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softlyspector · 8 months

Text

Sage

Summary: Joel finished your tattoo but staying in each other lives is easier than he thinks. A late night phone call reminds him of how easy it is to lose something too.

Read the beginning: You put aside your touch aversion for a tattoo from Joel.

Pairing: tattoo artist!Joel Miller x f!Reader

Word count: ~10.6k

Warnings: slow build, no outbreak tattoo!au, angst then comfort, the 'believes they're hard to love, loving them is like breathing' trope, reader has issues with touch and is mostly touch adverse (joel's workin' on that though), description of a past abusive relationship, undefined unresolved previous trauma, insecurity, anxiety, Joel gets to have both his daughters in this

A/N: I can't tell you how happy the love for this series has made me. You’re all my heroes and this is dedicated to all of you.

Once again, we’re ignoring canon and pretending like Joel can draw for this fic, thank you. Editing this was a labor, so if there are any mistakes blame my tired eyes. Thank you for reading! As always, I would love to know your thoughts! Please please please, be sure to leave feedback!

“Joel?” Your voice is staticky in the dark.

He’s used to answering the phone half awake in the middle of the night, shadows still strung between the wings of his window. Between bailing Tommy out of jail when he was younger and rescuing Sarah and Ellie from sleepovers they didn’t want to stay at, he’s answered the phone in the shy hours of the very early morning more times than he can count.

In the few months he’s known you, though, you’ve never called him, not once, let alone in the middle of the night.

“Joel?” The connection crackles and your voice wavers. “Can you hear me?”

It’s then that his mind catches up with him, digs its heels in and kicks to life. He hadn’t said anything beyond a cranky, irritated hello? after the shrill ring woke him and he blindly groped for the phone and pressed it to his ear. “Hey, yeah, I can hear ya.”

Maybe he has the good sense to answer you, but he’s not awake enough to consider the why of the call yet. He’s glad to hear your voice, though.

It’s like a sweet little song in his ear when he hadn’t gotten to see you at all that day.

And lately the days he doesn’t get to see you are a rarity.

Most days, you stop by the studio but some days he meets you for coffee, or goes on a drive with you, or insists on teaching you to fish. You’ve been at a few Friday dinners with his girls, though not all of them because you fold yourself up tight and try not to intrude. Most Sundays find you arriving early at his door with pie and coffee from Flu’s, which you eat on his front porch in companionable silence before the heat of the day can settle in.

“I’m sorry,” you say. Your voice trembles and Joel feels like a bucket of cold water has been thrown over him.

He lurches up in bed so fast that spots dance in his vision and a spear of pain slices through his shoulder, raking iron hot nails into a years old injury. “Sweetheart?” A knot of protective worry forms in his chest, lights a fire in his belly. “What’s goin’ on?”

The moon casts a thin, pale beam of light across the foot of his bed, growing brighter by the second as his eyes adjust to the darkness. But then you continue and the protective feeling only grows, and then goes hard with an icy ferocity. “Sorry for calling so late and bothering you with this but I don’t—I didn’t have anyone else I wanted to call.”

Your voice breaks on the last word, the creaking in your mouth splintering across the line. “Can you…I don’t—” There’s a little pause in which Joel can hear your footsteps as you pace and the quick sound of your breathing. “I just don’t know what to do.”

Joel pulls himself out of bed and shucks on his jeans that had lain crumpled on the floor where he left them and then pulls on the first shirt his hand touches when he yanks open a dresser drawer. “What’s goin’ on?” He asks again. “Where are you?”

“Ugh—” You swallow thickly, sounding inexplicably embarrassed. “It’s nothing, really. I’m-I’m being stupid. I shouldn’t have called.”

He can practically see you fidgeting, looking down, shaking your head. Can practically feel you thinking of hanging up the phone, nervous doe eyes darting around like you’ve done something wrong.

“Don’t sound like nothin’,” he grits out, his voice coming out harsher than he means it to. “What happened?”

You’d gone down to Austin to visit some friends for the day. It’s why he hadn’t gotten the chance to see you.

Your ex slips suddenly to the forefront of his mind, who was the goddamn reason you’d moved out of Austin in the first place. Then all the myriad of other terrible things that could have prompted you to call him so late flash through his mind.

It only serves to make his chest burn.

“You still in Austin?” Again, his voice comes out angrier than he intends. He pulls open his bedroom door and moves down the hall, not bothering to flip on any lights.

“No. I’m at—I’m at home,” you stutter.

He pauses in the front entryway, wallet and keys dangling from his fingers, one foot halfway into a shoe. “Home?”

“I’m—yeah, home. I just…I came home and the street door was open. I thought maybe the neighbors just forgot to close it when they were bringing groceries in or something, but then the security light wasn’t coming on and my apartment door is open too. It’s probably nothing, Joel, don’t bother with—look I’m sorry for—”

He’s frozen for a moment. The cavernous black hole of your front door looms, the teeth of the darkness sharp and wanting.

The street door, despite his best efforts to augment it, is notoriously difficult to get open. If it was open when you got home—

If your apartment door was open too—

“I’m sorry for calling,” you say again when he doesn’t answer, your voice small and anxious. “I think I might have been robbed or something. I just. . . I didn’t want to call anyone else,” you repeat. “I’m afraid.”

Afraid.

It’s a cold word.

Stuffing his wallet into his back pocket and getting his boots all the way on, he tugs his own front door open. “Don’t you move a goddamn muscle. Do not go inside. Go back down to the street.”

“Joel—”

“I’m serious,” he all but snarls. “Now.”

“Okay,” you agree. Your voice is tight, choked. “Okay.”

“I’m gettin’ on the road now.”

“Thank you.”

He doesn’t answer for a minute, just listens to your breathing as he gets in his truck and turns the engine, phone squished between his shoulder and ear. The drive into town is only about ten minutes. You should be alright in that time.

“You there?” Your voice is breathy. You sound a little like you might have been crying and he wonders how long you waffled in front of your door, trying to decide whether to call him or just go inside by yourself. “Joel?”

“‘m here.” He turns off the long dirt road that leads to the ranch. “Yeah, I’m here, honey. Stay on the phone.”

“Okay,” you murmur. “Thanks,” you say again.

The word doesn’t register. His mind is already with you, imagining you standing alone on your street, or worse, with folks lurking around the corner waiting to do you harm. It’s an insidious image that he knows isn’t based entirely in reality. “You alone?” Despite his thoughts, he can’t imagine anyone out on the streets of the tiny town at this hour.

“Mm. Just me.”

“Good. Stay away from that door,” he grumbles.

“Bossy,” you accuse lightly, the soft attempt at a joke.

He doesn’t laugh. The drive feels like it's taking too long, longer than the ten minutes it normally takes.

He steps on the accelerator and his mind wanders to all the other times he’s been called, into the dark or otherwise, because his people needed him. To the hospital once when Sarah had broken her ankle at a pool party, to the high school when Ellie’d gotten into a fight that ended with a blood spattered hallway and broken nose.

Those were the worst calls, drives. That was when he felt most helpless, like he was stuck in quicksand. There were just things that he couldn’t protect them from. He couldn’t be there every second of the day, he couldn’t always be with them, and that had always grated.

Most assured him the anxiety would fade as Sarah got older, but it never did. It hadn’t even begun with her. It was always there, that protective anxiousness. It had gotten exponentially worse with Sarah’s birth, a tiny life he was responsible for, a tiny life that was so delicate.

And then—Ellie. At least with Sarah he’d had some piece of mind. But Ellie, like Tommy, had a knack for trouble. Too many times she swung in the back door with bleeding knees and twigs stuck in her hair and a scrape over her cheek. It wasn’t always a fight, sometimes it was just climbing a tree she had no business being in, racing her bike against kids twice her size, and unlike Sarah, she had no sense of preservation.

“Are you hurt?” The question burns in his mouth. He doesn't mean to ask it.

“Hurt—” you start, sounding surprised. “No. No, of course not. I’m okay, Joel. It’s just the stupid door. I’m just—I told you I’m just being stupid. Listen, just—”

Joel knows what you’re going to say, and he should tell you that you aren’t being stupid, that it was good you called him; that he wants you to call him, all the time, but especially when you need him.

Instead, he snaps, “Don’t move.”

Your voice cuts off.

His eyes strain past streetlights and empty, open fields, past the copse of trees that marked the start of a forest where he’d seen a trio of deer a few weeks before, like some kind of omen.

In the distance, the town comes into view. You don’t say anything but he listens to the sound of your breathing, the calm in and out that reassures him that you’re okay, that you’re there patiently waiting.

When he turns down your street, you come into view, standing beneath a streetlight in front of your building. The security light above your door flickers weakly, but otherwise remains dark. “You see me?”

You turn and lift your hand. “I see you,” you say, voice crumbling and soft. The golden light pools around you, casts your shadow behind you like a ghost, or an angel. But you’re there, you’re safe, he can see you, and some of the tension melts off his shoulders. “Gonna hang up now,” you say.

“All right,” he agrees.

The line goes dead.

Joel is angry with you.

It’s the only thought that sticks, barbed and fanged and catching, in your mind. It burrows into the top of your spine and makes your whole body go rigid with fear.

Joel is angry with you.

Joel, who’s always been sweet and kind. Who introduced you to his family with affection in his voice, took you fishing and always tossed the fish back when you looked so mournfully at them, who pointed out birds and deer to you quietly and with a practiced ease, who lets you read on the green leather couch in his shop and asks your opinions on the designs he’s working on that you often wish were for you.

But you’ve never really fucked up before. You’ve never made him angry.

This, calling him out of bed in the middle of the night, would give him plenty to be angry about. It would give him something to blame you for.

The truck rolls to a stop, headlights flaring out, and dread forms a knot in the back of your throat.

Before you can open your mouth, to head off his foul mood and explain, Joel is out of the truck and his hands are cupped around your shoulders, then the sides of your face.

You flinch at the suddenness of it and then tense but Joel doesn’t seem to notice, his eyes darting over your body like he expects to find you gravely injured. He doesn’t normally touch you so abruptly and the feeling of his hands on your skin makes tears burn behind your eyes.

He looks pretty in the moonlight. His eyes are cast dark and shaded as they search yours, his pupils so blown out the brown is consumed. You aren’t sure what he’s looking for. “You all right?” He asks, the comforting scent of him wrapping around you. He smells like rosemary and pine, like sawdust. You think distantly that he must have been working on some project earlier in the day.

And sage. He smells like protection.

His thumb slides over your cheek slowly in a vaguely self soothing way.

You resist the urge to twist out of grip, trying to remind yourself that now isn’t then, that he isn’t him.

Your body remembers though, remembers what it’s like to taste fear.

“Fine,” you reassure him again and pull back slightly. “I just—like I said, it’s nothing. It’s stupid. I just got spooked. I—Joel I’m sorry—”

Joel doesn’t seem to hear you as he releases your face, apparently satisfied with whatever he saw there. He grips your elbow instead and leads you to the passenger side of the truck. “You stay here,” he says. “‘M gonna take a look around. Give me your key.”

There’s a protective violence around him, a current of energy that makes you wary, that you don’t want to be on the wrong side of.

“You—Joel, please, listen—” You attempt to shake his hand off, panic clawing at your chest. You’re too tense to be touched, too anxious he’s about to snap at you.

Joel has never raised his voice at you. This fear isn’t one that should rest with him and that frustrates you even more. It makes you feel crazy and unbalanced and like you don’t know who’s really in front of you.

Still, it’s your fault, after all. It’s your fault he’s here, and maybe that’s good enough for him to start.

His eyes are like hard, dark flint, like chips of glittering amber, glinting in the pale moonlight that washes out his skin, highlights the circles beneath his eyes.

“Just stay here,” he repeats. His voice is hard when his eyes flash up to yours. “I’ll only be a minute.” His hand still cradles your elbow as he pulls the truck’s door open, thumb sweeping over the ridge of bone there.

His hand feels tight, even though it’s probably not. You tug your arm gently out of his grasp and take a step back. “I’m not going to stay here,” you try again, gathering your courage and tipping your chin up. “It’s my apartment. And I don’t want you to go alone.”

Joel stares at you, brows lowering over his eyes.

Anxiety beats a nervous, familiar pattern against your ribs, hollowing out the well of your lungs. You bite back the urge to apologize to him again, but he clearly doesn’t want to hear it since he hasn’t responded to it yet.

He is angry with you, and you don’t like that. But you try to remind yourself again that Joel is not your ex, that in the months you’ve known him, he’s never made you feel unsafe, or like you couldn’t disagree with him.

But it hadn’t been like that with your ex at first either, and your body is not listening to your mind.

“Jesus Christ—” he grits out then stops, the words long and deeply accented in his mouth. You do your best to swallow down the squirming worry souring your belly. “Fine. Just—behind me.”

You aren’t sure how to deal with Joel like this, he’s always so soft and kind and easy with you.

And you suppose he’s being soft with you now, he’s just—

Angry. He sounds mad; he must be pissed off. Probably because you’ve called him out of bed in the middle of night for no good reason, really. You should have just plucked up the courage to go inside by yourself. It’s likely you’ve called him down for nothing.

“Okay,” you relent. “Behind you.”

He doesn’t answer and shuts the truck door. Instead, he moves toward your building without preamble, decidedly not looking at you.

Seeing the street door wide open when you got home had scared you, the security light not blinking on had terrified you, and then Joel’s constant worries had drifted into the back of your mind, cloyingly poisonous.

He hates that you leave your windows open and trust the town you live in. He hates anytime you mention that your neighbors leave their door unlocked, even as a joke.

Ain’t safe, he always said, you don’t do that.

It was never a question.

He worries about you standing on the street and struggling with the door. He worries about you getting robbed or worse. You always rolled your eyes, because it was always fine and Joel was a serial worrier.

But that had been all you were able to think of as you stood there on the street.

Somehow, you’d convinced yourself to go inside after a few long minutes. You’d debated just going inside too, when you found your apartment door open but the fear had eventually won out.

Joel’s broad shoulders disappear into the dark entryway before the stairwell light flares on. He’s wearing just a t-shirt and jeans. He looks rumpled and soft and painfully domestic. His jeans are pressed with creases, the laces of his boots undone. The t-shirt stretches across the plains of his back, tight against his shoulders. His hair, normally carefully brushed, is mussed. A lick of gray hair sticks up off his forehead.

When he stops in front of your apartment door, you have to repress the urge to smooth it back, to press yourself into his side in silent askance for comfort you’re not sure you deserve.

“I’m sorry,” you find yourself saying again. “Really,” you continue, trying to ignore the dread building colonies in your lungs.

Nervous now, you realize, not because you might have been robbed, but because Joel is angry with you.

But, like all the other times, Joel doesn't acknowledge your apology. He pushes the door open and flips on the light just inside the door.

Your apartment looks the way it always does, homely and calm. You can’t see a single thing out of place, but that doesn’t stop Joel from searching through it anyway.

For the next few minutes it's quiet as Joel moves slowly around your little apartment. It’s messy, messier than usual. And when he pushes your bedroom door open, you feel embarrassment crawl up the back of your throat.

Because this is the first time he’s seeing your bedroom, also a mess, and you realize you wanted that to go differently.

He’s only ever had cause to sit at your tiny kitchen table, your sofa, before.

The floor is strewn with clothes, your bed is unmade, half your jewelry is out of its box and strung across your dresser. Used glasses and mugs sit on your bedside table that you’ve yet to take to the kitchen, your desk is a mess of old receipts, record sleeves, discarded pens, and stacks of books.

You wince when he pushes aside your curtains and slams your window shut, the one you always left open for Paprika, before he opens your closet door.

When your throat tightens, you leave him to your room and sit on your couch instead to wait.

Inexplicable shame and embarrassment melts around your heart. You try not to think of yourself as a bother to him, not exactly, anyway, and not anymore. But it's hard in this moment when he sounds so upset, so irritated with you.

Over the last few months, being around Joel and being. . .kind of something, something indefinable and light, to each other, you’ve realized it wasn’t just the tattoo. The tattoo your ex gave you, branded you with, was just the final nail in the coffin.

Now is a good reminder of that, that you’re sitting around waiting for Joel to tell you how useless you are, to break something, to snap at you.

He won’t, you know that. Somewhere inside you, you know that’s the truth.

But your body does not understand that. You’re coiled as tight as a spring, hands fisted in your lap as you wait for the other shoe to drop, for his concern to evaporate when he realizes there really is nothing wrong.

Anxiety burns bright in your belly, echoes in the stiff cut of Joel’s shoulders, the way he stalks around your apartment, checking increasingly more absurd hiding places until he’s satisfied that you’re alone and the door is locked.

Joel pushes aside the clothes hanging in your closet, gets on his hands and knees and looks under your bed, and finally peeks in your bathroom.

He feels calmer, better, now that he knows you’re safe and unharmed, that you’re there in the living room with the front door locked and your bedroom window shut.

Which reminds him of that damn cat you sometimes let into your apartment, and doesn’t seem to be around.

Joel trails back to the main room, ignoring the details of your bedroom—the clothes in piles on the floor, the few books strewn across your bed and desk with pens sticking out of the pages, the soft cerulean and cream blankets draped over your bed and on the chair in the corner. He shouldn’t get to see those things, not like this at least. “Where’s your cat?”

You blink and turn to look at him over the back of the sofa. You have one of the brightly colored, crocheted shawls over your shoulders and had been staring at his painting. The one he gifted you a few weeks before and that you don’t know is of you. The doe with bees dancing around her ears.

It’s an okay painting, but you adore it.

“What?”

“Your cat,” Joel grumbles. He’s yet to meet the cat, who always made himself scarce whenever he happened to find himself in your apartment. “Paprika, right? He’s not inside. He okay?”

He doesn’t want to go searching alleyways in the dark for the orange tabby but he’ll do it. For you, he’d do it.

“Oh,” you frown. “He’s not really mine,” you shake your head and shift your eyes from his. You look anxious and drawn. It’s like a lead weight in his stomach, to see fear and uncertainty spilled across your face. “He’s fine. I just feed him sometimes. He comes and goes when he likes.”

Joel hesitates. “You sure?”

“I—” Your eyes flicker over him before you look away again, your expression closing up. “Um,” you shift uncomfortably. Your shoulders are tense. “Yeah. He doesn’t—he doesn’t really need me.”

Something about the way you say it breaks his heart.

There are a lot of things you don’t see clearly about yourself, and your worth, your importance, is one of them.

“Thanks for coming by,” you say eventually when he doesn’t reply and rounds the couch to sit next to you. “I really didn’t mean to bother you.”

Joel reaches for you, carefully slots his hand in the crook of your elbow. You tense and he sweeps his thumb over the inside of your arm, soothing you the way he always does. His eyes drift down to your tattoo, the one he gave you. It looks beautiful on you. So beautiful he’s drawn up half a dozen other designs just for you.

He’d draw forever, if it meant getting something just right for you again.

It leaves something warm in him, that you like the tattoo so much.

“I think everything is all right,” he admits. He expects you to relax with that reassurance but your arm goes impossibly tenser beneath his touch. “I don’t want you stayin’ here tonight.”

The words fall out of his mouth. They’d been twisting circles around his mind since he picked up your phone call half an hour before, but now they spill out, desperate. Anxiety warps his voice into something hard, something tainted with acrid vulnerability that he hates.

He doesn’t know if you hear it, but you go still and swallow thickly. You tug your arm away from his hand and rub the inside of your elbow.

Your eyes meet his, wide and weighed down with something hurt. His pretty little doe, afraid. He suppresses the urge to tell you it’s all right, that he’s got you.

“But it’s all fine, isn't it?” You ask, like that matters at all, like the night isn’t long.

“Guess so,” he concedes. “But I ain’t leavin’ you here alone tonight. I can’t.”

Your frown, lips parting gently as you stare down at your lap.

“I’d feel better if y’stayed with me,” he continues when you don’t answer, his voice still laced with irritation. He clears it, tries to make it softer but the worry lingers, infects, roots down in him like you have, bright as sunshine, sweet as tea and bumblebees on a summer evening. You make him sick with worry and he needs to know you’re safe. He needs to see you, real and right in front of him. “Tonight.”

“Better?” You look up again, confusion tugging your brows up. “Why?”

Joel fists his hands on his knees. His knuckles strain against his skin, the flesh white with tension. It pulls hard until something starts to ache, and he has to wonder if that’s how you always feel. If your skin feels like a thousand tiny needles are prinkling at the underside of your skin.

“Yeah,” he says, his accent deepened, kinked and hard. “Better knownin’ you’re okay.” His voice doesn’t raise in volume, but you still flinch. You try to pass it off as a shiver but he sees it, finally sees what you see, what you’re so clearly waiting for.

The thought alone makes him want to curl inward, crawl inside his own heart and shield you there. Makes him sick with unease.

And his suspicions are only confirmed when you duck your head, tuck your hands beneath your thighs, and start again, “I’m sorry for bothering you. I really didn’t mean to drag you out of bed for nothing.”

Joel isn’t sure what to say to that as he realizes you’ve been apologizing repeatedly since he got there.

It makes him hate himself, because you’re so clearly afraid of him.

The silence stretches, moonlight pools on your thighs and around your calves from the kitchen window, competing with the low yellow of the floor lamp. You fidget with a loose thread on your jeans, fingers plucking nervously at it.

“It wasn’t—” He shakes his head. He can’t think of a way to reassure you. “You think it was nothin’?”

“Well,” you glance around your intruder-less apartment. Like it’s all the damning evidence you need. “It was. I shouldn’t have called.”

Joel curls a gentle finger beneath your chin and tips your face up, making an effort to have his voice as gentle as he possibly can. Like you’re that deer again, the one that’s familiar with him and yet still wary, still watchful. “You all right with that? Comin’ home with me?” You reluctantly lift your eyes to his and give a mute nod. “You don’t have to.”

“I’m sorry,” you burst out again, soft eyes fringed with worry. “I—”

“Hey.” Joel doesn’t let you look away from him, smoothes his thumb against your chin. Your skin is soft there, and you don’t try to pull away again. “I always want you to call on me. For anythin’. It wasn’t nothin’. I’m glad you called me.”

You blink at the sincerity in his voice. Some of the tension around you fades. “I ain’t upset with you,” he says, just so you’re both clear.

You pull your face away from his hand, and he knows your skin feels stretched too thin, tight and uncomfortable, because you scrub at it again with your hand.

Joel lets his hand drop to the space between you. “Stay with me tonight, darlin’.” he pleads, not sure he’ll be able to make the drive home if you say no. “In the mornin’ we’ll come back here, see if anything is missin’, and I’ll change the locks.”

You shake your head. “It’s fine, Joel,” you try again. “It’s okay. I’m safe here.”

But that isn’t good enough. He needs to know you’re okay and he can’t do that if you’re in this damn apartment alone with locks he no longer has any kind of faith in.

He doesn’t want to try touching you again, not when you’re fidgeting and anxious and pulling away. Guilt ties knots around his lungs when he thinks of you flinching, how often he’s touched you without thought tonight. “Look at me,” he says instead. “Look at me, baby.”

You lift your eyes to his, your gaze hooking into his, desperation he can’t place lingering in your expression. “I’m proud of you, for callin’ on me. But I won’t rest knowin’ you’re here alone.”

You frown. “Proud?” This time, you reach for him.

Your hand is warm and soft, the brush of your fingers against his palm like homecoming. “Yeah.” And then, again, “I’m not mad. You did good.”

He can’t tell if you believe him, but you agree to stay with him anyway.

You’ve been to Joel’s house more than a few times and each time, it’s more familiar than the last.

Joel’s touch is on everything there. His girls’ lives are fingerprinted on every surface, his life and his family pressed into each fold of the house. The walls sigh with memories that have been collected and transported from Austin, wrapped in tissue paper and delicately given a place to live. Somehow, it always smells like sage has always just been burned.

There are a pair of sheep and a goat that command the acres of land around the ranch. “I’d like a couple horses,” he’d said the first time he brought you over and showed you around, months before. A couple weeks had passed since you’d had breakfast with him and his girls for the first time, and you were already dangerously attached to him. “But that’s money and time I don’t have.”

“You should get chickens,” you’d said, petting one of the goats through the wooden fence, squinting at him through autumn sunshine.

“Chickens?”

“Mhm. For eggs. Cost less money than horses and there’s nothing like fresh eggs.”

Joel had only looked consideringly out over the field. “Chickens for horses,” he’d laughed a little, the sound dry and pleasant, like he found you a peculiar kind of amusing. “There’s an idea.”

The driveway is long, the world far away. Late autumn air drifts in the truck’s open windows, warm with dry heat. The fingers of bare trees reach toward the sky, skeletal and thin, clenched around the outline of the moon.

The ranch always feels like a home, like a refuge, and in the night it seems like a fortress. He parks the truck beneath a leafless oak and kills the engine. You listen to it pop as it cools in the darkness.

Lightning bugs careen through the air, the low sounds of crickets and cicadas cascading on the breeze. “C’mon,” Joel’s voice is crinkled, washed in the gentle, pastel colored tones you know. “Let’s get you inside.”

Joel takes your bag from your hands and meets you on your side of the truck before you even have the door fully open, his hand pressed to your spine. You fight the urge to lean away, an anxiousness thrumming under your skin that isn’t familiar when it comes to Joel’s touch.

As you cross the driveway to his front porch you spot something through the dark, a new structure near the sheep’s fence. “Are you building something?”

He turns to where you’re looking. “Chicken coop,” he mumbles.

“You’re getting chickens?” You ask, surprised.

“Told me to, didn’t ya?”

You suppose you did, though you didn’t know he’d actually taken your suggestion to heart.

But he sounds annoyed again, so you let it go, let him push you ahead of him toward the house. Joel’s front door, unlike your own, opens without complaint.

His keys rattle as he sits them on the table inside the door. The living room light blinks on, a warm yellow that contrasts against the lightening blue sky beyond the front windows. Guilt swirls in your belly again. It’s so late that it’s now early.

If you weren’t so stupid, if you weren’t so useless—

The only thing you can be grateful for is that it’s a Sunday and Joel doesn’t have to rush to the studio after being awake all night.

A new, shame laden thought blooms, infects—maybe he felt he had no choice but to heed your call. Because you’re useless.

“This way,” Joel grumbles lowly in your ear, his hand on your hip, pushing you through the living room gently but forcefully, like he’s herding a particularly stubborn sheep.

You step away from his hand, and this time Joel notices immediately and drops his hand. “That’s okay,” you assure him. “I remember where the bathroom is.”

“You all right?” He asks. “I know you’re probably—”

“I know you said you aren’t angry,” you interrupt, fidgeting with your fingers. “But I don’t want you to feel like you have to do things for me. You could have said no. You could have told me to figure it out.”

He stares at you, confusion pulling at the lines in his face. You have to lock down the urge to reach up and trace the delicate pattern of crow’s feet beside his eyes. “I didn’t want to say no.”

You blink, something warm worming its way into your heart, replacing the dread that had curled there like a snake, sharp with venom, waiting to strike. “You didn’t?”

“Sweetheart,” he says, extending his hand to you but not touching you. “I’d do it every night if I had to, if it meant you were safe. You don’t have to figure it out. Not alone, anyhow.”

“Well,” you say gently. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to every night.” Then, before you can help yourself, you continue, “I know you said you weren’t, but you just. . .you sounded angry.” You stop and think about leaving it at that but he would never understand you if you left him to guess. You want to be honest with him besides. You want him to trust you. “And I. . .my ex he—well, he would have been upset. He would have told me to figure it out.”

You fold your hand into his, still outstretched to you. The pads of his fingers are rough and familiar beneath yours. “I ain’t him,” he reminds you.

“I know. But it’s hard to remember, sometimes.” You take a long breath. “I always had to get ahead of it, y’know? Because I was always in the wrong. It was somehow always my fault.”

Joel watches you, his eyes knowing in a way you can’t decipher. He nods and instead of answering, he holds out your bag. “C’mon,” he says, voice soft, like the brush of wings. “Been a long night.”

When you’ve washed your face and changed your clothes and convinced yourself that Joel was telling the truth and that he would not mind seeing you in your pajamas—you trek back through the house to find him in the kitchen.

He’s sitting at the dining table, covered in Sarah’s textbooks from the previous semester and photo albums and mail, a bowl of fruit and a jar of honey, art supplies and the tiniest carving of a deer you’ve ever seen. You pause and let your bag fall to the floor before slowly approaching.

Joel’s shoulders are loose and soft, one hand relaxed and open on the table, the other curled around a pencil as he sketches in an open leather bound book.

He turns and closes the book before you can peer over his shoulder and see what it is he’s working on. “Hey,” he says, the cut of his voice back to what you know. It alights on you in a warm glow, chases the fog of worry from your mind. “You all right?”

It feels like the thousandth time he’s asked you.

“I promise I’m fine, Joel,” you assure, pressing one hand to the space between his shoulder blades. He leans back into your touch almost immediately, the tendon in his neck loosening. You rub your thumb slowly against his skin. Thick muscle flexes and releases beneath your hand. “Really.”

“It’s okay,” he says, glancing up at you. “If you’re shaken up.”

You pause and tilt your head at him. “Do you want me to be?” You ask, finally pushing that errant lock of his hair back down and into place.

“No,” he answers immediately. He stares up at you with big, sincere eyes. Your gaze flicks across his face, down to his mouth, and not for the first time, you find yourself wishing he’d kiss you.

Just like each Sunday morning spent on his porch, just like all those times he pointed wildlife out to you, his shoulder pressed into yours, his face close to yours when you turned to smile at him.

“Are you shaken up?” You ask, refocusing on the softness of his gaze.

Joel shifts in his seat and then reaches out to draw the chair next to him out. You let your hand fall from his back and fold yourself into the space next to him, wishing he’d tuck you into his side.

He doesn’t, because he’s Joel. Instead, he lays his hand on the table and lets you come to him, just like he always does, just like he always has.

A few weeks before, when Joel was driving you back to town, you’d seen a deer on the side of the road. She was beautiful with big, dark eyes and a smooth tawny coat. You’d pointed her out, watched the flick and twitch of her alert ears.

You weren’t sure you’d ever seen such a pretty animal before. And then, behind her, two spotted deer, smaller, clearly younger, but no longer fawns, had appeared.

Joel, to your surprise, pulled over. He told you to stay put and then approached them slowly, so he could usher them back into the woods rather than spook them into the road. He hadn’t said anything to you about it and you hadn’t asked, but the act had stuck with you.

Now, his hand there on the table, you’re reminded of that moment. You’re reminded of all the moments like this one, where he patiently waited for you to come closer.

You reach out and fold your fingers through his. “Yeah, I was,” he admits and for a long while he doesn’t say anything else. You aren’t really expecting him to.

The light in the kitchen is warm and muted, a cold blue morning light beginning to grow on the other side of the blinds. There are pictures of his girls all along the wall beside the door that leads to the back deck.

Sarah and Ellie in high school graduation gowns and caps, Ellie bent over someone’s shoulder as she tattooed, hair obscuring her face and theirs, Sarah as a baby in Joel’s arms, Ellie as a gap-toothed child, tongue poking out of her mouth, Tommy and Joel with their arms around each other, fishing poles leaning against the truck behind them.

Joel is only in a couple of the pictures, the space on the wall reserved for the people he loved and not himself. You squint closer. “Joel,” you say, a spike of laughter in your voice. “Is that you? Did Ellie tattoo you?”

“Yep,” he says with a shrug. “Needed the practice.”

“I didn’t know,” you turn back to him and tighten your grip on his hand. You smile. “How many tattoos do you have that I’ve never gotten to see?”

His mouth twitches, the ghost of a smile. “Guess,” he says, throwing your challenge from months ago back at you.

You roll your eyes and don’t take the bait. Instead you say, “It’s okay, you know? That you were shaken up. That’s okay. I’m okay.”

He watches you for a long moment before his eyes drop, and he watches your hands instead. His voice is carefully casual and even when he asks, “How long did you stay with him? After the tattoo?”

There’s nothing accusatory in his voice and it takes you a moment to realize Joel is asking about the tattoo on your shoulder, the one your ex permanently marked you with.

He’s asking about the Pandora’s box of your body, the cavalcade of emotions and fears that lived inside you.

You expected anger, to be screamed at for something out of your control, to be faulted for someone else compromising your safety, to be blamed for asking for help and wanting someone else to take care of you.

“The tattoo. . .” you trail off and swallow back the uncomfortable feeling that lodges itself in the back of your throat. “It was the last straw.” You look away. “I just didn’t realize it at the time. I thought all the other stuff—I thought it was my fault. It doesn’t make sense while it’s happening to you, I guess. You pretend it’s normal because sometimes things are fine and good. I was just stupid enough to wait until after he left me with something permanent to realize things were so bad.”

Joel doesn’t say anything for a minute but when he pulls his hand away from yours, your belly swoops painfully, a knot forming in your chest.

It’s a lot.

Your issues with touch, the relationship trauma you haven’t examined but locked away to burst to the surface while someone was trying to help you. The doubt that he even really wanted to help you, because who would?

But then he says, “It ain’t permanent. Look here.” He tips your chin up with a delicate tap.

You turn and watch him leaf through the leather bound book. He pulls out a sketch and hands it to you. The paper is thick, the edges of it rough and torn. You don’t say anything, not really sure what you’re looking at. The design is beautiful, in the same style as the tattoo on your forearm.

It’s so clearly for you specifically that it makes your heart cinch painfully tight.

“It’s a—we can change it however y’want. It’s a design for a cover-up,” he plucks the page from your fingers and turns it. “See here, there underneath is the original, best as I could remember it anyway.” It’s a coverup of the ugly fucking tattoo on your shoulder, the reminder, the painful, itchy grossness.

You stare at it, unable to form words, lips moving soundlessly as you take the page back, looking more closely at the details, at the clever ways he’d thought of incorporating the existing lines. He doesn’t say anything, not even when you turn and throw your arms around his neck, squeezing tight until his arms curl around your waist. “He doesn’t get to have you,” he says.

One broad hand slides up your spine to cup the back of your neck. It makes you feel small. In a good way, in a way that makes you close your eyes to stave off the tide rising in your chest.

He’d done that the last time he held you, too. When you’d melted into him in your kitchen and told him you were nothing but work. He’d whispered things like it’s okay and good girl in your ear then.

His fingers are warm and firm against your skin, rough and soft in all the right places. An ache forms between your ribs, juts up into your heart and splits you open.

“Thank you,” you say against his shoulder. “For everything.”

“Ain’t nothin’ to thank me for,” he says, his chest rising and falling with each word, like a symphony against your own body.

You bury your nose against his neck, let the pins and needles of touch fade away, replaced with the safety that Joel carried around with him like it cost him nothing. “I mean it,” you say quietly.

“I know you do,” he replies.

The morning light is golden now, bleeding in through the curtains in thin shafts, bars that cross you and Joel, still settled in his arms. It doesn’t feel wrong to relax against him, to let him rub your back slowly.

It doesn’t hurt, and you realize you don’t expect it to.

“You wanna sleep?”

“Maybe for a little while.”

You move out of his grasp, and then let him pull you along to his bedroom.

Joel’s room is darker than the kitchen, and it's easy not to think too hard about what’s happening as you slide beneath the sheets next to him.

It’s quiet, the whole world still and silent aside from the fan rotating slowly overhead.

You reach for him in the dark, curl up tight against his side. His arm slides around your back, tugs you that much closer. He’s still in his jeans but you don’t point that out because you don’t want him to move.

“One of my tattoos,” he says against your temple, when you relax into the safe circle of his arms. “Is over my heart.”

You contemplate that for a long time, trying to imagine what it might be. “A nice one? Or an Ellie apprenticing one?”

He chuckles. “A nice one.” You expect him to ask about your tattoos, and you’re prepared to answer, but he says instead, “It’s been a long time, since I’ve done this.”

Joel doesn’t specify what he means by this, whatever little thing has been growing between you. “Have someone in your bed?” You tease.

He doesn’t answer, the silence heavy, almost melancholy. His hand slides up your back again, the fabric of your shirt teasing up. You tense when his fingers brush against your bare skin, warm and gentle.

His hand moves away and tugs your shirt back down for you. You consider, maybe for the first time, Joel’s position. He’s only ever touched you freely, so needfully, the first and second times you’d been tattooed by him, and every day you’ve seen him since.

He plays by your rules and you have to wonder what he needs.

It’s been a long time, he’d said. He’s inched closer to you over a period of months, patience in spades wrapped around you like a safety net.

You trust Joel, you realize. Maybe you’d known it before but it sinks into your skin in that moment, folds itself tightly inside your soul. You want to let him take something he needs. “It’s okay,” you find yourself saying. “You can. . .it’s okay.”

He hesitates and you push one of his hands back to your waist. “I like it,” you assure him.

He presses both hands beneath your shirt so they rest against the small of your back. The span of his hands are broad, splayed across your spine, over the ridges of your vertebrae. “Sure?” He asks, but his nose is pressed against your temple, his body loose and molded to yours. “My girl,” you think he says, so quiet it’s almost inaudible, the words pressed right against your forehead in a kiss. “Good girl.”

It feels so nice, the intimacy without expectation of anything more, without feeling like something was wrong with you. It feels like the envelope of your heart may burst.

You tuck yourself tighter into the crook of his arm, nose buried against his shoulder. He smells so strongly of himself there, the natural scent of his skin and sweat undercut only slightly by the faded smell of his soap.

He sounds close to sleep, exhausted after the worrisome, anxiety fueled night you had accidentally caused him. “Joel?” He grunts so you know he’s listening, still awake. “My antler tattoo is on my ribs.”

“What?” His hands drift a bit higher. “Really?”

“Mm.”

So when his fingers trace over your bare skin, you close your eyes. The sensation is so nice. The earlier acrid wave of fear has passed and no needles stab at your skin. It tickles, it feels like wings against your ribs.

Want flutters alive, in your belly, between your legs.

His bedroom is warm and cast in faded, milky light. He shifts and pushes up the sleeve of his t-shirt, until the curve of his opposite shoulder and the expanse of skin beneath is bared to your eyes. “One of Ellie’s first,” he says. It’s a needless explanation, though you find the tiny outline of the dinosaur a little funny.

When you reach across his chest and touch it, Joel twitches, like he isn’t expecting you to. His skin is soft there. “It suits you,” you say as he digs both his hands into your waist again.

You trace your fingers over his chest and throat. You trace the line by his eyes and rake your fingers through his hair.

He leans into your touch and you feel like the world rests in your palm.

When he says, “I think I can feel yours.” You close your eyes and smile. It almost feels like he’s tracing the outline of it.

“You can’t.”

“I can,” he disagrees. “It’s real pretty.”

You want to offer to show him yours in return, but sleep and safety pull you under.

Joel’s room is empty when he wakes, and if it weren’t for the clear imprint of your body in the nest of sheets next to him, he’d think the previous night was a dream.

He’d think the comfortable way you curled into him was a dream.

He lies there, jeans cutting into his waist painfully, thinking about how easily you’d curled up next to him, how velvet soft your skin was. It makes him smile and he groans and rubs the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Just like a kid,” he huffs. You make him feel young, like this is the first time and he’s a better man than he is.

But he’s starting to wonder if that’s what love is supposed to feel like. Off Balance and brand new and secure and like it had always been there and always would be, all at once.

Joel gets up slowly, shoulder and knees and back smarting as he does. He feels the ghost of your head on his shoulder, an ache forming along his collarbone from the weight of it resting there. His fingers snag on the blanket you must have thrown over him in lieu of your body heat.

He wonders where you’ve gotten to. Maybe you left, took an Uber back to town.

Then, he hears it; commotion in his kitchen.

And he remembers it’s a Sunday and that his girls have been visiting more often, ever since they figured you were around on most Sundays. That usually you stopped by with coffee and pie from Flu’s, and sat on the front porch with him.

The noise is nice, better than waking to a silent house which he’d never gotten used to after Sarah and Ellie moved out.

His girls and you, down the hallway, in the kitchen. There’s laughter, and then a shriek as something shatters on the floor, a flood of curses from Ellie that devolve into shushing and giggling.

The smell of breakfast food cooking slips under the door as he changes. In the bathroom he slicks his hair back into place with wet fingers and thinks about your fingertips fluttering through his hair and tracing the crinkles by his eyes of their own accord. He brushes his teeth and thinks about how gently you’d laid your hand between his shoulder blades, how you let him sleep with his hands pressed inside your shirt, told him about your antler tattoo. . .

The antlers on your ribs, spearing up through the cage of your body.

He wants to see it, trace it, wants to put his mouth against it. The urge to touch every inch of you siphons into his chest, the urge to curl you in close to him, to feel the plush curves of you against his side, in his hands.

He wonders if you’d let him. He wants to earn it from you, coax you closer and closer, as slow as he has to.

When he walks down the hall and passes into the living room and then the kitchen, he finds the three of you huddled around the breakfast table. Sarah’s head is lent against your shoulder and Ellie’s bicep presses into yours.

The three of you have your heads bent together, hungry eyes sliding over something on the table in front of you.

“Mornin’,” he greets.

You look up at him, doe eyes bright, crinkled at the corners, every doubt and fear from the night before washed away. “Morning, Joel.”

“Girls,” he nods, passing by the table, beelining for the coffeepot.

“We made breakfast,” Sarah says by way of a greeting. “How come you haven’t shown her all these designs?”

He does a double take at the table, to find most of the contents of his notebook spread across the wood.

Joel sighs hard through his nose and Ellie does have the grace to at least look sheepish, though it outs her as the instigator. “It’s not like you were ever gonna show her!”

“Jesus,” he grumbles, not looking at you as he grabs a mug from the cabinet, a little embarrassed at the sheer amount of them. “Well, now I won’t get the chance to, will I?”

As he pours coffee into his mug, Ellie gives a dramatic groan and Sarah says, “C’mon, dad, don’t be like that.”

He turns to find all three of you staring at him, and he can’t really be all that upset when your mouth is twitching like you’re trying not to smile. “Come sit down,” you suggest, “and I’ll tell you which one my favorite is.”

So, he gathers up a plate of eggs and bacon and toast and ignores the smirking of both his daughters, the knowingness in both their faces grating on him, and sits across from you.

He watches you page through design after design, months worth of work, all the way back to the beginning of summer when you’d first, finally, wandered into the studio. You push one across the table towards him, and then a couple more.

“That’s just about all of ‘em,” he comments around a forkful of egg.

Instead of responding to him, you turn to Sarah and say, “Maybe one day he’ll realize he’s a good artist.”

You insist on cleaning up after breakfast so Joel can have some time with his daughters.

The light buzz of conversation seeps in from the living room. Occasionally Ellie’s voice rings out, more excitable and louder than Joel and Sarah’s. You can’t hear what they’re talking about and you don’t want to.

A bit of guilt pools in your belly, a slight worry that Joel might be upset with you for letting his girls show you something they probably shouldn’t have.

You hope he really had intended to eventually show them to you, to share with you the beautiful things he made, whether he thought of them like that or not.

Joel’s home bursts with art, with craftsmanship and creativity, though he doesn’t believe you. He tells you the same things are true about your apartment and your silly little hobbies, and you suppose both of you have a little to learn in being as proud of yourselves as you are of each other.

When you’re wiping down the counters, Ellie and Sarah pass through to gather their things and say goodbye. While Sarah gives you an unexpected hug that you make yourself hang on for, Ellie rifles through a cabinet, pilfering it for stray snacks.

“He isn’t mad you saw them,” Sarah says when she pulls back, mischievous glint in her eye.

Ellie and Sarah are the same kind of troublesome, you’ve come to realize. Sarah is just better at hiding it. “Oh yeah?”

“He needs a little push sometimes,” she says delicately and with a shrug.

“More like a huge kick in the ass,” Ellie says. “You should have heard him before he even met you! It was like you were some kind of ghost or something. But it was like that after he met you too.” Her voice pitches lower and gruffer in tone, “Ellie, you’re goin’ to spook her. Don’t say nothin’ —”

“Alright,” Joel says from the mouth of the kitchen. “That’s enough. Get your ass back to Austin.”

You smile at Ellie, “You do a really good impression.”

“Told you, dude!” She says as she slides past her dad, Sarah following right after.

Joel just grunts and then calls after them, “Drive careful!”

“Bye!” Twin voices call out before the front door slams closed.

And then you’re alone with him, fingers still tangled in a dish towel.

Joel’s eyes soften when he looks at you, and you’re reminded of his hands beneath your shirt, the iron hot touch of his body against yours. You’re reminded of the lancing burst of want that sparked inside you with him.

Only with him.

Maybe because you knew he tried to understand, that he’d let you go when you needed it.

You open your mouth, not sure what you’re going to say, when Joel steps forward and tugs the towel out of your hands. “Don’t suppose you’d come outside with me? I want to show you somethin’. See if you might help me with it.”

“Sure,” you say.

Joel nods and when you brush your knuckles against his, he laces your fingers together.

Outside the air is warm in a distinctly autumn way, with the scent of sun in the air muted, the swirling chatter of decaying leaves on the breeze, the earthy scent of hay and soil.

You cross the porch with him and descend the steps to the yard. He leads you toward the chicken coop.

“When did you have time to build that? It’s new.”

“Been workin’ on it for awhile now. Just had Tommy help me move it here from out back.”

“Oh?”

“Was supposed to be a surprise,” he grumbles.

You lean into his arm, seeing your walk from the truck to the house in a different light. “Is that why you were cranky about me seeing it last night?” Joel starts to answer when you gasp and let go of him as two red-ish brown hens and a rooster round the corner of the coop. “Joel! You already got some?”

He mutters something about goddamn chickens showing me up behind you as you crouch to watch them on the other side of the fence.

“I did,” he sighs. “Look here.” He opens the gate and ushers you through to the other side where a hatch opens in the coop. “Go on,” he says, gesturing for you to look.

Two fuzz balls peer back at you from the depths when you peer into the hatch. “Chicks?” You say excitedly.

“Chicks,” he agrees mildly. “You wanna hold one?”

Without waiting for a response, he gently cups his hands around one of the yellow, fuzzed creatures and drags it out.

And you get the very real pleasure of seeing Joel Miller standing there in the morning sunshine, holding a tiny chicken to his chest. You laugh, and he says, “What?”

Nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

The chick is transferred to your hands from his, light and airy, like something incorporeal sitting in your palms, peeping softly. When you look at him, Joel’s face is relaxed. “What did you want me to help with?”

He clears his throat and gestures to the coop. “Paintin’.”

“Weren’t you a contractor?” You tease. “Shouldn’t you be able to paint it?”

Joel rolls his eyes. “I mean somethin’ pretty. Like how you painted your table.”

“Oh,” you murmur, something warm settling in your chest. “That’s nothing special.”

“Mhm, just like how that painting of mine you like so much ain’t special either.”

You roll your eyes and offer the baby chick back to him. “Okay, I get it. I’ll help you paint it.” Joel tucks the bird back into its home, the peeping fading when he closes the hatch. “Joel,” you reach for his wrist. “I’m sorry about seeing those sketches.”

“You ever goin’ to stop apologizin’ to me for everything?” He asks, eyes alighting on you.

“Well,” you continue. “I am. Especially if you never intended for me to see them.”

He nods and squints into the sun. His boot scuffs against the ground. “I always intended you to see ‘em. They’re yours.”

“They’re beautiful.” You step closer to him, the hens clucking around your ankles, and draw his fingers between yours. It’s quiet for a moment before you take another step. Being around Joel is like being safely shaded, like sleeping in a protected wood. “Thank you for coming when I called. You didn’t have to.”

“I did, honey,” he disagrees. “I’ll always come when you call. Even if you think it’s nothin’.”

You nod and tip your chin up, watching his eyes. The sun makes the irises look honeyed. You glance away, swallowing down the words burgeoning behind your lips, all the things you want from him and want to say to him.

He shifts. “I’m sure you got other things to get to. Let’s go take a look at your apartment—”

“Wait,” you tighten your hold on his hand. “Not everyone would do what you did. Not everyone would put up with me the way you have. My ex didn’t. He probably made me worse.” You’re so close to him you can feel the sink and rise of his chest, you can feel each deep breath like it's your own. “But you make me better, you make me safe. So just let me say thank you for once.”

He shakes his head. “I won’t let you thank me for doin’ right by you,” he says, stubborn as a bull. “I know you need reminding. But you ain’t work to me. There’s nothin’ wrong with you. I haven’t been putting up with anything. I’d drive down there every damn night if I had to.”

You tilt your cheek into his hand when he cups your jaw. Joel’s eyes are flicking over your face, his expression tense and needful, wanting.

His eyes hook into you, intense and tawny, the breath is punched from your lungs.

Never.

You’ve never felt like this with anyone, like you could be stripped bear, like he could press his hands inside your chest and feel the slick beating of your heart in his palms and everything would still be okay. He’d catch you, he’d shield you, he’d figure out a way to mend you and help you, he’d look at your heart and put it back in your chest even if he wanted to keep it for himself.

When he leans in and kisses you, it feels like fragments of your soul are being pieced back together. Shards of yourself you hadn’t even known were dust reform, shine brighter.

He cradles you to him, the line of your body pressed against his. He’s muscled and soft and broad and so solid. He groans into your mouth, licks into you. There’s possession in the way he holds you, like you’re his and his and his and you always have been.

Joel tastes like coffee, because there’s nothing else he could have tasted like.

He’s so familiar and safe, like sage burning against the night, like a soft place to land in all the ways a person could be.

His other hand splays against your lower back, the tips of his fingers against the waist of your jeans.

When you pull back, lungs aching for air, he presses his forehead against yours and closes his eyes. His jaw is clenched tight, a muscle jumps in his jaw, like he’s afraid.

“I’m not that skittish,” you say. “I trust you, Joel.”

He opens his eyes, swipes his thumb across your lips. He looks like a man who’s patient, steady hand has finally touched something delicate and rare.

💞 Thank you for reading! Comments and feedback are so appreciated. 💞

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #joel miller #the last of us #pedro pascal #honeyed fic

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joshs-big-toe · 4 months

Note

I triple dog dare you to write Josh futterman getting caught jerking off to a pic of y/n!!!!

Heyyy bbg I am SOOOO sorry this took me so long to get to this request, I have been dealing with final exams and tbh mental health? Down the drain lmao. I do have a fic similar to this, so if you want to read that one it is linked HERE!! I am still going to write a similar concept, however, I will change it up a little bit! I hope that you still enjoy it!

cw: smut, male masturbation, female masturbation, fluff

word count: 1,445

Being around Josh Futturman is this strange mix of contradictions that you can't quite wrap your head around. On one hand, he's this total loser, but you can't help but be infatuated with him. It's like he's the king of awkward, yet there's this undeniable charisma that draws you in. And then there's the whole "Biotic Wars" thing – he's legit addicted to that game. You can't help but roll your eyes when he starts rambling about how close he was to beating the game, but there's something oddly cute about his enthusiasm. Lately, though, there's this other layer to your friendship that you can't shake off – a subtle flutter in your chest when he laughs or those lingering looks that neither of you acknowledges. You knew you were far gone when it came to Josh, but you also knew you refused to risk your friendship with him, so you kept silent.

-------------------

Your shift came to a close and you started gathering your things when the buzzing of your phone made you jump. You looked down, seeing Josh’s name on the screen, making you smile. You pick up, greeted by the distant sounds of explosions ad gunfire – the unmistakable sounds of “Biotic Wars.” You rolled your eyes.

“Hey, y/n, what are you doing?” There was a tiredness in his voice.

“I just got off of work, I’m about to head home. What’s up with you?” You responded, realizing that it was kind of a stupid question.

“Ah, you know, same old. Just killing these biotics left and right. You should join me sometime.” You couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Maybe someday, but probably not,” he groans in a mocking way. “You wanna hang out today? Feels like I haven’t seen you in forever.”

“Yeah, absolutely,” he says, clearly distracted. “You can um – ah fuck you! Sorry, not you, I just died.” He laughed. “You can come to my place, that sound alright?” The frantic clicking of buttons started up in the background, accompanied by gunshots and occasional explosions.

“Yeah your place works,” you remark. “What time?” There was a silence from Josh, leaving the sounds of the game in the background. “Josh?”

“Sorry, sorry,” he mumbled. “How does 6 sound? It gives you a chance to get out of your work clothes and me a chance to go through a few more levels.” Clearly, he was more focused on the game.

“That works, I’ll grab pizza for us. Usual?” He ‘mhmm’s’ in response your question. “Cool, I’ll see you then.” He says a quick goodbye, hanging up quickly after. You sigh, grabbing your bag and keys, making your way to your car to head home.

---------

You looked at your watch, the time reading 5:42. You were typically early. Josh always left his door unlocked whenever he knew you were coming over, so you were able to walk right in. You set your bag and the pizza box on the dining table, looking up the stairs. You couldn’t hear his game playing, however you did hear noises from up the stairs. You walk up the stairs quietly, wanting to sneak up on him. Noticing his door was cracked, you took a peak in. Your breath caught in your through, letting out a soft gasp at what you were greeted with. On his computer monitor, your Instagram was pulled up, a photo of you at the beach on the screen. A heat started pooling in your core with the sight in front of you: Josh was in his gaming chair, jeans around his ankles, quickly stroking his dick. His head was lulled back, eyes half closed and tongue poking out of his mouth slightly. You stayed silent, watching his hand moved up in down in a needy pace, whimpers escaping his throat as he continued. He switched hands, shaking the one he was previously using, making you think he had been at this for a while. You bit your lower lip, your arousal becoming overwhelming. You start to think, there's no harm in touching myself too, right? With that, you quietly sit down on the floor, leaning against his doorframe. You took a look over your shoulder, making sure you did not alert Josh that you were there. You were in the clear. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Carefully, you dip your hand down into your sweatpants, past your underwear and down to your heat. You leaned your head back against the door frame as you grazed your clit, biting on your lip to stifle any noise threatening your lips. Your eyes closed, taking in the whimpers and words coming from Josh as he continued stroking his cock. Your fingers dipped down into your heat, making you sigh. Your mind was completely clouded with the thought of your fingers being replaced by Josh’s, making a heat pool in your lower belly.

“F-fuck, y/n,” you heard Josh whimper out, making you that much closer to your own release. You circled your clit, letting out your own soft moans at this point, unable to contain them with the pleasure you were feeling. You heard Josh’s moans get more erratic as kept going, insinuating that he was close. You sped up your movements, rubbing and fingering your wet heat, finally bringing yourself to your release. You cover your mouth with your free hand, doing your best to stifle your moans, leaning your head back against the door frame and screwing your eyes shut. You sit there for a moment, catching your breath before glancing inside Josh’s room, not seeing him on his gaming chair anymore. You stand up on wobbly legs, composing yourself. You knock on his door, pushing it open.

“Hey Josh, I’m here,” you call out with a shaky voice. You hoped he wouldn’t notice. You looked at his computer, your picture no longer up. Josh was standing at his shelf, now wearing sweatpants. He turned to look at you, a smile making its way onto his face. His cheeks were a light flush of red.

“Hey!” His voice was cheerful as he made his way over to his bed. You go in, sitting next to you. He leaned in to hug you, you immediately hugging back. He moved his head to where his lips were next to your ear. “Did you like what you saw?” His voice was low and gravely. Your eyes widened, quickly pulling away from the hug to look at him. He looked nervous, his face a darker red than before. This honestly probably took a lot of confidence to say, especially for him.

“W-what?” You stutter out.

“You heard me,” he grinned.

“I um, you saw?” He just nodded. “How much?”

“Most of it, watching you is what actually made me,” he paused. “You know,” he looked away, clearly nervous now. You guess his confidence wore off.

“I-I’m sorry if I made things weird I just-” he cut you off, connecting his lips to yours gently. Your arms instinctively wrap around his neck, pulling him more into the kiss. You pull away, looking into his eyes.

“Y/n, I’ve been into you for years. You just never showed me any signs of anything, so I stayed quiet about it.” You smiled.

“honestly, josh? I have too. I was just scared.”

“You sure didn’t seem scared five minutes ago,” he smirked. You grumbled, flicking the back of his head. “You were also early, you were never supposed to see or know anything.” You shrugged.

“Well, I do now.” He looked down.

“So what now?” He said, joy and curiosity in his voice. You thought for a moment.

“well, theres pizza downstairs-“

“no, not right now, dumbass. In general. Us. What now.”

“oh,” you blushed. “You could be a gentleman and ask me on a real date, you know.” You teased him. He rolled his eyes, hiding the smile that crept onto his face.

“Sorry, sorry. Y/n, would you like to go on a date with me?” A smile lingered on his lips. You pretend to think for a moment.

“I guess, but lets just eat pizza and watch a movie tonight, how does that sound?” He nodded.

“I’ll go get the pizza,” he planted a kiss on your cheek before he left the room. You laid back on his bed, staring at the ceiling. You couldn’t believe what just happened, and frankly you were embarrassed. But you’re secrets out now and it feels good, especially knowing that he had feelings for you too. You let your eyes flutter shut, taking a deep breath, anticipating what may come within this newfound relationship that may be forming.

OMG thank you for being patient with me. I hope this is good, I honestly struggled with this one a lot for some reason, but if you enjoyed it, im glad. Have a beautiful day everyone :)

#josh hutcherson #josh futterman #michael schmidt #mike schmidt #mike schmidt imagine #mike schmidt x reader #josh hutcherson fanfic #mike schmidt smut #josh hutcherson smut #josh futturman fluff #josh futturman #josh futturman smut #josh futturman x reader #peeta mellark #peeta

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fangirlfrom-hell · 6 months

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"My daddy has to fight some bad guys". || Jay Halstead x reader and daughter

*re-posting this because I'm stupid and accidentaly delated my blog 🫠

You woke up earlier than everybody in your house to get everything ready for everyone. Jay would usually follow you a few minutes later and you two would make breakfast and get your daughter ready for school together, along with other morning stuff. This wasn't the day, your husband had fallen asleep and you were doing everything by yourself, trying not to make a lot of noise. You knew he was working a tough case and had come back quite late from work the night before, so you didn't want to wake him up. Even when he didn't want to admit it, he was tired as hell and needed to rest.

You were in the kitchen starting to cook breakfast when you felt his arms hugging you from the back.

-"Did I wake you up?" You asked. -"I was trying not to".

-"I didn't feel you by my side and I couldn't fall asleep again". He answered into your ear and then kissed your neck as he continued talking. -"I'm sorry I haven't been around. We closed this case last night, what's left is a bunch of paperwork. My hope is to be back home early tonight and...". You turned around to hug him back and interrupted him with a short kiss. He rushed to finish his sentence with a heavy breathing : "...I can make it up for you", then proceeded to tenderly kiss your lips as he held you as tight as he could with one of his arms, while fervently holding your head with his other hand, finger all tangled in your hair, pulling it a bit.

Due to the case Jay was working on, you two had barely seen each other during the last week and a half, so things were heating up fast. Suddenly, for both of your displeasure, an alarm interrupted the moment.

-"Time to wake her up". You said having trouble separating from him.

-"I'll go". Jay took your phone to turn off the alarm. -"I'm driving her to school too".

-"Hey, Jay!" You took his hand before letting him leave the room. -"You do remember her Father's Day Festival, right?".

-"Next friday, 10:30, sure".

-"I was thinking...maybe you should talk to her and explain that...of course you will be there, but if you are not able to make it is due to your work".

-"But I will be there".

-"I know, I know, it's just...we never know when a case might pop up. Remember the Spring Festival?".

-"Oh. The bank robbery right before it...".

-"Yes, that's what I mean. That time was easy because I was there, but this time I won't...".

-"I will talk to her". He said after a few seconds of silence. -"But I'll be there, no matter what".

That day, Tessa and her class made a craft for their fathers. All the little kids were drawing in a small paper square that would become a keychain for Father's Day. Some of them were drawing hearts, others were doing stick figures. Tessa drew her dad carrying her over his shoulders and a bunch of hearts around. Her artwork was a little abstract, but understandable for a 5 year old.

-"All right". Ms. Luna said in a sweet voice. Tessa really loved her teacher. -"I am going to take your drawings and we will give them back to our dads as a key chain during the festival!".

-"My daddy said he will come, but he's working and if he doesn't show up it is because he has to fight some bad guys. Bad guys don't respect days or time". Tessa rushed to repeat what Jay tried to explain to her earlier in the morning when he was taking her to school.

-"It's ok". Her teacher laughed a bit. -"Sometimes parents can't make it and it's ok. That doesn't mean they don't want to or that they don't love us".

The class rehearsed the song they would sing at intervals throughout the rest of the day. Tessa never missed the opportunity to repeat the information going around her head: "My dad said he's coming, but if he's not here it means he's working" or "My daddy is fighting the bad guys and bad guys they don't respect days or time" or "He will be here, but if he's not here, that means he's on the streets. He makes Chicago safe". Her friends were amazed whenever she repeated those statements. She did understand what her father told her, but she didn't really comprehend.

The day was here. You dropped Tessa at school, she was all excited. Before she entered the building you reminded her: "If it happens that daddy is not here or he's late, remember he's fighting the bad guys".

Jay was already in the bullpen, everything was strangely calmed. He had talked with Voight about going out to Tessa's school and he gladly agreed.

-"Today is the day isn't it?" Hailey asked Jay as she entered the coffee room.

-"Yeah". He smirked. -"If nothing else intervenes".

-"Let's stay positive". She said remembering what had happened last Spring Festival.

It was 8:30, the day had just started when Trudy came upstairs with an urgent case.

-"That's just my luck". Jay said, rushing downstairs with his partner.

-"Let's try to make it quick". Hailey answered by putting on her coat.

At school, the kids were getting ready to go outside to start the festival. Parents were gathering outside of the building, waiting to get inside.

Students from all schools were lining up around the court. Their parents were supposed to meet them and be in front of their kid's group to hear them sing.

-"Is your dad here?" One of Tessa's friends asked.

-"I can't see him". She answered standing on tiptoe. -"But it's ok, it's because he had to fight the bad guys".

All the kids waved their fathers with excitement, some of them ran to hug them before starting the show. Jay didn't make it, but Tessa wasn't feeling bad about it...yet.

When the song finished, all the kids jumped into their fathers arms and gave them the craft they made in class as a gift for them. Tessa stood in her place, not being able to hold her tears. She was crying in silence, so between the noise and excitement around the little girl, nobody noticed her until a few minutes later. As soon as her teacher saw her, she ran towards her and hugged her tight.

-"It's ok, honey. It's ok. Your dad wanted to be here with you". She said in a very sweet and calmed voice. -"Remember he is fighting the bad guys, you said that before ''.

Some parents were moved watching the scene, but there was nothing they could do. Ms. Johnson, the school's principal, noticed the situation from afar and she joined as soon as she could. By only moving her lips, trying not to be heard, she asked Tessa's teacher if the little girl's father wasn't there. She shaked her head in disapproval when the teacher answered with a sorry face.

-"We can call your dad, Tess. That way you can hear his voice".

-"But, Ms. Johnson, he's fighting the bad guys". Ms. Luna intervened.

-"Oh!" She understood. -"Ok, but we can call him later, we'll tell him to come so you can give him your present. Would you like that?".

The little girl was an emotional mess, but agreed with her head, even though she wasn't really listening to what the adults were saying.

The emergency call for the intelligence team ended up in a shooting and that delayed detective Halstead. As soon as he finished with interviews and all the bureaucracy after this kind of situation, he ran off.

-"Go, go, go". Hailey rushed. -"I cover you".

Jay drove his truck as fast as he could, siren on. It wasn't a police emergency, but it was an emergency after all, he could deal with the consequences later. He parked in the first spot he found, even if it wasn't merely in front of the school and ran as fast as he could in a police mode to get to his baby girl. It was until he entered the building that he noticed he was still wearing the vest, gun and badge on his hip, but didn't care.

-"There he is!" Ms. Johnson pointed to Tessa's father.

-"Come on! Come on!" Ms. Luna took the little girl's hand and started running towards her dad.

-"I'm so sorry". Jay took Tessa in his arms and carried her holding her as tight as he could. She was too emotionally drained to react.

Kids around were already saying goodbye to their parents, going back to their classrooms.

-"We'll give you some time alone". Ms. Johnson informed Jay and he muttered a "thank you".

-"You can go back to the classroom when you feel ready". Ms. Luna told her student.

-"I hate the bad guys". Tessa managed to say when they were finally alone.

-"Me too". Her father said. -"I'm really, really sorry I didn't hear you sing, but I'm here right now". He wiped the tears from her cheeks.

-"I did it real good, you missed it". She said playing with the key chain in her hands.

-"I bet you did". Jay chuckled. -"What do you have there?".

-"It's a present for you. I made it for you". She extended her short arm to give it to her dad.

-"For me? Is it for my keys? I love it!"

-"It's you and me and lots of hearts. I drew it myself".

-"I can see that. It's beautiful. Thank you, sweetie". Jay's phone started ringing and he sighed when he read the text messages.

-"I have to go back to work".

-"But I don't want you to go". She started crying again.

Ms. Johnson came into the scene to help Tessa go back to her class" -"Daddy has to go back to work, sweetie. Ms. Luna and your friends are waiting for you, let's go". And she took her tenderly in her arms as her crying grew louder.

-"It's all right". Jay reassured her with a kiss. -"I love you. I'll see you at home, ok?". And she disappeared through the door.

He peeked through the classroom window to check on her before departing. He witnessed how Ms. Luna was successfully calming her down and felt a little bit more relaxed to go.

-"Thank you for coming". Ms. Johnson told him with a smile. -"For real".

With a heavy heart, he got into his truck and before turning it on, he hung the keychain in his keys. He inspected the tiny drawing and smiled before going back to the bullpen.

Thanks for reading. If you liked it, it would help my soul if you give it a ♡, comment or share. 😌♡

#chicago pd #chicago pd imagine #Jay Halstead #Jay Halstead x reader #Jay halstead x Y/N #Jay Halstead imagine #Jay Halstead one shot #Jay Halstead x you #kevin atwater #One chicago #One chicago one shot #Jay Halstead x daughter

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duskyvenus · 8 months

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Super Blue Moon: What you need to hear right now

This is a general intuitive reading meant for entertainment purposes. Take whatever resonates. I am still practicing my intuitive ability so feedback would be really helpful :))

Pile 1

You might be wanting peace, a quiet life. I'm seeing walks in the nature, consuming healthy unprocessed food, lots of fruits. You might like red or orange colored fruits (could be any). I'm sensing changes in lifestyle. Maybe you will relocate or renovate your home (changing your aesthetics and style). Your soulmate(romantic) or current partner or future partner(whatever resonates) is sending you messages of affirmation. Also they might like to stare at you and admire your features lol. I'm hearing: It's all about the little things. Maybe this is something you believe in or it is about to become a theme in your life in the near future. A short trip or holiday might soothe your nerves a bit, preferably somewhere cooler. Overall, I think change is coming your away; there's this picture of letting things go and relaxing in a lodge in the mountains while sunlight creeps in through the window. Yeah lots of sunshine imagery in this pile. It's about how the sun slowly warms you up. Slowly and surely you will be moving to the next stage.

Pile 2

Similar to pile 1, I think you might be in need of some sunlight lol. I'm seeing something about hobbies, so maybe you need to get back to them? You might not have completed a previous painting, book, blanket or whatever. I'm also seeing cakes which means some kind of celebration. It might be your friend's birthday soon. Yeah I'm hearing about a dear friend, someone you think is your soulmate (for some of you, they are :] ). Or maybe a connection where either person has romantic feelings and the other feels neutral. Some of you might be studying hard and preparing for your future job and you're trying to keep a positive mindset. I see so many drawings and scribbles in a notebook. This is the student pile. I'm also seeing baked food and the aroma of cafes. Maybe you like to do your work in a cafe with a cup of coffee and some cake. Also you might be secretive and like to keep things to yourself. Might be a homebody. You are working to chase a reward and you're feeling frustrated because the path is so long. Don't be too hard on yourself. Set small goals and reward yourself for finishing them.

Pile 3

Whimsical and airy vibes for this pile. I'm hearing that you might have witnessed something paranormal? Or something that just can't be real. Hmm existential crisis? Questioning the universe? Questioning yourself? I'm seeing wings. You might be wanting to just fly away lol. Or they could be angel wings. You might be feeling lonely. Recently you might have ended a friendship or relationship OR you might have lost someone so you feel empty. I'm really sorry for your loss :( A big phase of your life suddenly came to an end so you're feeling lost. Old memories flashing in your head. Though I also feel that someone wants to approach you with hopes of making new memories with you. They seem like a very doting person and also calm. 'Calm'; your head is a mess and you feel like you're not able to think clearly. You might be asking yourself, "Am I seeing/hearing things?", "Why am I not able to do such a simple task?" Maybe your spirit guides or guardian angel want(s) to communicate with you and for that I'm hearing lavender and mint. Meditation may also help you to sort out your thoughts.

Pile 4

This is the happy-go-lucky pile. I'm seeing you have so much fun with your friends! You seem like the type to uplift people's moods. It feels empty when you're not around. You might feel pressured to keep up this cheerful image. Lately someone might have been rude to you or accused you of something or just bad-mouthed you. You might have felt taken aback because of this and tried to reflect on yourself. Don't worry, they're just jealous. Maybe you started thinking about the time when your demeanor was very different from now; you were not a cheerful person to begin with, but you started acting this way because you wanted to be treated differently. Now that there has been a sudden rejection that is asking you to re evaluate your choices, you are considering reverting back to your old self. Or maybe you think a lot about your friendships and just feel overwhelmed by the love :( This is so wholesome. You feel deeply and often wonder about the outcomes of your actions. I think that's why you wanted change, you genuinely wanted to be of help to someone. Your friends really appreciate it even though they won't admit openly (for some of you, your friend is a tsundere lol)

Pile 5

An ethereal energy in this pile. Stargazing and being mesmerized. You know that feeling you get when you look up at the stars and wonder if someone is watching you? I think your guardian angels want you to know that they are always there for you. If not a guardian angel then a deceased loved one. You have big aspirations but you often feel intimidated. You may have doubts about the path you're choosing. I just want to say that you have the star quality and you're blessed. I'm hearing fate and good luck. If you have been manifesting, try using candles or star shaped objects. You can even use them as a lucky charm. "You drew stars around my scars" - this may apply to you and someone you know. Something about light at the end of the tunnel. 'Hope' ; someone or something gives you hope to keep going. You're working really hard, you just wonder if you'll get the results. This kind of reminds me of pile 2 so you might want to check that out. "Funny how all dreams come true"

Pile 6

You might be talking to someone and you don't really know where this is going? You can say it's a situation-ship. Or you're crushing hard on someone. Either way this is making you giddy. You might also be transforming yourself and so all the changes are making you feel giddy. A very new feeling. You're trying to look at things differently. You're trying to concentrate. You're craving some form of affection. The message I'm getting is that self care will help you get that faster. Also I'm hearing that you have a vibe that is easy to mesh with. People often find you attractive even when you're not doing anything. "Aphrodite's blessings" - you may get the glow-up you've been waiting for. Similar starry night vibes as pile 5. You're also really good at giving compliments and appreciating the beauty of the smallest things. You are a very loving person if you are given the space to do so. "Hang in there baby." - your future partner could be very devoted to you.

A channeled message for everyone: Please eat well !! And have some good sleep!! Take your vitamins!!

#pick a card #intuitive readings #psychic readings #pick a pile #pick a card reading #tarot #divination #tarot reading #duskyvenus

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fayes-fics · 1 year

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Mrs Bridgerton

Mrs Bridgerton Masterpost

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, modern AU

Summary: Modern AU. Your ex-husband craves you in a way you had no idea about until one fateful call...

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors dni, explicit language and thoughts, dirty talk, sexting, sex tape, masturbation, pregnancy kink, smidge of breeding kink. Mentions of marriage, divorce, pregnancy, custody, parenting, heartbreak, emotions. Bit angsty maybe? Not sure.

Word Count: 4.3k

Authors Note: This is an anon request fill from January here. (tldr summary: ex-husband Benedict can't stop thinking about you) Nonny, I changed up a couple of details of your ask; the porn he watches is your old sex tapes from when you were married. Also, he doesn't call once he was spent; he accidentally calls very much in the act ;) I hope that is okay. Guys, I have no idea what this is; sorry. Thanks to @colettebronte for checking I haven't completely lost it and @eleanor-bradstreet for the gif used above. <3

“Mrs Bridgerton!.... Mrs Bridgerton!” A teacher calls out across the playing field as she jogs towards you. It takes you a few seconds to realise she is indeed addressing you. It's been a couple of years since you went by that name—almost a ghost from the past at this point.

“Ah, actually, it’s Ms y/l/n now,” you correct as she draws closer. “I’m, well, I’m divorced from Emilia’s dad,” you explain somewhat apologetically.

“Oh, I am so very sorry! I'm new here. I just asked her if her parents were here, and she pointed you out.”

“No, no, it’s okay. It's an entirely fair assumption to make,” you placate, shielding your eyes from the sun to catch Emilia's gaze and give her the thumbs up at the end of the grassy running track.

“Well, I just need one of you to sign this permission form for the trip to the Science Museum next week,” the teacher states, thrusting a clipboard towards you.

“Oh certainly, no problem,” you assure, taking the proffered pen and signing on the dotted line she indicates. You know how excited Emilia is about that upcoming trip, even though she insists on going to the museum with you or her father at least once every few months.

“Wonderful, thank you.”

You just nod as another teacher brings them all to the starting line with a blast from their whistle, and your focus shifts entirely to cheering on your five-year-old daughter in her first school race.

-----

He knows you haven't seen him, and he doubts even Emilia has clocked him, wearing a baseball cap pulled low as he is. He deliberately keeps a low profile when you arrive. He is here to see Emilia on her first sports day. Only that. Or so he keeps telling himself.

But then he sees you, and something in his stomach knots hard. It’s been more than two years, and still, every time, it floors him. A few months after your split, he took to using Eloise as the go-between for your shared custody arrangements and has never stopped. Since then, he has not seen you in person, too cowardly to face you. His biggest mistake was letting you go.

You met in your late twenties at a party hosted by mutual friends, and that night, he knew his life would never be the same. Something about the connection was instant and electric. He had the best sex of his life, right there in a spare room of a party. Both drunk and foolish, you didn't use protection. So it was only a few weeks into your burgeoning relationship when you found yourselves staring dumbfounded at a blue and white stick that would alter your lives forever. You married quietly two months later at the town hall, with just a few family members and close friends attending, neither of you wanting a big fuss. It was a big gamble in many ways, but you were both willing to try, crazily in love and filled with a youthful optimism that can be so blinding.

All was well until parenting a newborn drove you both to exhaustion and beyond. A wedge grew between you, even as your beautiful daughter developed into the best miniature version of both of you, with his beauty and your brains. You tried to make it work. But bickering about petty things and distancing became the only constant in your dynamic. Part of him had hoped Emilia would be enough glue to hold you together, but it was too much to pin on a small child. Just after her third birthday, he watched his world crumble as you tearfully packed up your possessions and took the light from his life with you.

And now. Now it's a regret that haunts him every day. Replaying the mistakes he made over and over, the ones that meant you slipped through his fingers. Too preoccupied with his career frustrations and plagued by chronic lack of sleep to realise the damage before it was irreparable. He knows now, too late, that with a little more effort and compromise, perhaps you would still be together as a family. He certainly never stopped loving and desiring you.

So when the teacher calls out Mrs Bridgerton, his heart almost stops beating and, to his shame, there is a stirring in his jeans. God, he wishes that was still your name, so much so there is a bitter taste in his mouth as he watches you correct the teacher in an endearingly accommodating way. A large part of him wants to leap up and grab you, lift you into his arms, beg that you use the name again. His name. But he doesn't; he just lingers in melancholic reverie, recalling with perfect clarity how it felt to push the white gold band shakily onto your left hand as you recited your vows.

Then with a sharp nearby whistle blow signifying the race start, his focus is pulled back to why he is here. His little wonder, the centre of his universe. Emilia Bridgerton. The most beautiful person on the planet.

“Go, Emilia!!” he shouts, transfixed as his little girl moves out ahead of the pack, unthinking of anything but supporting his baby girl.

-----

Your head cuts to the side, and you freeze. You would recognise that voice anywhere. And how many Emilia’s can there be in the race?

He's not looking at you; his whole focus is on the field, but you can't seem to look away. Not even to watch your precious daughter. You haven't seen your ex-husband in more than two years. Using his sister as a go-between just seems like the best way to deal with your residual guilt about leaving him. But now? One look and your insides feel like you are falling down a chasm, lungs suddenly too small for the breaths you need to take.

Time seems to slow like molasses as you observe him. He’s wearing a baseball cap, almost akin to a disguise, but you can see underneath it that profile that still makes your heart flutter. Too much, really, considering you are exes. But his beauty was never the problem; it was part of the reason you always stayed. Those soulful eyes would draw you back every time. Those eyes that now haunt you daily, the Bridgerton genes far too strong not to override all of yours. Emilia is the prettiest little female version of your ex-husband you could ever imagine, and it's both your greatest joy and your greatest pain point, living with a growing reminder of the person who still owns your heart regardless of how much you might wish otherwise.

Looking back now, leaving him was an impetuous decision made from a place of utter exhaustion, not able to see a way out of the treadmill your lives had become at that time. But pride stopped you from admitting perhaps you made a mistake, serving divorce papers before you could think too hard about it. He didn't contest and agreed to all of your terms of custody without a fight. You didn't ask for spousal support; you earned more from employment anyway, most of his income coming from his trust. You never loved him for the Bridgerton name or fortune; in fact, sometimes, it felt like you loved him in spite of it.

And now, one look at him, and you are breathless and in a complete emotional and, yes, physical quagmire. Your body yearning for him, your traitorous brain supplying image after tumbling image of intimacy, the likes of which you have never known before or since—warm bodies wrapped around each other in ecstasy, that velvet voice pleading with you to come with him, for him, always so eager. It makes your chest heave so hard you have to look away to regain composure, doing so just in time for the universe to seemingly return to normal speed, as you watch Emilia cross the line, victorious in her first-ever race.

You cannot help it; you leap up and cheer too. And she looks over, beaming and jumping up and down. Running towards you and throwing herself into your arms as you kneel with a huge grin.

“Mummy mummy mummy!!” she peals excitedly, her breath gusting hard into your ear. “I did it! I won!”

“I know; well done!” you exclaim, rocking her happily in your arms. “You did wonderfully!!!”

“Did I see Daddy?” she asks, craning over your shoulder. You tense and swivel yourself to follow her eye line, but where he was standing just moments ago, there is now just an empty patch of grass.

“Oh, I don't think so, my love; it was probably someone else’s daddy who looks similar,” you suggest, the lie feeling odd on your tongue, It's obvious he doesn't want to be seen, and a part of you is grateful to avoid an awkward meeting. Emilia is still scanning the crowd, unconvinced by your assertion. “How about an ice cream from the van over there?” you offer cheerily, wanting to distract her from looking too hard for him.

“Okay!” she chimes happily, squirrelling a warm little hand into yours and pulling you towards the pedestrian gate.

Out of the corner of your eye, you spy a navy blue Jaguar pulling out of the other gate and know without a doubt it was him.

-----

He couldn't do it. He thought he could, but he feels the weight of your stare and has to leave. The minute Emilia crosses the line, he gives a little victory punch and takes off. Not able to face you. So much of him wants to, but the gutless part of him apparently resides in his leg muscles. Before he knows it, he is in his car and pulling out onto the West London streets, not daring to look back. It's not his day to pick up Emilia; that's still two days away. He would not want you angry for overstepping the agreement you have in place.

As he pulls up at a traffic light, his phone pings a match on the dating app Anthony bullied him into downloading last week. The temptation to fling his phone right out the window is strong. The idea of being with someone else, especially after the tumult of seeing you today, just feels wrong.

The only person he has slept with since your divorce was the second biggest mistake of his life. Someone he met at a bar celebrating Colin’s last birthday after too many whiskeys. A close enough facsimile to you that, through the haze of alcohol, he let himself be seduced. The lizard part of his brain somehow convinced it was you, even as she rode him in a way that chafed. Nothing like the way you moved, positively undulated, on his cock. Regret clung to his skin, the fug of hangover already kicking in as he watched her wordlessly re-dress and leave almost immediately, never exchanging numbers. He never saw her again. The fact he called your name as he came was probably the majority of the problem.

The only thing that stops him from flinging the phone is all the history it contains. Pictures of Emilia growing up from a tiny infant to now. But also his text exchanges with you, that increasingly he finds himself scrolling back through on self-indulgent nights, back to when things were good, and you would send each other little notes of love interspersed with sexting that; even now, he can barely read without getting hard. Unable to resist, as he waits for the light to go green, a dozen or more quick thumb flicks upwards on the thread for your previous number, and he finds some of his guilty pleasures.

8 March, 3:25 pm

Y/N: You had better plough me over the kitchen table when you get home xoxox

4 April, 5:02 pm

BB: Tough work day, need you, babe

Y/N: How’s this, daddy?

Y/N: [photo of your naked glowing, slightly rounded pregnant body]

BB: Fucking helllllll, I am one lucky man

Y/N: Come home, fuck me, daddy

BB: You need to stop calling me that…

Y/N: Why? I am literally pregnant with your child.

BB: Yeah, and that’s why it's so wrong…

Y/N: Just get here, pls. I am so fucking wet….

He is pinch-zooming on the photo, head tilted, his tongue peeking out the corner of his mouth… when a car horn makes him jump, the phone slipping from his grip and falling onto his emergent hard-on.

The traffic light has turned green.

With an apologetic nod in the rearview mirror, he drives off, shaking his head, knowing it’s probably very wrong to be looking at pictures of you, his ex-wife, and wanting to fuck you so bad that his foot leans heavily on the accelerator. His blood pumping hard, already knowing he will be taking himself in hand the minute he gets to his place.

-----

Emilia is happily smushing the cone of her 99 ice cream in her little fist as you walk the few streets to your sister's place, where you left your car earlier. She has kindly agreed to let Emilia stay tonight and have a sleepover with her cousins.

Later, you have your first date since your divorce, and you’ll probably need the rest of the late afternoon to psych yourself up enough to go. You've already cried off so many matchmaking attempts that you had to say yes eventually, just to stop the incessant badgering from all angles. Strangely, this one is Eloise’s doing, and you are still slightly weirded out that your ex-husband’s sister is engineering your first date in more than seven years.

Waving goodbye a few minutes later, you slip into your car and sit for a few deep calming inhales, trying not to think of how much Benedict stole your breath earlier. Some part of you thinks maybe you just imagined him there, a fevered mirage, your subconscious telling you to cancel this stupid date idea and stay home with your two best friends, Ben and Jerry. But then Ameila seemed to think he was there too, and honestly, it feels like you don't know what to do about anything anymore.

-----

He wastes no time, flinging aside the cap, tossing his car keys onto the hallway table and sprinting upstairs to his bedroom, only pausing to insert his noise-cancelling earbuds and discard his clothing.

He is already leaking a little when he throws himself onto the bed and fists his cock with a groan. His other hand is hovering over the play button on the video he definitely knows he shouldn't be watching, hidden in a nondescript folder.

Your soft giggle tickles his eardrums as the video jolts to life. It's one he shot of you on his phone on your honeymoon—it’s one of his favourites lately.

“Bennnnn,” your voice a teasing murmur as the screen fills with a glimpse of your breasts, his hand trying to take a sweeping shot of your body as you writhe underneath him, both of you buried in a soft glow under a tent of sheets wrapped around your bodies.

His own younger self chuckles loud in his ears, behind the camera as he is, both of your breaths loud as the movement becomes more pronounced.

This is him fucking you and filming it. The camera pans down, and there, almost too tough to see in the grainy low light, is his cock surging into you; the shot is never still enough to see in full detail.

Somehow the lack of clarity makes it more of a turn-on. Benedict whines low as his hand moves in a firm motion, jerking hard, losing himself in reminiscence of what it is like to be buried inside you, your scent, younger you panting hard, pleading quietly for him.

His hand speeds up, and he gasps as the video grows more urgent, the noises so loud right in his ear. He can hear the delicious sound of your wet cunt around his shaft, and it's like a sense memory, that viscous heated cling he can never forget.

“Ben, oh god Ben, you are so good, fuck me harder,” younger you moans loudly on the video, and both Benedicts, the old and new, couldn't resist that siren call.

“Y/n, oh god, give me your all, y/n,” Benedict growls, screwing his eyes shut, just relying on the auditory experience of the video now.

But not realising with his slurred speech; it's just given his phone a command…

-----

You are driving towards your place when your hands-free car display lights up with the last name you expect.

Benedict.

Your stomach plunges. Just like earlier when you found yourself staring at him and reimagining so many things you know you shouldn't. You reach over and click the little green button to connect the call, heart in your mouth.

“Ben?” you say his name softly, almost timid. Worried about what it might mean after that strange non-encounter less than an hour ago.

The noise that greets you makes every hair stand on end. It's a throaty groan. He seems to hiss your name, and all you do is frown as your car speakers vibrate with the sound.

“Ben, are you okay?” you check.

“Oh god, I am more than okay, baby,” he growls, and every inch of your body is rioting. “Just please, please don't stop, fuck you feel so good. So tight and hot. I want to live inside you,” the words panted, desperate.

Your foot slips hard on the pedal, and you almost crash into a damn tree.

-----

Your voice sounds different in his ear, and there is a background hum that wasn't there before, but he is so close to something so intoxicating he doesn't think to open his eyes and check the video.

“Talk to me,” he pleads low, knowing you on the video won't respond but somehow still wanting to talk to you regardless, “tell me how you feel.”

There is silence and then a slight shaky exhale.

“Ben.”

“Yes, yes, yes, say my name,” he pleads, leaking over his own knuckle as his hand becomes a frenzy on his cock.

-----

You pull over, quaking. There is only one reason he uses that tone. That's his bedroom voice, and fuck if it doesn't make you as weak now as it did back then. You can only assume his phone has accidentally dialled you while he is what? Masturbating? You flush so hotly at the very thought, and yet you can’t school what you say next. Your treacherous libido taking command of your lips.

“Are you touching yourself for me, Ben?” you breathe, and your clothing suddenly feels too tight, too hot.

Your speakers vibrate your seat as he groans loud and lewdly, and it's a beeline straight for your clit, now throbbing insistently against your car seat.

“Yes baby,” he moans and now, in the background, you can hear it, a slight slapping sound, his cock passing through his fist.

Your pussy clenches instinctually, and you feel a heavy pull, a depth charge of lust. Your lips tingle with the thought of kissing him, running your mouth over his body, wrapping around that cock you remember so well.

“I want you to come for me, Ben,” you plead, a hand straying down between your thighs, scarcely believing what is happening, what you are doing so brazen, parked up on the street mid-afternoon on a Wednesday.

“I will; oh god, I'm going to come so hard,” he snarls. “Do you want it inside you?”

Your fingers glance your clit over your yoga pants, and the heat is overwhelming. “Yes, Ben,” you pant, “inside me, give it to me, give me more of your beautiful babies.”

What you are saying is taboo. And so truthful you don't think to censor it. You would bear as many children as he wants to fuck into you. Still, even now.

“But you are already pregnant with my baby darling,” his voice taking on a softer edge, more wistful, “and you look so, so beautiful.”

You freeze.

“Benedict?” you say quietly.

“Yes, my love,” he purrs.

“Who do you think you are speaking to?” your ask is awkward, screwing your eyes shut, your hand moving away from the apex of your thighs. Suddenly mortified, perhaps it's not you that he thinks he is speaking to after all. Oh shit, did he get someone else pregnant? The panicked bile rises until he sighs the following words.

“Y/n, my wife, my life. God, I miss you so much. I know this must be a fever dream; I know we didn't talk like this in the video, but fuck if it doesn't sound so real,” he ends so wistfully.

“What video?” your question is slow, a weird weight on your chest that is your heart pounding out of control.

“Our honeymoon, darling,” he moans, and you can hear he is still masturbating, although slower-paced now. “When you let me video us fucking. I watch it so much these days that I'm surprised it's not worn out. And yet I can't not; every time I fuck my fist, it's to you.”

“You watch us? Every time you…?” your hand clutching your chest now.

“Yes, my love. I miss you so so much. I should never have let you go. You are my angel, the love of my life, the mother of my child and the only person I ever, ever want to fuck.”

The confession knocks your whole world off its axis. And you crave him. The feeling is so utterly all-consuming you struggle to take your next breath. You have to go to him. You have to see him. It's not even a choice not to. Every fibre of your being needs him.

“Ben,” you murmur, “don't come for me yet; I want to fuck you.”

“You do?” the hope in that gasp makes you lightheaded.

“Yes,” you breathe, “I miss your cock so much.”

You scramble to throw the car into gear and pull out into traffic. You are about a minute's drive away or less if he is home. Something in your movements so very urgent.

“Tell me what you are doing,” you whisper, trying your best to pitch the ask just the right level of seductive as you race down the road, turning into his street.

“I’m fucking my fist,” he moans, “but I wish it were you, my love.”

“I'm almost there,” you pant, pulling into his driveway with almost a squeal of tyres. You grab your phone and jump out of your car, crushing the handset to your ear as you run up to his front door and punch in a code, hoping it's still the one he uses. The crest of victory is palpable as the lock beeps and relents, the door popping open.

“Keep stroking yourself gently,” you order as you close the door and start to disrobe as you bound up the stairs.

“Y/n…” his voice is suddenly tremulant “this…. This isn't a dream, is it?”

“No, Ben, it's not,” you breathe, and you are down to your underwear as you skid into his bedroom, panting.

His eyes are wide with shock as you stride across the room, his cock still in hand and utterly naked; he looks just as delicious as the day you married him.

“Hello, Mr Bridgerton,” you purr.

“Y/n,” he stutters, and it's everything—surprise, desire, hope, relief, yearning and ardent.

“Call me Mrs Bridgerton,” you shoot back, and the responding noise he makes is so utterly feral you almost orgasm without so much as touching him.

-----

Eight months later

“Emilia, not there,” Benedict chuckles good-naturedly.

“Then where daddy?” her pout turns epic as she hands the offending item to him. “You do it!” she huffs.

“Okay, hold still,” he laughs and slides the small tiara into her hair. “See? Just perfect,” he opines, dropping a kiss onto her chestnut tresses.

“I look like a princess!” Emilia exclaims proudly, twisting to look into the mirror.

“Yes, you do,” Benedict concurs. “A pretty princess bridesmaid.”

“The prettiest,” you agree from the doorway, and both heads turn around and greet you with mouths that gape open.

“Oh, Mummy, you look like a real princess!” Emilia gasps, running towards you and giving you a quick hug before skipping out of the room gleefully as her grandmother Violet calls her name from downstairs.

“You look breathtaking,” his tone full of wonderment as he slowly gets to his feet, his eyes never leaving you. “But isn't it bad luck for me to see you like this?” he adds with a flash of concern.

You move towards him, and him towards you, drawn together. “I think we’ve had all the bad luck we are going to have,” you smirk, very much enjoying the sight of him in a sharp, custom-tailored suit. “At least I hope so, seeing as we have this thing to deal with,” you raise an eyebrow, pointing to your five-month bump.

“Thing? Darling, I thought we agreed; his name is Henry,” he sighs in mock indignation, his large hands skating around the swell of your belly, his lips warm on your temple.

“When did I agree to that name?” you frown amiably.

“Last night,” he responds silkily, right into your ear now.

“Oh no, you can’t possibly hold me to that,” you decry. “Anything said when inside me is null and void, Mr Bridgerton; you know I can barely remember my own name at that point.”

His rich chuckle vibrates against your whole body. “Well, let me remind you….”

“I’m listening,” you sigh, eyes closing as you sway into his hot neck kisses.

“It's Mrs Bridgerton,” he rumbles. “Or it will be again in about an hour.”

“I can't wait”, you whisper. “Say it again.”

“Mrs Bridgerton,” A dark, slow tease.

You are almost late for your own (second) wedding just downstairs.

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @lilithseve @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus

#benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton smut #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x female reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x y/n #benedict bridgerton imagine #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton #bridgerton smut #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x female reader #benedict bridgerton angst #bridgerton angst #1k notes #1k notes omg you guys!

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piccolos-bigtoe · 2 months

Text

Scour fell asleep in the bathroom for an hour... true story. Engineer became just another boring white guy thats a cog in the machine in the grocery store, sorry. D: I thikn he would fix stuff like cars or something in his free time shirtless and shirtless adn shirtless and he'd be shirtless and ooki heres some doodles.

I really havent been feeling drawing lately (lying), I'm not very please w/these on a second glance but thats okay thats just life. I'm zupah busy with schholl and hoesntly I should be dedicating more time to it becoz I have stuff due liek,,, next week, animations and illustrations and blah blah blahhhhhhh n e ways I probably wont be posting for a bit, and if I do post again you know I am avoiding work....... errmmmmmmm.... blahhh :P

.... for people who look at the end heres Sniper and Tavish \(//Ö//)/ Sniper gets drunk and kisses him... with anyone else Tavish would probably laugh at this and be like "what the flip!!!! harrrr har har har" but Sniper has a super power of being so pathetic people can't help but feel bad and then he makes everything akward because then he starts crying and now ur shoulders wet and now it's not so funny anymore because you have to comfort this crying old man :/

#tf2 #tf2 fanart #tf2 sniper #team fortress 2 #tf2 scout #tf2 demoman #tf2 engineer #swordvan #my art

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proxima-writes · 11 months

Note

Dbf Joel and younger reader sneaking off in his truck to make out !!

I may have done a bit more than making out, but I hope you enjoy!

title: moments we stole

pairing: dad's best friend!joel miller x female reader

rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)

word count: 1544

summary:

It''s your dad's 40th birthday party and you can't help yourself from flirting with his best friend, Joel Miller.

author's note: if you've sent in a request, thank you!! i love you!! the biggest smooches for you!! i promise i'm working on them. hope you enjoy!

content warnings/tags: explicit sexual content (18+ minors do not interact), explicit language, age difference (22F and 36M), pre-outbreak, teasing, flirting, established relationship, sneaking around, fingering, dirty talk, pet names, vaginal fingering, making out, semi-public sex. let me know if any are missing!

It’s your dad’s 40th birthday party. Your house is packed with all your dad’s friends from the architectural firm he works at, including a slew of brawny construction workers and contractors that mingle among the more clean cut architects and engineers. There’s one man in particular that keeps drawing your eye.

Your dad’s best friend, Joel Miller.

He’s a contractor your dad has worked with on a number of projects over the years. He’s younger than your dad at thirty-six years old, tall and broad with gorgeous brown eyes and dark curly hair. The first time you saw him at one of your parent’s parties, you could swear it was love at first sight for your little sixteen year old brain.

You're twenty-two now as you mingle with your dad’s guests, a beer bottle sweating in your hand as you nod along to the story your dad’s colleague is telling you. Movement from the corner of your eye catches your attention as Joel walks by.

“Excuse me for a sec, Richard. It was nice talking to you,” you say to the man you’d been speaking with. You follow after Joel, broad shoulders easy to track in the crowd.

He stops to talk to your dad and you slip beside him, your bare arm brushing his flannel covered one. Your dad smiles at you, leaning forward to press a kiss to your cheek.

“Hey, sweetie, you remember Joel, right?” He asks, gesturing to him. You grin at Joel.

“Of course I do, dad. He’s been at all your parties since I was sixteen. I haven’t been away that long,” you reply with a good natured roll of your eyes. “Hiya, Mr. Miller.”

The man chokes on his sip of beer, clearing his throat. “How’ve you been? You graduated in May, right?”

“Yeah, but you already knew that,” you giggle. His eyes go the tiniest bit wide. “It’s been good. Happy to be back home.”

“I bet. You went pretty far for school.”

“Still made it back for all dad’s parties and holidays, though. So, hopefully you didn’t miss me too much.”

You can see his jaw clenching. Your dad continues to smile at the two of you, blissfully unaware of the blatant flirting you’re throwing at his friend.

The thing is, you do know Joel. Intimately.

It started when you were nineteen. You came home for winter break but your parents had re-keyed your childhood home with some fancy biometric locks that you weren’t set up to use yet, nor did you have the physical key to bypass it.

But Mr. Miller had a copy of the key. Your dad gave you the man’s address and when you showed up, Joel had groaned and ran a hand through his messy curls.

“I’m sorry, darlin’, I tried to tell your dad that I gave him that key back. But you’re welcome to come inside and wait until one of ‘em gets home from work?”

And that’s what you did. Waiting with Joel Miller turned into watching movies with Joel Miller, which turned into kissing Joel Miller, which turned into laying beneath Joel Miller and moaning his name as he pounded into you.

You saw him a couple more times during that first break, each time more explosive than the last. You went back to school with a sore pussy and a new number saved in your phone that you would call late at night, tucked under your covers in your dorm.

The secret hook ups and phone calls continued and every time you flew home to visit your parents, you’d slip into bed with Joel. Somewhere between nights on the phone and nights in his bed, you’d fallen in love. A fact that you accidentally let slip during a call, when you had to get going and you absentmindedly told the man, “Bye, love you!”

You remember freaking out about that for hours. But when he called you that evening, everything seemed perfectly fine. As you were saying goodbye, he asked, “Aren’t you forgettin’ somethin’, baby?”

That’s how you found out Joel Miller loved you, too.

“We’re very proud of her. Graduated with honors,” your dad chimes in.

“Yeah. Cum laude,” you say, emphasizing your mispronunciation of the phrase. Joel looks like he’s about to burst a blood vessel.

“I forgot somethin’ in the truck,” he mumbles. “Be back in a minute.”

He leaves without waiting for a response, a hitch in his step that makes you giggle. You continue to speak with your dad for a couple more minutes before you excuse yourself under the guise of getting another drink.

You grab two beers on your way out the front door, swinging them gently as you walk to the edge of your driveway and follow the sidewalk to where it ends near the woods that border your parent’s neighborhood.

A familiar black truck is tucked away in the tree line and you smile as you see Joel Miller standing there with his arms crossed, a stern expression on his handsome face.

“You think you’re so fuckin’ funny,” he says as you draw near. He takes the beer bottles from your hands, setting them in the truck bed before tugging you close as you giggle.

“Absolutely hilarious,” you reply. His broad palm cups the back of your head, pulling your lips to his in a kiss so heated it makes your toes curl. His other hand grips your ass through the fabric of your dress.

“Wearin’ this little thing was the worst tease of all,” he growls. He hoists you up onto the truck tailgate, stepping between your legs. The added height of the truck brings his hips flush with your aching core, the hard length of him brushing against your clit and making you whimper. “Mmm, not so smart now, huh?”

“Joel,” you whine. His lips descend on yours, moving in practiced tandem, spit slick and so warm even the chill night air can’t bother you. “We don’t have much time,” you say between his drugging kisses, your words a little slurred and not from the buzz of beer in your veins.

“Don’t rush me, princess,” Joel says as he trails kisses down your neck, across your clavicle, to your shoulder. His hand grips your breast, tugging the neckline of your dress down to expose one of your nipples. He runs a thumb across the hard nub before chasing the sensation with his lips and tongue and teeth. You squirm against him as he gives your other breast the same attention.

Joel slides a hand up your leg, starting with a light trace of his fingertips at your ankle and ending with a harsh grip to your inner thigh, his thumb reaching to rub your clit through your panties. You whine again, high and needy, as he draws back to watch your face while he circles your clit.

“So goddamn beautiful,” he says. His fingers shove aside your underwear, sliding through your slick folds. “Always so fuckin’ wet for me. Teasin’ me work you up that much?”

His groan echoes yours as he slips two fingers inside of you, curling them harshly as he pulls back before repeating the actions again and again, winding you so tight but backing off just as you’re about to explode that you want to cry in frustration.

“What’s the matter, baby? Don’t like a taste of your own medicine?” Joel teases. You pout and he chuckles, adding a swirl of his thumb on your clit to each thrust inside your cunt. “Don’t pout, you know I can’t say no to you when you look at me with those sweet little eyes.”

“I wanna come so bad, Joel, please,” you beg, rocking against his hand.

“Since you asked so nicely,” he says, concentrating his efforts on your clit with incredible precision. You bite into his shoulder as you shatter, stifling your moan into that goddamn flannel that makes his biceps look so good. “That’s it, good girl, fuck you look good comin’ on my fingers. Can’t wait to get you in bed later.”

Joel slows his hand before withdrawing, bringing his fingers to his mouth and sucking them clean while you try to catch your breath. When he deems them clean he digs his fingers into your hair, tugging your head back to grace you with a filthy kiss that tastes like you and the beer he’d been drinking earlier.

“I love you,” he says as he pulls away, lips tilted in a completely besotted smile that makes your heart beat triple time. It makes you so glad to be home, where your stolen moments are slowly turning into something more real, more permanent.

“I love you, too.”

________

You drink your beers on the way back to the house, slipping back into the party just as your mom announces it’s time to cut the cake. You stand shoulder to shoulder with Joel as everyone sings an off key rendition of Happy Birthday to your dad, the older man smiling brightly at everyone.

He helps your mom pass out plates of dessert. When he reaches you and Joel he asks, “Did you get what you needed from your truck?”

Joel chokes on his bite of cake and you pat his back as he coughs.

“Yeah, uh, yeah. I definitely did.”

Joel Miller taglist:

@huffle-punk @johnwatsn @hopelessromantic727 @whereasport @pedr0swh0r3 @yellingloudly @dragon-of-winterfelll @thedeadsingwithdirtintheirmouths @mydailyhyperfixations @liati2000 @ghostofjoharvelle @cutesyscreenname @morgaussy @letsgroovetonighttt @endlessthxxghts @fake-bleach @brilliantopposite187 @mattmurdock1021 @str84pedro @justsomeoneovertherainbow @loquaciousferret @milly-louise @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @kirsteng42 @caatheeriinee07 @eternallyvenus @midnightswithdearkatytspb @evyiione @leeeesahhh @tloubarbie @afterglowsb-tch13 @loveliestofthoughts @theviewfromtheritz @brittmb115 @uncassettodiricordi @pedritosgfreal @adriennemichelle98 @mxtokko @gingersince97 @switchbladedreamz @casa-boiardi @tonysterco @rvjaa @ladymunson @sexpoisoned @trisaratops-mcgee @decemberdolly @spookyemorockbabe @reader-without-a-story @katmoonz @simping-soldat @mswarriorbabe80 @orphanbird95 @shatteredbaby @tusk89 @gingersince97 @mssbridgerton @internetobsessed1234-blog @sloanexx @manazo @bigboiseason123 @bean-is-reading @darlingpedro @silkiers @pascals-catals-cat @bbyanarchist @therealcap @pedrosgrogu

Want more Joel Miller? Check out the master list

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #no use of y/n #joel tlou #joel x reader #joel miller fluff #dbf!joel #dbf!joel miller #age difference #joel miller fic request #ask request

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buf309 · 6 months

Text

Pose Reference Resources

I promised Dia (aka aerequets) that I will make a collection of pose references in the reply of one of her art posts, and then I completely forgot about it. Until now. I'm sorry for my bad memory.

So, yeah, better late than never I guess?

The pose collection I use the most is no longer free. They used to let you download a whole album (more than 8GB worth of data) to use offline, but now you have to pay $40/package or $200 for full sets. I still have the zip file for a very old version of theirs, but I can't legally share it. So, let's skip to the other options.

1/ First, you heard of those 3D dolls program that let you model your own reference pose? This one is an online one and for free, the whole ordeal. Of course since it's online and free, you can't save your model for next time, and it costs quite a lot of time to set the model up. So, you should take as much screenshots in as many tricky angles as you need once you done with the setting. Best using for complicated scenes where those below don't have what you need already available.

2/ This one is free and in 3D, you can rotate the model to any angle that you need. The only set back is the numbers of poses are quite limited. This one is best for using as a basic blocks then build up what you want to draw, or just as a practice to improve your understanding of human anatomy.

3/ This one is free for personal uses and the pose collection is massive. The setbacks are the language barrier (it's in Japanese, English is sometimes tag-a-long) and you have to search through their pages for what you need. The pics for each pose is static but they are in different angle in almost 360 degrees. There are many 2-person and 3-person poses too. Great for illustration inspiration.

4/ This one will only show reference photos of human head, at whatever angle you rotate the model. The web interface is easy to use. There are options like searching based on gender, ages, emotions, glasses, facial hair or not, etc. Good for practicing face drawing.

5/ This one will show reference photos for human body parts, at whatever angle you rotate the model, read the instructions for how to do it. The web interface is quite hard to use at first, just tinkering around for a bit, and you will be fine. There are options like searching based on gender and which particular parts that you need refs for. Good for that moment when you go "huh? how is this <body part> will look in this <situation>????"

6/ This one will only show reference photos of animal heads, and only the head, at whatever angle you rotate the model. The accurate skull refencence list is their best point. There are enough common species in the drop down list. Tbh, I don't use this much because I often need refs for the whole animal most of the time. But it's best for furry artists, I guess?

7/ Real model photos. They sell pose reference in themed packs, but there are enough free packs to use as drawing practice too.

8/ This is the best for general background reference. Lots of options. Not really good for very specific location results, but good for random background in drawings.

9/ Lastly, for specific objects or background references at strange angles, I often search for 3D models on this site then take screenshots of whatever I need.

That's all, folks. Hope this list can help ease some of the struggles that we will encounter on our quest of learning the art of drawing things 😂

#reference #digital art reference

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loveswrites · 1 year

Note

Omg I loved ur poly volturi!!!! ❤️❤️❤️❤️ I'm pleading for more!

Uno~ Poly Volturi x reader

Time it took me: I can't even tell you that hell a month? 26 days?

Word count: 1454

To lovely anon: I so happy you loved it! Sorry I took so long I'm trying to get back into my self! Your guys asks always make my day! Just cause I haven't answered doesn't mean That I haven't seen it! I love just about everyone that comes in! <3

Enjoy!

Poly Volturi x Reader

"That's just stupid." Alec said huffing looking at the table in distaste.

"You have to draw four. That's the rules." You Said shrugging.

You, Alec, Jane, Felix and Demetri were currently playing Uno. It took a while convincing everyone to play. Sure you live in a huge castle with the love of your lives but you are still human. You get bored. While Felix was down to play immediately the others were disinterested in playing with you. You got responses like "That's foolish, I have much better things to do, my love." From Caius.

A simple "No." From Jane.

"I'm sorry but I'm busy right now, beautiful." From Demetri.

"It sounds like a waste of time." From Alec.

You even asked Aro and Marcus. Marcus just straight up said he was too old for that shit in so many words. And Aro said he was too hungry to play games but maybe later.

All the rejection from everyone put you in a sad mood. It's not like you could have friends in the Castle that wouldn't eat you the moment you get a paper cut. The receptionist is a bitch. And there aren't any more humans you have access to. So the fact that everyone said no you were distant with everyone. They all noticed.

You stopped going to trails with Caius. You stopped attempting to give Jane love. You stopped asking Alec to use his powers so you'd be entertained by the dark fog. You stopped asking Felix for piggyback rides. You stopped attempting to play hide and seek with Demetri.

It had been days since you spoke more than 2 words at a time to any of them. You knew it was affecting them because of the tension that rested upon the castle in a thick fog. They were quick to temper. Quicker than normal that is. And that's saying a lot.

Marcus had asked you why you hadn't been to any of the trials lately. As it happened to be one of your favorite parts of the day. "I just haven't been in the mood." You told him. He's been on this godforsaken earth way too long to be able to know when to call bullshit. But nonetheless the less he let it go.

After that you noticed that your love's would attempt to talk to you more. Not just brushing it off as human attitude as Caius would call it. It was small talk but it was an effort.

"Yes I'm fine Demetrius stop asking me." You huffed slightly irritated.

"Did you eat today?" He questioned a little squint in his eyes.

"Yes I eat everyday." You rolled your eyes, gathering the book you were reading from the cold castle floor you were sitting on.

There was the random corner in the Castle that you would just sit in and watch as people- vampires walked through the halls. It had a lot of traffic coming through it which was what you loved. Cauis had offered to have something built for you so you wouldn't have to sit on the floor all the time. But you would always shake your head and tell him "No, just keep it clean for me please." And so he did.

"I fed today. The humans blood was a bit bitter but nonetheless tasty." Demetrius said following you in your attempts to run away from the conversation.

"You sound like a child."

"And yet here you are acting like one." He snapped.

"I'm sorry?" You said, stopping in your tracks turning to face him.

"You've had this horrible attitude for almost a week for the stupidest thing!" He stated staring at you with his sharp eyes.

"I have not!" You said in attempts to defend yourself.

"Yes you have, don't bother denying it, the whole castle can smell it!" He yelled.

"The lies you tell!" You practically screamed upset you were getting called out.

"Oh really?" Demetrius questioned before you could even blink he had grabbed you by your waist and next you knew you were in a room full of all your mates.

Once you finally felt your two feet touch the ground you couldn't help but get angry.

"What the fuck is this an intervention?!" You screamed.

“If that’s what you want to call it, then so be it.” Jane said in a straightforward tone.

“Oh my god what do you guys want?! I just want to be left alone but you all keep bothering me!” You yelled.

“Us bothering you? You were practically begging for attention a couple of days ago now you want to be left alone? Foolish!” Caius yelled, taking you back a bit.

He would yell but he would refrain from yelling at you the best he could. So him yelling at you right now kinda shocked you.

“You wanted to play that card game the other day right? That was when you started acting like such a brat, so we're going to fix that and play it.” Alec stated holding his head high.

“No thanks, I'm good on that.” You said going to turn around to walk away.

“Sit down!” Your mates yelled collectively making you stop in your tracks.

“Sit down please, I’ll shuffle the cards to start.” Felix said in a softer tone.

That was about an hour ago. To not even wanna be sitting here right now it was quite entertaining watching your mates fight with each other about the fact that another was kicking the others ass.

“I will do no such thing. I've drawn four four times!” Alec yelled, upset he was losing.

“It’s the rules of the game you have to Alec.” Jane said, rolling her eyes at her brother's temper. She was just happy she was winning. For now..

You were all sitting at a grand dining room table. Well Alec, Jane, Felix, Caius and Demtruis were. You were actually sitting on the table. Caius put you up there in attempts to make it harder for you to run away if you tried.

You did.

You almost hit your head on the way down.

“I don’t see the appeal of such a game, the cards don’t make sense.” Cauis said busy reading the rules that were on the back of the box.

“Don’t look at my hand! That’s an immature thing to do!” Dem yelled at Felix who kept leaning over to see what cards Dem had in his hand.

You had won the first round so you were busy spectating.

“Immature!? It’s not like we're taking a test!” Felix yelled back, plopping down in his seat.

“You're trying to cheat!” Dem yelled back furrowing his eyebrows.

“Cheat?! I am no cheater! Tell him Amore mio!” Felix said, turning to face you.

“You were cheating, I saw you.” You said blandly.

“Your human eyes don’t under the actions of mine-”

“Her human eyes are perfectly fine!” Dem yelled coming to your defense.

Tuning yourself out of the conversation-well the constant bickering. You found yourself just watching your mates. All were yelling or frowning about something but you couldn’t help the smile that came to your face. Neither of them could stand human games. They hated it with the most of them. Minus video games Alec, Felix and Dem said that those don’t count. Though you always tell them they do, they insist that they don’t. A fight you could never win.

All of your mates came together to do one simple thing that you’ve wanted to do for months. Once they saw how much the disconnection to just one human thing hurt you, They came together to try to make you feel wanted and seen. Though they can’t see the appeal at all there trying for you. And that’s all you could ever ask for.

“That’s not four Alec!” You yelled when you saw him try to cheat his way into just grabbing two cards.

“Oh come on! I’m never going to win!” Alec yelled back.

“Not my problem.”

“Maybe winning is just not in your line of blood.” Cauis said with a slight smirk.

“What’s that supposed to mean?!” Jane and Alec said at the same time turning their sharp red eyes at Caius.

“I mean-”

“Nope! Nope! Draw two more cards Alec I’ll help you win!” You rushed out attempting to try to keep the peace. Well as much peace as it was going to get in the room.

“That’s not fair!”

“I need help as well, I deserve it!”

“So were picking favorites now?!”

“Felix, stop looking at my cards!”

“You can’t pick sides!”

You can’t even lie to yourself you had missed them so much. And the smile on your face told no lies.

#cauis x reader #felix volturi x reader #alec volturi x reader #the volturi #volturi x reader #jane volturi x reader #twilight #twilight x reader #poly twilight #demitri volturi x reader #loveswrites

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mamaestapa · 10 months

Text

Bedtime Stories|| Joe Burrow x reader

•pairing: Joe Burrow x reader

•prompt #71: “and that’s how daddy got mommy to marry him” (this is from my wattpad NFL imagines)

•summary: Your daughter wants a bedtime story before she goes to bed, so Joe decides to tell her the story of how he proposed to you

•warnings: Children, pregnancy, so much fluff🤍 dad joe is my absolute favorite

"Alright Josie Lee, time for bed." You said to your four year old daughter, who was currently coloring a picture of a tiger.

"But mommy," she looked up at you, pushing out her bottom lip in a pout, "can I please finish this picture for daddy?"

You sighed, brushing your fingers through your daughters dark blonde hair. “Be quick." you said, smiling at her.

She squealed, "Yay! Thanks mommy, you the best."

She went back to coloring the tiger, careful not to color outside the lines. You smiled as you watched her. You decided to fold some laundry before you had to put Josie to bed. As you were folding bath towels you heard a squeal come from the kitchen.

"Daddy!" Josie squealed. Joe started to tickle her little sides, making the little girl giggle uncontrollably. You couldn't help the smile that appeared on your face as you listened to your little girls giggle. You put down the towel you just folded and walked back into the kitchen. The sight in front of you made your heart swell with love.

"I love your tiger baby girl, she is very cute."

"It's not a she daddy, it's a boy!"

Joe put his hands up in defense, "Oh! Sorry, sorry, forgive me."

She giggled, "I forgive you daddy. Look!" She held up the paper showing him the drawing. "He's wearing your jersey."

Joe gushed, "Oh my goodness, look at that! He’s wearing a number nine jersey like daddy.”

"His name is Joey."

Joe kissed her forehead, "I love it, Josie girl."

She smiled, reaching out to hug Joe, "Thanks daddy. I love you."

"Oh I love you more."

You walked over to both of them, wrapping an arm around Joe and an arm around Josie. "And mommy loves you two the most."

Joe leaned down and kissed your temple, squeezing you softly.

"What about baby sister?" Josie asked, her mouth gaped open, “don't you love her too!?

You placed your hands on your belly, rubbing your bump. You and Joe were expecting another baby girl in the early fall. In just a few short months your little family of three, would soon become four. Joe was meant to be a girl dad, and adding another little girl into his life made him so happy. "Of course I love baby sister." You said, a slight frown on your face as you ran a hand through Josie’s hair. Josie smiled and put her small hands on your bump, rubbing it, softly, “I love her too."

"Me three." Joe said, placing his veiny hand on the center of your belly. You smiled, putting yours on top of his. "Are you ready for bed now Josie?"

She frowned, "Can I make a picture for Uncle Sammy? I think he'd want a Joey tiger, but with his number instead."

Joe smiled, "I think he would too. But," he picked her up from the barstool, making her giggle, "you can make him one tomorrow, okay? It's getting late sweetheart."

She nodded, her little ocean blue eyes lighting up as she looked at her father, "Otay daddy." Joe smiled at his daughter as he set her down on the ground, "You lead the way princess."

Josie ran out of the kitchen and up the stairs to her bedroom. Joe held his hand out to you, "Come on Mama, let's go put the princess to bed so you, me, and the little one can watch another episode of Yellowstone."

You chuckled, taking his hand, "Sounds good to me. Lead the way, daddy."

Joe wiggled his eyebrows, "Oh, maybe we should save Yellowstone for another night."

You shook your head, "No, no. I love you, but I can't, I'm too huge." You said as you gestured to your six month protruding baby bump. Joe wrapped his arm around your waist, supporting your belly as both of you walked up the stairs. "You're not huge baby, you look sexy. Even more sexier now that you're carrying my baby, again."

You couldn't help but blush at his comment. You shook your head at your husband and continued to walk up the stairs. Once both of you were upstairs, you went into your daughters room. She was laying in bed, patiently waiting for you and Joe to tuck her in. "Alright peanut," Joe sighed as he sat on the edge of her bed. Josie smiled and laid down in her pink sheets. Joe pulled the soft pink cover over her little body. She snuggled further under the blankets, smiling up at her daddy. He leaned down and kissed her forehead, "I love you Josie."

She leaned up and kissed Joe on the tip of his nose, "I love you daddy. Can you tell me a story?" she pouted her little pink lips, "I'm not sleepy yet."

Joe glanced over at you before turning back to Josie, "A story huh?"

You smiled, climbing into bed next to Joe's mini me. You wrapped your arm around Josie and she immediately snuggled into you. She placed her small hand on your belly, hoping to feel her little sisters kicks. "Yeah daddy, tell us a story." you said, your smile widening as you saw Josie's excitement when she felt a kick to her little hand. Joe smiled and got off the bed. He grabbed Josie's unicorn beanbag that sat in the corner of her room, and placed it down next to her bed, plopping himself into it.

"Get comfy ladies, this could be a long one."

Josie looked up at you and smiled. You squeezed her gently and scrunched your nose. Both of you turned your attention back to Joe as he began telling a story.

"Once upon a time, there was a beautiful young woman named Y/n."

Josie gasped, "Like mommy?!"

Joe couldn't help but chuckle, "Yes, like mommy." He continued his story, "So Y/n, this beautiful woman, was dating a man named Joe."

She gasped again, "Like daddy?!"

You laughed, "Yes, like daddy."

Joe just smiled at you before continuing, "Joe and Y/n had been dating for four years."

"That's as old as me!" Josie whispered in shock. You and Joe chuckled at your daughters reaction. She was going to have a comment to make about every part of the story, and you and Joe loved it. "Now, Joe knew as soon as he met Y/n that she was the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. But Y/n was too good for little ol' Joe." Josie giggled, making a smile grace Joe's features. His baby girls laugh never failed to put a smile on his face. "But Joe got the courage to ask out the pretty lady, and to his surprise she said, 'why of course i'll go out with you!' That made Joe very happy."

You laughed lightly as Joe told a dramatic story of how the two of you met years ago during your time at LSU. If anything, you were the one that thought Joe was too good for you. But boy did he prove you wrong. And you definitely didn't say "why of course i'll go out with you".

"So Joe and Y/n went out on a date. He took her to his favorite places in Baton Rouge, the city they met, and they had their first kiss right in front of the ice cream shop. The first date turned into a second date, and the second date turned into a third, until eventually Joe asked Y/n to be his girlfriend."

"What did she say?" Josie asked, her small voice full of curiosity as she sat up in your embrace. "She said yes, of course!" Joe exclaimed, making you giggle softly. Josie smiled and nodded, "Good." She laid back in bed once again and listened to her father continue his bedtime story.

"And as the years went on, the two of them were so in love with each other. Joe picked out a ring, but not just any ring, an engagement ring. With a gold band and three small diamonds. It was beautiful, just like his Y/n." Joe looked up at you with a smile as he spoke, his blue eyes full of love, "He wanted to ask her to marry him, but he didn't know how. He knew it had to be special because Y/n deserved the best proposal ever. So, Joe asked some of this good friends from his old school, Nick and Sam-."

Before Joe could finish, Josie gasped, "Like Uncle Nick and Uncle Sam!?"

Joe nodded, laughing softly as he spoke, "Yup. Now, Nick and Sam had some ideas for Joe. Nick told Joe he should take her out to the same places they went to on their first date. Joe liked the idea, but it didn't stand out to him. Sam suggested he take Y/n on a trip somewhere with a beach, like Hawaii, and propose to her on the beach—which was one of her favorite places." It's true, the beach has always been one of your favorite places. "But that idea didn't stick out to him either. So Joe waited. He waited weeks, which turned into months, until the perfect moment came to propose to Y/n. Joe had just gotten the best news of his life, he was going to be a daddy. A daddy to the most beautiful little girl in the whole world."

Josie smiled up at you widely, making you squeeze her gently. She giggled and leaned in closer to you as she listened to her daddy finish the story.

"When Y/n told Joe they were having a baby, he was so excited! He couldn't wait to have a baby with the woman he loved so much. It was when Joe was hugging Y/n, with his hand placed gently on her belly just like this," he moved so he could place his hand on your baby bump. You placed your hand over his and smiled warmly at him. "That he knew he was going to propose to her, right there. And that's what he did. He got down on one knee and asked Y/n if she would marry him. Y/n started crying, which made Joe cry too."

"Why were they crying?" Josie asked, sadness lacing her small voice.

"Because they were happy. They were so, so happy. Y/n said 'yes' and Joe swore his heart grew ten times bigger that day. He was going to marry the most beautiful woman in the world, and soon he was going to be a daddy to the most beautiful girl in the world. His Josie Lee."

Josie sat up abruptly, her jaw dropping open, "Josie!? That's me!"

You laughed, rubbing your daughters back, "You're right Josie, that is you." Joe smiled as he stood up from the bean bag. "And that, that was the story of how daddy got mommy to marry him."

"I knew it!" Josie smiled, pointing her small index finger at Joe. The three of you laughed, happily. "That was a good story daddy."

"It was, wasn't it?" Joe asked, reaching out to grab your hand as you both smiled. The story of yours and Sams relationship never gets old.

You sighed, "It's one of mommy's favorites. But it's getting late peanut," you tucked a strand of Josies dark blonde hair behind her ear, "you need to go to bed so you can draw a tiger for Uncle Sam in the morning." Josie squealed, "Yes! Can you tuck me in now so it can be morning soon?" she asked in her sweet little voice.

Joe chuckled, "I like the way you think." You rolled out of the bed and walked, well more like waddled, over to the other side of Josie's bed. Joe pulled the covers over her body, leaning down to kiss her forehead. "I love you Josie. Sleep tight, peanut."

She smiled, grabbing her tiger stuffed animal and snuggling it close to her. "I love you daddy." Joe stepped away so you could say goodnight to your daughter. "Goodnight my love." You kissed her forehead. She leaned over and kissed your belly. "Goodnight mommy. Goodnight baby sister. I love you." You smiled warmly. "I love you more peanut."

Josie laid back down and closed her eyes. You turned her bedroom light off and walked out of her room, closing the door behind you and Joe. He grabbed your hand, squeezing it gently. "You still up for some Yellowstone?" You nodded, "As long as you'll rub my feet and feed me ice cream?" Joe chuckled and placed a chaste kiss to your lips. "Of course, anything for my girls."

You were the luckiest woman in the world. Joe Burrow was truly the best husband (and daddy) ever.

hey loves!!

in honor of father’s day here’s a dad joe imagine i’ve had sitting in my drafts for weeks lol

hope you all liked it! dad joe is my favorite to write, it’s so so sweet🤍

that’s all i have for now! ;)

#joe burrow #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow x y/n #joe burrow x you #imagines #joe burrow imagine #nfl imagines #dad joe

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blackopals-world · 10 months

Text

I Found Home

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4)(Part 6)(Part 7)(Part 8)

Implied relationship

Part 5

Notes: This wasn't supposed to happen yet but I'm working on several chapters at once so this got posted first due to timing. This chapter was meant to go last. (besides I'm not going to pretend that most of you didn't just come here for this guy. I just want to get this over with.)

Malleus

"The Hero"

Grimm wasn't the most social of the kids but he was finally learning how to play with others. From what the child development book says he had a rich imagination and took part in imaginative play with others. He had even shown interest in things like singing and dancing with other kids.

But when art time came Grimm looked upset and yelled at another girl. Yuu had to apologize to the girl and her father. They had an argument which caused Grimm to lose his temper. He wouldn't say what it was about either.

When it was time to go Grimm waited by the car and stared at the crumpled drawing he made in his hands.

"Do you want to talk about what happened?" Yuu asked helping Grimm into his car seat.

Grimm shook his head.

Yuu nodded and decided to leave it alone.

When they got home Grimm went to his room without much fuss. Even bathtime was quiet without his usual crying.

When it was time for bed Grimm still clutched the paper ball.

"Mama?" He asked for her while he was deep in thought.

"Yeah, sweetie?" Yuu pulled the covers over him.

"Where is our family?" Grimm unfurled the pater to reveal a drawing of her and him in crayon.

Yuu's voice was caught in her throat. She wanted to wait until he was older to explain this.

"We are a family." She said simply.

"But Erinn said that families were big like hers. A mommy, daddy, sister, brother, grandma, and grandpa. But I only have a Mommy." Grimm asked confused. "I told Erinn that I only had Mama and she said that we weren't a real family without that. So I got mad."

Yuu knew she had to control her emotions and try to explain but it was getting hard.

"We are a family. All the family we need. Erinn is lucky and has a big family already and she doesn't understand what other families look like." Yuu said stiffly "I'm sorry if I'm not enough. If I could, I would give you the family you deserve but I'm only one person."

Yuu quickly finished saying goodnight before retreating to her room. Tears of frustration blinded her.

It wasn't her fault.

She wanted a family too.

Ever since she returned to her world and old life she had tried to find her place. Friends and family were happy to see her again but they had moved on after years of her absence. Everything familiar was now strange. Then came the questions about where she was and what happened. She couldn't answer, no one would believe her. They turned on her with suspicion and called out her lies. News media caught wind and police had questions as well. Everyone wanted to know but she had no answers.

Rumors were everywhere and even the people who trusted and wanted to help Yuu had mud slung their way. She did what had to do to protect them and left. She escaped as far as she could to a place where no one knew her. She wrote her books in solitude and kicked out everyone who tried to profit from her newfound fame.

Conspiracy theorists and true crime fans still hounded her but she had a life where she could be in relative peace.

She had a son now and could live a normal life. Wasn't that enough? Can't she live her life?

Yuu cried for herself, for her son, for their future.

"Are you sure we shouldn't wait until tomorrow, your Majesty? Yuu may be asleep by now." Silver asked pushing aside the foliage with a ball of light he cased in the other.

"Of course, my child of man has always stayed up late in the night. She is undoubtedly awake." Malleus said proudly leaving Sebek and Silver to clear the way. Trails of Will o'-Wisps marked their path to find their way back.

Lilia flew above the group as he enjoyed the scenery. He seemed even more relaxed these days. Silver and Sebek had finally taken over their roles as captains of the royal guards. Malleus was firmly established himself as the ruling king and let his dear grandmother retire to her castle on the coast. She was certainly enjoying the sun in her scales.

Malleus had been hard at work revitalizing his kingdom. Bringing his kingdom into the current Era took effort but he had reached out to Shroud's heir for his assistance. Now the youth of his kingdom had new jobs to look forward to and new citizens had begun to move into their land. Malleus had also reached out to over classmates and found their help invaluable.

Kingscholar and Viper had been invaluable political partners and expanded trade between their lands. Rosehearts had joined him in laying out new laws compatible with technological developments. Ashengrotto had great knowledge of how to take advantage of natural resources in the area. Schoenheit offered assistance in starting an entertainment business hub like filming to take advantage of the vista.

Malleus had developed strong friendships with each of them but none of them could compare to the one that changed his life. Something they all agreed on.

"This place is so nice. So many stars but you can still see the city lights in the far distance. Are we close to the shore?" Lilia couldn't wait to visit another world and go touring with Yuu. His boys may be reserved to just seeing her but he had plans.

"The terrain is dangerous. It's rocky and likely has many dangerous creatures lurking about. How that human can stand being so much peril is beyond me." Sebek huffed.

Silver shook his head and ignored his co-captain.

As the group journeyed through the forest they noticed a small sound break up the buzzing of cicadas. Small sniffles and whimpers echoed and wrapped around the trees.

Lilia as if sensing a child's distress told the group to be quiet as he tracked down the whining.

Tucked into a hollow at the base of a tree a small boy huddled with a stuffed cat clutched to his body for dear life. The poor child cried for no one but himself.

As the group got closer they lit up wisp light around the area. The soft light alerted the boy as he drew closer.

"Hey, there. What are you doing out here so late?" Lilia crouched down to the boy's level to not scare him. "You should be at home."

The boy shook his head.

"You're parents are probably looking for you." Silver said.

"I can't. I'm bad." The boy rubbed his red puffy eyes.

"You're bad?" Malleus asked holding out his hand to Silver who immediately grabbed Sebek and grabbed a handkerchief from the half-fae's pocket. He then gave it to his king.

Lilia took the handkerchief and held it up to the boy's nose and told him to blow his nose. (Crying gets very messy with kids his age and makes it hard for them to breathe with clogged sinuses. Not mention kids have a hard time blowing their nose on their own at a young age.)

The boy wrinkled his face as Lilia cleaned his stuffy nose with practiced ease. The boy tried to weakly fend him off the same way any child does when you try to clean a smudge off their cheek with your thumb. Once he was freed and cleaned up he finally responded.

"I'm a bad boy. I made Mama cry. She said cus of me." He said remorseful.

"Why don't you just say sorry then?" Sebek said tactlessly.

Silver elbowed him and the crocodile shrugged with an expression that said 'What do you want me to say! I'm right!"

"Because I always make Mama cry. Mama is always sad. So I'm going back so I can't make her sad again." He said defiantly.

He was going to help his mother even if he wasn't going to be with her.

"Where are you going?" Malleus asked kneeling beside Lilia.

The boy looked that Malleus's horns with wonder.

"Mama found me here in these woods. But she told me a story of a dragon that lived far in the woods. The dragon was nice and helped the lost princess so I want to find him and ask him to help Mama." The boy sounded really proud of his plan.

"A quest. What a brave boy you are." Lilia ruffled the boy's hair. The boy tried to dodge but failed.

"Hey, are you the dragon?" The boy asked pointing at Malleus's horns.

"I'm a dragon-fae. The king in fact." Malleus responded.

"And you can help my Mama? With your magic? Can you take her nightmares?" The boy asked pleading.

"I will try to help if you lead us to her." Malleus wanted to see Yuu again but he knew he had to help this child first. Reuniting this family was more important right now than petty wants.

Yuu couldn't sleep. She just needed the check. Maybe she was excessive but she just worried. Almost every night she would cheak on Grimm, just in case. She just need to see he was alive and breathing.

Some times she just had nightmares where he...

The parenting manuals said that this was perfectly normal. Her fears were natural and these impulses were a product of evolution and prevention of S.I.Ds.

Wait is there a cut-off point for S.I.Ds? Could Grimm still get it?

Yuu took a deep breath, she just needed to see him.

Yuu opened the door quietly to find...an empty bed.

"Grimm?" Yuu called out.

She began checking the bathroom in case he needed to go potty...nothing.

She checked the kitchen in case he wanted water...nothing.

The living room, The study, her bedroom, the attic, the garage

Nothing, nothing , nothing, nothing, nothing, NOTHING!

Yuu searched everywhere as she rushed outside and called for him. Soon the hysteria kicked in as she banged on her neighbors' doors. Frantically she gathered people to help her find her son.

The group was no less enthusiastic to help as they treated the boy like a little hero on a quest. Unfortunately, this hero was very tired and needed to be carried by the dragon king. Lilia was desperate to have his turn but the bat was way too energetic right now.

Lilia was secretly praying that Yuu lived with children so he could play with them.

Grimm was fascinated with Malleus. He studied the dragon's horns, eyes and fangs.

"Mama said the dragon was best friends with the lost princess. Is that true?" Grimm asked touching Malleus's sharp ears.

Malleus let the boy explore as he thought of a response.

"I cared deeply for a friend who was far from home. She was my best friend."

"What was she like? I like the princess most." Grimm said cheerfully.

"The princess, I mean she was beautiful like any princess. But she was better. She was kind and selfless. She made friends everywhere she went." As Malleus said this little fingers pulled at his lips to get a better look at his teeth.

"She's so cool. I wish I could meet her."

Malleus quickly handed the child off to Sebek. Sebek received no better treatment as the boy pulled on his ears and cheeks. He has pincer-like fingers and speed.

Lilia laughed. Silver was the same way.

Sebek practically tossed Grimm to Silver to deal with. Sliver was fine with Grimm but Lilia's silent pleading made him hand the boy over.

Almost immediately Grimm was asleep as Lilia rocked the boy to sleep. The group sighed in relief.

"So," Sliver spoke up only for a chorus of 'Shh' to stop him. He was just going to ask about the stuffed cat that looked exactly like Grim. Or the fact that his name was Grimm. Just him? Okay.

But the blissful silence didn't last as sirens and shouting were heard.

"Grimm?! Grimm?!" Voices shouted as groups of people searched for the boy.

Safe to say his mother was looking for him.

The group managed to dodge the cops as the found a familiar young woman still wrapped in her night clothes shouting Grimm's name. Bright searchlights haloed around her.

"Yuu?!" Malleus called out as soon as he saw her.

The woman squinted to see through the lights before she gasped. She quietly scrambled through the foliage. She had trouble due to still being in her house shoes, she couldn't even think of changing when her son was missing.

"Mal?" She called trying to see if she was hallucinating.

"Malleus please, you have to help me. My son, he's gone." Yuu begged her hand clutched over her chest.

Malleus didn't know how to respond at first. No words would help. The only thing to ease her is her child.

Lilia came forward and handed the sleeping boy back into his mother's arms.

Yuu's eyes lit up with unimaginable joy like finally breathing after unending suffocation. She fell to her knees as she held him close to her.

"My baby. My sweet baby." She mumbled pressing kisses to his head as tears of relief flowed down her cheeks. "Thank you. Thank you."

The situation took time to clean up as everyone was alerted that Grimm was found. Everyone sighed in relief and returned home. Except for that crotchety old woman next door. Yuu would expect a strongly worded letter soon.

The reunion wasn't what anyone expected but Yuu was no less grateful to her friends.

When they explained the situation, Yuu's eyes dimmed.

"I see, it's my fault." She sighed.

"He was just trying to help you. He doesn't know any better." Sebek rolled his eyes.

"That's the point. He's a child, he doesn't know any better. It's my responsibility not to make him feel responsible for my emotions. He should never see his mother cry. I tried to hid it." Yuu berated herself.

"Yuu, from one parent to another you need to hear this. It's hard, it's always going to be hard, but you're doing great." Lilia said gently pulling Yuu into a hug.

All the stress she had been carrying since she assumed her role as parent bubbles to the surface. All this time she had been carrying the heavy weight of expectations and constantly questioned herself. Everytime she got something wrong she panicked. Every crying fit and scraped knee she blamed on herself. Judging herself based on every parenting manual and blog she read. It all came to the surface.

She felt like she was going to break into pieces.

Suddenly another pair of arms wrapped around her then another and reluctantly another.

This was what she needed. Reassurance.

"Who dares intrude upon my lair." Lilia cackled wrapped in a black blanket.

"I do! Grimm the dragon prince!" Grimm stood proudly over Sebek's(slain in battle, r.i.p) body with a plastic sword in hand.

Grimm had taken to wearing a pair of fake ram horns and pretending to be a dragon recently.

Yuu raised an eyebrow as she drank her tea.

"If you wish to save the princess you must face my minions!" Lilia said waving a hand and sending Silver out to duel with the boy.

"Don't worry! I have my own minions! Go dragon king!Save the princess!" Grimm said sawing his hand this time.

Yuu snorted and held back her laughter as she looked up from her notepad.

Malleus of course assisted as he pretended to battle Lilia.

"Mal are you a king or a minion?" Yuu laughed.

"Are you a princess or are you just wearing a cone hat?" Malleus retorted.

"You've become more sassy with age. Now hurry up and save me." Yuu pouted taking off the pink cone hat.

Malleus picked up Yuu in a princess carry as Grimm cheered.

"My heros~" Yuu giggled as she wrapped her arms around Malleus's neck.

"Where too now my dear princess?"Malleus asked.

"To the study my stead!" She shouted.

Sebet tried to say something before Silver kicked him from their downed position.

"I'm a stead now, am I?" Malleus teased as he carried her off.

Grimm payed no mind. Grandpa Lilia said that they need space. The boy instead leapt onto his uncles who grunted as the air was forced from their lungs.

Upstairs Malleus placed Yuu on her desk chair as she began typing out her new book.

"Finally designed on a name for it?" Malleus asked resting his head on her shoulder.

"Yep, The Lost Prince and the Dragon King"

"Hmm, I like it."

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