#they’re just so good at letting me know what getting hit by a bus feels like

[bastardmandennis]

be my daddy

(joel miller x f!reader) | AO3 | masterlist

Summary: Joel meets you and Ellie while on a field trip with Sarah, and then you keep running into each other.

Word Count: 10.4k don't look at me.

Warnings: SMUT (18+ only pls!), no y/n, no outbreak! (playing fast and loose w the timeline/ages here shh), mostly plot some porn, fluff and a litte sadness, meet-cute, mentions of grief, ellie is reader's niece, good dad joel!!, slight miscommunication (🤭), phone sex, masturbation (m & f), oral (f receiving), unprotected piv, creampie! dirty talk, sliiight daddy kink, breeding kink (no actual babies here i promise). i think that's all, pls let me know if i missed anything!

A/N: dedicating this one to my faves! ty for looking this over @party-hearses @tinycozycomfort and @idolatrybarbie, and for listening to me whine about this forever! and thank you @tinygarbage for the inspo. sorry this took so long- enjoy!

Hell. This must be hell.

Or as close to it as Joel can think: crammed in a school bus with twenty wild, sticky, screechy kids as they rumble along the thirty minute drive to the zoo. The teacher had long ago given up on trying to get them to settle down, resting her head against the bumping window and pretending not to hear every time a kid called her name. He envied her. Anything for Sarah, he reminded himself.

She rarely asked him for anything, but when she’d come to him last week with the permission slip crumpled in her tiny hand, asking him to be the chaperone instead of Tommy or his mother, he’d said yes without thinking. Luckily he’d been able to move around some things at work–perks of being your own boss. He’d move heaven and hell for her–one little field trip was nothing, really, in the grand scheme of things.

A wad of paper hits the back of his head, damp with–shit, that better not be spit–and right when he’s about to turn around and yell at whoever threw it, Sarah slips her tiny hand into his and squeezes. He looks at her big brown eyes, so much like his own, and he settles back into the seat, giving her a smile and reaching around to poke her ribs until she’s screech-laughing. Soon she’ll be too old, too cool to have her dad around for things like this. He stops that thought almost as soon as it pops into his head, swallowing back the sudden lump in his throat.

After what feels like an eternity they finally pull up to the zoo, kids spilling out of the bus as the teacher tries helplessly to wrangle them into one big group. He sighs, then brings his fingers up to his mouth and lets out an ear-piercing wolf whistle. The effect is immediate–every kid stops in their place, staring up at him with wide eyes. One boy opens his mouth to say something, and Joel raises his hand up to stop him.

“Listen here,” he says firmly. “We’re gonna go into this zoo, and y’all are gonna behave. Got it? Means no rough housin’, no yellin’, and no touchin’. Now line up behind Ms. Jackson.”

It’s silent, gears turning in their tiny brains as they attempt to process his words, and then they just–listen. They’re the most well-behaved he’s seen all morning, lining up quickly behind the teacher with only a few shoves–progress. The boy he stopped from talking earlier whispers to Sarah your dad is so cool, and he pretends he doesn’t hear her proud little yeah, i know he is as they walk to the end of the line together.

–

The zoo is–well, it’s what he expected. If you’ve seen one, you’ve seen ’em all. But Sarah loves it, dragging him with her to the front of the group, listening as she carefully reads the description in front of each display, tugging him down to help read the words she doesn’t quite know yet. They’re not even halfway through the day and she’s already asking when they can come back with uncle Tommy, he’d love to see the monkeys–the ones who’ve been flinging their poop against the walls of their enclosure, to the delight of all the kids and exasperation of the adults–they’d had to bribe them with ice cream just to get them away.

It’s a hot day, the midday sun beating down mercilessly as they make their way slowly through each exhibit, and he immediately regrets the flannel he’d worn. He shucks it off, tying it around his waist and pretending he doesn’t see the teacher watching him. She’s been less than subtle about ogling him during dropoff, pickups, school parties–Julie, he thinks her name is. Maybe Jessica? He doesn’t mind the attention, honestly. It’s been awhile since he’s even thought about trying to date, focused on getting through each day, getting Sarah through each day and making sure she’s happy, carrying the mental load of two parents in one. It’s why he’s been working long hours, the kind of grueling labor that leaves his body aching and sore every day, and when he picks Tommy up in the mornings he just shakes his head at him, tells him you’re getting old, man. And he feels old, most days. So screw him for wanting to have a little fun.

He’s just about to go over to Ms. Jackson and interrupt what is a surely riveting conversation with a group of Sarah’s classmates when he practically trips over a tiny body laying in the middle of the walkway.

“What the f–” He stops himself just in time, swallowing back the curse as he steps back to look at the body on the ground. It’s a little girl, probably about Sarah’s age, laying facedown on the hard gravel. He nudges the girl’s leg gently with his boot, and when she doesn’t move he squats down next to her, groaning as his knees crack.

He’s about to call out for help and then he hears it–a muffled voice rising up from the ground. 

“Can’t hear ya, gotta speak up. You alright?” 

The girl rolls over onto her back, eyes closed as she whispers, “I sa-id, were you gonna say what the fuck?” And then she breaks out into obnoxious laughter, so loud that a family shuffles away from them quickly, side-eyeing the two of them as if he’s responsible for this odd, vulgar child.

“’S not a nice word,” he gruffs, standing up with a groan and searching for anyone around, any kind of adult who’s supposed to be watching this kid. She ignores him, dust covering her sweatshirt and hair falling out of her ponytail as she continues rolling around on the pavement, laughing hysterically. More people are staring now, and he wished he’d just walked away to begin with–now if he does it he’ll look like an asshole. Just great.

He grits his teeth, feels his jaw click into place. “Where’s your parents?”

“Don’t have any,” she says, singsong-y, “Just me and my aunt and–”

“Ellie!” a woman’s voice calls, and the girl perks her head up as a frazzled looking woman runs over to the two of them. She’s wary, looking between them, at the girl–Ellie–laying on the ground, at Joel standing over her. He takes a step back, raising his hands up and attempting to smile. It comes out more like a grimace and she turns her attention to her niece on the ground.

“Come on Ellie, time to go,” the woman says, ignoring Ellie’s protests. He can’t stop staring at this woman, Ellie’s aunt, her pretty eyes, the flush inching up her cheeks. He quickly averts his eyes, not wanting to get caught staring like a creep, looking around for the actual kids he’s supposed to be watching.

“Thank you, uh…?”

“Joel,” he says quickly, sticking his hand out for a shake. She crosses her arms, ignoring his outstretched hand, and he lets it fall to his side.

“Well thanks, Joel,” she says, already distracted by Ellie running away from them to the next exhibit. “I’ll see you around, or whatever.” And she’s gone before he can say anything else.

He thinks about following after her, about getting her number, until Sarah runs up to him, taking his hand and practically dragging him over to see the penguins. It’s not until much later, long after they’re home from the zoo, as he’s tucking Sarah into bed with the stuffed penguin she had to have, that he realizes he never even got the woman’s name.

–

You turn around for one second, just to read one of the information plaques on display, and almost as soon as you turn back around you realize Ellie’s gone. You spin around, ignoring the huff of the woman next to you when you bump her stroller, eyes searching the crowd for her little ponytail. Don’t panic, don’t panic, she’s around here somewhere. 

You wind your way through the indoor exhibits, calling out for Ellie, cursing yourself for not bringing the little backpack leash–you’d assumed that at nine years old, she was old enough to know better than to run off without saying anything. Clearly not.

Right as you’re about to panic and find zoo security–is that even a thing?–you spot her bright yellow sweatshirt in the distance. She’s laying on the ground for some reason, in the middle of the walkway. Her social worker told you she tended to do that when she was feeling overwhelmed, needing to feel grounded (literally), but you’d never seen it firsthand. A man crouches next to her, brow furrowed as he listens to whatever she’s saying. You assume it’s one of the zoo workers, until he stands up and you get a good look at him.

And damn, he’s hot.

In the literal sense of the word–there’s sweat beading along his hairline, running down his neck to pool under his t-shirt, a worn flannel tied around his waist. He’s standing next to her, arms crossed over his broad chest and a deep frown pulling at his face. You want to smooth out the little divot between his brows. And then you realize you’ve been standing there too long, staring at this stranger as he talks to your niece. Who’s still laying on the ground.

Clearly no one’s running to give you any parenting awards.

You call her name and their heads snap up at the same time to look at you. A quick glance at Ellie reveals she’s fine, just dusty and a little scraped up from rolling on the gravel. You hide your sigh of annoyance, glancing at the man and back to Ellie when she still doesn’t move off the ground. You lock eyes and give her your best stare, trying to be authoritative (who are you kidding, right?), and when she stands up you grab her hand–a little too tightly, if the way she immediately squirms out of your grip is any indication. The man is still standing there, you realize, and you flush. He’s probably waiting for a thank you, for making sure nothing bad happened to Ellie because of your neglect.

“Thank you, um…”

“Joel,” he says, deep voice rumbling out. He really is beautiful, dark hair curling in the humidity, hints of grey in his beard. You cross your arms over your chest, embarrassed at the thought of this handsome man seeing you like this, looking like a mess. He probably thinks you’re some shitty parent, not watching Ellie like you should. Too late you realize his hand had been outstretched for you to shake–he drops it before you can say anything. 

Speaking of Ellie–you look up just in time to see her dart off before you can say anything. Shit. You thank the man–Joel, a nice name–and run after her. Later, when you’re home with a glass of wine after putting Ellie to bed extra early with threats of bringing the backpack leash next time, you realize you never told Joel your name.

–

The zoo incident, as Joel’s been thinking of it, hasn’t left his mind in the weeks since. His mind whirls over different options, different ways to try and find the woman from the zoo again. Maybe he could take Sarah back one weekend, and hope she was there again? No, that’s stupid, no one goes to the zoo more than once a year, let alone twice in one month. Not to mention that’d be kind of stalkerish. He keeps replaying the short interaction in the shower, on the way to work, as he goes through his night routine, wondering if the way her eyes lingered on him was just polite curiosity or something…more. He can’t think about that too long, feeling desire burn low in his stomach at the thought of her, the way she’d said his name, her long legs peeking out of the denim shorts, until he’s locking himself in his bathroom, turning the faucet on to hide his grunts as he fucks his own fist and comes embarrassingly quickly.

And when Sarah brings him another class volunteer form one night, this one for the upcoming Halloween party, he feels guilty enough that he signs up not just to bring cupcakes, but to help set up and take down everything at the end of the day. That should earn him enough good dad points for a little while, at least. She’s happier than he’s seen her in awhile, spending the entire car ride home discussing costume options with him.

“Y’think I’m dressing up?” he asks, trying to hide the smirk on his face. She huffs and he can’t hide his grin–she’s so easy to rile up sometimes.

“Dad,” she whines, pushing her bottom lip out in a pout. “It’s Halloween, ’course you gotta dress up. Aren’t we going trick or treating t’gether?”

He steps out of the truck, walking around slowly to open the door for her, hoisting her backpack up with a dramatic grunt as she giggles, running ahead of him into the house, all talk of trick-or-treating forgotten for now. It’s not that he’d forgotten about Halloween, or trick-or-treating, but he knows he’ll be working overtime that night, letting Tommy take her around the neighborhood as slowly as possible so he could rush back home just in time to meet them for the last few houses. It’s what they’d done last year, and the year before, and when he brought it up to Tommy, all he’d said was she’s not gettin’ any younger, you know. soon she won’t want either of us takin’ her out, crampin’ her style. but ’m fine with being the cool uncle, let you be the bad guy. He’d laughed it off, shoving Tommy’s shoulder and rolling his eyes, but he couldn’t help but think about it later. Was he doing his best for Sarah? Maybe she would’ve been better off with her mom–no. That kind of instability is no life for a child. It’s the whole reason he worked himself to the bone, taking as many extra shifts as he could while still making it home on time for bedtime as often as he could. So he could be there for her as much as possible.

The day before the party he leaves Sarah sleeping at home with a smug Tommy parked on his couch eating his snacks, drinking his beer. He finally makes it to the grocery store, mulling over the different cupcake options, hemming and hawing until he sees the perfect thing. There’s one big box of vanilla and chocolate left, thick swirls of orange and black icing on top with a plastic Halloween ring in each. Twenty-four, that should be enough–he can’t imagine that the teacher, or the parents, would want the kids having more than one cupcake anyway.

He’s not paying attention as the woman beside him says excuse me, sorry, and he steps back automatically, holding the cooler door open for her as he wonders what kind of costume he can throw together before tomorrow. The woman steps back, dragging her cart closer to deposit a box of cupcakes in it, and he lets the door drop from his hand with a loud slam that makes them both jump.

It’s her, the woman from the zoo. Holding his tray of cupcakes in her hand, the ones he was just about to grab.

He clears his throat and her eyes shoot to him. Recognition flashes in her face, then something like…guilt, maybe? It’s gone before he can think about it and then they’re both standing in the middle of the aisle, staring, not saying anything. He’s never felt this off, opens his mouth to say something but she beats him to it.

“Joel, right?” she asks with a wide smile. “Small world. What are you–”

“I’m, uh—actually, I was about to grab those,” he nods to the tray of neon frosted cupcakes, “for tomorrow. For Sarah’s party.” 

“Oh,” she says. They both turn to look at the display case at the same time–empty. The last tray of Halloween-specific cupcakes now sits in her cart next to a pack of orange paper plates and juice boxes. Fuck.

“It’s Ellie’s party tomorrow too, obviously. I don’t mean obviously like, duh, but you know. Last school day before Halloween, or whatever.” She doesn’t meet his eyes, fingers curling around the side of the cart. Her nails are painted light blue, chipping in the corners. 

He can’t stop staring–how is it possible she looks more beautiful now, at 9:30 on a random Thursday night in sweatpants and an oversized shirt than she did at the zoo? He catches himself, clearing his throat. Focus on what you came here for.

“Didn’t realize there was only one tray left,” he finally says. She pauses, and then the smile is back, more of a smirk this time.

“Well, Jo-el,” she teases. “Maybe don’t wait ‘til the last minute next time. You might have better luck at the one down the street.” And then she’s gone, pushing the cart away without even so much as a glance back.

He stands there a moment, processing, and then he’s running down the aisle, his own cart forgotten, over to the self-checkout line where she’s bagging up her groceries.

“Wait, what’s your–what’s your name?” he pants. Her eyes are wide as he gulps down air. Thank god the store is practically empty, only one annoyed looking clerk watching the scenario unfold with eagle eyes and a frown.

She tugs the receipt out of the machine, scribbling down her name and number carefully before folding it up and shoving it in his hand.

“It was nice to see you, Joel,” she says. “Good luck with the party.”

And then she’s gone and he’s left standing in the middle of the checkout lane, grinning like an idiot until the cashier asks if he’s okay. He trudges back to the bakery section, settling for a pack of plain purple frosted cupcakes. Purple can be a Halloween color, right? 

–

You don’t expect to hear from Joel after your late-night run in at the store. Of course when you’d seen him again, you looked like absolute shit, sprinting out of bed at the last minute when you remembered that Ellie’s party was the next day. This was her first week in her new school and a new classroom, and even if she didn’t directly say it you knew she was hoping to fit in, make some new friends. She’d been so nervous asking you about the party, crumpling the sign-up form in her sweaty hand with a mumbled you don’t have to, ’f you don’t wanna. You hadn’t seen her this nervous, this vulnerable, since the funeral, and without a second thought you’d signed the form, promising her you’d be there no matter what.

So there you are at almost 10pm on a Thursday night, scouring the grocery store frantically for something to contribute to the party. You figure no one could turn down cupcakes and juice, right?

And then you see Joel, and you’re about to say something, ask him how he’s been maybe, when he mentions that he’s getting ready for Sarah’s party. Who the hell is Sarah? His wife? A girlfriend? You glance at his hands–no ring, but that doesn’t necessarily mean anything. Maybe he’s a commitment-phobe. Yikes. Maybe he’s allergic to metal and can’t wear jewelry. Because let’s be honest, there’s no possible way a man like that is single. So you do what you do best when you’re uncomfortable–leave as quickly as possible with a half-hearted goodbye thrown over your shoulder.

You check out in a daze, the mind-numbing beep…beep…beep of the scanner practically lulling you to sleep. You’ve just put the cupcakes in the bag when Joel comes skidding around the corner, coming to a stop right in front of you, breathing heavily. And when he asks for your number you play it cool, scribbling it down and bolting out of the automatic doors, heart pounding. You definitely don’t stare at your phone all night, or the next morning, so jumpy that even Ellie notices that something is off.

She tugs on the oversized sheet covering her body, trying to line up the cut-out eye holes so she can see, and you take a sip of coffee to hide your smile. “You’re still coming to the party today, right? Cuz I told my teacher you were, but if you don’t want to that’s okay you know–”

“Ellie, Ellie, take a breath.” You take an exaggerated inhale, raising an eyebrow until she huffs and does the same, until you’re both slowly exhaling. “I’ll be there, don’t worry. Grab your sweater, we’re gonna be late.”

You can’t stop thinking about Joel. How his arms fill out every shirt he wears. The way his hair usually curls around his ears but it looked different at the store, pushed back and wet, like he’d just gotten out of the shower or something. And that thought leads to imagining Joel in the shower, then you in the shower with Joel, rubbing soapy hands on each other’s bodies until–

This could be a problem.

You even stop at the phone store on your way to work, just to make sure your phone is working, that all your texts and calls are coming through like they’re supposed to. The guy gives you a weird look, turns it on and off and tells you yeah, it’s fine, then charges you $40 for the “maintenance fee.” A humbling experience, to say the least.

Who asks for someone's number and then just doesn’t call? He’s probably busy, you reason, as you pull into the school parking lot. No more thinking about Joel for the rest of the day, you tell yourself. You carefully juggle the tray of cupcakes and adjust the plastic tiara on your head, smooth out the too-short tutu–a last minute costume, but one that Ellie had insisted on, and her smile when you showed her the outfit last night was worth the potential embarrassment.

You shut the car door shut with your hip, shifting the bag of juice boxes back onto your shoulder as you make your way to the front door with the tray of cupcakes clenched in your hand. You’d been to the school once before, right after you learned Ellie was going to be staying with you permanently, had even met her new teacher, but the maze of hallways is just as confusing as the first time. The lady at the front desk is no help, shooing you down the hall as she cradles the phone between her ear and shoulder, typing furiously. Okay…

The walls are covered with artwork, and you stop to look at a couple of family trees made out of construction paper. Thank god Ellie missed that particular assignment. You swallow down the sudden lump in your throat and peer into one classroom that looks vaguely familiar. The door opens with a sudden squeak and you practically fall into the room, trying to keep your balance with everything in your hand. The tiny desks have been arranged into a loose semi circle around the room, topped with various spooky Halloween-themed coloring sheets and markers. A group of parents stand in one corner of the room, mostly moms and–one dad. Interesting. Of course, they all look like they stepped out of a fashion magazine–you tug your dress down and consider taking the crown off before they notice you. No one else is dressed up except the kids, all running around and hopped up on sugar.

“Cupcakes are here!” Ellie cries out to the class, running up to wrap herself around your legs in a big hug. You stumble back against the sudden pressure and Ellie’s teacher quickly comes around to take the cupcakes from you. She’s a nice lady, Mrs. Jordan? Johnson?, you can’t remember, but you happily take her assistance. 

Twenty kids swarm around you all chattering at the same time, to you, to their friends, to the teacher, whoever will listen. It’s overwhelming–your hands shake as you rip open the pack of paper plates, setting them out on a spare desk to try and make the hand-out process go as smoothly as possible. The moms are still huddled in the corner, eyeing your costume, the plastic tiara that’s threatening to slip off your head as you deal out cupcakes, leaning in close to whisper to each other. Your face burns and you want to sink through the floor, slip out quietly while their backs are turned, do anything rather than stand here and serve them as they shit-talk you.

“Need some help?” a voice behind you says.

A too-familiar, male, voice. God please don’t let it be–

It’s Joel, of course, because it feels like the universe absolutely hates you. He’s wearing a tight t-shirt and jeans, an empty tool belt slung low around his waist. Perched on his head is a pink cowboy hat, complete with glitter all along the sides. It should look ridiculous, but he wears it well, swaggering up to form an assembly line of cupcakes and napkins. If he notices your hands shaking when he passes you the juice boxes, he doesn’t say anything.

“Thanks,” you mutter. Busy yourself with arranging the already-stacked juice boxes, just so you don’t have to see the pity in his face.

“So this is where my cupcakes went. Could’ve been worse, I guess.” He’s grinning when you look up, dimple deepening the longer you stare at him.

“Hope Sarah wasn’t too disappointed,” you say, hoping the jealousy isn’t obvious in your voice. He passes you a cupcake and your hands touch as you arrange it on a paper plate. 

“Ask her yourself,” he says. He lifts an arm to wave someone over and you definitely don’t look at the little sliver of exposed skin that peeks above his jeans. You prepare yourself to meet the mysterious Sarah, no doubt beautiful and amazing and Joel’s.

Your mouth drops open as a little girl runs up to the two of you, throwing her arms around Joel as he chuckles. There’s a tiara in her curly hair and you can’t help but smile. His daughter, obviously–she’s got the same big brown eyes, the peek of the same dimple that you’ve seen on Joel’s face. She flashes you a big smile. Her front tooth is missing.

“Are you a princess, too?” she asks, pointing to the crown on your head. You step back and give a quick twirl, the tulle of your skirt puffing out as she giggles wildly.

“Sure looks like it,” you tell her. “Very nice to meet you, princess Sarah.”

She gives a curtsy of her own before she runs off to join her friends, all of them looking back and waving at you and Joel. He tips his cowboy hat to them and they screech with laughter.

You start gathering the trash from the table. “And what are you supposed to be?”

“Me?” He spreads his arms out, letting you get a good look at the stretch of his t-shirt across his shoulders, the pink hat settled on top of his ruffled hair. “A cowboy, duh.”

“What’s with the toolbelt?”

“Oh, that.” He looks down like he’d forgotten it was there. The weight of it pulls his jeans low on his hips, the black band of his underwear threatening to show when he shifts. “Forgot to take it off on my way here. Cowboys need tools too, right princess?” And he winks.

You’re not sure what to say to that, heat rising to your cheeks–is it warm in here or what? He looks like he wants to say something else, mouth snapping shut when a woman in a pantsuit sidles up next to him, squeezing in between you and forcing you to step back with a little huff. 

“Joely!” she says. Practically screeches, the way your ears are ringing. She completely ignores you. “I’m so glad you could make it today! We–me and the other PTO ladies, you know–we were just saying how it seems like you’re way too busy for us now.” She gives him a fake pout and squeezes his hand between hers. You roll your eyes and straighten the rest of the napkins out so you don’t have to watch her flirt obnoxiously with Joel right in front of you, acting like you’re not even there. 

He slips his hand out of her grasp with a polite chuckle. “Yes, ma’am, been busy. Never too busy for Sarah, though–she asked me to come today.”

“Oh that’s so cute,” she simpers, running her manicured hand up and down his arm. He shifts to look around her, to look at you, still standing there like an idiot cleaning up, pretending your’re not listening to their conversation.

“Janet, I don’t think you two’ve met. This is Ellie’s aunt.” She finally turns her sharp gaze to you, scanning you up and down without a word. You want to fidget, pull your stupid tutu right off, but the warm look Joel gives you fills you with a little bit of confidence as you mumble your name.

“Ellie’s…aunt,” she says, slowly, like she can’t wait to ask the usual follow-up questions. Why are you here? Where are her parents? You nod, give her a tight smile, refusing to elaborate. 

“She’s an interesting girl,” she says, a bright flash of teeth that turns into a smirk. You bristle and Joel, sensing an impending cat fight, reaches around her again to grab your hand.

“C’mon,” he murmurs. Just for you. “Let’s get out of here.” The woman, Janet, sputters and starts to say something else, probably to offer herself up on a silver platter to him, but Joel ignores her, keeping his eyes on you as he leads you out into the hallway, one hand on your back.

“You okay?” he asks. He hasn’t moved his hand. In fact, he seems closer to you than ever. Your breath hitches. If even this random lady can tell you’re not fit to be a parent, what does that say about you?

“I knew people were going to wonder, you know, why I’m here with Ellie. Where her parents are. I just…it caught me off guard, that’s all.” 

He’s quiet for a moment. “Didn’t want to ask, figured it’s none of my business. And if it’s not my business, it sure as hell ain’t theirs.” He jerks his head towards the classroom, where the head bitch of the PTO and her cronies are huddled together, no doubt whispering about the way Joel coming to your rescue.

“Is that right, Joely?” you tease, and he groans at the nickname. He scuffs a boot on the floor and rolls his eyes. 

“Let’s go, before they destroy that room even more.” 

–

You’re loading the leftover party goodies–plus two tired, over-sugared kids–into your respective cars when Joel turns and asks you out.

“Like…a date?” 

He smiles, slamming the back door closed. “Exactly like a date.”

You look at Ellie in the backseat of your car, her once-white ghost costume now covered in sticky frosting handprints and smears of chocolate, and then at Joel, who’s watching you expectantly.

“What about the kids?”

“What about them?” You roll your eyes and push his shoulder. His hand settles over yours, dragging you even closer, until you can count every tiny freckle on his face, each individual lash. He’s so pretty.

“I’m serious.”

“So am I,” he says. “We can get babysitters, go to the movies or somethin’. Haven’t seen a non-Disney movie in the past three years, figure I’m overdue.”

A night out would be nice–even before Ellie came to stay with you, you hadn’t had many opportunities to go out. And when Joel looks at you like that with those big puppy dog eyes, you want to say yes, but then you remember that he didn’t call like he was supposed to, after the grocery store. Insecurity flares up–what if he’s lying, what if he doesn’t want to see you again, what if it’s a trick?–and you do your best to shove those thoughts away quickly.

“I think we could do that.” He smiles, the kind that lights his whole face up and crinkles the corners of his eyes. “You actually gonna call me this time?”

He frowns and then his face lights up in realization. He pulls his phone out of his pocket, barely recognizable under the hundreds of tiny cracks shattering the screen. One corner of the screen is just completely blank when the rest of the screen lights up. Even through the shattered screen, you can tell that his background is a picture of Sarah in her soccer uniform, holding a soccer ball in one hand with a big smile.

“Dropped it at a job site,” he says. “Was gonna get it fixed this weekend, but I’ll go right now. Can I call you later tonight, for real this time?” 

A car horn blares behind you and you both jump. Ellie’s leaned over into the front seat, waving at you to hurry up. And then Sarah rolls her window down, asking Joel if they can please get Chinese for dinner tonight.

“The princesses are waiting,” he says, tipping his hat towards you with an exaggerated wink. He mouths call you later?, and then they’re gone with a light beep and a wave as they drive away.

You’re still smiling when you drive home, listening to Ellie chatter away in the backseat about how fun the party was, how nice Sarah and her friends are, and did you know that she doesn’t have a mom either, just like me? I think she’s my best friend now and that would be so cool, right? A weight is lifted, seeing how easily she’s fitting in at school, how well she seems to be adjusting to life here with you. Maybe you’ll both be okay.

–

You’re laying in bed with the tv low in the background later than night when your phone lights up with a call from Joel. You sit up quickly, clearing your throat and smoothing your hair as if he could see you, before you answer on the fourth ring. Not too desperate, right?

“Hey,” you say. Lean back and stare at the plaster-swirled ceiling, hoping he can’t hear the nervousness in your voice. “I guess you got your phone fixed?”

“I did.” God, he sounds so cool, voice a low rumble through the speaker. “Easy fix, so. Just wanted to say hi.”

You glance at the digital clock on your nightstand, watch as the numbers switch from 9:48 to 9:49. Too early for a booty call, right? Do adults even do that anymore?

“A late night call from Mr. Joel Miller, I feel honored.”

He laughs, a low chuckle that you want to record, hoard the sound in your brain forever. The sound of him shuffling fills the speaker and you freeze. Is he laying down in his room? Sitting on the couch? Shirtless, or in pajamas maybe? Your mouth goes dry picturing his long body spread out on the bed in only a pair of black boxers, whispering your name as he slicks a hand over his hard cock.  

He says your name again, a little louder and you flush with a little hmm? You yank your other hand out from under your shirt where it had been resting against your stomach, inching beneath the band of your shorts as he talked. 

“You okay?” His voice drops lower, more intimate. “Need me to come rescue you again?”

The laugh that bubbles out sounds weak even to you. Just his rough voice in your ear, the warmth of it wrapping around you like a familiar blanket, has a low simmer starting in your stomach. You shift, sheets crinkling, and he inhales sharply.

“And what if I want you to?”

The whoosh of his breath crackles through the speaker and then it’s quiet. You’re about to say something, maybe just kidding, not trying to be weird or anything, when his voice comes through, raspier than before, somehow even deeper.

“Let me tell you what I’d do if I was there with you. Are you wearing anything right now?” You nod and then give him a low mhm when you realize he can’t see you. “Good. Take your pants off, now.”

Heart pounding, you scrape the tiny shorts down your legs and kick them away, shoving the worn t-shirt up to bunch at your collarbones, warmth spreading throughout your body despite the cold air. Your nipples harden and as if sensing what you need, he says go ahead darlin’, touch ’em for me. Your fingers swirl around them, lightly, teasing like you imagine he’d do to you. It’s not nearly enough and you whine. His chuckle is low and slow, voice like caramel as it drips into your ear.

“Yeah that’s it, play with ’em. Can’t wait to get my mouth around them, fuck–bet they’re the prettiest little nipples I’d ever seen.” He pauses. “Defintiely not prettier than that pussy though. You wet for me?”

Since the moment you started talking, you want to tell him, and instead you say, “Yes, of course, all for you. Are you, um, are you hard yet?”

He groans, and you hear him fumble on the other end before he’s back, breathless. “Been thinkin’ about you all day, had to get off in the shower this morning and it still- it still wasn’t enough.” He spits, lets out a sigh of relief as you imagine he’s finally taken his hard cock out from his shorts, flushed and leaking from the lack of attention. You can picture it so clearly when you close your eyes, pinching a nipple and moving your hand lower, to the band of your underwear.

“Joel, can I–”

“Fuck, ’course you can,” he grunts. “Lemme hear you, pretty girl. Tell me how it feels.”

Your finger sneaks down, running through the slick there as you tease yourself, fluttering the tip before slowly sinking a finger in with a low whimper. It’s good but not enough–you wonder if one of his fingers would feel as good as two of yours.

“Not-not enough,” you whimper. “Wish you were here.”

“’S okay, baby, you can do it. Next time ’m gonna be there for you, touch you however you want me to. Wanna get my mouth on you, get that little pussy drooling for me, beggin’ for me to fill her up.” The slick sound of his hand moving over his cock fills the speaker and a whine gets caught in your throat, head spinning as you slide a second finger in, pumping steadily as he listens, telling you what a good girl you are, so fuckin’ pretty, make the prettiest sounds, gonna have you bouncin’ on me next time, you want that? It’s so much, so overwhelming–he’s not even there, physically, but it feels like he’s right next to you, whispering in your ear, coaxing you towards the edge as you rub your clit to the steady shlick shlick shlick of you fucking yourself and him stroking along. Your breathing shallows and he somehow hears it, the little hitch in your breath as you get close, breathing out his name lowly.

“Joel, please, please,” you whine, and he groans in your ear, sounding even closer than before, like he’d shoved the phone in between his shoulder and ear as he worked himself. 

“What do you need honey, tell me,” his voice a rasp in your ear, desperate. “Need me to come over there and fill you up? Gonna stuff you full of me, ’s that what you want?”

Your muscles tense, mind blanking until all you can think about is his voice in your ear, how rough his hands would be on your skin, and you come in between one breath and the next with a low noise and a rush of slick down your fingers. He’s still talking, voice slurred as he chases his own end, the rough slap of skin almost drowned out by his grunts, breathing faster as you tell him to come for you and–he does with a long, drawn out groan. The sudden silence afterwards is almost disorienting, both of you breathing heavily.

“I’m so glad you fixed your phone,” you finally say and you can hear the smile in his voice when he says yeah, me too.

–

The night of the big date finds Joel standing in front of the bathroom mirror, running a hand over his jaw, feeling the overgrown stubble there. Should he have shaved before? Is it too patchy, too grey? He feels so old all of a sudden, anxiety twisting his stomach like he’s some teen picking up his date for the prom. He barely recognizes the face looking back at him, so many new wrinkles and grey hairs, the crow’s feet in the corner of his eyes that crinkle as he watches Sarah sprint past the open door, screeching and laughing as Tommy follows quickly behind. There’s a loud slam from the living room and when he hollers what was that? they both yell back nothing! at the same time. He deserves a night out, he decides.

Tommy whistles when Joel walks in the living room, dodging the shoulder punch Joel throws at him with ease. “Don’t you look spiffy.”

“Shut up,” he grumbles, smoothing his wet hair back again. “Thanks for staying, by the way.”

Sarah pops up from the back of the couch, hair falling out of the two braids that Joel had carefully done for her that morning, after she promised that she’d keep them in and not mess them up. He hides his sigh as she runs over to hug him, tiny arms wrapping around him and squeezing hard. He pretends to fall, landing with a loud oof on the couch just to hear her laugh. She squirms out of his grip as he plants a smacking kiss to the side of her head.

“Daaad! Don’t you have to go?” she whines. “We’ll be okay, Tommy said we can order pizza after you leave.”

“Is that right?” He glares at Tommy, who shrugs and holds his hand out expectantly. Joel slaps a bill into his hand and finally glances at his watch. He’s gonna be late if he doesn’t leave right now, pressing another kiss to the top of Sarah’s head with a stern be good. They’re already back at it when he pulls the door closed behind him, arguing over who should be player one this time. Jesus–sometimes it’s like he has two children to worry about.

He navigates the streets carefully, not wanting to get there too early and seem too eager–even though he totally is. It’s been a few days since the late night call, and all he can think about is the little noises she’d made, the way his name sounded coming from her mouth. Heart pounding, he pulls up to the driveway of a cute little house, set a few streets away from the main road. There’s a neon green bike tossed haphazardly on the front lawn, covered in disturbing little alien stickers. There’s her car parked in the driveway. He pulls out his phone to send the I’m here text and decides it’d be better if he went to walk her out. 

The sun is just setting as he makes his way up the stone path to the front door. The porch step squeaks, just a little, and he pauses. Steps on it again, to make sure, listening to the wood groan under his heavy boot. That’s not right. His hand twitches towards a tool belt that’s not there and he huffs out a breath. There’s a rocking chair in the corner of the porch and a sad pot of wilted flowers next to the front door. He presses the doorbell, stepping back and–no answer. He presses it again, just in case, but once again no sound, no one coming to answer the door. He knocks, lightly at first and then more aggressive. And then he’s tackled to the side by something, stumbling back to try to keep his balance. A tiny figure is wrapped around one of his legs, clutching at the bottom of his jeans and growling lowly. 

“Ellie? What the–”

“Fuck,” she finishes gleefully, looking up at him with a crooked smile. She still hasn’t let go of his leg. “It’s you again.”

“It is me,” he agrees. “You gotta stop saying that though, ’s not a nice word. Where’s your aunt?” He knocks again, leaning against the doorframe to keep his balance.

“I think she’s still getting ready. Thought you were the babysitter. I don’t like babysitters, so I’m gonna sit her instead.” She growls again for emphasis. 

The front door flings open, startling both of them. And there she is, in a sweet little dress as she looks from him to Ellie and back again. She rubs a hand on her temple. 

“Ellie, can you please stay inside? Lucy should be here any second, I’m so sorry. Come in?” she tells Joel. He feels like an idiot, can’t think of anything except how beautiful she looks right now in the low light of the porch. Anxiety rises again in his stomach–what is she even doing with someone like him anyway?–but the smile she gives him, a shy little thing, puts him at ease immediately. He walks through the front door, dragging a giggling Ellie along with him, and puts all thoughts of nervousness out of his mind for the night.

–

“That dress looks good on you,” he says, lowly, when Ellie runs off to her room. She yells at him to stay put so she can show him the surprise–her favorite book of jokes, practically falling apart at the edges, dog-eared to the pages with her favorite ones.

You smooth the dress down. His eyes catch on the hem, the hint of bare skin there. His hair is pushed back and a little damp still–you want to smooth out the stray curl behind his ear, the way you wanted to all those weeks ago in the grocery store, but this time you can and you do, rubbing the tiny patch in his beard with your thumb.

“It’ll look better off, I think,” you say casually, just to feel the thumpthumpthump of his pulse under your hand.

Ellie comes skidding in the room before he can answer, already chattering a mile a minute as she tugs at his sleeve, directing him to sit on the couch and listen to her. He goes patiently, listening intently as she flips through to find her favorite joke (“Why did the bicycle fall over?” “I dunno, why?” “Because it was two tired, get it? Because it’s sleepy!”). You could watch them talk to each other all night, the patient way he sits back and waits for her to sound out the words, never trying to interrupt or rush her through her reading. 

Your phone beeps with a text, heart sinking as you see that your babysitter has decided to cancel last minute–something about a concert she’d gotten last minute tickets for. You must make a noise because Joel looks up immediately, brows furrowed.

“Babysitter just canceled,” you explain over Ellie’s cheering and whooping. “I’m sorry, I don’t- I don’t have anyone else to watch her, it’s too last minute, should we–?”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” He’s up in a flash, rubbing his hands over your arms, pulling back to tip your chin up to look at him. “We can always stay here, it’s no problem. Or if you want to try a different day…”

“I just,” you lower your voice in case Ellie is still listening. “I really wanted one night just for me. I know it sounds selfish–I love her, but I’m still trying to get used to it all, having someone depending on me 24/7.”

“Believe me,” he whispers. “If anyone gets that, it’s me. Don’t have to feel guilty for wanting to have fun sometimes. You’re not just a parent–you can still a person, you know?” He holds out his arms and you burrow deeper, pressing your face into his chest, letting the steady rumble of his breathing settle you both. His phone makes a noise, vibrating against your leg from his pocket and he sighs, pulling back just enough to dig it out. His arm brushes your thigh and the little noise you make has him pausing. His eyes are dark when you meet his gaze. 

“Got an idea,” he says. “Do you trust me?”

“Of course.”

He pulls you back in for a slow kiss, the kind that leaves you dizzy when you pull back. “Hey Ellie,” he calls, voice rough. “Do you want to go see Sarah?”

She skids around the corner before he’s even done speaking. “Can I, please please please? We’ll be good, promise, best behavior, pleeeease?”

“Go get your jacket.” She turns around to say something and you stop her. “Leave the hammer at home, you don’t need it.” She pouts and nods–you remind yourself to check her bag before she gets out of the car.

Joel is by the door fiddling with his keys while you get ready, looking at the pictures hung up in the hallway. He pauses on one of your favorites, Ellie with her parents a few years ago, and when he notices you standing there he smiles. 

He looks thoughtfully at the backpack leash hanging from the keyhook. “I didn’t know you had a dog.”

“We don’t.”

–

It’s a little nervewracking to drop Ellie off at Joel’s house, to watch as his brother come to the door with a wave as she barrels out of the car towards the door. Sarah peeks out from behind his legs and lets out a happy scream when she sees it’s Ellie, pulling her in the door as Tommy waves you off. You wave back and swallow the guilt that’s building as Joel pulls away. His other hand rests on the center console and you grab it, lacing your fingers together. He squeezes once.

“They’ll be okay,” he says, like he can read your mind. “You hungry? I know we missed the movie but we could go at a later time, or just skip it and go to get food. Up to you.” 

He looks so nervous, a light flush starting under the collar of his shirt, his other hand reaching up to scratch at his beard when you roll to a stop. He’s so pretty in the red glow of the traffic light–you can’t stop looking at him. His eyebrow quirks when you don’t answer him right away, turning to face you fully. The nervousness fades away completely when you look at his hand on top of yours, so warm and solid and big, and imagine what would’ve happened if you hadn’t been interrupted earlier, if he’d fuck you with his big fingers if you asked nicely.

“Can we go home?”

“Home?” He sounds disappointed, a little confused, until you reach over and push your hand high up on his thigh, brushing the bulge there lightly. “Oh, home. Yeah, let me–yeah, fuck, of course.”

It’s a ten minute drive back to your house–he makes it there in five.

–

Seeing him here in your room feels surreal, like some kind of dream. He looks out of place here on your flower-print sheets, watching as you pull your dress off, leaving you in just your underwear. You want to pinch yourself, make sure this is real, but then his rough c’mere baby has you crawling over to settle on top of him, the rough denim of his jeans scratching at the inside of your thighs. 

His kiss is rough, a little desperate as he brings a hand up to cup the back of your head and bring you closer. It’s intoxicating and you tug at his shirt, off, off, a little whine caught in your throat when he doesn’t move right away, pressing sloppy kisses to your neck when you lean back. He sucks a mark right on your collarbone, pulling back to look at it.

“Gonna mark you up, make you mine,” he whispers. “You want that? Walk around ’n let everyone know you’re mine, baby?”

You nod, head spinning as he lifts his shirt up from the back, yanking it over his head and throwing it off to the side. It ruffles his hair even more, all wild fluffy curls. He’s so warm, practically burning underneath you as you explore his bare chest with your hands, the sparse hair tickling your palms as you make your way down down down towards the button of his jeans.

“Please take these off, need you to- to fuck me.” 

He flips you over before you finish speaking, hovering over you as you lay flat on the bed. He sits back, pulling you to the edge of the bed as you squeak and then he’s getting up, kneeling on the floor in front of you, holding your legs open with his broad shoulders. He looks up at you as he runs a hand along the band of your underwear, smiling when you push up into his touch, silently asking for more. 

“Let me taste you first, honey,” he coos. “Been thinkin’ about it since the other day–no, before that. First time I saw you at the zoo, you remember that? Thought about asking you to meet me in the bathroom right there, see if you were wet under those tiny shorts you were wearing, all wet for me.” He doesn’t wait for an answer, ducking his head to lick a stripe up your inner thigh and again in the crease there as he slowly–too slowly, what a tease–rolls your underwear down, murmuring good girl, so good for me when you lift your hips and let him pull them off. And then he’s just looking at you, bare and exposed, thumb pulling you open to look at the slick gathered there. Just for you, you tell him and he nods, letting his thumb barely graze your hole but you jolt anyway, so keyed up from the simple touch as he hums, it’s okay baby, you’re okay, i got you. He brings the same thumb up, a quick little swipe on your clit that takes your breath away, clenching around nothing as he watches greedily. He grips your hips in his hand, ordering you to stay put as he lowers himself back down, letting his warm breath fan over you until you’re squirming in his grasp.

“None of that,” Joel says, pressing you harder into the mattress. You can feel the bruises beginning to form there and you like it, the idea of a physical marker of him on you even after you’re done. “Be a good girl for daddy.”

He licks into you slowly with the flat of his tongue, pointing it to catch the edge of your clit on the way up, flicking over and over again as you pant and whine, more daddy please, need you, until he shushes you. One of his thick fingers circles your hole slowly, lightly, the barely-there touch driving you crazy. You reach a hand down to pull his hair, trying to get him to move and do something, anything.

“Touch me, touch me, c’mon,” you pant, too worked up to say anything else and he smiles, a quick press of teeth against your skin that makes your breath catch.

“I am touching you,” he says. He drags a finger up through your dripping folds, ignoring the tilt of your hips up as you try to get more contact. 

“Not fun–ah shit oh shit.” He presses two fingers in without warning, slowly, watching your face as the discomfort quickly turns to more more more. They’re so much bigger than yours, crooking just right to press along the sensitive spot that you can never reach alone. You clench around him, back arching as he rubs the pads of his fingers against the spot slowly, fucking his fingers in and out at a steady pace until you’re dripping all over them, slick running all down his wrist and pooling beneath you on the bed.

It’s so good, he’s so good, whispering in your ear the whole time–you’re such a good girl, letting me touch you, knew you’d have the prettiest pussy–so wet for me, gonna let me fuck you open, honey, can you be good and come for me now? Your breathing stops and when he thumbs your clit again that’s enough to send you over the edge, legs trying to clamp around his shoulders as he fucks you through it until you whine and he pulls away. You’re so empty, so vulnerable and exposed and raw and he lets you pull him up on top of you, licking the taste of you out of his mouth as he groans. His hand is wet when he grabs your jaw, slick smearing on the side of your face as he looks at you.

“Open your mouth,” Joel says and you do without hesitation, sticking your tongue out for his approval. He grunts, watching a string of spit fall from his mouth onto your waiting tongue. “Swallow it.” And you do, letting out a little mmph when he crashes his mouth back onto yours, stealing the breath from your lungs.

“Fuck me,” he breathes. “Dirty fuckin’ girl. You want me to fuck you now, pretty girl?”

You nod, yes yes please fuck me, and he reaches a hand down, tweaking your nipple between his damp fingers. “Words, baby, use your words.”

“Need you to fuck me daddy, want you to fill me up, p-please.” His thumb swipes over your nipple again as he soothes you, okay baby, okay, gonna fuck you now, ’s okay. He leans back, shucking his briefs down quickly before he’s hovering over you again, letting his cock rub against you, smearing your thigh with precome as you both groan. He’s as worked up and needy as you feel, shoving his hand between your bodies, the one with your come still clinging to his fingers, and wraps a hand around himself, so close you can feel the brush of the back of his hand against your clit. He slides his cock through your folds, letting the slick coat him, both of you gasping when the tip catches on your swollen clit. You hook an ankle around his back, trying to pull him even closer, and finally he stops teasing, pushing into you so so slowly, holding your breath as he fills you so deeply, your sigh rolling into a moan when he bottoms out. He holds himself there, not moving as you adjust to him–so fucking big–sucking a twin mark above your collarbone as he waits. And when you flex your foot, push it into his ass as you lift your hips up he grunts, fucking in a little at a time, more and more. The slapslapslap of your bodies is loud, almost completely drowned out by your panting.

“You see that? Look, honey, look how you’re taking daddy so well, such a good girl for me.” Your eyes fly open when he snaps his hips harder into you, grinding deep until you’re practically wailing. “Keep your eyes open baby, wanna see you when you–fuck, when you come for me.” 

It’s overwhelming, right at the point of being too much and he notices, rolling your clit gently between his fingers, whispering praise in your ear as he slows his thrusts. When you come it’s a relief, tensing under him as he talks you through it–thaaat’s it, so good for me, daddy’s good girl, such a good fuckin’ girl- gonna let me fill you up, give my baby a baby? bet you’d look so pretty knocked up with my baby, all full of me. let everyone know you’re mine. All you can do is chant his name over and over as he fucks you harder, the squelch echoing in your tiny room, and he finally comes when you say please daddy, fill me up, make me yours, give me a baby please please please–the stutter-fuck of his hips pressing deep into you, giving you all of his come, making sure none of it escapes when he finally pulls out and flops on his back next to you.

“Holy shit,” you say and he snorts.

“You think?” He groans, running his hand through his sweaty hair. “You good with all the…you know. Baby stuff?”

His face is red when you run a hand over his cheek, trying to hide the smile on your face. “Yes daddy, it’s fine. I needed that more than I thought.”

He presses a kiss to your scrunched up nose. “Any time. You don’t really want a–right?”

“Hell no.”

–

Two hours later, you go to pick up Ellie from Joel’s house. Tommy’s grin is wide when you walk in with Joel, both flushed and rumpled. 

“Looks like y’all had fun,” he says. “Girls are sleeping now. That Ellie, man…” you hold your breath, waiting for the inevitable ellie bit someone, ellie threw a shoe again, ellie ran outside to lay in the middle of the road that was sure to come. “...she’s a sweet kid. They had a lot of fun together.”

Your breath whooshes and you thank Tommy again, walking upstairs into what looks like Sarah’s room. At first you don’t see them in the dark, the blue light of the DVD menu flashing on the tv casting an eerie glow over the room. You almost step on them, sprawled out on the carpet, breathing deeply in the way that only small children can, completely oblivious to the world around them. In between them is Ellie’s joke book, propped opened to her favorite page–how did the telephone propose to his girlfriend? he gave her a ring!

And when she whispers your name as you tuck her into bed later, says ’m glad i get to stay here with you, i love you–you can’t help but think the two of you will be alright.

--

thank you for reading! ✨

#this literally killed me whew #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us fic #lexi writes things #ok goodnight #shitty summary ik just trust me i guess

[askew-d]

KAGEHINA FICS MASTERLIST

• ⭐️🎖️ jellyfish, by mysterytwin — hinata makes a list of things to do before graduation; and that includes confessing his feelings to kageyama. a wonderful story, so heartwarming. my utmost favorite.

• ⭐️ in transit, by mysecretfanmoments — while riding the bus together, hinata begins to discover about his feelings for kageyama. absolutely lovely.

• dare, by majesticartax — kagehina’s chosen to play a dare in which they end up locked in a room, and, of course, revelations ensue. this one made me scream lots. rated m!

• you know all the strings (and know just how to tug them), by artemisia_hq — 5 + 1 story about kageyama being whipped and can’t say no and hinata saying yes. domestic fluff.

• like always, by artemisia_hq — during their last walk home together, hinata becomes aware of his feelings and decides to do something about it. short story, yet so cute!

• ⭐️ i wanna know you, and i wanna love you, by momochai — kagehina go on a day together, or better yet, a date; even though they’re not quite aware of it. i was dying throughout all of this, outstanding!

• you’re grabbing my hands like they’re handbars, by mountains_6 — basically tsukishima being a third wheel when the three of them travel to rio, based on the extra bit of the manga, lol. short and endearing.

• 🎖️ a hundred or so hellos, by iwillstillopenthewindow — kageyama reincarnates over and over and hinata continues dying over and over. angst. a lot of angst. but still goddamn beautiful.

• let me in on the open secret too, by switmikan74 — kageyama doesn’t know that he’s dating hinata, until he gets hints from a shoujo manga. that’s so fitting, definitely worth the read!

• highway verse, series by emleewrites — a pixel cars au that i didn’t think it’d catch me until i read it and had dreams about this fantastic universe.

• ⭐️🎖️ if it wasn’t for you, by halfbloom (diphylleias) — in brazil, hinata learns more about relationships and what it means to have a bond with kageyama. got my heart effortlessly. such a delight.

• ⭐️ one more thing, by marks — it’s tsukishima and yamaguchi’s wedding, and kageyama and hinata decide to go together. can i please have more of this? sweet stories like this makes my heart melt, i swear.

• 🎖️⭐️ i can do better, by buu — kagehina compete over everything under the sun, and that includes kissing. and some more. in fact, every kagehina fic by this author hits. and this one… made me feel stuff. rated m!

• ⭐️ no angels could beckon me back, by lilacnoctua — heated arguments lead kagehina to heated moments with each other. a hot story with great development. loved every part of it.

• from this day forward, by emleewrites — kageyama tries to propose; it goes as badly as you can expect. so funny, seriously! i could easily recommend every fic by this author too, as well as esselle’s, but i’m gonna list my favorites anyway, so hang on!

• soft serve, by tothemoon — kagehina drives an ice cream truck to help karasuno; as one might expect, feelings are involved in between. summer fic, brings a ton of good emotions!

• 🎖️ famous v-league players make fools of themselves on twitter dot com, by crone_zone — the appearance of one hinata shouyou through the eyes of twitter users. pure comedy and it’s a whole show. gorgeous!

• room to grow, by mysecretfanmoments — things are different in their third year and hinata’s still learning how to deal with it. ah, young love! the best kind.

• raining verse, by emleewrites — kageyama’s cursed to be a kitten, hinata’s the one who finds him. i love a magic realism au, so imagine my happiness while reading this.

• future’s kiss, by mervousmer — kageyama somehow travels to the future for a moment, and hinata’s there, all grown-up. come on, time travels also have my heart! this one’s cute as hell.

• ⭐️ dethroned, by setkia — kageyama counts his victories and losses against hinata in his mind. what a gem! short and fabulously creative.

• saffron and cayenne pepper, by dontsaycrazy — neighbours kagehina: one only knows how to set the kitchen on fire and the other one’s actually a chef, what could work between them? everything, that’s the answer. a hit!

• on quarantining together…, series by winterey — social media kagehina making lives while on quarantine. fun and addictive!

• conflict of interest, by zukushou — more of social media kagehina, this time with journalists thinking they’re rivals when they’re actually… yknow *gay for each other*. just everything i’d ever want for them.

• ⭐️ with suds in your eyes (and a smile on your lips), by hqkrys — established relationship kagehina take a messy shower together. overall just endless fluff, which melts my heart!

• a bento for dr. kageyama, by zukushou — hinata leaves food for his husband and causes gossip at the hospital said husband works in. hahaha, this is definitely terrific.

• the best laid hands, by mysecretfanmoments — kageyama doesn’t even know how to deal with his own romantic life, so it’s best if other people don’t ask for advice. but what if it’s an advice for hinata? you never know :)

• ⭐️ better than firewhiskey, by mysterytwin — hogwarts au with kagehina! someone should definitely find this author by the way and give them a big hug. i want to. they rock.

• chase the light, my love, by thebeaming sun — kageyama planning to propose and earning support of his teammates. established relationship kind of thing that makes me smile.

• hinata and kageyama terrorise a simple interviewer, satorou masashi, series by call_me_j — story told in the form of an interview, including post time-skip kagehina of course. remarkable!

• optical, by kvhottie — kageyama wears glasses; everyone freaks out. do i need to explain more? hella entertaining.

• never doubt i love, by gentle_autumn_rain — jealous hinata thinks kageyama got a boyfriend. he didn’t. love these small misunderstandings that lead to a confession! so good.

• of gentlemen and scoundrels, by mysecretfanmoments — historical au with kageyama as a gentlemen in london and hinata who’s… well, not very much like him. the writing and the sexual tension in this is spectacular!

�� ⭐️ save the last dance for me, my prince, by zukushou — prince kageyama and bodyguard hinata, as this fandom deserved. and such a well-developed at that. charming!

• patience, by mistonthelake — surprisingly enough, hinata discovers about kageyama’s crush on him earlier than the man himself. a lesson in being patient.

• wrestle for victory, by emleewrites — after their fateful game, kagehina decides to compete over wrestling. that’s definitely something they’d do and it got me hooked.

• ⭐️ oh we play, in autumn days, by aruariandance — kagehina being silly boys and kageyama getting a phone. is it because he wants to text hinata? that, he’ll never admit. i’d give it a hundred kudos if i could.

• ⭐️ ridiculous, by festivetrickster — yachi has to spend some time with kagehina in their apartment. the way they live just makes me suspicious of their relationship. no, like, this is indeed so ridiculous but i like it so much!

• sunstruck, by orphan account — kageyama gets the help of romero to sort out his relationship with hinata. seeing introverted kageyama slowly but surely trust his teammate and idol with issues like this makes me proud.

• ⭐️ sun above your shoulders, by longleggedgit — even in an universe where they go to different high schools, kagehina meet each other anyway. everything’s delightful here!

• the missing piece, by akaashism (acciomerlin) — kageyama deals with the changes in hinata. just adorable, i giggled a lot.

• the trouble with soulmates, by navybluewings — our sweet cupid hinata’s journey to get soulmates bonds fixed! this au rocks.

• five star review, by emleewrites — hinata’s hired to paint kageyama’s wall and they start a “friendship” out of it. amazing to see this unfold, so nicely done.

• 🎖️ for the best of all possible worlds, by tinygumdrops (curryramyeon) — an au about kagehina’s relationship journey from across countries, including letters. they meet while being apart and we see it unfold. is there anything better than this? majestic!

• at the tip of your nose, by cloesh_scribbles — where kageyama’s obsessed with eskimo kisses and hinata’s obsessed with him. please help me after this, the fluff killed me.

• the video series, by sunnyslipper — kageyama and hinata breaking the internet over and over with their videos. funny and spot on!

• alexa, play waking up in vegas, by attackofthezee (noxlunate) — kageyama and hinata get married accidentally. the thing is, i can totally imagine them doing this. they’re absurd and lovely.

• meat bun is a love language, by icecreamromantic — kageyama decides to confess using meat buns. come on, it’s stupidly perfect!

• slipping through sand, by majesticanna — an au in which kagehina meet in brazil. just so warm, waaah!

• high dose, by akaashism (acciomerlin) — hinata convinces kageyama that, because of a health issue, he needs kisses. i swear, these silly boys will break me. this is excellent.

• why do i feel like it’s (fake) love, by izucaii — hinata and kageyama pretend to be boyfriends while in brazil. a gorgeous fake-relationship story!

• ⭐️ a best man’s worse problems, by villainphilia — tsukishima, the best man for kagehina’s wedding, prepares his speech while reminiscing how the two dumbasses got together. all of this is just marvellous!

• five proposals, by dayoldcupcake — kageyama proposing, hinata saying no. done with the intent of giving me diabetes. chef’s kiss!

• ⭐️ plain as day, by emleewrites — hinata has a low self-esteem and kageyama tries to make him realize how wonderful he is. i died and came back. truly stunning.

• kageyama tobio reads thirst tweets (unedited), by popcornpearl — after making a bet, kageyama reads thirsty tweets and tries not to blush. it’s harder than he expected. rated m!

• i’m lucky to have you, zukushou — the famous “just woke up high in anestesia and i can’t remember my own partner” trope. pure comedy, love this for them.

• ⭐️ the obvious is at eye level (but i might need a step stool), by dr_awkward221 — hinata watching sakusa’s relationship with miya and slowly realizing things about his own his kageyama. i loove this one, it’s unbearably good.

• ⭐️🎖️ let the light out, by uhohshouto — kagehina make a bet in which the other one must ask for something of the loser. kageyama wants a kiss… and then something more. seriously though, i can’t believe this; it’s a wonderful story, so entertaining. rated e!

• epic, by esselle — a surfing au with hinata as an instructor and kageyama as an arrogant professional. this charming scenario surely made my day.

• let’s take this offline, by pas_dautres — office employees kagehina who meet through emails and reports. i had to add this, because it’s nice, surely worth the read.

• 🎖️ these hands of time, these hands of mine, by fireheartaw — kageyama being introspective over their story together and apart. light angst maybe, but the narrative’s so interesting and captivating.

• discordant, by majesticanna — academic rivals kagehina meet again as professors. so short but so sweet!

• 🎖️⭐️ pursuit verse, series by emleewrites — a gambler hinata and an attorney kageyama based on the ace attorney game. never played the game. but the story? deserves to be printed. if you never read it, you need to. hear me out: you need to.

• ⭐️ getting it right, by akaashism (acciormerlin) — play pretend boyfriends for miwa who end up actually having domestic moments and finding out more about their feelings, hehe.

• know you better, by mysterytwin — bakery worker kageyama and spell shop owner hinata in a world of magic! great development and very poetic.

note that this is based on the fics i’ve known since i entered the fandom and that i truly enjoy. either they’re famous or not famous, i’m just adding them here for my future self contentment and for those who, just as me, wanted a full list of kagehina fics upon getting engaged in haikyuu media.

if you think i should add more and if you have recs for me too, i’m accepting them! thank yoou.

last update: 3/3/24

#haikyuu #kageyama tobio #kagehina #hinata shouyou #kagehina fic #kagehina fic rec

[90ekz]

“WE AINT GOOD-GOOD, BUT WE STILL GOOD”

debrief: when your ex-boyfriend ony comes down with a cold, you clock into your nurse shift, as well as resolving some old feelings.

tags: black!fem!reader, sickfic but like.. not, use of the n word, make-ups and break-ups, you make ony nervoussss 🥹, implied eremin (i love them), pure fluff, healthy communication cs ik some of y’all be bashin niggas heads in

an: bringing in the new year with some fluff !! i love you guys, and may 2024 bring everything you desire in abundance <3

ex-boyfriend!ony who was so heartbroken when y’all split, but knew it was for the best. he didn’t wanna drag you down with all his mess, (even if you insisted over and over that you were okay) and you were busy trying to get your masters. even through this, close contact was kept, and y’all leaned on each other for support.

that’s why it was such a shock when connie and jean had let it slip that he’d been sick for 3 days. you sat on the notion, wondering why he didn’t come to you or even say anything, and waited for a call, but when none came after a few hours, you were dialing his number harshly into your phone and letting it ring with a scowl on your face.

“onyankopon.” you spit over the phone, hearing him sputter at the use of his full name. dull music played in the background, and you could swear you hear other voices, hushed.

“h-hey mama, what’s goin on?” ony refused to let his composure slip, all his boys were over and he had told them that he had stopped fuckin’ with you. they all opted to come over to chill (smoke) even while he was down with a real bad cold. he caved and took a few hits before deciding that his lungs weren’t strong enough right now, and passing the spliff to connie wordlessly.

“you got something you wanna tell me?” you sat patiently, giving him the opportunity to tell the truth before jumping to conclusions. maybe there was a reason for it, everything happens for a reason, right?

“uh…nah i been chillin—hold up.” your eyebrow jumped at his labored breathing mixed with the sound of him hushing someone in the background before pressing the phone back to his ear. “anyways. im good, nothing to tell you, im cool. you cool?” your suspicion grew at his constant throat clearing and groans.

“you a damn lie.” before he could even respond, you were hanging up the phone and two beep sounds rung in his head. he tried to call back twice before getting a notification that you’d left home and were on the pathway to his house. the drive was only about 10 minutes, and knowing you, you’d be here in 5.

“aw shit—all y’all gotta go.” ony stumbled to his feet, ushering connie, eren, armin, and jean out of their seated positions and towards the front door. “man i was just getting high, the fuck goin’ on?” eren mumbles lightly, placing his jacket around armin’s shoulders and finishing packing his bag.

“someone’s coming over, c’mon.”

“who bruh?”

“y/n nigga, i think she knows im sick. y’all gotta go, now.” the whole group erupts in protests of ‘i thought y’all were done’ and ‘don’t kick us out for that, man!’ but ony didn’t care. he hadn’t seen you in person for a while, and he still needed to cover his tracks. the whole group rolls their eyes, save for connie and jean, who looked like they’d seen a ghost.

“connie, jean, why y’all look like that? what did y’all do?”

“it was him!” jean points to connie, completely throwing him under the bus. connie almost protests until he sees the sour look on ony’s face, and they’re scattering out the door with ‘im sorry’s’ flaking from their lips, leaving armin and eren to snicker under their breath.

“you said you were done with her, why now?”

“as much as i would love to give you an in-depth synopsis on my relationship status, i really don’t have time for allat right now.”

eren rolls his eyes, his attitude shown clear on his face. he wasn’t the biggest fan of ony’s relationship with you, considering that he’s the one who has to hear all the bullshit between you two. armin intertwines his pinkies with eren, an easy soother to his irritation.

“if i have to hear about this shit later, i’ll kill you.”

with reluctance, the couple left—armin apologetically excusing eren’s rudeness—and ony was left to spray fabreeze for the weed smell, and splash cold water on his face to hopefully extinguish his up-ticking fever, just in time for your harsh knocks to come on the door.

ony opened it, albeit barely enough for you to see his flushed face. he was feeling real feverish now….

“you ain’t tell me you was coming over.”

“i don’t have to tell you. open this damn door and stop playin wit me.” ony gulps as he unlocks the chain on the door and sees you fully. all you had on was his hoodie that he was sure you said you were gonna give back, and some nike pro shorts that he couldn’t see. you held a bag of unknown contents in your hand. you eyed him up and down before stepping inside like you owned the place.

he loved when you did that shit, this man is down bad.

you twirled the string of his sweatpants between your freshly done nails, and ony swears his temperature went up 10 degrees. you had this look in your eye that was the epitome of concern and irritation having a fist fight.

“so when were you gonna tell me that you were sick?”

“i wasn’t. i didn’t want you to worry about it, but the opptastic duo just had let you know, i guess.” ony followed as you proceeded deeper in the house, but you paused as you entered the living room. your eyebrows furrowed and your nose crinkled.

“what’s that smell?”

ony gulped, just playing shrugging and playing dumb. the cloud of fabreeze hadn’t really covered the weed smell all the way, and he was sure that you were about to bust him for smoking while he was sick, and he really wasn’t tryna hear all that at the moment. he was ready to get in his bed (preferably with you in it..)

“do not play wit me, what is that japanese cherry blossom shit im smelling?” you threw your keys and bag down and paced around the living room, flipping over pillows and looking under couch cushions. ony protested, promising that he didn’t know what you were talking about, and thought to himself that you were just smelling yourself.

until you pulled an empty cart refill wrapper from beneath the cushion.

aw shit.

you looked at him like he was a dumbass—which he was—before watching him smack his teeth and snatch the wrapper from your hand begrudgingly. the words “CHERRY GLAZE” in bold lettering burned his eyes, before vaguely remembering that armin had switched out his liquid before he’d left.

ony teetered on the truth, but he knew you’d be pissed about him having his boys over when he was clearly sick, so he settled on a lil white lie.

“oh, that’s uh—that’s some of my old shit.”

“if i’m recalling correctly, aren’t you the one that said that you didn’t like smoking that ‘fruity shit’?” ony cleared his throat—in a way he only does when he lies—before just grunting in response.

“and even if you didn’t say that, you hate cherry flavored anything, so that begs the question… what bitch was smoking this shit on your couch?” you jabbed your freshly done pointer nail into his chest, feeling his breath stutter under your touch.

he was caught between a rock and a hard place, and figured he’d just tell you the truth, even if you’d get mad.

“basically, the boys came over and eren brought his lil boyfriend or whatever he is—”

“wait, eren’s gay?”

“apparently. anyways, his name is armpit… or was it arm and hammer… whatever sum like that, and he was smoking his cart and replaced the liquid on the couch and i guess the wrapper fell between the cushions. no bitches were over here, i swear.” ony holds his hands up in defense, reassuring you that he was telling the truth. you smiled, as you believed him regardless. you knew he didn’t roll like that anyway.

“bae, relax. i believe you, i was just tryna see you sweat. just sit down, i bought you some soup.” you smiled at him with all your teeth, and ony was sure that he fell in love all over again. he missed you more than words could explain, and he just wanted you to come home again.

he finally let himself relax and he slumped onto the couch, his headache hammering against the back of his eyes. you took a seat on the ottoman next to him, unpacking his favorite potato soup and crackers. you crush up the crackers in the soup and stir, just like he likes, and unscrew the cap of his blue fanta.

“i think—no, i’m already in love with you. i dont think i ever stopped.” ony mutters as you spoon feed him and he has the urge to cry. you were always so gentle and caring with him, and you’ve never stopped, regardless of what the relationship status was. that’s what he loved most about you—it didn’t matter what happened between you too, if he needed you, you were there.

he missed you so, so bad.

“stop talking with your mouth full, you’re gonna get soup on your new carpet.” you attempted to brush off his words, and the way that they were making your face heat up.

“fuck the carpet. i’ve never been so serious in my life, mama. i love you more than you know. ‘just want you to come back to me.”

you two broke up because you mutually needed space and time to yourselves. it was an agreement, yet neither of you committed to it for more than a week. before you knew it, you were back texting him good morning, as he was texting you good night. all you wanted was to be his girlfriend again, but you wanted to give him the space he needed.

you set the spoon and soup aside, watching the way ony’s deep brown eyes twinkle under the low light of the living room.

“ony, i want to give you your space, that’s the whole reason we broke up to begin with. you deserve that.”

“i had enough space. you not living here no more, not being up under me when i sleep, not kissing me when i wake up, only seeing you at parties, that’s space, and i’m real tired of it,” ony laces his fingers with yours, kissing the back of your knuckles as he used to do.

“i want you back. i want you back in my face all the time, i wanna wake up mad cause you took all the covers, but then it goes away when i see how cute you look all bundled up. i want my initials on your nails again, i want you. i need you, baby. come home to me, please—“

“okay, okay! that’s enough, you’re embarrassing me!” you hide your head in the crook of his neck, suddenly feeling bashful about the way he was relaying his apparent undying love to you. everything he does flusters you still. you don’t miss the way his hands grasp you even tighter than they used to, if that’s even possible.

“i just want you to promise me that i’m not hurting you.”

“you could never. my perfect girl would never.” ony places a kiss on the top of your head, making sure to hold you even tighter. you choose not to mention his sniffles at the current moment, and let yourself be lost in his love.

“i missed you too, ony.”

#ony the realest 🥹🥹🥹 #syno’s picks 💌 #aot x chubby reader #aot x you #aot fluff #aot #aot imagines #aot x black reader #aot x reader #onyankopon snk #onyankopon x black y/n #onyankopon x reader #aot onyankopon #ony x black reader #onyankapon #onyankopon fluff #aot oneshots #attack on titan #onyankopon smut #he’s so boyfriend coded #sighs and kicks my feet #eremin #kinda just snuck them in SAWRYYY 😛

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

Steddie Upside-down AU Part 13

Part 1 Part 12

“Favorite song to listen to in the car?” Eddie asks. His fingers itching for a cigarette he doesn’t have. 

It’s been quiet for a while, but Steve picks the game back up like no time has passed at all. “What’s the difference between that and your favorite song?” he asks.

Eddie scoffs. “Favorite song is meaningless,” he says. He’s reclined on the couch, feet dangling over the edge. “It’s gonna change, right? You don’t want to listen to the same song in the shower, as you want to listen to in the car, as you want to listen to alone at night, as you want to listen to while getting laid.”

Eddie bites his lip on the words, hadn’t meant to let that last one slip, but he keeps hearing Steve say, “I’m so in my body that I’m out of it.” He can’t stop thinking about activities more tawdry than sports that might have the same effect. His fingers twitch, and he tells himself it’s just for the same cigarette. 

Steve hums, like he’s really thinking about it. “Don't Stop Me Now,” he says.

“Queen?” Eddie asks, shocked.

“What’s wrong with Queen?”

“Nothing! Eddie says, waving his hands in front of his chest. “I just thought you’d say like, Abba or something.”

Steve laughs. “Abba is for like, cleaning your house, man.” He flops down on the other side of the couch, hair mingling with Eddie’s in the middle cushion. The tops of their head’s brush. “When you want to make it a little fun, so doing the dishes doesn’t feel like the end of the world.”

“Hmm,” Eddie says, pushing down the thoughts of Steve Harrington dancing to Abba in his huge kitchen, those long yellow gloves housewives wear protecting his precious hands from wrinkles. “Well, why Don’t Stop Me Now, then?”

“It’s like, fast and upbeat sounding, right?” Steve asks. “But everything he says in it is like, a cry for help. He literally says he’s having a good time, but he keeps talking about how he’s a shooting star, and those things go out, man. He’s going too fast, and everyone’s just listening to him say not to stop him, but it's inevitable, and no one can see that.”

Eddie thinks about Steve’s parties, and the way his smile never reaches his eyes as he flounces around the school like he owns it. King Steve the shooting star. He doesn’t want to see the impact crater when he hits the ground, wonders if this is his cry for help. 

“Plus, if you turn it up loud enough, the drums are pretty sick.” 

Eddie laughs. “You like a good beat, huh Harrington?” Eddie asks, wiggling on the couch until he’s sitting upright, feet tucked under his ass, watching Steve struggle up just the same. They’re on opposite sides of the couch, like mismatched bookends. “There’s hope for you yet.” 

Steve quirks an eyebrow, smiling with his eyes. “You gonna make me a mixtape, Munson?” 

Eddie splutters. “Someone has to teach you the ways of Black Sabbath.” 

“Oh?” Steve says, putting his chin in his palm, his elbow on his knee. “You’re going to educate me?”

Eddie feels the blood rushing to his cheeks. He has to know how that sounds, right? Harrington is known to have game. He has to know. 

“Your turn,” Eddie says, covering his mouth with his palm when it comes out as a squeak. He moves his hand up a bit, covering his nose as well. Maybe he’ll suffocate and die, and never have to meet Steve’s eyes again. 

Steve laughs, “Okay, okay, uhhh.” Eddie drops his hand, watches Steve pick at his cuticles for a minute before jamming his hands beneath his thighs. “Who’s your best friend?”

“Jeff,” he says. The name settles in his gut like hot chocolate. 

“Tell me about him?” Steve asks.

“That’s a two parter,” Eddie says, waggling his finger, even as his throat constricts at the thought of his best friend.  “He was the only person who was nice to me when I first moved here.”

Eddie can barely remember the scared kid with the shaved head he’d been, before Jeff had started sitting by him in class, swiping him a pudding cup at lunch, riding the bus with him. 

“We’re in a band together now. And he plays D&D, too,” he says, smiling down at his hands. A pit has opened up in Eddie’s heart, and it’s in the shape of his best friend. He misses him. “He’s the best.”

Steve doesn’t comment on the way his voice comes out choked. “He sounds nice,” Steve says, quietly. He nudges the heel of his foot into Eddie’s thigh. 

“What about you?”

When Steve doesn’t answer right away, Eddie looks up. Steve’s picking at his cuticle again. It’s bleeding a little at the edge. “Tommy’s been my friend since Kindergarten,” he says, glancing up furtively before looking back down. “And Carol since sixth.”

“Yeah?” Eddie asks, keeping his tone just as quiet as Steve’s.

Steve nods. “I love them,” he says, but it comes out like a bad thing. 

Eddie nudges his foot “We’ll get back to them,” he says, hoping it’s the right thing to say. By the way Steve’s shoulder’s curl inward, like he’s trying to shield his heart, it wasn't the right thing at all. 

Part 14

#steddie upsidedown au #steddie fic #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #my fic

[on-this-day-mcr]

On this day, April 9

In 2002: My Chemical Romance gave their first ever interview. The interview, featuring Gerard and Mikey, was for Snagglezine, a New Jersey fanzine run by two Eyeball Records interns.  Read the interview here, or below the cut!

M: I'm Michael Way, I play the bass guitar. G: I'm Gerard Way, I'm the singer. K: Your biggest influences? G: Iron Maiden. M: The Smiths. G: At the Gates, Brit pop, Blur, Morrisey, shit like that. Like metal, like melodic metal. We're all about it, like Helloween, big influences. M: Oh yeah. Keeper of the Seven Keys. G: You can't hear any of our influences in our music though but it's there. M: It's subconsciously in the music, but nobody else can pick it up unless you're looking for it, you can't really pick on what's there. K: We hear that you just signed to Eyeball (Records). How's it feel to be signed to such a great label? G: We're fucking really excited. M: It's so excellent. G: I've know Alex for a while, I probably shouldn't say that, Alex is fucking great. M: ..and an amazing human being. We've known him and he took care of fucking Thursday and we were psyched about that, but not only that, we were really psyched to be with Pencey Prep because those kids fuckin helped us out right from the start. They gave us their tour van when we needed it, they gave us their fuckin tour van! Hambone gave us the tour van and fuckin cause they're getting a new one and they gave us a spot in their practice studio that we share with them, so we share a practice studio with them. C: Yeah Alex got us our first interview, Thursday. M: Yeah I remember, I was right there. No, but it's great cause it's like a family, we all hang out all the time, it's amazing. G: We can't hang out with Thursday as much as we'd like to cause they're always on tour which is gonna happen to all our bands now. K: Favorite bands to play with and favorite venue? G: Pencey (Prep). M: So far it's just Pencey (Prep) but the Loop (Lounge) was hot. G: But the Loop, even though they don't let kids in which sucks, I don't like that 21 and over stuff, but it had great sound. M: Yeah, there's like a professional sound guy. G: But this place (Garfield American Legion) had great sound. C: CBGB'S had good sound for Thursday. M: Oh the Piebald one? C: Yeah. G: Oh I want to play there. C: It's good. M: So far we only played about 5 shows, out of 5 shows, the Loop was the best. G: And we got an encore there. M: Yeah people were calling for an encore. K: That's awesome, we've never been there. Have you guys played in any bands before? G: Me and Mikey had this band called Raygun Jones and we were like, you know, really young and he was the bass player back then too. We had a female bass player and she just dropped out so we just put a bass on Mikey pretty much the same way we did this time. We put a bass on him and said play. We trained him. M: Yeah exactly. It's like I normally play guitar but like my brother came up to me with the material and I was just so blown away that I had to join. I was like, "I don't care what I play" and "I have to be in this somehow". G: He really filled out our band. We had a good vibe going anyway but then when he was in it, it clicked. And that's why, the way you saw us play out there today, we weren't playing like that until Mikey was playing tight with us and joining. K: How long have you guys been established and what was your reason for starting a band? G: The band, uh, me and Otter really got together in November, I believe, and the real reason we established it was because it has a lot to do with the September 11th attack. I was on my way to get ready for a Cartoon Network meeting because I do cartoons and stuff and he had that option. We saw the plane hit right from the train and when we got there we were all just standing on the pier in Hoboken like right on the edge. There's like 300 people that were friend and family and we all saw it go down. That's when I realized that doing this cartoon was bullshit, I love to draw and make art but it was so commercial, it was just that I felt like having meetings with people in suits, it just made me realize what the hell I'm doing with my life. That's what our 1st song that we always open with "Skylines and Turnstyles" is about. It's about the Trade Center. C: Although I'm a big fan of the Cartoon Network and like 3 in the afternoon in your pajamas... G: Yeah but dealing with them is not fun. That actually got it and everyone like came together through the music. It's like therapy. K: How did you get the name and does it imply that you guys are quite the partiers? M & G: Hahaha Oh!!! G: We used to call Mike "Mikey Party" but now he's "Mikey Romance". K: That's how we met you! M: Yeah it was at a party. G: It's like 11 different meanings for the band. You can take them anywhere. On a personal level, for me, it's about anti-depressants. I was like so depressed about a year ago and I just wanted to cut my fuckin face off. It's also like a reference to Irvine Welsh and his books. M: All his books are like classified as Chemical Romances. It's like love stories where there's like drugs involved. C: Yeah, I went to google to see if you guys had a site and all his stuff came up. M: Yup yup, Irvine Welsh. Now there's only 2 people so far that picked up on that. Two people were like "Whoa, you mean like Irvine Welsh?". But it's a personal level, like we took the name and we brought it to a personal level. G: Yeah it really means for me anti-depressants. Like we drink beer and shit... M: We like to party. K & C: Hell yeah. G: We drink and party, we rock and roll man. K: Yeah, the most "un-edge" name, right? G: We don't like do drugs though. C: You're not my friend then. (haha, he's kidding). M: Yeah we don't need drugs to have a good time. :: Gerard announces slumber party and that guitar player takes guitar to a whole new level because he has a gash and is bleeding:: K: One more serious one, what do you guys think of the sudden outburst of bands on indie labels such as Thursday, Phantom Planet, Hot Water Music, and Rival Schools being played on MTV2 and MTVX? G: I think, I always thought this because I've been an artist with comics from that whole scene too. Anything from the underground eventually makes its way up. It's like something underground, it's new and fresh and it's eventually gonna make its way up to the tv. It's bound to happen, it happens with everything. Nirvana is the best example of it and I think that's what's gonna happen with Jersey and I think it's gonna be great. M: I think it's like survival of the fittest cause like whoever's doing it for the right reasons is gonna survive and whoever's doing it for the wrong reasons is gonna get chopped and fried and we all know who's doing it for the right reasons. C: Yeah we know. Do you guys like Dragon Tales? G: We're Lord of the Rings fans. M: No, he's talking about the cartoon. C: ...on PBS. G: The only exposure I have with Dragon Tales is that little kids come in and ask for the cd @ B & N. C: Best Valentine's gift you ever got? G: I'm about to get one right now but I haven't seen it yet. Shit. I haven't really gotten any. I got roses, I love roses so a girl got me roses. That was pretty cool. M: You know what, I can't even remember getting one because there hasn't been a powerful female outlet in my life to give me a Valentine's day gift. So there's no Valentine's day gift I can remember. C: No little candy hearts from grandma or mom or anything like I usually get? M: No way! K: You got frogs this year. M: You're lucky dude. C: Yeah I got frogs from her. Disney character that most represents you? M: Donald Duck. G: Yeah Mike dressed up like Donald Duck in 2nd grade. M: It was a fuckin rad costume, my grandma made it. G: It was fuckin hot and then the next year he dressed up as a stay puff marshmallow. M: And it was also really hot. G: Mr. Toad. C: Would you guys ever cover "The Lady Is A Tramp" by Frank Sinatra? M: It could be done. G: Could we do that? M: It could totally be done. G: Yeah I could see us doing that. M: Cause Frankie's awesome. G: What about doing a Dean Martin or a Sammy? M: Those guys knew how to party man. C: The Rat Pack. G: The Sans Crew. Vegas man. We want to bring Hambone with us cause he always wins on slots. M: He's the King of Slots. ::tangent on Hambone:: Other members not in interview: Otter (Matt)->drums Ray Toro->guitar, phenomenal

#honestly i would prefer a better source for this if anyone has one #but it seems to be pretty well accepted and the quotes are so sweet i had to include it anyway #on gerards birthday!! they would have been uh #just turned 25 :') #april 9 #bullets era #interview #2002

[ontheshroom]

500 followers smut celebration

Jack harlow x fem!reader

This is a choose your own story! I have different Aus (alternate universes) of Jack and then ofc regular Jack. Again all smutty!!

Dom!Jack

“Stop fuckin playin with me.” He says, gripping your neck gently.

You smile in his hold knowing your bratty tendencies are working for the better.

“Or what, you’re gonna make me stand in a corner?” You ask him teasingly.

Jack scoffs with his tongue pressed tightly against his cheek. His hand tightens ever so slightly before he brings you to your knees.

“I think it’s time you put that pretty mouth to some good use.” He says, unbuttoning his pants and releasing his dick from his boxers.

You barely have enough time before he’s guiding himself in your mouth. Spit quickly pools in your mouth and down your chin as he fucks your mouth.

“Mmm, there you go, pretty girl.”

“Look so good with your mouth full.”

Jack pushes your head all the way down till your nose is touching his pelvis. Tears stream down your eyes as you gag. He pulls you back, giving you a second to get air before thrusting back into your mouth. You swirl your tongue around the base of his dick causing a loud groan to leave his lips.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum.” He says.

He lets go of your head and you focus on his tip, licking and sucking on it gently.

Just as you take him while again he spurts his cum in your mouth.

“Shit, just like that.” He moans.

“Next time you catch a mouth again, I’ll fill it. Okay?” He asks.

“Okay.” You nod, remembering to mouth off to him more often.

Shy!Jack

“Jack, I’m confused. Can you help me?” You ask him, crossing the living room and sitting on the same couch as him.

“Yeah, what’s up?” He asks, moving his laptop off of his lap.

“What’s Mr. Shawn asking in this question?” You ask him, scooting closer to him.

“Let me see.” He says, looking over at you and struggling to keep his eyes off of your exposed cleavage.

“Oh. Uh, so basically like, solve the equation but he wants you to write all your steps out.” He tells you, looking up at you with rosy cheeks.

You bring your eraser pencil between your teeth and shake your head.

“I don’t get it.” You groan, leaning back on the couch.

“I think my brain is fried. I need a break.” You sigh.

“I can help you.” He says under his breath.

“Hmm?” You ask him.

“I can uh help. Like, relieve the stress.” He stutters.

“Okay, anything to have me not be doing this shit.” You roll your eyes.

“Can I eat you out?” He asks, boldly.

Your eyes widen at his request.

“I’m sorry what?”

“Well, it’s known that orgasms can help with concentration afterward, so I can help you.” He shrugs.

“Bu-“

“It’ll feel good, I promise.”

“Okay.” You agree, laying back on the couch.

Jack moves in between your legs and kisses up your neck. He suddenly begins to suck harshly leaving marks.

“Fuck.” You sigh.

He pulls your shirt over your head before moving to remove your bra. He instantly begins kissing your now-exposed chest.

“You’ve been teasing me all night, you know that?” He asks you.

“N-no.” You shake your head.

“These pretty tits out, they’re only for me to see though.” He says looking you in your eyes.

“Only for you.” You nod.

He pulls down your pants alongside your underwear causing you to close your legs out of shyness.

“You don’t have to hide from me, baby. I love every inch of you and more.” He says opening your legs and kissing up your thighs.

He fights the need to roll his eyes back into his head at the sight of your glistening pussy.

“So, so wet for me.” He says before licking a stripe up your cunt.

“Mm.” You moan, your hand coming up to massage your tit.

He slips to fingers in you, lazily fingering you but somehow hitting all the right spots. His tongue laps your clit sending your eyes rolling back.

“Just like that, Jack.” You moan.

“Fuck it feels so good.” You praise him.

He pumps his fingers faster and curls them. You attempt to run from the pleasure but he uses his other hand to keep you in place.

“Don’t run from me, baby. I don’t think I’d be able to stop.”

You could’ve cum from his words alone, and his actions following didn’t help either.

“I’m so close, Jack please don’t stop!” You moan loudly.

Your legs shake against him as the lewd noises from him pumping his fingers in you get louder and louder.

“That’s it, cum on my tongue.” He says before replacing his fingers with his tongue.

A rubber band snaps within you and just as he said you’re cumming on his tongue.

He lets you ride out your high before stopping. Your chest heaves up and down as you calm your heart rate.

“Feel better?”

“So much.” You breathe out causing him to chuckle.

Jack

“Fuck, we shouldn’t do this.” He says, connecting his lips with yours in a sloppy kiss.

“You don’t think I’ll be able to make you cum in 5 minutes?” You ask him, disconnecting the kiss and pulling down your pants.

“Lookin at you could make me cum.” He shakes his head.

“Then fuck me and then go on stage and make me proud.” You tell him, hopping onto the vanity and spreading your legs.

“Fuck.” He sighs, before undressing and standing between your legs.

He glides in with ease due to your wetness. The usual slow and sensual Jack is replaced with a needy and urgent Jack. He grips your hips tightly as he pumps himself in and out of you.

“Fuck!” You whimper at his pace.

“Shit, I love this pussy.” He groans, dropping his head to watch as he slides in and out of you.

You tighten your grip around him, yearning for more.

“Do that again.” He moans.

Continuously grip him as the two of you get closer and closer to your highs.

“Cum with me, Jack. Fill me up.” You moan.

As if in perfect sync the two of you cum together, each releasing loud moans.

You’re broken up by a knock on the door.

“You’re on in two Jack!” The voice yells.

You smile at him as he pulls out.

“There isn’t bad.” You shrug.

“Not at all.” He laughs, pulling up his pants and boxers.

“Go out there and make me proud.” You tell him, jumping off the vanity and kissing him.

He slaps your bare ass and smiles.

“Anything and everything for you, baby.”

CEO!Jack

“Bend over it. Now, go.” He says, snapping his fingers and pointing to the desk.

“There’s stuff on it.” You say quietly.

He scoffs and swipes everything on the desk.

“Better?” He asks as you stare at him with your mouth agape.

“Do you want me to ask again?” He asks you, waiting for you to complete his previous request.

“No sir, sorry sir.” You tell him.

You walk to the desk and bend over it, the cool air hitting your pussy per Mr. Harlow’s request of no underwear anymore.

“Now, when I’m in a meeting, I expect you to understand I’ll be meeting with some very important women and men. I must show respect to them, you know, keep the business running but you. You’re only required to respect me. So if a man asks you to go get his coffee, you tell him to do it his damn self. If a man ever again asks you, to grab something he dropped in front of him, you tell him to shove it up his ass, you hear me?” He asks, striking your asscheek with his hand.

“Yes, sir.” You whimper, jutting into the desk.

“Good.”

“And why do I say these things to you?” He asks, rubbing the sting away.

“Because I’m yo-“ You’re cut off by him thrusting into you.

“You’re what, baby?”

“I’m yours!” You gasp.

“There we go.” He says, thrusting into you so deep you’re convinced he’s in your stomach.

“Fuck!” You moan.

“You’re mine and only mine. Don’t forget it.” He says, quickening his pace.

Your hips hurt from the force they’re hitting the desk at but you can’t bring yourself to care. Your skirt is bunched up around your hips giving Jack the perfect view of how your skin ricochets with the collision of his hips hitting your ass. Your grip the desk tightly, digging your nails into it. It’s sure to leave marks on the desk, but Jack won’t mind, he’d probably trace the marks as he works.

“I’m gonna cum, sir!” You moan.

“Hold it.” You groan in frustration.

“You’re not cumming until my cum is burrowed deep inside you. Reminding you one last time that you’re mine.” He affirms.

“Jack, please!” You beg.

The sound of your name rolling off his tongue sends waves through his body and before he knows it he’s cumming deep inside you.

“Cum, pretty girl.” He says.

You’re cumming before his sentence is finished, your body weakening from the spasms it’s gone through.

“That’s it, baby.”

Aftercare

Breathless, your eyes begin to flutter shut as your energy levels drop.

“C’mon, y/n. Let’s go pee and then we can find some food for you to eat.” Jack tells you, pecking your lips.

“‘M tired.” You mumble.

“I know, baby, I know. You’ll feel better after we do all of this.” He says, helping you out of bed.

The two of you walk to the bathroom and he waits outside as you pee. Once you’re done he hands you one of his shirts and slips it over your head watching as it ends at your mid-thigh. He pees quickly before the two of you walk to the kitchen.

“Pizza okay?” He asks you, seeing as it was the only thing occupying his fridge at the time.

You nod in response and he sets a few slices on a plate and plops it into the microwave. Once it beeps the two of you walk into the living room together and eat while you watch a few episodes of late-night reruns of Martin. Neither of you notices your eyes fluttering shut but sure enough, the two of you fall asleep in each other’s arms

#ceo!jack #dom!jack #shy!jack #jack harlow #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow smut #jack harlow angst #jack harlow fic #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow x y/n #jack harlow fluff #jack harlow concepts #dad!jack #jack harlow dialogue

[garfeildfanpage]

Ok so on the topic of headcanons, I know I haven’t mentioned it yet but Terukane has been a gruesome infection in my brain for over 3 years now, and it’s about time I let the brain worms breathe

Terukane infested their way into my brain mostly because they both just so happen to be my favorite type of character design and character archetype (middle part and glasses / absolute wet cat of a man) so them also having a dynamic that makes me both very ill and also jump for joy is (to me) a combo made in heaven.

But I’m picky, especially picky with characterization in fan fiction. And I’m glad that most fics of them are written by people who understand how they behave in-series. Though my biggest fault may be that I love to write but hate the act of writing, so every idea I have is forever locked away in my noggin, I can attempt to get out something here.

Quick note I’m not a weirdo so don’t think I mean anything in any weird way at all, if you do I’ll eat your family. Okay? Okay.

Smitten Teru is probably my favorite out of any characterization of the two, just because I love how it can either be mindrottingly sweet or just ,sad, personally I love going the “kicking feet and giggling” route but both are great in their own regard.

It also might just be that I can’t really see Akane behaving the way he does for Aoi to Teru, a lot of people just kind of move Akane’s unhealthy attachment issues to him without understanding why Akane behaves like that around Aoi in the first place. (I have a whole thing about that) So it’s refreshing to have him, like, not do that.

To add onto that: aloof/repress feelings as hard as possible Akane totally rocks, and I love seeing it. Especially with the “why in the FUCK would I have LIKE someone like that??” kinda shit, rocks me, love it, can’t get enough. God it’s like the only time where cheesy relationship junk doesn’t give me second hand embarrassment, cause like they’re both so unbelievably stupid at relationships, and watching them be awkward and terrible at it really alleviates the whole existential life-or-death stuff happening in the actual manga. Losers in love kills me, and they are just that. GOD I WANT TO THROW THEM OFF A RAVINE

Also, I know a lot of fan fiction does this, but it’s never to the degree that I wish it was. Flustered/embarrassed teru kills me. It always kills me in anything when he just acts like a normal person, just like, expressing normal people emotions but because he’s so repressed it just like kills him. GOD I went through like a six month period of not crying and the moment I did again it felt like I got hit by a bus, could not IMAGINE barely ever crying my whole damn life. A good hard cry, that’s what he needs.

Anyway, I think that’s enough, if I let the brain worms out anymore they’ll form a union and force me to pay them more. Ninja out

#hot cheese #jibaku shounen hanako kun #jshk #tbhk #toilet bound hanako kun #god i love tagging this totally isn’t a massive inconvenience #teru minamoto #minamoto teru #akane aoi #which do I tag I don’t know I hate this website #aoi akane #aidairo I know it was so funny to make their names match but you have therefore cursed an entire fandom into getting their names confused #terukane #ummmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

[chaotic-iguana]

bruh.

what. what the fuck.

writing started off as an exploration; a hobby that i was just trying out. something new, to pass the time. but i feel like it has now evolved into an extension of my art. over time, my stories starting having more and more elements of the poetry-inspired commentary i like to have in the forefront of my paintings, or very simply the imagery i used to include in my poems themselves.

but that isn’t even the best part.

i’ve been writing for around a month, and i absolutely adore literally every single mutual i have on here. @breakfastatjoels, @mandoisapunk, @josephquinnswhore, @bastardmandennis, @nostalxgic, @pedrosaidsheispunk, @theywhowriteandknowthings @millerscoffee

you’re all such inspirations im so glad to know u all thank u all for existing i gen would not have kept writing/still be on this site without yall and i promise im wrapping up i just think its a little fucked that im…gaining traction? how? and the crazy thing?? that list of ppl tagged up there are like just the ones i could remember off the top of my head!! there’s so many more! @imherefordeanandbones, was my first follower and the first on my taglist, and one of the first people to make me think my writing was actually not that bad for a beginner!!

anyways while i literally question everything and melt in gratitude, i hope you all have great days. thank you very much. let’s hope we see many more!!

enough sappy shit.

as a celebration, im gonna write fics, blurbs or hcs (saw/nsfw) based on the following prompts:

this is from @havenoffandoms 800 follower celebration! just send me your character pairing and prompt. list below the cut

“I’m in love with you. Please, don’t leave me.”

“Shut up and kiss me.”

“It’s really not that complicated.”

“You’re in love with them, aren’t you?”

“We could get arrested for this.”

“I thought you were dead.” 

“You’re never going to let that go, are you?”

“Love is overrated.”

“If you think I’m going to talk to you while you’re dressed like that, you’re wrong!”

“Do you ever actually use your cellphone?”

“You don’t need to protect me.”

“You fainted… right into my waiting arms. You know, if you wanted my attention you didn’t have to go to such extremes.”

“You have to make a choice.”

“You have to remember.”

“You heard me. Take. It. Off.”

“You know, it’s okay to cry.”

“You lied to me!”

“You make me feel like I’m not good enough.”

“You need to wake up cause I can’t do this without you.”

“You’ll be the death of me.”

“The only thing hotter than seeing your orgasm is seeing your smile.”

“Where do you think you’re going dressed like that? Your body is for my eyes only.”

“From the minute I met them, there was no choice. They’re smart. They’re strong. They resent their parents enough to go for a person like me. Also they’re crazy hot.”

“What do you mean, I’m not scary? I literally nearly scared the life out of a man?” “You literally scared a little saliva and a little urine out of him.”

“When someone your age dies, you instinctively want to hear it was of something that could never happen to you. Well, it’s the same with divorce.”

“I get to stay home and plan the death of Dora the Explorer. Fill her backpack with bricks and throw her into the Candy Cane River.”

“You don’t ‘take a run’ at a person. You woo them. You make them feel special.” “Hey honey, look at this. It’s a picture of my butt.”

“I don’t like you.” “I’ll get over it.”

“You’re one of the most beautiful person I know, and you don’t even know it.” “No, I know it.”

“Why do you always have to throw wet blankets on my dreams?” “I do not.” “Yes you do. And you know what I end up with? Wet dreams.”

“So you’re gonna throw me under the bus?” “Oh, I’m gonna throw you so hard I might even win a stuffed animal.”

“Who wouldn’t be angry if you ate all the cereal and faked your death for three years?”

“Quick, catch the cat it stole my coin pouch!”

“I feel like I was just hit by a car… wait, I did? And it was YOUR car?”

“I can’t believe I’m sitting in a dungeon with you of all people.”

“So why do I have to punch that guy?”

“I may have accidentally sort of adopted five goats.”

“I hope you know that my name is actually _____”

“Please stop petting the prisoners.”

“Please put me down, it’s just a sprained ankle.”

“So what if I broke my arm, I’m still doing it.”

“Why exactly do you need chloroform at 2am?”

“I’m like 75% sure this won’t explode in our faces.”

“You know how my people are, we would destroy ourselves just for spite.”

“Wait, is that what you were trying to do? I’m sorry, I would’ve taken you much more seriously if I knew.”

“Let’s not blow the extortion charge out of proportion. My boss was just a sore loser.”

“Of all things, you would have thought that the rain was innocuous enough. Turns out, nothing is innocuous in this Gods forsaken place!”

“It’s illegal to make unauthorized species. But it’s also illegal to kill endangered species. Thankfully, I only did one of each.”

“The secret ingredient isn’t human flesh, that’s all I can say.”

“Where’s the king?” “He’s being chased by a wyvern. It’s an old tradition, you see.”

“If I serenade for you, will you strip for me?”

“This is new.”

“Make me.”

“Shh. Stop fussing. I’m just braiding your hair.”

“If you steal the blankets, I’m going to put my cold feet on you.”

“Don’t be stubborn. Try it.”

“You are very endearing when you are half-asleep.”

“I heard you talking in your sleep.”

“The thought of losing you scares me.”

“Don’t smile at me like that. You know it drives me crazy.”

thank you. love you all.

#follower celebration #400 followers #thank you #love you all literally so much

[themultifandomgal]

From 2010- Modest Management Suck

2012

Part 20

“We’re about to go out and do some signing” Harry says to the camera

“We’re at Natick Mall in Boston. It’s gonna be really fun, we’ve heard there’s loads and loads of people and we’re very very excited” Niall says as I laugh at Louis pretending to walk down stairs behind us

“Let’s go!” Liam and Harry shout at the same time. We stand behind a door waiting for it to open

“Anyone else feeling nervous?” I ask feeling a slight tingling in my toes and fingers. I can also feel my heart racing

“It’s excitement, you’ll be fine” I hear Richard say. Nodding my head I watch the doors open and I put a smile on my face. I walk behind Harry and in front of Niall just trying to focus on my breathing as we walk through the Mall where so many people are screaming. We all sit down shocked that this many people have come out to see us. The security then let the fans in small groups come over to us. We sigh the books that we had released late last year.

Throughout the whole time I try to keep smiling and my heart racing at bay, but I can always count on my boys for noticing when somethings off. So when we have a little break for something to eat I sit down on the sofa breathing in deeply

“What’s up?” Louis asks frowning as he sits next to me

“I don’t know, my chest hurts” I almost sob “I- I can’t stop shaking, but I’m not cold I’m really warm”

“Paul I don’t think YN should go back out there” Liam says

“No, but Simon…”

“Fuck Simon and what he says” Niall says sitting on my other side

“She’s going out there even if I have to drag her out there” Richard crosses his arms

“Look at her, she can barley breathe” Paul defends

“I think this is makin’ her worse” Harry kneels down and takes a shaking hand in his and gives it a squeeze of reassurance

“She’s going out there and that’s final” with that Richard leaves the room

“Hey jus’ look at me and breath with me” I try to match Harry’s breathing to calm myself down.

Another day another performance. This time is for the Today Show. We arrive on a bus which stops at the Rockefeller Plaza. We all jump off and run to the stage as music is already playing

“New York City make some noise!” Harry yells into his microphone. Immediately WMYB starts playing

“You're insecure, don't know what for. You're turnin' heads when you walk through the door. Don't need makeup to cover up. Bein' the way that you are is enough” Liam starts singing. Harry then turns to look at me and gives me a little encouraging smile since I’ve been feeling so worried and stressed recently

“Everyone else in the room can see it. Everyone else but you”

We all sing the chorus, then it’s Zayn’s turn then mine

“I don't know why you're being shy and turn away when I look into your eyes”…

“One Directions first album has hit number 1 in 6 countries and they could make it 7 this week when Up All Night is released here in the United States. One Direction is Zayn Malik, Niall Horan, Harry Styles, Liam Payne, Louis Tomlinson and YN YLN. Good morning guys”

“Morning” we all say in unison

“What do you like best about American girls?” the interviewer asks and I roll my eyes at the question. I then spot Richard off to the side shaking his head at me

“They’re very very loud” Liam says which causes everyone to scream

“YN what’s it like for you? Your living every girls dream right now being close to these boys all of the time”

“Your right I am living my dream, but it’s being on stage and singing. I’m just lucky I get to do that with these guys I can call family” I reply

“What’s the best and worst part of this sudden fame?”

“I think for me and I know these guys will probably agree, but I’ve made 5 best friends” Zayn says “the only down side would be that we don’t get to see our friends and family as much” or that our every move is controlled, is what I would love to have added on. We continue on the interview and sing a few more songs.

I stand next to Louis and Harry while our choreographer puts us in our places for rehearsals for the Kids Choice Awards

“I want YN and Zayn to switch” Richard says hands on his hips “we can’t afford more cheating rumours so during this song you have to stay away from each other”

“And what happens when the press say YN and Liam are dating or YN and Niall?” Zayn asks

“We will deal with that if it happens. Harry I’m looking into getting you and Taylor Swift together. Boots both of your careers”

“Are you serious?” Zayn raises his eyebrow “this is ridiculous” he huffs

“Simons wishes, keep rehearsing” Richard then leaves us to carry on rehearsals. I take in a deep breath just as I feel an arm around my shoulder. I look up to see Zayn

“I know, me to” neither Zayn or I have ever liked Richard, but we’ve always tried to keep the peace but it’s getting harder and harder.

#harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles x oc #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles #6th one direction member #sixth one direction member #one direction x reader #one direction

[thesaturn1nez]

Hit me with your Lenard HCs!

silly guy :> pretty sure he’s a fan favorite so i hope these don’t disappoint ]:

Lenard 🎵

• i don’t care if it’ll make him happy: do not let them get their hands on a tuba.

• was one of the more popular characters, so they had a good amount of time in episodes and assets dedicated to him. even then, he never saw the others, especially Norman as lesser. in fact he always sympathetic to Norman’s distress and would always try to make it up to him by letting Norman be the first person to hear about what they got to do on set.

• somewhat protective of Norman. not as much these days, but it’ll become more evident when they both begin to regain some sanity. it isn’t in a controlling way, its more innocent than you’d expect, like Lenard trying to keep Norman from picking up a The Ugly Duckling book because No, Norman! Put it down!! That story makes you cry, badly!!!

• prefers to sing songs they knows by heart, but does not oppose to the idea of learning new ones. just make sure they’re family friendly because they will repeat it.

• very dramatic. have you ever seen that clip ‘tinkerbell dies of lack of attention’

• definitely cisn’t, just doesn’t know the actual term itself or the best way to describe it. he’d eventually find out some point post-true ending thanks to an article Gordon noticed fit the way Lenard had tried to explain his feelings. He spent the rest of the day happily running around stage four telling people, “I’m a gender :D!!”

• was the most frightened by the guns. if there was one difficulty when it came to having Lenard on set, it was how he’d try to flee the second they saw someone holding one. to anyone else, it was just annoying- like having to deal with a little kid who was scared of getting a flu shot. Lenard could care less if you hold the gun to his head nowadays, mostly due to losing his mind and any sense of fear they previously had.

• there were so many times in the old episodes where he stole the show just with his acting. now, he’s having a tough time getting back to his old roles, due to developing something akin to stage fright during the shutdown.

• remember that guy i mentioned who was fond of Norman and tried getting him more roles? he was Lenard’s handler. unfortunately he wasn’t as caring towards Lenard. he tolerated them at first, but over the years the dude started viewed him as an attention seeking brat who was too self-assured for their own good. he’d kick Lenard away if they ever got clingy, usually targetting the puppet’s legs just to ensure he’d topple over.

• he doesn’t really consider his handler’s treatment of him as anything severe, just a couple of .. bad days. he’d probably bring them up to Gordon casually like he’s talking about missing the bus 😭

• his cane used to just serve as a theatrical one, but when they figured out Lenard had some difficulty getting around Al got them to make him another specifically to assist them with walking. unfortunately others did not get the memo and would sometimes put away Lenard’s cane without permission :[ this is where that ‘lenard sidequest’ comes in.

• the original Lenard is noticeably shorter than the others, so it’s easy to identify him. not that you’ll have to, he’s always either following Gordon or being carried by him. Ricky loves bringing this up. not to mention Lenard always talking about how he and Gordon look so similar, even going as far as to use the word ‘twins’. Ricky also likes to bring this up.

• in the show’s earlier seasons, there would be ‘story time’ parts where the puppets would reenact classic fairytales. Lenard and Ricky usually got to play as the ‘damsel in distress’ and girl leads because Junebug and Lilianna always wanted the roles with more action. the kids found it funnier this way, so why not.

there’s a newspaper clipping somewhere discussing the ‘banned’ episode where George and Lenard definitely clearly did not fake kiss in their renedition of Snow White.

#my friendly neighborhood #mfn #mfn lenard #implied past abuse #mfn headcanons #headcanons #the mail comes everyday #kiss hc wasnt made with shipping in mind but feel free to ship #i need a whole post dedicated to the gordon and lenard friendship i was tryin to make this as lenard centric as i could #i ended up removing the more angsty hcs youre all spared for Another day #he/they lenard supremacy #lottie sucks at headcanons

[heelhausen]

Ok fuck it we ball. I need to go to bed but I’m posting the in progress drabble yeehaw.

There’s three quick raps on the bus door. When no answer meets them, the handle is tried. When it doesn’t budge, Roman hears the sound of shuffling and scratching for a few seconds. A telltale *click* rings loudly against the silence. The door swings open, and Roman doesn’t have to look to know who just barged in on him.

“The door was locked for a reason, Crash.” He calls, unable to stop his voice from cracking.

He buries his face in the pillow and hopes the fabric will be dark enough for Crash not to notice the wet spots his tears have left on the case.

Something cold is pressed to the back of Roman’s neck, making him jump a little and roll over so he can angrily squint up at Crash. There’s a water bottle being shoved in his face.

“Drink.” Crash instructs firmly.

What can Roman do but obey?

He sits up. He takes the bottle in shaking hands. He sips his water and watches Crash putter about the tour bus. It’s convenient that Roman’s favorite “pouting spot” (as Crash once put it) is in the kitchenette area— it gives him a prime position to watch Crash roll up his sleeves and start pulling out supplies from the cabinets.

The first thing he goes for is a small towel, which he runs under cold water to dampen before ringing out the excess. He returns to Roman with the towel in hand.

“Scoot.” Crash murmurs, nudging Roman’s legs out of the way so he can sit on the edge of the bench.

“C’mere. Just breathe.”

Crash cups Roman’s jaw with his left hand and carefully wipes at his face with the damp towel. He goes slow and steady, dabbing away the tears and easing the heat in Roman’s cheeks. God, he hadn’t realized how red his face must look. His eyes feel impossibly puffy.

“Good boy.” Crash tells him.

“Shouldn’t you be out there celebrating my downfall with everyone else?” Roman asks.

“Tomorrow night, they’re going to be chanting ‘Thank you, Roman’ loud enough that the arena will quake.” Crash replies. “Tomorrow night, you’re going to be well-rested enough to appreciate when they do it.”

“I lost, Crash.”

“So did Gunther. That doesn’t eliminate the six hundred and sixty six days that he held the IC Title for. You carried that belt for four years, Ro. It’s time you get the chance to lay down your burden and rest.”

Roman wants to argue. The best statement he can manage falls flat even as he says it. “I hit Seth with a steel chair.”

Crash shrugs. “You can apologize tomorrow.”

“He hit me first. Ten years ago. He hit me first. You told me I had to let it go. But I couldn’t let it go. And it cost me the match.”

“Yeah, dude, that happens sometimes. You gonna mope about it all night, or are you gonna let me help you wash up and untangle the mess in your hair?”

Roman stares at him. What else can he do?

#crashreigns #oc: crash #wiphausen #drabblehausen

[hannahssimblr]

Chapter Three

A wall of heat hits our faces as Marnie and I shuffle into a cocktail bar that evening. It’s a hopping, trendy place right in the centre of town, and even though it’s Tuesday night it’s full. It’s one of those places that will set you back nearly fifteen euro for some obscure, designer cocktail called Foxy Kitten Vodka Tonic, and other such names that are so humiliating to say out loud that you end up getting flustered and ordering rum and coke instead.

We leave our jackets in the cloak room, and I strip down to my skimpy dress, worn with no tights in icy cold weather like true red blooded Irish girls do. Marnie didn’t dress up though, she’s too cool. She’s wearing the same mesh top and black runners she was in earlier, but I could never go to a bar casually. It’s just not what small town girls do, and Claire would have never allowed me to leave our apartment in any other state. My feet already hurt in my five inch heels after walking the ten minutes from the bus stop,  but I don’t dare complain. I just slide into a booth and start looking at the drinks menu, slipping out of them and uncurling my cramped feet on the cool tile floor underneath the table while trying not to outwardly shudder with relief. 

“Wine as usual, is it, Evie, or will we try to seize the spirit of the night and be adventurous?” Marnie’s got her nose in the menu, and I can barely hear what she’s saying over the thumping remix of some Katy Perry song.

“I think it will have to be the wine.” I reply, my head spinning at the prices. You know you’re in the wrong bar when a cocktail costs half of your weekly food budget. 

“Oh boring. Have a Sloe Comfortable Screw Up Against a Wall or something. Come on, you and I are out on the pull, let’s get ourselves loosened up a bit.”

“I’m not ordering a cocktail called that.” 

“I’ll order it for you if you don’t want to say it.” She points out the ingredients to me. “It looks so yum.” She flips through the menu with a concentrated face. “What do you reckon has the most possible alcohol in it? I feel like I need to get absolutely plastered so I can get through an evening in this bar. The vibes are absolutely rancid.”

“We can go if you want.” I say hopefully, picturing an evening curled up in my bed with a hot water bottle. 

“Stop. We’re not leaving. Now which cocktail will it be?” 

I’m still insisting on the Pinot Grigio when a group of NCAD students join us and start sliding into our booth with us. Marnie wanted us to have a group night, because apparently just having two of us alone would have been sad, and because she’s an extrovert she’s not very good at coping unless she’s surrounded by as many different people as possible. 

“Oh, sorry.” One girl says as she clambers over me, her elbow colliding with my forehead, and I smile and pretend that it’s fine. They’re all talking now, the cacophonous sound of at least twelve art students with interesting haircuts filling up my stratosphere. I reach underneath the table to put my shoes back on again, and when I glance down at my little satin dress and strappy heels, I’m struck by how completely out of place I look among everyone else. Apparently I should have worn jeans, flat shoes, edgier makeup, but this is just another case of me missing out on the memo. No matter what I do, no matter where I am I can never seem to get things right. At school I was never dressed up enough, my attempts were always misguided and awkward, and now that I’ve figured that out, I’ve found dresses that hug my body in the right places, shoes that make my legs look impossibly long, the rules have changed again. I excuse myself and wriggle out of the booth. I don’t need to use the bathroom but I want to go and stare at myself agitatedly in the mirror. Maybe I can run a little more kohl around my eyes, smudge it out, muss up my hair a bit so that I look a little more Alexa Chung. 

I shove through the doors and plant myself in front of the sinks, then pull my blunt eyeliner pencil from my little handbag and start raking it along my waterline. With my little finger I rub it in, making sure to get it onto the bottom lids so that it looks like I literally woke up like this. I was partying so hard, I just passed out somewhere and now I’m here again, in another bar. I’m just beginning to back comb the sleek, straightness out of my hair with my fingers when someone comes out of one of the cubicles. I don’t pay her any attention until she’s washing her hands next to me, and that’s when I recognise her. Kind of. From somewhere, only I can’t place her small, delicate features. She sniffs gently and rubs her hand under her nose, and then briefly meets my eyes in the mirror. She doesn’t recognise me either, her gaze just slides away. 

I’m just about to let it go when someone speaks from behind me. 

“Evie?”

I whirl around, and it’s Jen. I look at her, then look at the other girl, flooded with recognition. I do know her from somewhere. Michelle. The famous Michelle who I agonised over for weeks, zooming in on photographs of her pretty face, letting her tear down and completely destroy all semblances of my self-esteem without needing to ever say a word to each other. How could I forget?

“Oh my God. Hi Jen.” I say with surprise. She looks different now. Gone is the bright red cropped hair that she had before, now it’s chin length and straight, jet black with her roots and ends dyed bright, lurid magenta. She comes up to me for a hug, and I notice that she looks a little ashen faced, hands trembling slightly, but her hug is warm and familiar and somehow manages to transport me to a different time and place for a fleeting moment.

“You got extremely hot.” She comments and she stands back. “Wow, look at you.”

“Oh, stop.” I say shyly. “I feel so overdone.”

“That’s just what first years do.” She reassures me. “Spend enough nights out on the streets at two in the morning trying to flag down a taxi, and you’ll change your tune pretty quickly.” She peers down at my shoes. “I personally wouldn’t have fun trying to hike home in those.”

“They’re painful.” I admit, and I lean back against the sink unit to take the weight off them. 

“So what’s your story now? It’s been absolute ages since I’ve seen you. Where are you living?”

“Fitzwilliam Square.” I say, and then cringe in anticipation of her reaction. She boggles her eyes and makes an astonished face, just like everybody else who hears. 

“That’s so fancy, oh my god. What’s the rent on that?”

“Three hundred.” I say, hoping the conversation will move on quickly so I don’t have to get into the whole thing about it. It’s Claire’s dad’s property, and it’s not the whole building, it’s just the top two floors. There was a couple living there before we moved in, and when he evicted them for vague reasons both he and Claire acted like that was a totally normal thing to do, so I went along with it. I usually like to leave all that out now that I’ve learned that unlawful eviction is not okay, actually, and that for most people in this city, the term “Landlord” is synonymous with the words “Filthy, Diseased Bin Rat.” Happily though, Jen just muses about how cheap that sounds, and then moves on. 

“And did you get into art college in the end?”

“I did! I’m in NCAD.”

“Oh, sick. Same as Michelle.”

I turn to the other girl, who’s waiting patiently for Jen to wrap up, smiling blandly at me while she dries her hands with toilet roll, since none of the hand dryers are ever working in these places. 

“Shell.” Jen prompts. “Do you remember Evie?”

“I don’t.” She says in her soft, feminine voice. “Sorry, have we met before?”

“Kind of.” I shrug, wishing to avoid getting into the where and whens of our last encounter. “It was ages ago though, don’t worry.”

“She was at Jude’s going away party.” Jen informs her, and I have to turn away from her, his name like a blade in my gut. I have to resist the urge to wince. I start messing with my hair in the mirror again. 

“That was literal years ago.” I say tightly. “No worries if you can’t remember me. I can’t really remember you either.”

“I’m sorry, I actually don’t.” Michelle says. “That’s probably really bad, but thinking back, like, there were loads of people there, and like you said it was ages ago.”

“No worries.” I repeat. 

“So you’re a friend of his?”

“Not really.”

“You were.” Jen says defensively, then to Michelle: “She was. They were close that summer.”

“I knew him for a few months, and now I don’t know him anymore.” I say brusquely. For some reason my hands are shaking as I try to stuff my makeup back into my bag, and my spine feels like it’s made from steel cable. 

“I didn’t know you fell out.” Jen says with a frown. “Did something happen?”

“Nothing happened, he just obviously wasn’t bothered about me, so…”

“He never mentioned that to me.”

I sigh loudly. Of course he didn’t. I’m sure he never talked about me at all, not even once. ‘Well,” I say shakily. “It’s better that we don’t talk anymore, I’ve been too busy, and like I said, we hardly knew each other, so actually, it’d be weird if we stayed in touch. We both have other priorities.”

“You know he used to be my boyfriend.” Michelle tells me, I don’t look at her, but I can see her leaning into the sink in my periphery, watching me as I drop my eyeliner pencil and let it roll into the basin. “I know how he is. Or was. He was so immature, and I don’t think he really cared about anybody but himself, so like, if he was a dickhead to you or hurt your feelings-”

“Nah we weren’t that close.” I insist. “We just hung out sometimes and then he moved away, it was nothing.”

“Oh.” She watches me attempt to zip up my bag with increasing frenzy, and I know that she doesn’t believe me. 

“Anyway.” I say, flinging it over my shoulder. “So nice to see you both again, but I’m going to go back to my friends.” I flounce out of the bathroom, but instead of turning right and going back to the bar, I swing left and head out to the smoking area, pushing through the doors into the freezing air, which flings shards of ice at my face and my bare arms and legs. I want some air, but actually, the air out there is the furthest thing from fresh. I stand there shivering, looking into the faces of all of the people out there with me, trying to deduct which one has the least threatening aura, and would be most likely to let me bum a cigarette just so I can do something with my trembling hands. 

Prev // Next

#sims #sims 4 #ts4 #simlit #sims 4 story #sims story #writing #fiction #romance #sims 4 storytelling #sims4 storytelling #sims storytelling #lucky girl part 2

[trexrambling]

Broken Heels (II / III)

Request: “There's a protective Dean and Sam some kind of thing. They're friends with fem!reader, a shy and graceful girl. A long time ago the brothers took her in and a deep friendship was born. She only helps with research because she suffers from a heart failure, which leads to her being often dizzy nauseated and breathless. The brother care for her and always keep an eye out on her. Dean is secretly in love with her and vice versa. But neither of them admits it. One night Dean brings home some of his flings and the girl is really cruel to the reader.... Reader spirals into a rabbit hole, taking the things the bitch said to her to heart.... And shit hits the fan?! Some angst, drama and fluff, protective Winchesters.” - by anon

Word Count: 2,350

Warnings: side effects due to heart failure, language, negative self-talk

A/N: Italics refers to flashbacks. I broke this request into two three parts because it ended up being much longer than expected. No beta, all mistakes are mine, please message me if you see any! Watercolor heart from the header image credit. 

(Read Part 1)

xxxxxxxxxx

“What are you doing out here?”

You smile softly at Sam’s voice, scooch over to make room for him on the park bench. “Just thinking.”

“About?” He settles beside you, an arm automatically wrapping around your shoulders to help offset the cold.

You gladly lean into his warmth. “How all I’m good for is reading a book and taking notes. How I can’t fight, can’t protect you guys, can’t even protect myself. That I’m basically a potato lump you guys get to drag around. You know, the usual.”

He’s quiet, but you can feel him thinking. You resume your watch of a cardinal nest you’d spotted earlier, see the dad dart back in with a fresh worm hanging from his beak. The simplicity of their lives is lost to them, just another day being a creature that can fly above the rest of us.

“You mean so much to us, Y/N. You know that, right? You have more to offer than you give yourself credit for.”

“Dean doesn’t seem to think so.”

He sighs. “So that’s what this is about.”

You start to pull away, but his arm tightens around you. You groan in frustration, snatch some of the emotions rolling through your mind and string them into a coherent thought.

“I just got in the way today, made things dangerous for everyone. It’s like Dean said, it would have been better if I’d just stayed home.”

You feel him shake his head, and you lean back to look up at him with a scowl on your face. “What? You heard him. He literally said-”

“He loves you, you know.”

Your eyes widen, and your mind goes blank for a split second before a whole new wave of thoughts crash through it. “I mean… I know you guys love me. I love you guys, too.”

“He was worried for you today, Y/N. Scared, even. Scared he might lose you. No one could have known that the demon was going to be waiting for us, that they had reinforcements. It was all a huge mess, and you were almost seriously hurt.”

Your brow furrows. “Yeah, but… he yelled at me.”

Sam sighs. “Yeah, he does that.”

You can feel the confusion on your face. “I don’t get it.”

He smiles down at you. “I don’t think Dean does yet, either.”

xxxxxxxxxx

You opted to get a bus ticket back home. It was, after all, your right to choose whatever mode of transportation you damn well pleased. And right now that meant not being in the back of the Impala with Dean in the front seat where he could stare you down in the rearview mirror every few seconds.

You also had the right to pack up your stuff and go to the bus stop without saying a word to anyone. Hell, you didn’t even leave a note. Guilt, however, did have you sending a quick text to Sam letting him know you’d see him back home and that you were fine. You then promptly turned your phone to ‘do not disturb’ mode and climbed aboard the bus.

Earbuds in, your favorite playlist blasting, you lean your head back against the seat’s headrest and try to sleep. It should prove to be an easy task because you’re absolutely exhausted, and the walk to the bus station had taken its toll. And yet…

It’s a half moon tonight, and you stare at its bright form in the cloudless sky as cars whiz around you on the road. It’s going to be a good many hours before you’re back, and more than likely another few days before Dean and Sam follow behind you. The guilt of leaving them in the middle of a hunt boils in your gut, threatening to overflow the edges of your current state of sanity.

It’s not like they need you. Sure, you can hold your own with Sam when it comes to the research side of things. You can make coffee in the mornings, throw a meal together for dinner, make sure everyone has what they need. But when it comes to the actual job part of the job, the part where the monster is taken care of and lives are saved… Well, you get to twiddle your thumbs in a room and wait while the guys handle it.

And then there’s the things that they definitely don’t need you for. Don’t want you for. Things that a girl in a black dress and heels can handle.

God, that girl. You don’t even know her name and you hate her. Maybe not knowing her name makes hating her easier, makes her feel less than human to you. If she doesn’t have a name, then you can’t imagine Dean saying it while they…

You let out a low groan, and the person sitting beside you gives you a hard side eye and shifts further away in their seat. You stay quiet after that, but the thoughts raging in your head don’t.

You must have drifted off, because the next thing you hear is the blaring horn of the bus and lively, muffled chatter over the music playing in your ears. You yank your headphones out and raise yourself up to get a better look at whatever is happening, hands clutching the seat in front of you for support while your brain rapidly tries to decipher what the hell is going on.

The horn blares again, followed by obscenities from the driver up front. You whip your head around, trying to see out all the windows.

“Can you believe this guy?” someone says a few rows up.

“They’re going to run someone off the road,” another person chimes in.

You shove your headphones into your jacket pocket and grab your bag before unceremoniously stepping over your seat buddy and making your way into the isle, senses on high alert.

Did the monster we were hunting somehow track me? Get my scent? That’s crazy, right?

One step at a time, using the seats as a makeshift handrail, you get closer to the people who seem to be able to see what’s happening. Your mind is already formulating a plan of escape, all the worst case scenarios playing on a loop with game plans to match them. You finally make it to the front of the bus, a bit breathless and running high on adrenaline.

“Excuse me, what’s going on?”

The bus driver gestures wildly at the cars ahead. “This dumbass.”

And then you see it.

And it’s definitely not a scenario you have an escape plan for.

The handrail above your head is the only thing keeping you on your feet as shock floods your system. You blink your eyes and lean closer to the windshield, the synapses in your brain firing at high speed but still unable to truly connect if what is happening is actual reality or if you’ve somehow slipped into a demented, yet highly vivid, dream. Which would honestly make more sense to you, because…

…that’s the Impala.

Right there.

Directly in front of the bus you’re standing precariously in the isle of.

So close to the front of the bus that if the driver were to tap on the gas he’d rear-end Baby’s back bumper.

“What the hell?” is all you can manage to say. Because what in the hell indeed.

A flannel clad arm, illuminated by the bus’ headlights, sticks out the Impala’s front window, waving off and to the right, a wild gesture that can only be interpreted as ‘pull over’.

“This guy’s insane,” the bus driver mutters.

“You have no idea,” you say under your breath, then a bit louder- “You should probably pull over.”

He glances at you in surprise. “Wait, do you know this moron?”

“Uh-huh-” your grip on the railing above you is now slippery with anxious sweat- “and I don’t think he’s going anywhere.”

The bus’ blinker clicks on, the speedometer needle moving counter-clockwise as the wheel turns to the right, the rumble strip vibrating the floor under your feet as brake lines squeal in protest. All movement is finally halted with one final lurch.

“Do I need to call the police?” the driver asks you.

His offer is very tempting. You let go of the rail, wipe your sweat soaked palm on your pants, and then clap your hand on his shoulder. “I’ll let you know.”

Loud raps on the bus door make you both jump. The glass is tinted, and it’s still dark outside despite the hint of daybreak teasing its appearance on the skyline, but there’s no mistaking the outline of the man on the other side.

“Should I…open the door?”

“Yes!” someone from the back of the bus yells.

You turn your head and look back, perplexed, only to realize that all of the passengers are either halfway standing up in their seat or leaning out into the aisle, watching. Their investment in the unfolding drama is almost on the same level of intensity as your desperation to avoid it.

The bus driver is waiting for you to answer. You don’t want to answer. You also don’t want Dean to break the door down.

So you nod.

And then the door is open, and Dean is staring at you, eyes tight around the edges, hair a bit out of place, as if he’s been running his hands through it.

He doesn’t say anything, just takes the first step onto the bus and holds an open hand out, an offering for you to take it.

And you do.

xxxxxxxxxx

“Quit looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

You roll your eyes and flick some flour in Dean’s direction. “Like you’re going to waste away into a pile of dust on the floor if I don’t let you pre-taste the pie.”

His eyes go round. “Wait, you weren’t going to let me have some? Not even the bowl? Come on, Y/N, everyone knows that’s the best part.”

You laugh at the desperation in his voice and spoon the last bit of filling into the crust lined dish. “I don’t even like making pie. I’m only doing this because you asked me to, so…” When he doesn’t respond, you look over. He’s just staring…at the bowl. Feeling the weight of your eyes, he glances up.

“Huh, did you say something?”

You sigh deeply, but there’s a smile on your face as you grip the ceramic and then slide it with a small push across the table into his waiting hands. “Do you want a spoon for-”

His finger is already scraping the remnants from the edges, popping a filling coated finger into his mouth to suck it clean before diving right back in for more.

A snort pushes past your nostrils, quickly evolving into a laugh that has you doubled over, hands on your knees.

“What’s so funny?”

Your laughter turns to a cough just as quickly, and when you do your best to suck it back in something must have gotten snorted in the wrong direction because your diaphragm decides to start spasming, leaving you in a now seated position on the floor with high pitched hiccups squeaking through every few seconds.

Dean hasn’t left the table. He just looks down at you from his seat, licks another finger full of pre-pie into his mouth, and quips - “You good down there?”

“No thanks to-” -hic- “you! Ah, dammit, I-” -hic- “hate hiccups. This isn’t-” -hic- “fair.”

He eventually sets the bowl down and walks over to you, helps you up with a sly grin on his face. “There’s an easy way to get rid of them, you know.”

“Well then-” -hic- “please do share with the-” -hic- “rest of the class.”

He takes a step closer to you, and you instinctively take a step back. But he only moves again, and with your next step your back hits the wall. He’s suddenly close. Very close. His socked feet touch the tips of your bare toes, one arm resting on the wall above your head, his head turned down so he can look you in the eyes. His chest is so close that you’d only need to lean forward to be flush against it, the gray short sleeve he’s wearing outlining his muscles.

Your whole body is warm, and a tingle runs down your spine when he firmly takes your hand in his. You swallow, watch as his eyes dart to your lips. You subconsciously bite the bottom one, an anxious tell you’ve carried all your life.

And then the playful look is gone from his face, shifting into something that holds a deeper intensity. He blinks and clears his throat, moves his arm from the wall and takes a small step back. You’re intently aware that, despite the separation, he’s still holding your hand.

“So, uh-” he clears his throat again- “are they gone?”

You take a deep breath through your nose, try to slow your pounding heartbeat. “What? Is what gone?”

“Your hiccups.”

“Oh.” You breathe deeply again, try to keep your face clear of the emotions that are screaming to be let free. “Um, yeah. Yes.” They’re gone, and with them your ability to breathe properly.

“Awesome.” He gives your hand a small squeeze and then drops it.

“Oooh, are we making pie?” Sam, the blessed knife to cut the uncomfortably thick tension, strides into the kitchen. You let out a sigh of relief at his presence, cut your eyes to Dean one last time before returning to your previous spot at the table.

“Hey, hands off!” you exclaim, smacking Sam’s hand away from where he’d been about to dip it straight into the center of the uncovered pie. “I’m not done with that yet. Maybe Dean will share the mixing bowl with you.”

“Not a chance.” Dean quickly scoops the bowl into the crook of his arm and reclaims his seat. “I called dibs.”

And, just like that, things go back to normal.

But you don’t.

You can’t get the look in Dean’s eyes, the way he was looking at you, out of your head.

xxxxxxxxxx

Read Part 3

Tags for this story (and this story alone, as all other tag lists have been discontinued): @iprobablyshipit91​ @senjoritanana​ @amythyststorm33​ @morgiex​ @sushiumex​

#broken heels #spn fanfic #dean x reader #dean fanfic #spn reader insert #requests

[mochiwrites]

ok im finally reading the last 2 chapters of bitter water lets go

Mumbo utters the word ‘betrayed’ and all Grian can feel is disappointment.

you never fail to make me so slapped in the face by characterization that seems so obvious but isnt until you point it out. of course mumbo feels more betrayed than grian would, the nature of their relationships are so different!!! aughhhhh i love i love i love

Mumbo laughs in return, fondly shaking his head. “Pesky man,” he says, voice full of blatant affection.

skdjsjfnsjvhdjsnajabdjshsjsbdbzhajjdfbshs im so normal about them i am so normal about them im so normal about them I KNOW SCARS SECRET JUST SPILLED AND I SHOULD BE MORE DEVASTATED BUT HOW CAN I WITH THIS LINE????

Hurt flashes in Scar’s green depths, and Mumbo feels that hurt reflected in himself.

betrayal hurts but it hurts so good. oh. i feel it in my chest. but im also enjoying this a little too much. it HURTS but its so satisfying to finally have it all in the open. no more deceit and tension and wondering whens the truth gonna come out. of course, theres the tension of whats gonna happen next, but the stabbing truth is so good.

“It’s fire.” A dawning horror befalls him, growing the longer he stares. Scar’s blood runs cold, colder than normal. “And it’s… coming from the direction of the shop.”

IF SOMETHING HAPPENS TO TUBBO IM GONNA CRY RIGHT HERE RIGHT NOW IN THIS PACKED BUS. MUMBO CAN DIE. SCAR CAN DIE. GRIAN CAN DIE. EVEN PEARL CAN DIE. BUT IF SO MUCH AS A HAIR ON TUBBO OR GRUM OR JRUM'S HEAD IS MOVED BY ANYTHING MORE NEFARIOUS THAN THE WIND, I AM GOING TO SOB AND HEAVE UNTIL I DIE OF DEHYDRATION.

“He’s gone.”

BUT HES NOT DEAD RIGHT? RIGHT??? RIGHT??????? HES NOT DEAD RIGHT??????????? BECAUSE IF HES DEAD THEN SCOTT LOSES HIS BARGAINING CHIP AND THATS NOT GOOD RIGHT?? is he a blood bag. did he turn into a blood bag. did scott turn him into a blood bag. i swear. I SWEAR. AUGHHHHHHHH

:D I was curious to see when you’d pop into my ask box hehe

it’s funny because I was actually worried that people would think grian’s disappointment would feel wrong. but it really does feel right to me ?? like you said, of course the betrayal would hit mumbo harder because mumbo has known scar for so much longer. and the disappointment for grian slides in so naturally, with him getting to know scar and hoping that maybe scar would turn out to be a good person (which he technically does — it’s just… complicated)

but I’m really glad that fit well :D

it’s SO satisfying to finally have them all in the know now :3c like yeah the boys are going through it now, but! hey at least they’re on the same playing field (mostly)

:3

#mochi speaks #songbird asks

[cevansbrat0007]

The Other Woman

Summary: You never imagined that your husband was capable of having an affair - not even in your wildest dreams.

Warnings: Crazy Reader, Confused Andy, Angry Reader, Adorable Children, Name Calling, Kisses, Manhandling, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: Someone requested this prompt a while ago but I don’t remember who. Part of my ongoing Growing Pains Series. Written on my phone. All mistakes my own. Enjoy!

___

You sit there in bed glaring at your peacefully sleeping husband. The nerve of that man - he cheats on you - and then has the audacity to lay there and snore.

Grabbing a pillow, you give into the urge to strike him with it. Hard.

“Huh, what?” A tired Andy looks around and rubs the sleep out of his eyes. “What was that?”

“Oh, nothing. Just fluffing the pillows. They’re getting a little flat, you know?” You repeat the action for added emphasis.

“But why’d you hit me?” You roll your eyes.

“Please. I barely grazed you.” You huff as your handsome man goes to lay back down. Before he can, you snatch the pillow from underneath his head and toss it across the room.

“Sorry. That one’s no good either. There’s a permanent indent from your big head.”

Andy sighs and scratches his tattooed chest, careful to avoid his newly inked additions: Aurora Rose, Andrew Jacob, and Jacob Stephen.

“Y/N, what is your problem, sweet girl?” All he gets is a dainty “hmph” for his trouble. “Seriously, baby…what did I do?”

You turn around to look at him, your hand on the bathroom door. “You know exactly what you did, Mr. Andrew Stephen Barber. Now I hear the twins are awake. How about you go check on them and leave me alone?

With that, you turn back around and pad into the bathroom. Seconds before he can follow you, which he does, you flip the lock on the door.

“Open up, Y/N!” Andy yells as he pounds on the door with his big fist. “You know much I hate locked doors in this house, sweetheart! Swear to God I’ll break it down!” He continues to rage.

You shrug and turn on the shower before stepping inside and fully tuning him out. Quickly, you grab your “Sweet Champagne Apple” body wash, dump way too much on your loofah and scrub your body raw.

___

While your unfaithful husband is dressing the kids, you go about making French toast and cheesy eggs with sausage crumbles for everyone.

Well, everyone except for Andy, that is.

And then you set little cups of orange juice on the table. Regular cups for BiBi and KiKat, and sippy cups for A.J. and RoRo.

A few moments later, you watch your big girls help the little ones down the stairs.

“Mornin’ Mama.” Your son yawns. “Hungry.” His black hair is pretty - but not quite as curly as his sisters. It had more of a wavy aspect to it. A.J. also had a little freckle on his nose, and one above his right eye.

In short, your adorable boy was going to be a lady killer.

RoRo, dressed in all pink, complete with a unicorn skirt, waves at you. Poor sleepy thing. Her gorgeous hair boasted a mix of light caramel and dark copper curls. She offers you a tired smile, showing off the little dimple on her left cheek.

And as for Bianca and KitCat, your respective socialite and bookworm, well, they were always adorable.

You place plates on the table.

“Dig in, guys and gals. The bus will be here soon.” You walk around, placing loving kisses on their foreheads.

Ten minutes later, Andy comes down the stairs fixing his tie. “What’s for breakfast, Y/N?” His tone lets you know that he’s still irritated.

“Oh, for you?” You toss him an oatmeal raisin granola bar. “You need the flaxseed.”

“C’mon kiddos! Backpacks on - I hear the bus down the street.” After more hugs and snuggles - A.J. loved to snuggle with his Mama, you shoo them out the door.

“Andrew.” You instruct him. “Please ensure that they get on the bus safely.” And then you begin cleaning up without so much as a thanks.

Of course, your man is back faster than you expect. Ignoring him, you go to head back up the stairs. Only to feel the solid weight of his big body pinning you down.

Funny thing was, the two of you had quietly made love on these steps just a few days ago.

And now you wanted to push him down them to see if your handsome lummox bounced.

“Now,” he snarls in your ear. “What crawled up your ass and died this morning.”

“Ugh. As if you don’t already know!” You hiss, struggling to get free.

“I don’t fucking know, you beautiful little harpy. So gimme a break and enlighten me already.

Gritting your teeth, you take a deep breath before sinking them into Andy’s dress shirt clad arm. That, as well as his small grunt of surprise, gives you a chance to escape.

Kind of.

You make it up a few more stair before he grabs you again.

“I saw you with her!” He gives you a blank look. “I saw you and - that Monica in our bed. Having sex.”

Making love.

“Uh huh.” He growls. “And just exactly when was this? When did I have this little affair?” Andy gives your body a little shake.

“Yesterday, you - you philandering son of a goat! You had my bags packed by the door and had put our babies outside on the front porch!”

“Oh, did I now?” He quirks a brow, clearly trying not to laugh.

“It’s not funny! They were all holding cardboard signs that said free to a good home!”

Andy grabs your hands and pulls them over your head. “Go with me on this, Y/N, just go with me. Couldn’t all of that have been…a dream?”

Huh?!

“Because I don’t know a Monica.” He begins pressing soft kisses to your chest and neck. “In fact, other than my gorgeous daughters, the only woman I’ve had in my bed is my crazy fucking wife.” Andy captures your lips then in a deep, meaningful kiss.

“Now I’ve got to get to work my little lunatic. And apparently go find some good homes for our children. I get the feeling KitCat might be a tough sell, though. Might have to pay them to take her."

Feeling understandably ridiculous, you swat his muscled shoulder as he finally lets you up.

“I saw what I saw,” you grumble. “And if you know what’s good for you and that trollup, you’ll keep her far away from me.”

Your husband fucking laughs his fool head off all the way out the door. Not that you care overly much. Because that fucker had better not cheat on you again.

Not even in your wildest dreams.

END

#cevansbrat0007growing pains series #chris evans imagines #andy barber imagines #chris evans smut #andy barber smut #chris evans fanfiction #andy barber fanfiction #chris evans x you #andy barber x you #chris evans x reader #andy barber x reader #chris evans x black!reader #andy barber x black!reader #chris evans x woc!reader #andy barber x woc!reader #chris evans x black reader #andy barber x black reader #chris evans x poc!reader #andy barber x poc!reader #chris evans x wife!reader #andy barber x wife!reader #chris evans x female!reader #andy barber x female!reader #chris evans x fem!reader #andy barber x fem!reader #chris evans x yn #andy barber x yn #chris evans x y/n #andy barber x y/n #cevansbrat0007 fics

[floralcyanide]

Kinktober Day Twelve

Public Play - Elvis/Austin!Elvis

hello this is like, 3 days late, but it's here!! it's super short I know, but I wanted to get it done and straight to the point lol. please reblog and like if you enjoyed!! <3

pairing: Elvis/Austin!Elvis x Reader

warnings: smut, fingering, public play

word count: 572

masterlist || add yourself to the taglist HERE! || kinktober prompt list HERE!

Being on the tour bus with the rest of the Memphis Mafia with Elvis’ hand up your skirt was not how you planned today. You’re having a deep discussion with Jerry and Billy about whether or not Elvis should ditch the Colonel and go on a world tour. Elvis is acting like he’s paying attention when in reality, all he’s focused on is flicking your clit whenever it’s your turn to speak. The four of you are sitting in the makeshift dining room, so no one can see what Elvis is up to underneath the table.

“I think you should be his manager, Jerry,” you say shakily, your hand death-gripping Elvis’ wrist.

Jerry leans back in the booth, crossing his arms as he smiles, “See, EP? Y/N knows exactly what they’re talking about. Maybe you should listen to them.”

“Maybe,” Elvis says, inserting a finger inside you tantalizingly slow, causing you to squirm in your seat.

You clear your throat to cover a moan as he curls the finger slightly, “Jerry’s right. You should listen to me sometimes, you know.”

“I do listen to you, baby. I’m just stuck in a weird position right now,” Elvis says.

“You got that right,” you mumble under your breath, hoping no one notices how much you’re moving around.

“I think a world tour would do wonders for your career, man,” Billy perks up, “Imagine your name in lights across the globe!”

Elvis sneaks a second finger in, licking his lips before he responds, “That would be interesting to see.”

Your nails are now digging into Elvis’ wrist as a warning that you’re getting close. He needs to stop now, or else you’ll cum all over the chair you’re sitting in. But knowing Elvis, he probably will continue finger fucking you until you eventually mess up the chair and your underwear.

“Well,” you gulp, eyes boring into the table, “You won’t see anything if you don’t set your goals how you truly want them, honey.”

“You’re right,” Elvis sighs, grazing your g spot with his fingertips as he presses his thumb to your clit, “I’ll think about it.”

Your hands are gripping both the edge of the chair and Elvis’ wrist as your orgasm begins to creep up on you.

“Good,” Jerry nods, “Because after the special, you’ll need to show the world you’re back.”

“I’m back alright,” Elvis smirks, rubbing tight circles into your clit, sending you over the edge.

You bite your tongue so hard that it draws blood, and you hold in your cries of pleasure as best as you can while your orgasm hits full force. Your legs are shaking under the table as Billy and Jerry get up to leave. You let out a sigh when they’re out of earshot, and Elvis nips at your earlobe.

“Good job staying quiet, darlin’. Billy and Jerry had no idea I was knuckles deep inside your soaking pussy,”  Elvis whispers, bringing his fingers to his mouth to lick them clean.

You whimper at the feeling of emptiness, squeezing your thighs together as you ride out the tail end of your orgasm. Elvis chuckles at you as he guides you out of the chair.

“How are you gonna explain this one away?” you motion to the wet spot on the chair you were sitting in.

“I’ll figure it out. But meet me in the bathroom, doll. I’m not finished with you yet,” Elvis winks.

taglist:

@onxlymnsn @anangelwhodidntfall @butlersluvbot @austinbutler17 @mamaspresley @mirandastuckinthe80s @bobbykennedyfan @sodonebruh @lizzymizzy-blogg @defnotreadingfanfics12 @izzvoid @homebodybirkin2003 @thatonemoviefan @kittenlittle24 @tubble-wubble @kaycinema @annamarie16 @adoreyouusugar @amiets2 @mrs-butler @ari-nicole @austin-butlers-gf @feral4austinbutler @inlovewithchrisevans @shynovelist @mommy-maia @karamelcoveredolicity @thtguyovrthere @starry-night-20 @coldonexx @hangmanswhorey @beautyofelvis @mavericksicybabe @coco-bitch @bobthefishiesworld @emmymaehereeeeee @myguiltypleasures21 @rainydayz101 @finelineskies @cryingabtab @kaitaesupremacy @ash-omalley @latenighttalking13 @tom-whore-dleston @presleylust @oh-kurva @cece05 @poppet05 @every-dayiwakeup  @whore-for-hewitt

#austin butler #elvis #elvis presley #austin butler elvis #austin!elvis #austin butler x reader #elvis presley x reader #austin butler smut #elvis presley smut #austin butler x reader smut #elvis presley x reader smut #elvis movie #elvis 2022 #elvis (2022) #kinktober 2022 #floralcyanide kinktober #kinktober #floralcyanide writes #austin butler elvis x reader smut #austin butler elvis smut