankie each get to pick any movie you want and stuff your faces while watching them back-to-back. After work, you pick him up from his AA meeting and load up on junk food, then head home.

Tonight, the two of you walk side-by-side down aisle 5 of your neighborhood grocery store, moving at a leisurely pace across the glossy white tiles. A country music station broadcasts softly over the store’s speakers. From the cash registers up front, you hear the rhythmic beep of customers being rung up. Probably the only other people in here, honestly, it’s fucking dead.

“What’s your movie pick?” Frankie asks while tossing a bag of classic potato chips into the red basket hanging from the bend of his elbow, “And I swear to god if you say Moulin Rouge! I’m instituting a no-repeat policy.”

Your laughter ricochets down the aisle and you shake your head, “Don’t act like you don’t like that movie! I know you do.”

“I mean yeah, but… there are other movies.”

“Other… movies…?”

He snorts and shakes his head at you.

“Actually, I wanna watch Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind,” you tell him, slowing to narrow your eyes at a bag of salt and vinegar kettle chips, “Do I want pretzels or salt and vinegar chips?”

“Why not both?” he shrugs.

You scrunch your nose up, tossing your head from side-to-side, then grab the kettle chips and drop them into your basket, “What’s your movie pick?”

“I’m between Dazed and Confused and The Wolf of Wall Street,” he says, glancing over at you.

Your face lights up and you coo, “Ohhh Dazed and Confused, please!”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

He grins at you and shrugs, “I will take your opinion into consideration.”

“What, I can’t help you choose?”

“It’s my pick,” Frankie chuckles, “You can’t pick my pick!”

You roll your eyes at him. The two of you round the corner, merging into the vacant main aisle, and you say, “Fuck, I want ice cream.”

“I want a fucking drink,” he mutters offhandedly, then notices your concerned stare and says, “Sorry.”

“Do you really?”

His brow furrows as he considers this, eventually admitting, “In a way, yeah.”

You know you shouldn’t take it personally. He’s an alcoholic. But that rationale doesn’t stop the ache that spreads across your chest.

Frankie must recognize your hurt, because he nudges you and adds, “Not because I don’t like this or anything.”

You give him a warm, reassuring smile as you turn down the freezer aisle. He continues.

“It just lingers, I guess. Like I think I could drink and be fine,” he comes to a stop in front of the ice cream, glancing around before staring forward into the freezer like it holds all the answers, “Everything is just so… raw without it. All the feelings I’ve never dealt with, they keep bubbling up and it’s—I don’t know, it’s a lot.”

It surprises you that he’s talking about this so openly, in a public place and everything. Two months ago you could not have dragged these words from his mouth under any circumstances.

You nod as you study him, “Well, um… I know it’s hard, but I’m glad you’re doing it.”

He doesn’t really react, just continues to look at the ice cream. His eyes are a million miles away, though. Lost in thought. You lay your hand on his shoulder and graze your thumb against him, “Francisco.”

His jaw tightens.

“Hey, look at me.”

He blinks a few times, then swings his gaze to meet yours.

“I mean it. It’s been a pleasure getting to know the real you, in all your, uhhh,” you stop and try to come up with something eloquent, landing on, “sober glory. I know it’s a lot. But I can see that it’s making a huge difference. You’re so far beyond where you started. It’s… it’s really brave to choose sobriety. I’m proud of you, Frankie.”

It all kind of spills out of you. A collage of sentiments you’ve been keeping to yourself thrown crudely together here in the middle of the freezer aisle.

His brow creases, eyes all dewy as they flick around your face. You worry that what you said doesn’t make sense, or that maybe it was insensitive. But then, his basket falls to the floor with a clatter and he pulls you into a hug.

Again, you’re taken by surprise.

You just stand there for a moment, kind of awkward with your basket dangling in one hand.

He squeezes you tighter. Unbridled appreciation flows from him. Your stomach flutters and tears prick your eyes. You drop your basket to properly return the gesture, wrapping both arms around his torso, pulling him close.

The warmth of his body surrounds you. You take a deep breath, inhaling the comforting musk of his skin, exhaling tension, melting into this softness.

Frankie sniffles and kisses the crown of your head, murmuring into your hair, “Thank you.”

You part ways, both taking a step back to see the others’ glossy, red-tinged eyes.

And you’re not sure exactly why, but then you both laugh. Not in a nervous way. More like joy. It bubbles beneath your skin and makes you feel hopeful.

He picks his basket up off the ground and clears his throat, turning back to the freezer door, “Anyway, ice cream.”

When the end credits roll on Dazed and Confused, you stand up off the couch and start towards the kitchen, asking Frankie, “Need anything?”

“I’m good, thanks,” he answers with a yawn.

You pull open the cupboard and find a bag of popcorn, then toss it in the microwave. While you wait for it to pop, you check your phone. Three unread messages.

> RORY: > Hey > How was work? > Doing anything fun tonight?

“Hey, I was thinking,” Frankie says as he shuffles past the dining room table, into the kitchen. You set your phone down on the counter and cross your arms, looking up at him.

“Next week is Sarah’s birthday, Ang is throwing a party on Saturday. Do you want me to see if she would let you come?”

The question leaves you momentarily speechless. You never thought it would be a possibility, and the offer completely blindsides you.

Your mouth gapes open and you blink, “I, um—well, I—”

“If you want to, I mean.”

You frown and meet his eyes, “Well, yeah, obviously I want to, but is Angie really ok with that?”

“I’ll talk to her,” he says, leaning back on the counter next to you, “She’s been more receptive lately. And—and I think if you brought Rory, she would feel more reassured, that, um…”

Your stomach drops like a rock.

A clusterfuck of messy emotions tangle and twist inside your body. At the tip of your tongue sits the question: That, what, there’s nothing going on between us?

You look over at him and search his face. It’s unreadable. He’s frozen like he knows he came dangerously close to mentioning the elephant in the room and doesn’t know what to do next.

The air thickens.

Moments go by that feel like centuries.

You can’t stand it anymore, and lead him to continue the thought, “That what?”

He turns to face you and looks fucking terrified. Forehead creased. Eyes wide. Lips parted like apologies are about to come spilling out of them.

You hold his gaze. Try not to notice the pungent energy pulsing between your bodies, or the way his eyes soften when he looks at your mouth and takes a step towards you.

For one heart-stopping moment, you think he’s going to kiss you.

A beep sounds from the microwave.

He looks to the source, trance broken, but your eyes stay trained on him. On the elongated bob of his throat swallowing nerves. On the restless, twitchy movements that suddenly seem to possess him.

When he notices you’re still staring at him, he only allows a brief glance before dropping his gaze to the ground and shoving his hands in his pockets, finally saying, “I—I just mean that I think she’ll be ok with it. And—and Sarah would be excited to see you.”

You pause before you react, trying to decide whether or not to ask him the question tearing apart your insides like a rabid dog: Do you want me to go so I can see Sarah, or so you can continue to lie to your wife?

Simultaneously, you cannot ask him and you need to know.

You tell yourself: He’s in recovery. He needs support, not criticism.

You say: Let him figure out the missing pieces in his life and put it back together. Even if the shape it takes breaks you.

“Ok,” you give him a tight nod and push off the counter, pulling the microwave door open, “If she’s fine with it, I’d love to go.”

“Yeah?”

You pinch the corner of your bloated popcorn bag and pull it out, nudging the microwave door closed, then turn to face him, but don’t look up, “Yeah, I’d like that.”

A small, distant voice says: You fucking coward.

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