#tw insecurity | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tieronecrush · 6 months

Text

🎃 trick or treat 🎃

summary: it's halloween and joel's taking your girls trick-or-treating with you in a family costume. feeling uncomfortable in his clothes and his skin, he's on edge most of the evening but does his best to disguise it in order to not spoil the fun. back at home, when his girls lightheartedly tease him about everything he already thought about himself, you're sure to end the night showing joel exactly how you feel about him and his body.

wc: 10k (oops?)

warnings: established relationship/married, canon divergent (no outbreak, ellie & sarah are both his kids, sort of obscure with if they're both his bio kids/your kids - basically y'all are a cute lil family either way! also joel is ~40, no age mentioned for reader!), halloween, family/group costumes, DOMESTIC JOEL!!!, fluff, body insecurities, age insecurities, joel has minor sensory issues?, his kids poke fun at him, sensitive joel, SMUT. it kind of is a thing for the basically the second half, descriptions of joel's body, tummy & thigh worship, oral (m receiving), cowboy rule (for a costume), unprotected piv, lowkey sub!joel for a lil bit, reader is "giving cunt" according to bestie el, then quickly gets back to dom!joel as he gets his confidence back, joel gets that strength in an adrenaline rush that moms get lifting cars off babies but his is for chasing a nut, also, dirty talk!

a/n: my contribution to spooky season, basically at the buzzer lol. this started with me thinking how cute it would be for joel to dress up and go trick-or-treating with his kids, and ended with wanting to s*** his d*** big time. anyways, enjoy my version of halloween with joel, and thank you to @kiwisbell for screaming about this scenario with me and as always a big thanks to my sweet, sweet girlfriend @northernbluess for beta-ing!!!!

Brought on much later than the northern states, fall in Texas is not quite an impactful sight. The one thing that can’t be beaten though is the Texas sun; shining across expansive horizons all times of year, temperatures of the light shifting with the seasons. Orange evening sun stretches across the sky and seeps down in between the leaves speckled with changing colors while Joel’s truck coasts down the neighborhood street. Kids retreat from running around in the road when his car approaches, returning right back to their gameplay when he’s through. Half are dressed up, a medley mix of witches, zombies, vampires, Power Rangers, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Disney Princesses, and countless outfits that he has no idea what they’re referencing.

Fibrous, white faux spiderwebs litter the front porches of the houses lining the street, Jack-O-Lanterns carved and lit up stack on the stairs or create a path along the front walkways. Some of the pumpkins’ faces are wrinkly and sagging, signs of overeagerness from when the fall season started earlier this month. A handful of scarecrows find themselves pitched in the middle of yards with hay spilling out of them, and some of the houses have turned out an expense to get those motion-sensor decorations — the ones really intended to scare the kids that will be unleashed on the neighborhood to trick-or-treat this evening.

Rolling to a stop as he turns into the asphalt driveway, throwing the truck in park, he sits in the cab for a still moment, staring at the signs of life scattered around his family’s house. Four pumpkins, gutted and showing off their faces, a family feud that reached a compromise when it was decided that yes, they would carve pumpkins but no, they would not sit to rot on the front porch all month long; the corn stalks wrapped around the posts of the porch, tied with burlap twine and arranged with sprigs of fall foliage; pots of colorful mums framing the path up to the house, carefully selected by your eye and less delicately planted in their terracotta vessels by Joel’s hands.

Aside from the seasonal decorations, the usual markings of the Miller family were easily spotted: chalk drawings on the shared sidewalk in front of the yard and along the driveway, replaced every weekend by Sarah once the old was washed or worn away; Ellie’s bike discarded on the front lawn, small tire tracks digging up the grass, no matter how many times Joel and you have asked her to put it away when she’s done; the porch swing that Joel built for you, swaying in the breeze and now unoccupied — unusual for the evening routine around the time that Joel comes home from work. He’s normally greeted by his girls, not merely their artifacts. But tonight is a different night, much busier than the slow, molasses life Joel gets to enjoy in the colder weather.

Gathering his lunch bag from the bench seat and bunching up his jacket in the same hand, Joel climbs out of the car and walks into the open garage, leaving his tools behind in the flatbed to be dealt with tomorrow morning. Passing your parked car, he shakes his head with a subtle smile as he closes the driver’s side door of your SUV left open. He can picture you now, running around after picking the girls up from school, mental space occupied by getting everything and everyone together to make it out the door before the sun went down completely.

There’s a trail of evidence to support his musings: a lonesome plastic bag filled with groceries left on top of the car, Sarah’s purple jacket looped through the handle of the garage fridge, probably left behind after she went looking for a juice, and Ellie’s army green backpack tossed on the ground in front of the shoe racks lining the wall next to the door. None of that would fly had you been your usual focused self — more often than not, you’re the parent to put their foot down and keep the girls in line while Joel is the total pushover.

Along his way inside, he picks up all the left-behind items, balancing everything in his hands while he steps into the mudroom. Ellie’s backpack gets shoved into her designated cubby, and Sarah’s jacket gets wrapped on a hook screwed into the wall as Joel kicks off his work boots. After depositing his own belongings in their spots, lunch bag in his cubby and jacket on the hook next to Sarah’s, he grabs his boots in one hand, leaning out the doorway to place them on top of the shoe rack. Closing the door behind him, he picks up the singular bag of groceries left on top of your SUV and pads across the tile further into the house. Immediately, he’s embraced by the warmth radiating from the kitchen, the smells of tomatoes, onions, garlic, and more wafting into his nose causing a smile to stretch across his face and his stomach to rumble.

Every year that he’s known you, without fail, you use Halloween night as an excuse to cook up your family-favorite chili recipe. Sure, it doesn’t get too cold for October in Texas, but damn, does he look forward to the night every year simply for a bowl of it. Laboring over the prep and slow-cooking it all day long, anyone who tries it can taste the care in each bite; like a warm blanket wrapped around his shoulders that lasts with him for the entire evening spent outside with the kids.

The pleas of his stomach lead him straight into the kitchen, his smile growing wider when he sees you standing over the kitchen counter, affixing a sheriff badge to the cow print vest laid out in front of you. He strides over to your side, resting his palm on your lower back and swiping his thumb against the material of your shirt while he leans in to press a kiss to the top of your head, drinking in your scent and feeling the ache of missing you all day. Losing focus from your task, you turn toward him with a bright smile, a quiet sigh leaving your lips, and your shoulders relaxing from their tensed position. Wordlessly, he folds forward, catching your lips in a lingering kiss. Heat pushes against his chest through his denim shirt, your hands skating from his pecs, up and across his shoulders, and down his arms to rest on his biceps. The motions raise goosebumps in their wake, trailing down his spine with a tepid drip.

Joel steals another kiss before he stands up straight again, voice rasping from yelling over powerful tools all day and volume low to keep the semblance of a private moment between the two of you for as long as possible; anything louder would expose his arrival, bombarding him with questions and conflicts to resolve between his daughters.

“Hey, baby.” He greets you with one fleeting kiss pressed to your forehead, hand at your lower back now rubbing side to side, fingers carefully lifting the fabric and pressing the tips of them into your deliciously soft skin.

Turning back to the vest, you drop your hands from his arms not before giving them a gentle squeeze, “Hi, Joel. Good day?”

He shrugs, unable to step away from you just yet, “It was fine — much better now. And I take it yours has been a busy one?”

Joel holds up the plastic bag of groceries with two fingers, one corner of his mouth lifting in a teasing smirk. His hip pops out as he leans against the counter, the smirk turning into a smile when you grimace. His heartbeat skips when your laugh fills his ears, the sound still exciting him after all these years, and you stand over the bag to take a peek inside.

“S’all good. Non-perishables.” It’s Joel’s turn to laugh, shaking his head with a breathy chuckle as he places the bag on the counter, unloading its contents into the pantry while you go about recapping your day for him.

In the midst of you speaking, the tumble of footsteps down the stairs draws his attention away, eyes focusing on the open threshold that leads from the living room into the kitchen. As the quickened steps grow closer, Joel turns to you and holds up three fingers, counting down with them. When he lowers his last finger, a mop of curly hair, a bouncing ponytail, and a whirlwind of chaos disrupts the initial peace of his return home.

“Hi girls, how was today?” he starts before a cacophony of noise fills the kitchen. Skidding to a stop in front of him, he exchanges a look with you before facing his daughters, already overwhelmed with their two voices talking over the other.

“Dad, Dad, Sarah said—”

“Dad, Ellie’s saying that I said—”

Holding his hands up, he flicks his eyes between his two girls. Sarah, the older of the two at eleven years old, stands in front of him with her arms crossed and brow furrowed — a look he is all too familiar with, the similarities between him and her emphasized with her annoyance. Ellie, your youngest, stands with her fists clenched at her sides, her mouth twisted up in frustration and the same furrowed brow as her sister. She looks so much more like you at the moment, only a nine-year-old version, calling back on times Joel can remember of you giving him that very look.

However, with their tempers, there’s no doubt that they’re his kids.

Dropping his hands back to his sides, he rolls his shoulders and takes a deep breath before addressing them.

“So, what’s going on now?” he asks, brows raising and head tilting when the girls each take a sharp inhale, about to speak over each other again, “One at a time. Ellie.”

Sarah rolls her eyes at her younger sister being called upon first, expectantly looking at her sister with annoyance still painting her face. Ellie shoots her a smug look before turning back to Joel, drawing a pout onto her lips to sell her story. He can’t say it doesn’t work for a second, it always will with these two and they know it, but with a quick glance in your direction, he sees you turned away from your task, watching the drama from the sidelines. Mustering the strength to stand his ground against the sweetness of his girls, he clears his throat and listens with his best poker face as Ellie begins explaining.

“Sarah said she wouldn’t trade all her Skittles for my Three Musketeers even though she knows I hate Three Musketeers and she said last week when we were getting our costumes that she would—”

“I never said that, Dad! She’s lying—” Sarah gestures with her hands as if to physically point out the obvious falsehoods in Ellie’s story. Spiraling back out of the fleeting control he had over the situation, the kids get riled up again, yelling over each other, and inching closer. The dad-instincts kick in and he grabs one of each of their shoulders, separating the two of them and turning them to face him again as he puts on what you affectionately call his ‘no-bullshit’ voice.

“Okay, okay, okay! Enough arguin’ about candy that you don’t even have yet. Ellie, you don’t even know if a single house is gonna give ya Three Musketeers, and you don’t even know if Sarah is gonna get any Skittles. Save the trade negotiations for tonight or tomorrow morning. ‘Sides, you gotta pay the Dad Tax before either of y’all get to trade around your pickings.”

“What?”

“No way!”

Joel smiles, waving his pointer finger between his daughters with a single nod of his head. “See? Something y’all can agree on. Now go get washed up for dinner and plot how you can hide your candy from me and Mom.”

As quickly as they came in, they rush right back out, this time a united force scheming against their parents. Joel huffs out a breathy laugh, shaking his head to himself as he turns back to face you. Met with a growing smile, you unravel your arms crossed in front of your chest to pick up the vest from the counter.

“Nice conflict resolution there, hon. Now I won’t see a single piece of candy.” You throw a pout at him, bottom lip jutting out as he steps over to you, one hand splaying on your hip and thumb rubbing languid circles.

“Don’t worry, baby, I think I know every single one of their hiding spots from how many times they had to move their candy last year. They won’t even notice anything's gone.” With a quick wink, he leans in for a kiss, short and sweet. Standing up straight, the smile on your face mirrors his, your left index finger reaching up to fit into the valley of his dimple.

“Are we bad parents to be scheming how to steal from our children?” you question, biting back a laugh.

“I think that’s just part of parenting, darlin’.”

The laugh you held back escapes you, rolling your eyes playfully at his facetious answer; the vest in your hands catches his eyes again, and he sighs to himself as he holds a hand out for it.

“So you really did find a cow print vest for me? How lucky.” Sarcasm coats his tone and you lift the material, depositing it in his open palm.

“It is lucky, isn’t it? I think you’re going to look great in your costume. Got all the perfect parts, plus you can wear your own jeans and boots. Economical.”

“You sure you need me for this group costume?”

“Joel. You’re literally one of the main characters from the damn movie. And the girls really want you to dress up and take them trick-or-treating. Plus it’s probably going to be one of, if not the last year that we get to do all this as a family. Our kids are growing up.”

“Don’t remind me, means m’getting older too,” he grumbles under his breath, eyes falling to the fabric in his hand.

It’s true what they say about having kids: the days are long, but the years are short.

At times, Joel wishes he could pull each hair out of his head instead of dealing with the shit his kids bring to him sometimes — “Dad, I got called into the principal’s office.” “Dad, I threw a softball and broke the window.” “That’s so unfair, Dad! Why do you have to be so mean?” It’s easy to get lost in the mess that is his family, but it’s a mess he loves. It feels like it was only yesterday that he was becoming a father when Sarah was born, getting a grasp on the whole thing and then Ellie came along. What he would do without you there by his side, he doesn’t have a clue.

Like flipping through a scrapbook, he can remember every year prior for his girls. In a flash, they’ve grown from dressing up as princesses and unicorns — a dragon for Ellie — to being Spy Kids and vampires. His oldest is verging on becoming a teenager, and if he knows his daughters, he knows that once Sarah quits dressing up each year, when she asks to go to her friends’ houses instead of spending the night with Mom and Dad, Ellie will want to do the same as her older sister, always looking up to her despite their differences.

There’s only so much more time for his kids to be kids, even if they may always feel like the tiny baby girls he held in his arms. All he wants to do is to protect them, keep them under his eye as long as he can, but he can hear your voice prying his grasp away from them, encouraging him to let them grow, let them experience the world as he got to do when he was younger. You’ll remind him that you were a teenage girl once, reassuring him that they’re always going to need him. He knows it’s all going to sneak up on him; one day, he’s going to pull into the driveway and notice the lack of chalk drawings. He might even be happy at first about Ellie’s bike being put away, but when he goes into the garage to work on some of his projects, he’ll notice the smallest bit of dust on it from disuse.

Stepping away from him to shuffle across the kitchen, you reach on your tiptoes to pull out four bowls from the cabinet. Joel steps over behind you, a hand on your back as he intercepts your movements, grabbing the ceramic dishes and handing them to you.

Like a shadow, he follows behind you as you walk over to the pot filled with dinner, eagerly watching over your shoulder with his chest pressed against your back and hands on your waist as you lift the lift. Aromas waft with the steam rising, the delectably rich dish slowly bubbling as it finishes melding altogether. It smells like home, always the mark of the changing of the seasons in the Miller household, and one of the little traditions that he so appreciates you creating for your family. Just like the way you make crinkle cookies and still sign presents from Santa at Christmas, despite the fact that your daughters found out about that a couple of years ago from a yappy kid at school.

Joel was very close to driving over to his house and letting his parents know how he felt about their kid murdering the magic of Christmas for his girls.

All he can hope is that these little traditions continue even when the girls are grown up; the four of you gathering around the table for your annual chili dinner before they head off to hang out with friends and you two are left to watch cheesy Halloween movies and hand out candy to children that remind you of your daughters.

With another deep breath, warmth surrounds him. Joel’s lips find the spot just under your ear, kissing gently before he rests his chin on your shoulder, “Smells so good, baby. Have I told you how much I love you?”

A breathy, incredulous laugh falls from your lips as you stir the pot’s contents around, your smile sticking around as you counter, “You’re only saying that ‘cause I’m feeding you.”

A dramatic, exaggerated gasp sharply inhales into his lungs, standing up straight and patting his hands on your sides, “Absolutely not, darlin’. I love you all the time—”

“But especially when I feed you,” you finish, turning out of his arms to grab the stack of bowls. He stops your motions by wrapping his arms around your waist, feeling the press of you against his torso and relishing in the heat of your body against his. Curling up like a cat in the sun, he nudges his nose against your hairline, peppering kisses along the contours of your face.

In between kisses, he says word by word, over and over, “I. Love. You. My. Beautiful. Wonderful. Incredible. Wife.”

“Alright, alright! Gosh, you’re clingy,” you tease, leaning back to look into his eyes with a playful glint in your eye and a smirk held tight in your lips, “I love you too, my beautiful, wonderful, incredible husband.”

Your free hand smooshes his cheeks together and tugs him down gently to exchange a tender kiss. It ends much too soon for Joel, him chasing your lips and pouting when you turn away to start serving up dinner.

“Better go tell the girls dinner’s ready before they’ve finished plotting how to stow away candy in the floorboards.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he answers, punctuating the conversation with a cheeky smack to your ass, scampering away quickly before you can pretend to scold him.

Tugging at the material across his stomach, Joel combs his eyes over his reflection in the mirror of your en-suite bathroom. Rolling his shoulders back, the fabric of the yellow and red plaid flannel pulled taut, lifting the hem a couple of inches and showing off the skin of his softened tummy. Dark curls of hair litter the center of the sliver of skin, trailing down under the waist of his dark wash jeans. He doesn’t bother tucking the shirt in, giving himself the breathing room of the few inches at the hem. Fingers grip the thick fabric, sharply pulling it back down to lay over his jeans again.

Picking up the cow-print vest you were adorned with the plastic gold Sheriff badge downstairs in the kitchen, he’s taken back to a few weeks ago at the Halloween store.

You and he had opted to spend Saturday morning taking Sarah and Ellie to pick out their costumes for the holiday, letting them run free until they decided on a shared costume for once. Sarah quickly picked out her size in the Jessie costume, and all of the family agreed to be different characters from the Toy Story movie.

Ellie wandered the aisles, searching for the perfect combinations to create her ideal costume, which was, of course, the mechanical spider toy with the baby doll head that the kid Sid builds in the film. She returns to where Joel is standing with you, staring at the walls of costumes to find something for the both of you; he looks down at his youngest, jumping minutely when he’s faced with a mutilated baby doll mask, shiny plastic reflecting him in the surface.

“Ellie. You can’t be the creepy baby doll,” he sighs, hand falling to his hip as he rests his weight on it, the other leg stepping out while he slowly shakes his head.

Tipping the mask up to the top of her head, Ellie stomps her feet, shoulders falling and head leaning back as she groans in complaint, “Why not, Dad?” She draws out his parental title, kicking the toe of her shoe against the buffed tiles of the storefront that remains empty eleven out of twelve months of the year.

“You’re gonna scare the little kids, and it’ll be your mom and I who are dealing with the angry parents.”

Ellie huffs out a breath, reaching up to snatch the mask off, turning on the heel of her sneaker, and stomping off to go find another costume. Turning his attention back to you at his side, he notices a cheeky smile on your face as you find your size in a woman’s Buzz Lightyear costume.

“What? What are you laughin’ at?” he questions, his lips tugging up in a grin.

“Oh, nothing. Jus’ that you told our daughter she can’t be the creepy baby doll 'cause you’d be the one scared of her.” A laugh takes over the end of your sentence, a flash of your bright smile widening his own.

“Did not. It’s ‘cause we’d have a bunch of crying little kids and judging parents to deal with.”

“Sure, honey, sure. It’s okay if you’re scared.”

Stepping closer to you, he pinches your side playfully, wrapping an arm around your waist to tug you against his side. He presses a kiss to the top of your head, speaking softly, “Know me too well, baby…”

Your free hand pats his chest affectionately and you unravel from his hold. Joel takes your hand before you get far, intertwining your fingers together while you both shuffle along the wall of costumes. The plastic bags shine, displaying cartoonish outfits of various characters. The exaggerated smiles of the models give him the heebie-jeebies, shuddering his shoulders at the thought that any grown person would be that excited to wear itchy polyester once before letting it collect dust in their closet and giving it away before next Halloween.

Halting in front of the costume you were looking for Joel, you bend down to flick through the sizes, your lips pulling together in a thoughtful pucker. Standing back up straight next to him, your teeth toy your bottom lip left to right, eyes scanning for any other options before you turn toward him.

“Can’t find what you’re lookin’ for, baby?”

With a shrug, you respond, “They have the costume the girls wanted you to wear, but they don’t have your size. Think I can find some stuff at the thrift store or TJ Maxx or online to make the costume up if that’s okay—”

“Whatever you need to do. S’fine.”

“I’m sorry, hon, but you don’t need to worry about it, I’ll find everything.”

“Said s’fine, darlin’. Don’t even need to dress up, really.” A small seed of shame is planted in his gut, insecurity watering it and causing it to grow, branching off to tangled in his chest. Comfort eases him out of the spiral when your hands find his chest, rubbing softly and tilting your head to meet his gaze with pure affection.

“Still gotta dress up with us, hon. Who’s gonna be the Woody to my Buzz if it isn’t you? Can’t dress up as one half of the best friend duo without my best friend,” you grin, standing on your toes to catch his lips in a gentle kiss, which ends too soon for his taste despite being in the middle of the shop.

Vest shrugged onto his shoulder, and he gives himself another once over in his full outfit, the same insecurity from a few weeks ago pouring down to cultivate his shame. He doesn’t look the same as he did when he met you, even the same as he did last year. Graying hair and salt and pepper beard, lines next to his eyes and across his forehead, only deepened when he furrows his brow at the look of him in his costume.

He looks ridiculous.

Better to get this night over with, let his girls enjoy themselves, and attempt to forget his discomfort in the outfit. Picking up his cheap cowboy hat that arrived in the mail earlier that week, he avoids another look in the mirror before he slips out of the bathroom, eyes focused on the toes of his boots while he walks out the door of your bedroom, past the full-length mirror next to your closet and the small round one on your vanity.

No need to foul his mood and spoil the fun. It’s for his girls.

The screams and laughter of children echo into the deepening night sky, the street bright from the lamps lining it along with porch lights staying on, open garage doors, all signaling a welcoming to the trick-or-treaters to come and grab their haul from each vast bowl or cauldron of candy.

Blurs of costume cross below Joel’s sightline as he walks hand-in-hand with you, kids running around blindly, the safety of such a crowd in the small neighborhood blanketing them with trust that they’ll be able to find their way home wherever they end up. Sarah and Ellie are ten paces ahead, moving quickly and efficiently to “maximize their candy collection”. Ellie’s words, after she presented her hand-drawn map of their neighborhood and the one across the main road, highlighting which houses are notorious for King Size treats and noting which ones give out toothbrushes or nothing at all.

The collar of his flannel is tightened around his neck from the string of his chestnut cowboy hat. Pulled down to rest on his clavicle, the body of the hat swings against his back as he walks, only adorning the top of his head for a few photos that you insisted on dragging out the tripod and self-timer for in the middle of the living room. He took the rest of the photos you wanted, maybe a bit too eagerly getting out of the frame and relaxing the slightest bit behind the camera. Photo evidence of how laughable he looks does not need to exist en masse. With a sigh, he reaches a hand up to tug the string down for what feels like the tenth time in thirty minutes of walking, relief felt for a few seconds before it slides back up to the base of his throat, flipping up the collar of his shirt with it.

Denim from his dark wash bootcut jeans starts to dig into his hips, roughening the skin there from his strides and their inch-too-small size from the year prior. These were deemed his “nice” jeans, per your request, only pulled out a handful of times a year for occasions that he was meant to look nicer than his raggedy Levi’s, covered in spots from paint, wood stain, oil, or dirt, the fraying, white strings hanging from the hems and ripping when caught under his step — all the signs of his day-to-day life. What he’s comfortable in.

These — these are not comfortable, not worn in enough to feel buttery against his skin, and not returning to his size even after washing and line drying. These are stiff, formed to his skin and resisting a tightness with each swing of his legs. The fresh material rubs against his bare skin underneath, the waist of his boxers falling an inch or two down to create the perfect space for the waistband to chafe. He’s tempted to pause the two of you walking along, long enough to tuck in the material of the flannel, but quickly decides against it when he thinks about the exaggeration of his stomach with the form-fitting, tucked shirt stretched over it.

Occupied in his thoughts, he barely notices that you've slowed down until you come to a stop at the end of a driveway, two streets over from your own home, waiting as your daughters wait in line for their packaged sugar.

You hold onto his bicep with your opposite hand, leaning your weight against his side. Like a weighted blanket, in the interim of a hug from you, he takes on the change to his equilibrium, relishing in the comforting press of your body against him. Easing away his anxieties and his insecurities that, of course, had to be present for this wholesome, once-a-year family night; he rests his chin on your head, breathing in the smell of your rosemary and mint shampoo, tingling his nostrils and drinking down the scent he’s so familiar with.

His focus draws to Sarah, hair in a French braid pulled away from her face and cherry red cowboy hat on her head, and Ellie, lime green face paint that she insisted on and an antenna sticking up from the top of her head and exaggerated, pointed green ears all attached to the same headband. The two of them are near the front of the queue for candy at this particular house, the process a bit more involved with a haunted graveyard required to pass through to earn your sweet reward.

All she’d been saying the whole night since getting dressed had been “The claaaaaw!” or “I have been chosen!”. She screams the latter in the face of a teenager who pops out from a bush to scare her, completely unphased as she sneaks past him, grabbing a handful of candy for her and Sarah, running back down the path with her older sister before they pause to distribute the goods.

Joel lifts your joined hands, hooking his arm over your shoulder and laying your arm across your chest as he gathers you closer.

“So how many cavities do you think we’ll be paying for ‘cause of tonight’s candy haul?” he wonders aloud, a smile ticking up the side of his mouth when you giggle at his joke. It never gets old, being able to make you laugh, and it’s like a weed whacker to the strangling vines of his insecurities growing tightly in his chest. A looseness that gives him the chance for a deep breath, gratitude wilting the branches as he studies the grin on your face, the admiration twinkling in your eyes.

“Probably should be callin’ the dentist to see if they have a two-for-one discount.” It’s his turn to laugh at your response, tautening his arm around your shoulders to tow you closer to him, your head tilting back as you swing your front toward him. Joel bends his neck, pecking your lips with a smile before he looks back toward his daughters walking back to the two of you.

Annoyance thumbs the bruise of shame, driving his frustrations higher; his hand reaches up again with a huff, yanking the string away from his neck, “Thing’s like a damn noose…”

“Jus’ take it off, hon, I’ll carry it for you,” you sweetly suggest, swinging your joined hands between your bodies.

“But, you got it for me…” he mumbles guiltily, a worry in his voice over your potential irritation with him. Ever the masochist, Joel argues with you, not wanting to disappoint. He knew he should have just kept his mouth shut—

Pausing in your steps, you hang behind him long enough to snatch the hat off his back, releasing it from around his neck and depositing it on your head in one smooth movement. Taking his hand again, you continue, unphased by his complaints and happy to hold onto the new accessory.

At the next house, the two of you wait at the end of the driveway for the girls; Joel taps the side of his pointer finger on the brim as you look up at him, a cheeky smile growing on his face as a thought distracts from his festering doubts. His voice lowers, rasping as he speaks only to you, attempting to disguise the conversation from all the people milling about.

“Y’know, there are consequences for stealing a cowboy’s hat, baby.” Wetting his lips with the quick swipe of his tongue, his hands drift to your waist, fingers stretching to skim the top of your ass, dangerously close to grabbing a handful in front of everyone.

“M’well aware of those consequences, cowboy. Why d’you think I took it?” You shoot him a wink that goes straight down below the belt, a brazen flash of mischief in your eyes, the reflections of yellow lamplight lighting them up further.

Gripping his biceps, your nimble fingers squeeze gently while your thumbs rub massaging circles into his slightly flexed muscles. A nearly inaudible hum of a moan rolls from your chest, one of his hands gathering the polyester material of your dress tightly at the sound. Beckoning him to fold forward with one look, he molds his lips to yours in a supple kiss. It lasts only the length of an inhale, drinking in the taste of your lips before your warmth is fleeting, hands patting his chest in a signal to wrap it up.

He grumbles, irritation heating under his collar as he itches to get home and for the night to be over, now for more than one reason. You laugh softly at his annoyed pout, poking his chest as you tease, “What? Mad ‘cause you got a snake in your boot?”

“More like in my jeans…” he mumbles under his breath, loud enough for you to hear and playfully jab his arm, shaking your head as you breathe out a chuckle from your nose.

“Nice, Miller. In a costume for a kid’s movie no less.”

He matches your laugh, shrugging when you turn in his arms, back to him as you await your daughters to make their way back to the both of you. His arms drape around your hips, tugging you into his chest to press against him comfortably, the plush-filled wings of your costume padding you against his torso. Lips find your ear, chin resting on your shoulder as he responds, “What’s the saying from the movie? To infinity and beyond? Reckon that’s where I’ll be takin’ you by the end of tonight.”

“Joel!” you attempted to chide, your laughter exposing your real feelings over the suggestive comment, laying your arms over his. The girls walk toward the two of you, and he takes a second to press an open-mouth kiss to your neck, nipping at your skin before unfurling himself from you. A light smack on the side of your ass is the punctuation to the teasing, Joel standing up straight and taking your hand.

“Giddy-up, partner,” he murmurs before turning his attention to Sarah and Ellie, overly excited and completely calm. “Whatcha y’all get this time? Anything good?”

They answer over each other and he nods along, corralling them to start to walk to the next house, “Alright, mission accomplished at this house. Onto the next, we gotta get this wagon a-movin’! Only got another hour in me, girls.”

Protests whine against his announcement and your daughters start to walk faster, determined to complete their hit-list for the houses with the good stuff. You laugh to yourself, shaking your head as Joel looks over at you, feigning innocence.

“What? Got a bad back, bein’ out in the cold makes it worse.”

Now back at home, the four of you are gathered in the living room, costumes all on still as you seek out the comfort and warmth of the soft furnishings and blankets. Joel lounges on the couch, you next to him, back leaning against his side while your legs stretch out on the rest of the sofa. Ellie and Sarah have taken to the floor in front of the coffee table, massive pillowcases dumped out and beginning to be sorted. Every so often, you or Joel get up with the sound of the doorbell, passing out candy to the dwindling number of trick-or-treaters. Eventually, the intrusion stops completely, the TV playing a bad, kitschy Halloween movie per the request of the girls.

They trade their earnings, and you and Joel steal on the sly, both from the bowl you were handing out and from Sarah and Ellie’s piles. Wrappers are strewn around the floor and across the surface of the coffee table, the sound of another torn open by the girls making you sigh and sit up.

Holding out your hand, you shake your head, beckoning for the treat with your fingers, “Okay, Ellie. No more candy. You’re not going to be able to go to sleep if you keep eating it now, it’s too late.”

Ellie whines, rolling her head back with a groan before pleading her case, “Please, Mom, just this last one! And then I’ll be done, promise. Please.”

Joel chuckles when she shoots you the same puppy dog eyes that he gives to you to get what he wants, knowing his smirk grows wider when you fold easily. Shooting your head over to him, you announce to the whole room, “No more candy for anyone. C’mon girls, put it all back in your bags.”

Calmness finds itself back in the room once all the complaints are lodged with you, the girls lying down to watch the movie while you continue to sit with Joel. Spaced out as he focuses on the film, his attention is grabbed when he hears the crinkle of wrappers and glances around to find all three of his girls indulging further.

With the remote from his lap, he pauses the movie, pouting as he exclaims, “Hey! What happened to not havin’ any more candy? If I can’t have anymore, y’all can’t either.”

Sneaking the last bite of her fun-size Snickers bar, Ellie giggles and shrugs, always the smart aleck, “Well, you are gettin’ a little pudgy, Dad, maybe less candy’ll help.”

Sarah and you giggle at her lighthearted teasing, and Joel waves it off with a breathy chuckle, leaning back against the cushions as Sarah chimes in with her jests, “Yeah, think you’re getting a little fluffy, Dad. Better to lay off now than at Christmastime with all Mom’s cookies.”

Joel attempts to defend himself from the teasing by threatening their candy supply, eager to end the conversation as the back of his neck heats up, “If m’already gettin’ pudgy then I guess that permits me to eat all your candy.”

They both are in a fit of giggles, continuing to tack on silly comments as Joel sits quietly on the couch, trying to mask the way the words worm their way in, feeding the shame and insecurity that was already festering in his chest from the last few weeks.

You roll your eyes, shaking your head with a smile as you laugh softly, “Alright, alright, enough. Think that’s the sign that it’s time for bed. C’mon, up up up.” Before standing, you pat Joel’s thigh and shoot him a carefully concerned look, but he wipes away your worry by sending you a warm smile back, laying his hand over yours and squeezing gently.

Joel stays downstairs to clean up, the girls both saying goodnight before you follow them upstairs to get them ready for bed. Gathering candy wrappers in his fists, he throws them away in the kitchen, stomach rolling as he replays the small comments from minutes ago. He knows it was teasing, all in good fun as it always is between his girls and you, but he can’t shake the heaviness inside of him, the hot prickles of shame when he passes by the mirror in the hallway on his way back to the living room.

The bowl of extra candy you were handing out gets placed back on the coffee table, his silly cowboy hat from the evening deposited on top of it to hide the contents. Not that he was going to eat anymore, he couldn’t stomach even the thought of anything else when all he could think about was how much he desperately wanted to shed his skin at that moment. Breathing shallows when he settles on the couch again, one of his hands pressing onto the left side of his chest and willing his heart to slow down, for his brain to silence itself.

The skin of his palm meets the scruff of his beard, scratching against the roughened, worked skin. Grays in his hair, salt and pepper beard, wrinkles on his forehead and at the side of his eyes, softened tummy from years of love and care, from an easy life with you.

He certainly isn’t the same Joel that you met all that time ago, that you fell in love with. Have you noticed the changes as much as he has?

He swears you haven’t aged a day; all the more beautiful with each passing day.

Light steps carry you back downstairs, the sound shaking Joel out of his thoughts as you swing around from the staircase and through the entrance to the living room. Joel relaxes on the couch, the same spot he was occupying before, only sinking further into the cushion, shifting to pull the fabric of his shirt away from his stomach. Glancing up at you, away from whatever was playing on the TV that did nothing to distract him from himself, he sends you a tight smile, stretching an arm over the back of the couch to welcome you in.

Accepting it, you sit next to him, curling up into his side with your legs under you, leaning against his frame with your comforting weight. Your hand rests on his chest, your head on his shoulder while you both watch the TV movie playing. Silence falls between the two of you, minutes passing by with only the noise from the speakers, the volume turned low so as not to disturb the kids upstairs.

Joel feels your hand move against his chest, curling up to leave your pointer finger extended, the pad of it skimming against his flannel. He ignores the feeling, figuring it’s you fidgeting as you do while you focus. The same thing as twirling your hair while you’re reading, tapping your foot as you cook.

But when your hand stairs to wander, his eyes flick down to watch its path, your gaze still facing forward and quiet. With your thumb and index finger, you work open the first button on his shirt, trailing down with the rest undone in your route. Slipping under the material, your cold hand presses against his chest, nails scraping against the skin there. With a sigh at the contact, Joel finally uses his hand to gently caress your chin, turning you to face him.

Low and rasping, he questions, “What are you doin’ exactly, darlin’?”

Innocently, you shrug, bottom lip bit down on while your touch moves lower again, skimming across his stomach and reaching the waistband of his jeans, “Well, I still have to face the consequences from stealin’ your hat, cowboy.”

Fingers dip below his belt line, toying with the elastic band of his boxers. Slipping away, he almost protests at the loss, biting his tongue when you move next to him, sitting up on your knees while both hands reach for the button and zipper of his jeans. When his button pops from its secure place, he warns with a breathy exhale, “Baby…”

“Mhm, yes, honey?” you reply, words trailing up at the end, feigning naivety. Through your lashes, you send him a pout, tongue poking out to dampen your plush lips that he stares at, his mouth parted with heavy breaths. His blood is rushing from his head, leaving him feeling light, as it all pumps to his cock, your delicate and teasing touches getting him half-hard.

Before you can tug down his zipper, you pause, taking your hands off of him; he holds back a whimper, the sound dying as a low hum in his throat.

“Don’t worry, baby, m’not done yet. Let’s go to our room, yeah?” Your voice is soothingly saccharine, an eager nod being his only response.

Shutting off the TV, you stand from the sofa and take his hand, snatching the cowboy hat from the coffee table before pulling him to stand and follow you across the main floor, down the hallway into your first-floor bedroom. Joel shuts the door behind him, your nod toward the handle serving as a reminder for him to flick the lock.

“Y’know, honey, you’re always showing me how you feel about me. I think it’s time we had a night that’s all about you…” He’s holding in a breath as you stalk closer to him, shaking his head as the back of his neck heats up.

“No, baby, you don’t—I don’t…” he stutters before trailing off, ashamed that he can’t think of any other excuse than the truth of why he does not want the attention on him tonight.

“You don’t…?” Running your hands across the expanse of his chest, he drops his shoulders in, curling around to make himself smaller, one foot stepping back but he doesn’t move from under your touch.

Shaking his head, he avoids your eyes, faintly confiding, “I don’t feel like I deserve it. I jus’, I’d rather give to you, baby.”

“Oh, Joel…you deserve it and more, honey. Why wouldn’t you?” Your fingers graze up, skating across his skin and carding into the hair at the nape of his neck.

“I’m not…not the same. I don’t look like who you fell in love with. Everything’s changing, catching up to me. Got gray hair and white in my beard and wrinkles and a beer belly startin’ and my back hurts all the time. M’not who I used to be but you—”

“Have changed, too. It’s not just you, Joel. Everything’s a little softer now, I’ve got wrinkles too. Found like four gray hairs yesterday and had a mild panic attack before I got into the shower. M’curvier and—”

“And you’re fucking beautiful, baby. You’re as beautiful, if not more beautiful than the day I met you.” He’s quick to defend your negative self-talk, his hands running delicately along the curves of your sides and around your lower back. Enveloping you in his arms, he presses your foreheads together, nose notched next to yours.

“That’s exactly how I feel about you, Joel. Don’t listen to us teasin’ you, especially me, ‘cause I wouldn’t change a thing about you…” As you tilt your head back, your nose grazes against his cheek, feeling a rush of heat from your breath as your lips hover over his, deliciously close to a kiss, “Can I show you what I think about you, honey?”

Joel nods, wordlessly waiting in anticipation; in the next breath, your lips crash into his, drinking him down deep while the hand at the back of his head tangles further into his hair and tugs. He moans, parted lips allowing you to lick into his mouth, whining at the taste of him before you push the flannel material from his shoulders, letting it drop to the floor as you continue to dominate the kiss.

Pressing your hands against his strong chest, you push him back with a step. Joel follows your lead, carefully moving backward, your tongue melding with his. All he can focus on is the taste of you — sweet, fruity, with the tang of citric acid from all the sour candies you stole from the bowl, the softest hint of chocolate as an aftertaste from his indulgences. The flavors of you coat his mouth, the scent of your perfume and shampoo mixing in his nose, and the feeling of your soft skin in his rough palms when he hikes up the skirt of your dress, grabbing a handful of your ass; it all stirs together, creating an intoxicating cocktail of you that he can seem to taste enough of. Joel’s legs hit the edge of the bed, and he’s being pulled away from your mouth with a pop when you ease him to sit down. Curiosity flashes in his mind, the sight of you over him with kiss-swollen lips growing the bulge in his undone jeans. Eager hands find your hips, grazing over to your ass as he looks up at you standing over him.

“Whatcha wanna do, beautiful?” His voice is lecherous as it comes out in a rasp, dripping with desire and a bit of wonder over what exactly you’re going to do with your night in control.

You shake your head at him, standing up straight and reaching for his hands, placing them at the hem of your dress, “Go ahead, baby. Take off as much as you want.”

His choice is obvious, tugging the fabric over your head with your help, a hand around your back yanking you to stand close, between his spread legs, while his fingers work open the clasp of your bra. Sitting back on his hands, he observes greedily as you let the straps fall down your arms, dropping the bra entirely onto the floor.

“These too?” Your thumbs hook into the waistline of your panties, doe-eyed and biting down on your body lip teasingly. Cotton-mouthed, Joel nods slowly, lips parted with shaking breath as you strip completely, sinking to your knees in front of him before he can reach out for a handful of your curves.

He lets you work his jeans down to his thighs, his boxers following in their wake, his cock springing free against his bare stomach. You keep eye contact as you kneel in front of him, his keen stare unblinking as his tongue pokes out to wet his lips, the need to see every single one of your movements outweighing the drying of his eyes with his slow, infrequent blinking. Scooting to settle comfortably on your knees, you stand up straighter, gaining enough height to bend your head over his lap, lips meeting his soft tummy and hands gripping onto his thighs. Delicate kisses and ghosting touches on his skin raise goosebumps, a warm shudder trickling down his back at your tenderness.

“So handsome…” you whisper, grazing your teeth into the flesh of his torso, biting down to nip. “Y’know I think about doin’ this all the time, baby. Every time you take off your shirt, jus’ wanna sink my teeth into you.”

His cheeks heat with sincere attention, muscles in his abdomen flexing when you litter lovebites and heated, open-mouth kisses all over him, the gentle touches and desire to relax his anxieties slowly. The focus on your mouth drops to his thighs, turning your head to the side when you sit back on your haunches, licking a stripe up toward his aching cock, a quivering exhale from his mouth drawing your eyes to his face. A satisfied smile stretches across your face, kissing his inner thigh before mirroring the actions on the opposite side. His fingers curl into the duvet, gripping hard as your lips wander closer to where his stiff cock drips needily, throbbing for any kind of reprieve.

“You’re so pretty, baby. So strong, solid.” The sweet nothings tickle at the back of his neck, words that he’s sure you’ve spoken before, but at this moment, they raise his body temperature and lighten his head, the only thoughts being how much he needs you.

Standing on your knees again, you bend your neck over Joel’s lap, eyes flickering up to his face to look at him through your lashes. Your lips part, spit dribbling from your mouth and onto his waiting cock, the sensation making him hiss with urgency. One of your hands wraps around him and strokes slowly. He looks down at you with hooded eyes, mouth opening in a small gasp at the languid stimulation. One swipe of your thumb across his tip drags the beads of pre-cum from where they’re leaking, melting them into the mix of your saliva that lubricates your motions.

Searing needles pierce into his skin when you finally give in and press hot, open-mouthed kisses against the soft skin of his swollen length. Your thumb brushes against his tip again, another hiss of pleasure escaping from between his teeth. One of Joel’s hands finds the back of your head, tangling fingers into your hair. He doesn’t move to guide you, simply wanting to touch a part of you to ground himself.

Your free hand gently cups his balls as you press a featherlight kiss to the tip of his hard cock. A kitten-lick swipes up the fresh dribbles of pre-cum that have collected and Joel’s fingers tense against your strands. Humming satisfied with the reactions you’re drawing from him, he looks down at you meeting his gaze, feeling the splotches of redness growing across his cheeks and neck at the frustration of your light teasing. He groans out your name as your mouth works to tease him more, not having taken him fully in.

“Fucking hell, baby, quit teasin’, please.” Joel rasps as he watches your methodical seduction. He applies the smallest pressure against the back of your head when your lips finally wrap around just the tip of him, a moan of relief rolling from his chest.

Your eyes stay glued on his face, and he’s lost in the delicious warmth of your mouth, unabashed in every response that he’s having to your mouth working him. Starting a slow bob up and down, he moans at the weight of him on your tongue, saliva coating the underside of his cock as he feels you curl the muscle against every vein. With half of him with your mouth, your hand working what isn’t initially fitting inside. His noises grow louder and in quicker succession, hyperaware that his cheeks are likely visibly warm and eyes dark with a craving when he looks down at you again.

“Such a sweet girl. Look so pretty with my cock in your little mouth. Think you can take more, baby? Think I can fit in your throat?” You shift in your position slightly, thighs rubbing together and a chuckle rolls from his lips, smug in the need he’s drawing from you simply from enjoying his pleasure. A sigh exhales around him in your mouth as your thighs rub together to relieve some of your aches.

The rhythm of your head brings his cock deeper, his tip brushing the back of your throat. You swallow around him and it squeezes him just right, a loud moan rumbling from his chest, the reverberations sending aftershocks to the tips of his ears. At that point, he gets lost in the high feeling, his composure leaving him when his large hand at the back of your head pushes you down onto his cock, taking him down your throat further and causing you to gag. Tears spill from your eyes and spit drips from the sides of your mouth, the blow job quickly turning sloppy as Joel takes more control.

“Fucking hell, darlin’. Taking me so well on your own, being such a good girl for me,” he whines, heading tilting back as his eyes squeeze shut, shallow thrusts meeting the rhythm of your head. “Gonna fuckin’ come, baby, holy fuck, I—”

A moan around him gurgles to nothing when he thrusts again, hand tangled in your hair pulling you back until his tip rests against your lips, “Don’t wanna—please—” His words are lost on the tip of his tongue, pleasure hazing his mind as he searches for the plea he wants to make with you.

You giggle from your knees, swiping your fingers to wipe away the drool from the corners of your mouth, a satisfied smirk on your face. Bracing yourself on his thighs, you push yourself up, standing in between his legs while your hands find his shoulders, scraping your fingernails against the curve of them.

“You wanna come inside of me? Not my mouth? Is that what you were trying to say, baby?”

“Yes,” he exhales, relieved to find the word he needed, blinking open his eyes to look up at you. Your thumb skates across his bottom lip, holding onto his jaw as you study his features.

“I’ll give you whatever you want, Joel. Anything for my perfect, doting husband. D’you know how fucking good it makes me feel to make you feel good?” you question curiously, tilting his head as he lets you mold him whichever way you want. “Tell me how you deserve to have me like this. ‘Cause you’re so fucking good to me, tell me that you’re gonna let me fuck you, let me take your come inside of me.”

“Baby, I don’t think that—” he starts, palms pressing into the backs of your thighs as he looks up at you.

“Tell me, Joel. You said you wanted to be the one giving to me tonight. That’s what I want.” You use his earlier, shy request against his negative thoughts, and the intensity in your eyes bends him to your will.

“M’gonna let you have my cock, gonna let you fuck me and show me how much you love when I take care of you.” The words roll foreignly on his tongue, unconvincing coming from his mind to his mouth. You bend a knee, bringing it up to rest next to his thigh, nodding along to encourage him to continue, “I give you whatever I can give to you, and always gonna, baby. Now’s your turn to take care of me, right?”

“That’s right, honey. I should show you how much I appreciate you more often…you work so hard, give us exactly what we need, and provide for us. My big, strong man. You do so much for me, baby. Gonna show you how thankful I am for you, how grateful I am that you’re lettin’ me have this cock,” your words breathe hot against his ear, your other leg now straddling him on the bed, cunt hovering over his waiting cock. A hand leaves his shoulders, reaching between your stomachs to wrap around him, guiding him to your entrance. His breath catches in his throat when you ease down onto him, pushing through the wet seal of your slit.

Wet heat envelopes him, taking in a few inches of him; Joel groans under you, head falling forward onto your breasts, forehead pressed into your sticky skin. One hand tangles into his curls, dragging his head back to look into your eyes. Your hips start to move, adjusted to his size easily and taking more of his cock, letting it split you open inch-by-inch. His eyes wildly search yours, seeing the pleasure overtake your mind, lips parting to match his as you both breathe out shallow, hot breaths.

“Fuck, Joel, so fucking big…” you whine for the first time tonight and the sound goes straight to his cock, twitching him inside of you as his hips jerk up, giving you another inch. Lust clouds his mind, nodding confidently as you take him, desperate to feel your tight, dripping cunt around him entirely.

“I know, baby, I know. Should’ve let me get you ready. But I bet you like the stretch, like a lil’ bit of pain, huh?” he coos, arm snaking around you to hold you closer, your eyes fluttering closed above him as you nod languidly.

“Fuckin’ love it, makes it feel even better,” you whimper when his arm tugs you down further, only an inch or two away from him being fully sheathed.

“C’mon, be my good girl, baby. Show me how you sit on my cock.” He leans forward, bending you backward with his force and holding you tight, his lips attaching to the soft, velvety skin of your breasts and biting, “Gotta face your punishment for stealin’ my hat. Take a cowboy’s hat, gotta ride the cowboy, babygirl. I don’t make the rules.”

You giggle, eyes clearing as you’re pulled out of your cloud of pleasure, gripping onto his shoulders and holding eye contact as you finally sink completely down, burying Joel’s cock inside your soaked pussy. Moans echo in the room, bitten down before they get too loud, your hips immediately finding a quick, sloppy pace to chase your highs. The slick glide of your walls grip his cock lusciously, your flooding arousal coating his balls as thighs as you ride him. Little noises slip from your mouth, simmering the coals burning in the base of his gut as he feels the familiar bliss building.

“Is this what I’m supposed to be doin’, cowboy?” you wonder, hips continuing their pace and mouth twisting as you hide a smile. Joel is unashamed, a wide grin on his face as he unravels one arm from you, picking up the hat from the corner post of the bed, and setting it loosely on top of your head. Giggles erupt from the both of you, your pace faltering as the muscles in his stomach cramp from use.

Recovering from the interlude, your thighs rub against the outside of his as you bounce, nails digging into his shoulders as your rhythm picks back up, the slap of skin against skin the only noise save for your airy breaths that get shallower and shallower. Flames have ignited in his gut, licking inside and burning hotter and hotter the closer he gets. Nearly at the edge, he needs more, body taking over and lifting you with him as he stands, holding you up on his cock as he thrusts hard and quick into you, dripping for him and gripping him tight to keep yourself up while he fucks into you.

“Oh—fuck, Joel! Right there, m’gonna—oh!” Your desperate pleas in his ear pitch up as you moan, cunt tightening with a flutter around him as you come, soaking his dick as he continues his hard pace, selfishly chasing his high.

A growl rolls from his chest when you come, his fingernails biting into the flesh of your ass, the slap of his balls against your skin as they draw up. His eyes squeeze shut as he moans your name, the first rope of his come released into your cunt, smaller whimpers following in its wake as he fucks one, twice more, filling you up as deep as he can.

Limbs feeling heavy, he turns you both around, pulling you off of him and dropping you gently onto the mattress. He flops down next to you onto his stomach, blissfully out of it as you move to straddle his back, fingers working the knots and soothing the aches growing there after a long week of work, and a night spent corralling your kids.

The warm press of your body against his back makes him hum contently, your breasts at his shoulder blades as you lay on him, one of his hands reaching the rub his fingers softly against the outside of your thigh.

“You know I think you’re the most handsome, right, honey?” you ask with a hint of worry in your voice, barely above a whisper. He nods, rolling over to his back underneath you and meeting your eyes, brow furrowed with concern.

“I know, baby. Jus’ was feeling weird this whole week. You made it a lot better, though.” A knuckle nudges your cheek, and you take the hat off, Joel chuckling again as you throw it off to the side of the bed. Laying down on him again, he strokes your hair while you hug yourself to his torso, both your eyes and his fluttering shut with exhaustion, from tonight and life in general.

Before drifting off, Joel speaks up, cheekily asking, “So…can I wear this costume next year, too?”

taglist: @atinylittlepain @swiftispunk @joelsversion @mrsquill @ilovepedro @lovers-liability @deathwife @undrthelights @atticrissfinch @casa-boiardi @wannab-urs @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @fishingforpike @msjarvis @walkintotheriveranddisappear @sugadolly @yazsos @peppesgirl @pastawench @addictedtotlou @brittmb115 @anoverwhelmingdin @spishsstuff @wolfbook87 @mswarriorbabe80 @harriedandharassed @decemberdolly @laiisleitte @fierce-bab @vickie5446 @pertinentpostmortem @livingdeadmaria @sullyosully @bitchwitch1981 @its-nebuleuse @marini03 @piercethevic03 @joeandpedrosimp @planet-marz1 @txtattoostark @jrosie25 @tbniarq @vee-bees-blog @thereaperisabitch @spidermanfrog @belliezz @joelsflannel @cartoon-garbage04 @bianqueee04 @nostalxgic @xyzstar @cumberpegg @b00klvrs @burningnerdchild

join my taglist

my kofi

#joel #writing #joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller au #joel miller smut #joel miller fluff #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfic #joel miller series #tlou fanfic #tlou fic #tlou fanfiction #tw body image #tw body issues #tw insecurity

852 notes · View notes

suspiciouslackofclowns · 11 months

Text

Billy tries to be as quiet and inconspicuous as possible when he enters the living room, easing down into a seat on the sofa with a plate packed full of finger food in his hands.

He's been steadily picking at the spread in the kitchen all afternoon — he isn't even really hungry anymore, but it's at least something to keep him occupied. He tries not to think about how he's eating out of boredom as he pops a mini quiche in his mouth.

As if having a sixth sense, Eddie turns around in his seat on the floor. Spreads a smile and crawls toward the sofa, leaning his elbows in Billy’s lap as he gazes up at him like he’s some ethereal being.

“Hey, blondie,” he lilts. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”

Billy snorts.

“Aren’t you supposed to be playing your game?”

“We’re having an intermission,” Eddie huffs. Leans further into Billy’s lap and wraps his arms around his waist. “Besides, I miss you.”

“Miss me? Munson, we sleep in the same bed every night.”

“And?”

“And you’re a fuckin’ dork,” Billy chuckles.

Eddie pouts. Hides his face in the front of Billy’s hoodie, and the blond has to fight every urge he has to suck his stomach in, lest Eddie pout even harder.

It’s taken some getting used to, the changes in his body. Especially after he quit smoking.

Had he known he would develop a permanent case of the munchies, he might’ve just stayed his course. Maybe he’d still have abs.

Maybe he’d still feel sexy.

Regardless, here Eddie is, smushing his face into his stomach like he’s a pillow. Billy takes a bite out of a chocolate-covered strawberry and sets his plate on the brunet’s back. Eddie doesn’t seem to notice.

“Yeah, well, you’re gorgeous,” Eddie says like it’s an insult. “And smart, and sweet, and funny, and—“

“Jesus, I get it, you like me. You can stop now.”

Eddie shakes his head. Presses a kiss to Billy’s stomach, which has the blond’s face blossoming red, and rubs up and down at his sides.

“I adore you. Wanna snuggle with you all day everyday and never do anything else.”

“Not even play D&D?”

“Nope.”

From behind him, Grant and Jeff both scoff, and Billy spreads a smile. Cards his hand through Eddie’s hair.

“I don’t think the guys like that idea.”

“Tough shit. How am I expected to function when you come in here looking all pretty ‘n stuff?”

Billy chuckles. Eddie grins at the sound.

“I’m wearing pajamas,” Billy points out. “And my hair’s not even done.”

“I know,” Eddie sighs dreamily.

“Mm, well, if you’re cuddling me all the time, when does my other boyfriend get a chance? Doesn’t sound very fair to me.”

“I don’t see this other boyfriend that you speak of. Plus, I’m calling dibs for the rest of time, so he’s outta luck.”

“You’re telling me you’re never gonna cuddle with Stevie again? Just me, forever?”

Eddie ponders the question for a long moment, and Billy chuckles again.

“Damn,” he muses. “You really do like me that much, huh?”

“I do,” Eddie admits. “I would miss being Stevie’s little spoon, though.”

Gareth snorts, clapping his hand on the coffee table.

“Wait, you’re the little spoon? Big bad Munson is Steve Harrington’s little spoon,” he cackles. “That’s the best fucking thing I’ve ever heard.”

Billy grabs his plate again just in time for Eddie to sit up and swivel around enough to cast a glare at his friend. It makes Gareth laugh even harder.

“Dude, you’ve literally heard me call him my princess and shit before, but you’re choosing to make fun of me over this?”

“I always thought that was you poking fun at his masculinity or something.”

Eddie shakes his head and clicks his tongue.

“Stevie is my pretty princess,” he lilts. Glances up at Billy and chews his lip. “And Billy bear is my little babycakes. He’s the baby, actually.”

Billy’s face flushes red all the way down his neck.

“I am not,” he huffs.

“Yes huh, you’re baby girl, baby doll— you love that shit. We wouldn’t say any of it if you didn’t.”

There’s a polite chuckle from around the room and Billy scoffs.

Eddie notably softens. He rubs at Billy’s thighs, leaning forward to press another kiss to his stomach and humming pleasantly when his lips make contact.

“The nicknames just mean that we love you,” he coos.

“Guess I just think you both have weird taste,” Billy murmurs, then huffs a laugh to himself. “If I nicknamed myself, it’d probably be something like lardass.”

Eddie makes a shocked noise of offense and furrows his brows.

“Hey, no one talks about my boyfriend like that.”

“No? What’re you gonna do about it?”

“I’m gonna tell on you.” Billy’s smirk falters and Eddie hums triumphantly. “I’m gonna tell Steve. He’ll baby you about it and pull out some old family recipe he’s got locked away just to make you eat your words.”

Billy presses his lips together. Thinks about the last time he made a self-deprecating comment in front of Steve. Thinks about how it was definitely a handful of pounds ago.

“I’d rather you didn’t.”

He pushes his fingers into Eddie’s hair. The brunet leans into his touch, but spreads this sickening little grin. All teeth and no remorse.

“Then I guess you better take it back,” he lilts. Billy locks his jaw shut. Eddie clicks his tongue and pokes teasingly at his side. “There’s no downside for me, I like a little extra fluff. Nobody likes thin pancakes.”

“Pancakes?”

“Mhmm,” Eddie hums. “You’re like a stack of ‘em.”

Billy quirks a brow.

“How so?”

“I fuckin’ love pancakes.” Eddie flattens his palm against Billy’s side and rubs gently back and forth. “Plus, y’know, they’re soft and warm. Pillow-like.”

A little smile quirks at the corners of Billy’s mouth. Some part of him wants to take offense, but he can’t. Not when big brown eyes are gazing up at him so fondly. He scratches softly at Eddie’s scalp and has him all but purring, eyes slipping shut as he melts under the touch.

“You’ve never had crêpes?” Billy asks.

Eddie’s eyes crack open.

“What?”

“Crêpes,” Billy repeats. Chuckles when Eddie looks at him like he’s growing a second head. “Thin pancakes? They’re Stevie’s favorite, I’m surprised you didn’t notice. He always orders them when we go to the diner downtown.”

Eddie sits up straighter. Thinks hard for a moment, like his whole world is crashing down.

“Is that what those things are?”

“What did you think they were?”

“I dunno— not pancakes.” Eddie pouts when he’s laughed at, but still fixes Billy with a serious look. “Brushing past the fact that you just ruined my whole analogy, I maintain that you’re perfect just the way you are.” That little grin comes back full-fledged in a matter of seconds. “Besides, crêpes always have filling, don’t they?”

It’s Billy’s turn to pout while Eddie snickers at him.

“Whatever. Just don’t tell Steve.”

“Why, you scared he’s gonna put pounds on you?” Eddie pinches his side and earns a huff. “You still haven’t taken back what you said.”

“‘Cause I don’t want to. Don’t see why you’re so hung up on it.”

This time, Eddie looks… disappointed. It hurts Billy deep in his chest, like he swallowed a shard of tortilla chip that refuses to go down smoothly.

“If someone was talking shit about Steve right in front of you, what would you do?” Eddie asks.

“I’d rock their shit.”

“Why?”

Billy shrugs.

“I dunno, it’d piss me off.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because it’s Steve,” Billy huffs. “I don’t— I don’t like the idea of anyone talking shit about him. That’s my boyfriend.”

Eddie nods. Tilts his head to the side and slowly begins to rub up and down at Billy’s waist, similar to how he had been earlier.

“Then why is this any different? I still get to be upset when I hear someone talking shit about you, even if it’s you who’s doing the shit-talking.”

Billy’s mouth opens, but then promptly closes again. Is this the same guy who was comparing him to pancakes a minute ago?

A moment passes. Then another. Eddie just stares up at him expectantly, and Billy says nothing. It’s a stand-off. A battle of will. Billy’s fixing to cave when the front door opens and the tension is suddenly broken, yet somehow doubles at the same time.

“Intermission?” Steve asks.

He hangs his keys up and shrugs out of his coat once the door is shut behind him, already wearing an easy smile.

“Unofficially,” Gareth grumbles.

Eddie shoots him a glare, but is quick to soften when Steve leans over the back of the sofa and drapes his arms around Billy’s shoulders.

“Hey, baby,” Steve greets. Ignores the knowing giggle from around the room in favor of pressing a kiss into Billy’s curls. “Thought you’d still be asleep when I got back.”

More kisses land in his hair as Billy purses his lips.

“It’s almost six.”

“Mhmm,” Steve hums.

In an instant, Eddie gets this look on his face, and Billy’s stomach drops. He opens his mouth, but Steve is too quick.

“Have you just been eating junk?” He asks, gesturing to Billy’s plate.

The blond glances at his little collection of nibbled-at finger food. Tries not to think about how many plates of it he’s had already.

“Yeah, just… snacking,” he says timidly.

Steve tsks. Billy almost flinches at the sound.

“Well, that won’t do.” Steve nabs the plate from Billy’s hand and pops a cube of cheddar in his mouth. “Tell me what you want, bubs, and I’ll make it.”

Billy feels like he’s on fire.

“Lasagna?”

A sheepish smile finds its way onto his face when his chin is tilted up, and Steve plants a kiss directly on his lips.

“Coming right up.”

Then the brunet vanishes from behind the couch, padding into the kitchen to root around for a casserole dish before he’s even taken his shoes off.

On the floor, Eddie bites back on a giggle.

“I didn’t even have to tell him,” he whispers amusedly. Leans completely into Billy’s lap and hugs his torso again, half smothering himself in Billy’s stomach. “Hope you’re hungry, Bill, ‘cause it’s pancake time.”

For emphasis, he gives Billy’s side a squeeze, which has him huffing irritatedly.

“No, we’re having lasagna,” Steve calls. There’s a clatter as he moves about the kitchen. “We can have pancakes tomorrow night.”

Eddie gives in to the giggles, shoulders shaking as he hides his face in the front of Billy’s hoodie.

Finally accepting defeat, Billy sighs. Cards his fingers through Eddie’s hair while he laughs, trying to find it in himself to be upset about what’s to come.

But his mouth is already watering before the oven is even done preheating.

#harringroveson #billy hargrove #steve harrington #eddie munson #background corroded coffin guys #chubby billy hargrove #fluff #tw weight #tw insecurity #body image #internalized fatphobia #Billy is so Garfield coded #hey look at that Steve is actually IN a harringroveson fic of mine #weird right?#ficlet #my wriitng #mostly unedited #soon to be on ao3 when I have time

195 notes · View notes

multi-kpop-fanfics · 9 months

Text

tw: insecurities, crying, fear of failure and self - doubt, cursing, mentions of inconsiderate people, kissing, friends to lovers!AU

You want to disappear from the face of Earth.

The past few months have been hell for you and today was probably the last straw - as if you weren't already on the brink of a mental breakdown, your best friend decided to chew you out for not having the emotional capacity to listen to her rambles about her boyfriend standing her up on their latest date.

It has been an hour since you left the cafeteria in tears and about half an hour since Seungkwan stopped by your apartment to provide some much needed comfort.

"Shhh, it's okay, love," he holds you close to his chest, his arms securely wrapped around you, "You have every right to be upset."

"I just... Don't fucking get it," you sniffle, "It's like I'm a walking bad luck charm at this point."

"That's not true at all, Y/N-"

"How?! Nothing has been going well for the past three months!" You scream, "And nobody gives a fuck about how I feel - Hell, I don't even give a fuck about how I feel!"

Something in your words feels like a double-edged knife piercing through Seungkwan's heart - he knows you're in pain, but he hates seeing you in such a sorry state.

"Look at me," he turns your head to face him, his hands caging your cheeks as he's trying to shake you awake from a nightmare, "Stop giving importance to people and things that don't deserve it."

"And who should I give importance to, huh?!"

"YOU! Your fucking self, Y/N!" He yells, eyes screaming to hold back the rapidly forming tears, "Fuck the others, fuck the world! If they can't be nice to you, then you should be nice to you!"

You let out a breath you hadn't realized you were holding all this time and you let yourself fall forward, pressing a quiet kiss on your friend's lips.

Seungkwan is caught off guard, but he lets himself fall into it, enjoy the comfortable silence that has now fallen in the room.

"I'm sorry," you break contact and wipe your cheeks, "I shouldn't have lashed out like that, let alone do...whatever I did just now."

"You're right," he smiles and caresses your bottom lip with his thumb, "You shouldn't have lashed out like that."

You let out a choked laugh and Seungkwan inches closer to you.

"Although I wouldn't say no to another kiss."

#svthub #seungkwan fluff #seungkwan angst #svt seungkwan #boo seungkwan #svt fluff #svt angst #seventeen fluff #seventeen angst #seventeen #tw insecurity #SoundCloud

94 notes · View notes

starry-snippets · 1 year

Text

tw: insecurity (on joot's end)

thinking about jotaro with a dad bod. he's older now, jolyne is grown and he's not as toned as he used to be. but you still love him. you cup his face, kissing his nose while you gush about how the little scratch of his stubble makes you grin. you rest your head on his plush belly when you're cuddling on the couch, never once complaining about the padding of fat he now has. jotaro will wonder if you miss when his body was carved from stone, but you always kiss him gently and tell him his body isn't the reason why you love him, but it has never not helped. you love how he's practically a furnace now, duvets discarded every night since you're wrapped in his arms. you just love him so much no matter if he loses or gains weight and you hope he believes that. since he's always been fawned over for his looks, I do imagine jotaro has a decline in self esteem once he puts on some chub. but your reminders certainly help him realize there's more to him than the face girls (and everyone to be honest) swooned over in high school

339 notes · View notes

wordsbymae · 1 year

Note

nooo the wandering eyes😭 farmer, you were supposed to be different</3

would he ever see the insecurity of his little mouse? them trying to change to be more like people that he keeps looking at? and i'll be patiently waiting for the breaking point of mousey you mentioned, dear author👀

- 💫

Hehe my bad. If it helps, older farmer only has eyes for his pumpkin. But unfortunately, we're talking about Playboy Farmer so yeah his eyes wander slightly. He by no means ever acts on it, won't even talk to whoever he's eyeing. He's just a stupid man who doesn't see how it could count as cheating. To answer your question....maybe, most likely not. Mouse doesn't go out very much so it's only once or twice they notices this happening, and like most insecurities, it festers under their skin for a long time.

It starts small, eyes darting to look at their reflection before glancing away, worrying about how their clothes fit or how their hair looks. And despite telling the farmer they didn't really care what that cruel person said, those words dart around their head, causing doubt and worry. It's manageable though. Especially since they don't see many people so there are not many to compare themselves to.

But then they go out one weekend. To some market or fair or whatever. They walk hand in hand through the grounds, the farmer almost bored but still willing to be dragged where ever his sweet mousey wishes to go.

He stands behind them as they try to win a stuffed cow. Mousey's aim was shocking, but he knew they like to have a go first before passing the toy rifle over to him. He begins to lose interest, eyes wandering away.

Then a flash of skin catches his eye. A snake dancer is passing by, barely wearing anything at all, skin open for all to see. Long legs and a pretty face. Can you blame the double take he did, the low whistle and the roaming eyes from head to toe?

Mousey can. They turned when he whistled, thinking he was proud of the shot they just took. He was always saying they couldn't shoot for shit. Instead, they turn to see him lusty after a scantly clad figure, dancing with a snake roaming across their limbs. They dance with a fever, golden cloth shimmering in the light, eyes dark and seductive. Mouse watches as his eyes gaze at them in hunger, his mouth smirking. Mousey can't recall him ever looking at them like that.

They throw the gun onto the table and march away, tears blurring their vision. How could they compete with someone like that? So gorgeous that it hurt to look at them. They never dressed like that, acted like that, looked like that or even felt like that. They were just as plain as a mouse, nothing special or to write home to, nothing but someone to settle for.

Because that's why the farmer was with them, wasn't it? No one else wanted him, so he settled for what he could get. A boring little mousey. They rushed away, trying desperately to cover their tears.

It took the farmer a regrettable minute to realise mouse was gone. His eyes followed the dancer until they turned a corner and then he swung back around to see how his pretty mouse was getting on. Only to find them missing. His eyes darted around in fear and worry. Where did they run off to? did something happen?

He rushed forward into the crowd. His mousey was missing and wasn't gonna waste one second.

~~~~~~~~~~

He finds them sitting on the tray on his truck, eyes red and cheeks puffy. They were hunched over and tight lipped staring at the muddy ground below.

"Darlin'!" he called, "where the hell you bin, I've been lookin' for you everywhere. You got me worried sick"

You gave a loud sniff and turned your eyes away

"Why you cryn', someone say something? Was it that shit head?" he asked, hands finding your checks.

You flinched away from him, grimising as his touch.

"No body said anything" you grumbled, wishing he would just leave you alone

"Somebody do somethin then? Who was it" he growled. "You just give me a name, hell a face, and I'll fix it"

"You" you whispered with anger. "You did it. You're the reason I'm crying. You're the reason the night's been ruined"

"What I do mousey!" he huffed, "is it cause I wasn't watchin' ya shot the cans. I was watching, I swear!"

"How could you? you clearly had your eyes elsewhere! Couldn't peal them off, not even long enough to see me leave!" anger was rising now, pain morphing into a rage

"Now sweet-" he tried, his mistake now clear to him

"Do you even love me? Or are you just settling down with the only person who would be desperate enough to stay with you" came a growl

"Of course I love you!"

he was getting mad now, you could tell, defensive even.

"You show that love by eye fucking strangers? hm?" you jumped from the tray and gave him a light pushback. "I saw the way you looked at them! Like, like you actually wanted them. Like you were desperate for them!"

He let you advance upon him, his mind struggling to keep up. He just looked, why was it such a problem to just look?

"I would never cheat on you darlin'. Never" His hands were raised now in surrender or in defence you weren't too sure.

"Why should I believe you? It's a look today, a touch tomorrow and then next thing I know you're fucking them in our bed!" you shouted, eyes narrowed in hurt. This was apparently too far for him.

"Now you listen here mouse, I admit I ain't no church boy, not some holier than thou man free of sin. But I would never betray you like that, in our bed or anywhere. You are the only thing I care about." He huffed, rough hands gripping your shoulders tight. Love and pain were clear in his eyes.

"So yeah, I looked at someone else, my eyes do sometimes wander" You gave a groan of disgust "But! But they always come back to you. Come on darlin' let's just forget about this and head on home yeah? Or I can win you that stuffed cow you were after."

"I can't just forget!" you sneered.

"Well, why the hell not! Have you at least tried?"

"I can't forget because you don't look at me like that!"

Silence lingered, tears fell a bit further, and hands slipped away from your shoulders.

"You don't look at me like you want me" you whispered, "or like you're desperate to touch me, to have me. You just..... look at me, but never like how you looked at them"

"You can be real fucking dumb sometimes honey"

"Excuse me?"

"Of course, I don't look at you like that" he scoffed, and your heart fell "I ain't looking at you like that cause unlike anyone else, I need you. Like I need air to breathe or water to live. Without you, I'd die of heartbreak"

"Yeah right" you mumble

"It's true! Without you, I'd drink myself dead in a matter of days! And when I look at you, I look at you like I'm fucking in love with you, 'cause I am. So why would I look at someone like how I look at you? "

You stumbled over what to say, how to answer but nothing came out.

"And also I look at you like I wanna fuck you all the time, you just don't see me looking. Which is good for me 'cause I get to catch you in some pretty naughty situations" He smirked before a well-aimed slap to the arm changed his mouth to a small ow.

"If I ever, and I mean ever catch you looking at someone else you can sleep with the dogs"

"Aye, aye captain," he said, giving a mock salute as you giggled.

"You're not so easily forgiven though"

"Oh? And how does the light and love of my life wish me to be punished for my misdeeds?"

"Go be a man and win me that cow."

~~~~~~~~~~~~

In all seriousness though, looking at other people like he did isn't very faithful at all and would be something I would struggle to forgive, but this is fiction sooooo

Tag list: @floraroselaughter

#farmer oc #insecure reader #insecure!reader #tw insecurity #insecure thoughts #yandere farmer #gn reader

247 notes · View notes

intoxicated-chan · 2 years

Note

Hello my dear :) If you're not too busy, can I please request headcanons for Cassie, Erron, Hanzo, and Johnny having a female S/O who has a high libido but tries to hide it due to being shamed by previous partners?

『Having An S/O With A High Libido』

♡o。.✿ฺ Characters // Cassandra Cage, Erron Black, Hanzo Hasashi, Johnny Cage…

♡o。.✿ฺ Content Warnings // female reader but can be read as gender neutral, sexual themes, insecurities, mention of public sex, light cussing, mentions of murder, mentions of phone sex…

CASSANDRA CAGE

I would see that she sorta had a problem with it. She’s usually always on her toes and running around doing work, especially when she was promoted.

But it doesn’t stop her from trying to satisfy your needs every time. She cares about you a lot and made it clear she has her limits but she does try for you.

Cassie learned about your high libido when she saw that you were still turned on and asked how can you go that long.

When Cassie leaned about her exes, of course, she was pissed and on the night you shared, she made sure you forgot about them.

ERRON BLACK

Now, Erron has no problem with it. He enjoys you seeing all horny for him and when he gets to do it anywhere with you, it makes it even more fun.

But the downside is his line of work. He’s not a fan of toys but he’d buy some for you and when comes home, he makes sure he’s the only one going into your hole.

How he learned it? You sat on top of his lap, still wanting more, and when I say he found it hot… it was fucking hot.

When he learns of exes, he’d offer to take them out with ease and you wouldn’t even know they were gone. Of course, you stopped him but he said, just say the word.

HANZO HASASHI

He’s a 50/50 man. It depends on where and when you decide to do it. He wants to be the only one to hear your cries and your body.

Hanzo has his works and understands that he can’t always be around to pleasure you. He does try to get his work done faster but makes it up to you.

He learns when he realizes you aren’t even tired on the third round, he asks what kinds of secrets are you keeping from him. But all you do is smile and let him take you once more.

Does hold a grudge against any exes, even if they were good. He did get the pleasure of meeting them and they became the headlines in the news.

JOHNNY CAGE

He enjoys it. But I say a more than you probably. He can keep up with you and has tried many times to see who taps out first.

Downside is a work like Erron but he doesn’t buy any toys. Phone sex is a must. And definitely had people walk in on the moment. He doesn’t give a damn.

How he leaned it was when you challenged him over and over and over again. It was hard to sway who passed out first.

When he meets one of your exes that still shames you for it, he’s bragging in front of them of all the things he gets to do with you. Making them uncomfortable.

#x reader #mortal kombat #mortal kombat x reader #mk erron black #mk cassie cage #mk hanzo hasashi #mk headcanons #hanzo hasashi x reader #cassie cage x reader #erron black x reader #mk johnny cage #johnny cage x reader #tw: sex mention #tw insecurity

786 notes · View notes

n1nthrule · 5 months

Text

thinking about that exercise machine in narrator's apartment (especially from a genderbent au perspective) makes me sob. she's forcing herself to go through routine exercise to be appealing to Society and she can't even do it! fighting is symbolic of worshipping her own body and utilising it for her happiness and nobody elses!!!!

#fem fight club makes me so ill #i need david fincher to ocean's eight fight club it would fix the toxic masculinity/ representation of women issue so fast #fight club #tw insecurity #<- just in case

35 notes · View notes

imhereforbrownies · 2 years

Text

Painting you

Hwang Hyunjin/Curvy!F!Reader Summary: You had a crush on Hyunjin for a long time. However, your insecurities kept you from doing something about it. What happens when you end up being Hyunjin’s art model? Warnings: college!au, art major!Hyunjin, acquaintances to lovers, insecurities, anxiety, nudity, fluff, angst Word count: 4k+

————————————————————

You really believed this could be a good idea.

You couldn't be more wrong.

When your best friend Kaya came up with modeling for the art majors as a side gig, you weren't really thrilled about it but she made some really good points about why you should take it.

First of all, the money was surprisingly good and you really needed that if you wanted to go on that summer road trip together.

Second of all, she assured you you'll be working in pairs so you wouldn't have to stand there in front of a room full of people, which gave you comfort.

And third of all, you could actually get a few credits for participating in it, which is something you always welcomed with open arms.

You probably had to be too sleep-deprived and high on caffeine that you actually agreed to it, because standing here now, face to face with Hwang Hyunjin, the Hwang Hyunjin, you're sure this was the worst idea you've ever had in your entire life.

"So- Uhm- how do you picture this going?" You ask nervously, watching Hyunjin as he prepares his tools thoroughly, your eyes glued to his angelic face.

You know Hyunjin for years now. You two come from the same neighborhood, went to the same schools, and somehow ended up attending the same university even though both of you study completely different majors. You two were never more than acquaintances, greeting each other in passing but never really engaging in conversation. Maybe it's because both of you are rather shy, maybe it's the fact you never really had a proper chance to talk, or maybe it's because you get really nervous in his presence ever since that incident in high school.

It was a cruel joke from one of your former friends. She knew you had a crush on Hyunjin, but what you didn't know was that she had eyes on him too, like half of your school always did. Being braver than you, she actually befriended the boy and for a while, you two and your other friend Nina used to sit at the table with him and his group of friends. You don't know why she did what she did. But it sure gave you nightmares for years and hurt your self-esteem more than you're willing to admit. It actually made you avoid Hyunjin for the rest of your high school years, hoping you could outrun him forever. But it seemed like luck was not on your side when you chose to go to the closest university to your hometown just to meet with him again. The feelings you had for him never really dissipated, but what once used to be sweet now had a bitter taste because every time you looked at him, you were reminded of the embarrassment your so-called friend put you through.

"I have a thing in mind. Only if you agree though," he states, looking up from his easel, his pretty brown eyes meeting yours and you fight the urge to look away.

"What is it?" You ask softly, hands fidgeting with the hem of your oversized t-shirt.

"I wanted to paint a nude. Not full, just decently exposed. I- I understand if you are not up for that. I can come up with something else of course," he states and you're not sure if it's the doing of the last beams of the setting sun or something else, but you could swear his cheeks darkened a bit. You feel your own face heat up as his words settle in and you realize what he's actually asking of you. This can't be real. What are you supposed to say? Are you really about to do this?

"Uhm- how much exposed exactly?" You ask, your heart thrumming anxiously in your chest.

"I have a picture as an inspiration. Wait a minute," he says, his long fingers covered in rings fishing out his phone from the pocket of his dark jeans. You wait patiently until he finally finds what he was looking for before he closes the distance between the two of you and hands you the phone. You take it carefully, your eyes widening a little as you gaze at the picture in front of you.

You think you saw it before, it's a beautiful piece for sure. There's a woman, laying on her side with her back turned to the painter, her naked figure contrasting with the red sheets, a white blanket covering a part of her bum.

You tear your eyes from the screen and look up at Hyunjin, his gaze already settled on you.

"A-are you sure I'm the right person for this? I mean- you know- I'm not exactly-," you cut yourself off, feeling the embarrassment crawling into your veins, making another wave of heat flood your face.

"What do you mean?" Hyunjin asks, looking at you genuinely confused.

"Well, I don't think I'm exactly a nude painting material," you explain, capturing your lower lip between your teeth. Hyunjin chuckles lightly and you give him a puzzled look.

"I think everyone is a nude painting material. Especially you," he says softly, almost bashfully, before he takes his phone back from you and heads back to his easel, leaving you frozen to the spot with lips parted in shock. Did you hear him right?

"So? Will you do it?" He asks, his melodic voice snapping you out of your thoughts.

"Will it be like that painting?" You question and he nods.

"Yep. A little different but the position is the same, don't worry," he states, a small smile on his lips as if to assure you. You hesitate for a moment before you exhale longly.

"Fine, I'll do it," you murmur, making Hyunjin straighten slightly at your words, his eyes finding yours as if looking for confirmation and you give him a nod.

"Good. Great. I-I'll get ready then," he states softly, turning his back to you and you realize that might be a sign for you to get ready too.

"Uhm- Hyunjin?" You murmur and he immediately snaps his head back to you.

"Yeah?"

"Could you give me some- like a blanket or something? So I can like- cover?" You ask nervously.

You can feel your thoughts racing as it seems like your brain finally caught up on what's about you happen and you realize you're really about to be completely naked in front of a boy you had a crush on ever since you knew what that word meant.

"Yeah, sure. Sorry. I- I have this here," he states, leaning down to his bag just to pull out a huge black shirt, which surely belongs to him.

"Here. I'll exchange it for something different once you're settled," Hyunjin says, handing it to you, his cheeks dusted with blush and you manage an anxious smile.

"You can change behind those curtains and I'll get the sofa ready," he promises and you nod, again staying silent because you really need a moment to process it all. Is this really happening? Is this a hallucination? Or a dream? Maybe a nightmare? Who knows.

A warm hand lightly squeezing your arm brings you out of your head, your eyes meeting Hyunjin's.

"Hey, if you don't feel like doing it, you can always say no. I understand. No need to push yourself, okay?" He says gently, his deep brown eyes searching yours as if looking for any cry for help, but you find yourself smiling softly instead as the wild thrumming of your heart fades into the background, your gaze fixed on him.

You don't think you've ever been so close to him. You take the opportunity to subtly admire his features, so soft yet slipping into sharp edges, plush lips, pretty brown eyes, a few moles peppered over his face. He truly might be the most beautiful man you've ever met.

"No, I trust you," you find yourself saying like in trance, your heart jumping as Hyunjin smiles, his whole face brightening.

"Good. Go ahead then. I don't want to keep you here for long. I'll need to make just a quick sketch today," he states, the warmth of his touch dissipating as he pulls away and heads to the sofa in the corner to push it closer to his easel.

"Okay," you murmur, collecting yourself and clutching the dark shirt closer to your chest as you force yourself to get going too.

You walk to the curtains at the side that are hiding a little storage room, your heartbeat echoing in your ears like a thunderstorm as you pull it to the side and slip inside.

You put his shirt down, checking that the curtains are actually closed as if you won't be laying there in front of Hyunjin almost naked in a few minutes. You take a deep breath, letting the air out through your nose in a desperate attempt to get a grip on your nerves.

He said you can say no anytime, that you shouldn't push yourself. You can always back out of this. You should just give it a try and if it makes you uncomfortable, you'll tell him. It's okay.

You keep repeating this to yourself, again and again, trying to calm yourself down as you slowly strip until all that's left on you is your underwear. You decide to leave your panties on, since your butt will be covered anyways, adding your bra to the pile of your clothes now proudly sitting on top of an old blue chair.

You feel goosebumps raising on your skin, the coolness of the atelier really getting to you now. You grab Hyunjin's shirt and wrap it around your half-naked form, the soft material shielding you from the lower temperatures as you pull it closer to your body. Your lungs fill with air and your tummy turns into butterflies. The smell of mint, cologne, and something much subtler and gentler, something you identify as just Hyunjin, makes you feel lightheaded. You instinctively bring the collar of the shirt to your nose, bathing in his scent.

That is until you frown at yourself softly, huffing and shaking your head. You're beginning to act like a weirdo.

Enough is enough. It's time to face your fate.

You make sure none of your intimate parts stick out of Hyunjin's huge shirt before you pull away the curtains and step out of the old storage, feeling as if you were walking yourself to your own execution. This is ridiculous.

Your eyes meet Hyunjin's, your cheeks burning as you notice his gaze traveling down your body and back up only for his handsome face to flush a shade darker as he looks away shyly, your chest beginning to feel too tight to breathe.

"So should I just- uh- lay down?" You offer, desperately trying to somehow make the suffocating atmosphere in the room a little easier and failing terribly.

"Y-yeah! I- I have this thing here to exchange for the shirt. I'll need to arrange you a bit too if you don't mind," he states, biting on his lower lip and you give him a small smile, shaking your head.

You cross the distance to reach the little sofa and you actually come to a halt, thinking through how exactly are you about to do this, while you can hear Hyunjin rummaging through his stuff in the background.

Should you take the shirt off first and lay down or do it the opposite way?

You feel your cheeks burn when you're once again reminded of how bare you'd be in front of him but you decide to push against your insecurities and worries and you simply slip his big shirt off, covering your boobs with your hands before you carefully climb on the sofa, laying down with your back turned to him. The only thing that's left to cover you right now is your simple black high-waisted panties, your skin breaking into goosebumps at the coolness of the room, and your anxiety reaching its peak as you hear Hyunjin's footsteps approaching you.

"Could you- Uhm- take off the rest too?" His melodic voice echoes through the room and you stiffen. You look at him over your shoulder just to find his back turned to you, graciously giving you enough privacy.

"Y-yeah, sure," you murmur, tugging your panties down with your clammy hands just to let them fall on the ground next to the sofa, a shaky breath leaving you in the process.

"Done," you exclaim so Hyunjin can turn around, your hands returning to their position over your breasts.

"Okay. I-I'll cover you with this now," he announces, and you hum, your cheeks burning when you feel him standing right beside you.

He gently lays the soft material over you and you can't help but tilt your head to look at it. Your eyes widen comically at what you're met with. You thought he might use something made of velvet or sateen but no. He just dropped a long piece of red chiffon over your bum, leaving the outlines of your curves perfectly visible through it.

"You think this is a good idea?" You dare to ask, looking up so your eyes meet Hyunjin's, and boy, is he blushing. Through your own nervousness and anxiety, you completely failed to notice what this whole thing does to Hyunjin. He seems beyond flustered, his cheek painted a pretty shade of pink, his hands fidgety and his eyes never staying in one place too long, until they settle on your face.

"W-why wouldn't it?" His eyebrows furrow a little at your question and you feel yourself growing hot from embarrassment.

"Well, as I said- I'm not sure- I'm not sure people would like to see this," you murmur, gesturing with your fingers towards your body and Hyunjin's gaze follows the movement before his eyes promptly return to yours.

"What do you mean, Y/N?" He asks softly. The way he says your name, probably for the first time today, makes your heart flutter but you can't focus on that enough, your mind stuck on the issue at hand. Which is explaining your insecurities to your crush. Great, right?

You turn your head back forward, facing the backrest of the sofa and you squeeze your eyes shut before you let it out, the thing that's been on your mind from the very beginning.

"Uhm- you know- this. Like- my- my curves and fat and all of that," you whisper the last part, too afraid to voice it.

An eerie silence settles in the room and you don't dare to look up at Hyunjin to find out what he thinks, your eyes still shut, your eyebrows furrowed while you scold yourself for saying all of it. You just made him uncomfortable, for sure. What is he supposed to say to this? You didn't mean to make him feel like he has to comfort you and you definitely don't want him to pity you. You're such an idiot.

"You're so wrong, Y/Nie," he murmurs and your heart skips a beat at that.

"I- I know this might sound weird and I can assure you it's not but- I- I picked you exactly for those reasons," he states, and this time you do face him, your eyes wide in surprise.

"What?" You breathe out and it's Hyunjin's turn to look away.

"We- we all could pick a model if we wanted and I- I picked you," he admits and you can't help but stare at him in stunned silence for a second. You thought the pairs were completely random and the universe just hates you so you ended up with Hyunjin but this?

"Because I'm curvy?" You ask, unsure if you're getting it right but then he nods.

"You- you have no idea how beautiful you're to me, Y/N. When I saw your name on the list, I knew I wanted to paint you, to hopefully show you through the painting how pretty you are. I know how this whole thing sounds and I'm sorry. I can assure you I'm not- this is not-," he sighs, running his hand over his face in frustration. You watch him for a second before you scoff softly, the sound apparently tearing Hyunjin from his inner turmoil and his eyes finally meet yours again.

"What?" He murmurs and you smile.

"Nothing, I just-," you pause, sitting up and pulling the chiffon closer to cover your boobs too, before you face him again, his cheeks even darker than before.

"I'm the one sitting here naked in front of you but you're the one who's completely flustered," you state. Hyunjin stares at you for a minute before he chuckles, shaking his head as an amused smile settles on his plush lips.

You would lie if you said his little confession didn't have a certain effect on you too, your racing heart and warm cheeks being proof of it.

"I'm sorry. I just- I like you for a while now but- you always avoided me so I thought- you know," he states, shrugging his broad shoulders.

Now that catches you by surprise. You stare at him with your lips parted, not sure if you heard him right.

"You do what?" You ask, feeling like your head might just burst from all the chaotic thoughts that swirl through you at the moment. You lived through years of thinking that you're the last person Hwang Hyunjin would ever want to have anything to do with and here you're now, having the very same boy confess to you that he's had a crush on you too. What is this?

"I like you. I like you a lot," he states, his eyes glued to the ground.

You can feel your heart thrum in your chest wildly as you still fail to acknowledge that this whole thing is real and not just some fever dream.

"Are you sure?" You murmur, not able to believe it.

"Of course, I am, Y/N," he states without hesitation.

"Even after what Lea did in high school?" You ask and Hyunjin lifts his head to face you, his eyes meeting yours.

You feel like it was yesterday. You sat at the table with Hyunjin and his friends like you usually did during lunchtime. It was mainly Lea talking since she was one of the more extroverted people in the group but you didn't really mind that and neither seem the others. You were minding your own business, munching on your toast when Hyunjin spoke to you for what might've been the first time in ages except for the usual greeting. You don't remember what you guys talked about but you vividly remember what happened once Lea noticed.

She leaned towards Hyunjin, resting her head on her palm and she whispered to him sweetly:

"Did you know Y/Nie has a crush on you? I've told her it's not gonna lead anywhere because- you know. Look at her. You two together? That would be ridiculous."

And you knew exactly what she meant by that. While Hyunjin was always the handsome boy all the girls and many boys were crushing on, you were the last one to be noticed, the chubby girl in the back of the class the boys didn't spare a glance to.

You ran away from the table in tears which only made the whole thing worse because others saw it and it soon spread through the whole school, turning your days into a living nightmare.

And since that day, you avoided Hwang Hyunjin like a plague, even though your heart never really stopped beating for him.

"Y/Nie, I-I'm so sorry about that. I wanted to apologize to you many times but you always kept your distance so I- I thought you kinda hated me," he admits and you sigh, biting on your lower lip to hold back from getting too emotional.

"It's not your place to apologize for it, Hyunjin. You did nothing wrong," you state.

"Then why did you avoid me?" He asks, voice soft and quiet.

"Because I was too embarrassed to look at you. The whole school was laughing at me," you whisper, your eyes getting itchy and so you squeeze them shut, hugging yourself tightly.

That is until you feel the sofa dip next to you and a soft hand takes yours in it, intervening your fingers. You face Hyunjin with teary eyes, finding concern mirroring in his own.

"I never laughed at you, Y/N. What Lea said was a bunch of bullshit. I liked you too back then. That's the reason I let Lea sit with us at the table because she brought you along. That day I finally got enough courage to talk to you and she- she ruined it all," he murmurs and you stare at him in shock once again.

"You liked me?" You repeat and he nods.

"Of course, I did. You're the girl who helped me tie my shoelaces and found my dog when he ran away," he states as if that would resolve everything. Hyunjin apparently noticed the puzzled expression on your face and so he starts explaining.

"When we were in preschool, I was one of the last kids to know how to tie my shoelaces. Others laughed at me but you didn't. You helped me every time you saw me struggling. I'm sure you don't even remember but it meant a lot to me. The same goes for when you found Kkomi. He was lost for days and I was really losing hope to ever see him again but then you showed up with him in your arms at our doorstep. You always showed me nothing but kindness and I- I failed to give that back to you, to protect you from all the bad stuff you didn't deserve. I'm sorry, Y/N," he whispers, looking down at your joint hands and you squeeze his a little tighter, a small smile settling on your lips.

"It's okay, Jinnie. It wasn't your fault. None of it. I just- after what Lea did I was struggling a lot with self-perception and everything and I just needed time to heal. I never stopped liking you though," you admit, and Hyunjin snaps his head up to face you, eyes widened in surprise and you giggle softly at how cute he looks like that.

"You- you like me too?" He assures and you nod.

"I do. A lot," you murmur, letting go of his hand just to cup his cheek, your eyes glued to his.

If someone told you this morning that you'll end up confessing to each other with Hyunjin while you'll sit in front of him half naked, you'd thought they're hallucinating. But being here right now, it sure feels right.

"Can I- can I kiss you?" He asks and you grin, nodding your head.

Hyunjin doesn't need any further encouragement to close the small distance between the two of you, his soft lips meeting yours and you melt. One of his hands cups your cheek while the other one settles at the soft curve of your waist, pulling you closer to him, while his lips shyly explore yours. You let him take the lead, your hand slipping down to his neck so you can run your fingers into his golden hair and tug lightly, making Hyunjin hum into the kiss, your body turning hot.

"I promise I'll never let anyone make you feel like you're not enough," he murmurs once you pull away, his eyes finding yours and you smile softly.

"Thank you," you murmur, leaning up to peck his lips, making him smile too, his thumb stroking the side of your face lovingly.

"Shouldn't we get back to the business?" You ask softly, searching for the answer in his pretty brown eyes and he chuckles.

"I don't think I want to," he states, smirking slightly before his lips captured yours once again, this time with much more passion and you do your best to contain the grin that wanted to creep to your lips as you cling to him.

You're sure you haven't felt this happy in a really long time. Hopefully, the euphoric feeling is here to stay. And so is Hyunjin.

————————————————————

A/N: Hey there! I had this fic in my unfinished business for too long and today I finally managed to put it all together. This is for all my curvy/chubby queens out there, I love you, you're gorgeous, keep rocking! luv uuuuuu

#hwang hyunjin #hwang hyunjin x you #hwang hyunjin x reader #Hwang hyunjin x y/n #female reader #curvy reader #Hwang hyunjin x female reader #hwang hyunjin x curvy reader #skz #skz hyunjin #stray kids fluff #stray kids #K-pop #skz fanfic #stray kids fanfic #tw insecurity #tw anxiety

518 notes · View notes

tieronecrush · 11 months

Note

Hi! I loved water in your hands even though I accidentally read part 2 first 😩, can I please request a little drabble from readers pov when Joel just cut her off and missing work etc when he got married? No worries if not! Just wanted to say I really enjoyed reading :)

well thank you anyways for returning to read part 1!!! and i am so happy that you enjoyed reading!

i’m not sure if you checked out the playlist for the series that i made (spotify / apple music), but liability by lorde made it on there because it is literally what i imagined reader would feel during that time. my hopeless romantic who has never felt chosen </3

liability

drabble for “water in your hands” series

rating: M

word count: 1.2k

summary:

They say, "You're a little much for me / You're a liability / You're a little much for me" / So they pull back, make other plans ' I understand, I'm a liability / Get you wild, make you leave

warnings: angst, insecurity, self doubt, mentions of water/drowning

You didn’t even have any last words from him to mull over. The last thing you’d heard from him was him asking if you were okay as you lay next to him in the middle of that field.

Instead, his silence has sharpened the knife that he’s driven into your heart, his lack of acknowledgment of everything that happened twisting it to carve out a large space for the pain to seep in. And when you’d heard that he was dating someone else, seriously dating, according to Tommy, the knife was pulled clean out and stabbed into your back.

He’d spent one night with you, and somehow that was enough for him to know that he didn’t want you. All of those messages you thought he’d sent now mixed, your recollections of those fleeting, flirty moments poisoned by the knowledge that he didn’t want to be pulled into your storm.

It was the only reason you could think of that maybe drove him away. You knew that you weren’t settled, that you had your own issues to grapple with from everything you’d been through prior to Jackson, but you were secure in yourself. Maybe Joel didn’t want to deal with your shit on top of his own.

You were a little too much for him; a liability to his own healing.

You were on your own at the end of the day, superficial friendships and mere acquaintances belonging in the daylight. The only seemingly real friendship that you’d grown here was with his brother, and the saying goes “blood is thicker than water.”

Returning to a lonely house, yellowy lamplight bathing your space but doing nothing to warm your insides. You spent nights on your own, re-reading your favorite novels from the worn shelves in your cozy living room or spinning a record to dance around and forget for a few minutes. In those times, you were thankful that you were still looking out for yourself, that you still had your own back despite all of the doubt your own mind had grown.

In those solitary hours, all you had were your thoughts, which revolved around him, throwing you into a cyclical whirlpool of heartache. Only when you thought you’d pulled yourself out, had finally felt the heat of the sun on your face above the surface, one single memory of his fingers brushing your thigh or his lips ghosting over yours or a whisper of your name rips you right back into the current.

He left you behind and moved on.

Dating someone else, ignoring you for days that turned into weeks, that’s now become months.

You remember the day you found out that they were engaged.

It happened at the end of your shift, your coworker Tracy popping in to have a nightcap. She was tipsy already, spilling where she had been prior to coming to the bar. There was a party at Tommy and Maria’s, she’d said, a wide drunken smile on her face as she excitedly gossiped.

“They threw Joel and Heather an engagement party! How sweet is that?”

Engagement? Engagement. Engagement.

Engagement led to marriage.

Marriage was meant to be for life.

And Joel never does anything half-assed.

One time, a few weeks after Joel had returned to Jackson, you’d let yourself daydream indulgently. It’d been about him, about what you envisioned a life with him would look like. You’d pictured your own wedding, the closest people to you both the only ones in attendance. In your imagination, you’d seen your brother there, your sister, too.

It was a dream because, even if you ended up with Joel, you never thought he would get married. He was loyal, devoted, committed no matter what jewelry was on your fingers. Those traits were intrinsic to him. You didn’t think something like that mattered to him; he would be a husband, a partner to you without any ceremony.

Clearly, you didn’t know him as well as you thought you did.

Their engagement was fast. You’d heard from Tommy about a month later that the wedding was happening at the weekend. Bile coated your throat, burning acid settling there for the rest of the afternoon that you spent at work. You’d returned home that evening, crawling into bed and crying yourself completely dry and numb.

You didn’t leave that spot for days. Skipped out on work. Ignored the knocks at your door from Tracy, Maria, even Tommy. Limbs felt too heavy to move, bones ached deeply, dull pain sawed at your constricted heart.

Thoughts kept steamrolling each other, your brain was unable to shut them out as you spiraled silently alone.

A toy. A plaything. A little doll.

An achievement to be conquered.

He’d played with you; bantered with you. He was flirty -- suggestive at times. But once you’d given him everything, unveiled your thoughts and feelings to him in hopes of him returning them, even just accepting them, he’d gotten bored. There was no more chase. You’d rolled over like prey, submitting to anything he could have wanted from you.

You were only exciting to seek in the night, ghostly touches in the bar and a chance encounter under the moonlight.

Naive. Childish. Too much.

Delusions of a perfect summer with Joel changing with the leaves and eventually becoming rooted together had blinded you from his true intentions with you.

You were better off on your own, so it seemed the universe was telling you. Losing your siblings, your family, lacking friendships, and now your prospect for love slipped through your fingers in a rush, fleeting efforts made to contain it like water in your hands. No matter what, it would have found cracks to drip through, and eventually drained completely.

He evaded you, leaving you in an unrequited romance. You were in love with him. And now he was married to someone else, in love with someone that he could easily be with no disadvantage or opportunity for embarrassment. There were no means to confess your found feelings, so you lay for hours in your bed while tears soak your pillow and words are branded into your mind.

I’m in love with Joel Miller, and he won’t ever love me.

You repeated it so many times that it sounded like the truth, like gospel, and then, at a certain point, like a foreign language. The words eventually meant nothing in their countless repetitions, the weight of your self-confessional lessening with each second passing. Your limbs felt lighter, bones less sore, and the grip of pain on your heart loosened.

In the next moment, all you could think about was feeling the warm summer air on your face again. Finally, after days isolated, you were going to take a chance to disappear into the sun. You’d pulled yourself out of bed, changing into fresh clothes.

With one glance out of your window, the plans were soured when you saw it was sunset, that you’d have to wait until morning for your walk in the light. You decided to stay up all night to be able to catch the sunrise in the grazing field. To occupy yourself, you milled about your kitchen and living room, doing the small pile of dishes that had accumulated and straightening up the place. The clock on your wall read the early hours of the morning, and with no other chores to do, you turned towards your collection of books.

As you thumb through your shelves to find another novel to escape into for a few hours, the sound of knuckles lightly rapped on your door.

tagging the usual mutuals: @swiftispunk @joelsversion @johnwatsn @midnightswithdearkatytspb @pedrit0-pascalit0 @theelishad @undrthelights @ladamedusoif @ruinedbylanadelrey @thetriumphantpanda @pedgeitopascal @dinsdjrn @thepascalofus @pedgito @soaringcloud @somedayauthor @alloftheimagines @pr0ximamidnight @beskarandblasters @atinylittlepain @scrambledslut @lunapascal

#joel #joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x yn #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfic #tlou fanfic #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #tw insecurity #tw self doubt #me #writing #requests

113 notes · View notes

natasha-in-space · 1 year

Text

Safe and Sound

GE!Saeran/gn!reader:

Saeran's love for you was unconditional, just like the promise of happiness you've made to each other in the blooming garden of discord. However, learning to accept that kind of love was not as easy as you thought it would be. While, undeniably, some days were bright and happy... on days like this one, you couldn't help but struggle with your insecurities concerning your relationship.

TW for: feelings of severe insecurity, low self-esteem, depressive thoughts.

There was no doubt in your heart regarding Saeran's feelings for you. No, his love for you was undeniable and unwavering in its affection, even as the warm summer sun would inevitably flow into cold autumn winds and merciless winter storms. After all, after even the harshest of winter comes the comforting warmth of Spring. Such is the rule of all four seasons. And, each new passing season that you've spent by each other's side would only lead to new happy memories for you to look back on and smile as you flip through Saeran's diary whenever he wanted to share his new colorful scribbles with you. The promise of happiness that you two have made to each other all those years ago never faded away with time: it only grew stronger with the soil you've provided through your shared love and patience toward one another even in the darkest of times. Much like nourishing a flower, your love was growing and changing with time.

But... it wasn't Saeran's love that bothered you so much that you barely left the bed throughout the day. The source of your distress was a much more complicated enemy to beat since it was your own mind trying its damnest to make your life as miserable as possible. Some days were better than others. In fact, there were even some days when you felt like you were truly happy: like you could finally see the world for what it truly is, instead of focusing solely on depressing things that would only bring you down. And some days felt like you were living a nightmare. So, like the aftermath of any nightmare, all you could really do was hide yourself away inside of your comfy bed, tucked away in a bundle of blankets and pillows, and hope that it would all pass you soon enough.

You made an effort to shut out and ignore the insecurities and doubts that buzzed inside your head like a swarm of angry wasps, and were determined to destroy the enemy that dares to oppose them. Why did your own brain view its rightful owner as a foe to be tortured like this, you had no idea. But, you had no choice but to deal with it one way or another. Not like you could turn off your own thoughts, even if you wanted to.

It's possible that lying to Saeran was a bad idea rather than relying on him for support during this challenging time. No, it was definitely a bad idea for you to isolate yourself like this, but you did it anyway. You were slowly learning to accept your own shortcomings, to stop punishing yourself for messing up every once in a while, but... today, it seems like all you could do was make one stupid mistake after another. So, you refused to reach out for help, your own isolation serving as a twisted form of self-punishment you were inflicting onto yourself for being so weak-minded. It wasn't healthy, and it wasn't helping you in the slightest.

As you lay there, listening to the clock tick by, you slowly but surely fell into the self-doubt pit that you knew all too well. It was no surprise to you to find Saeran in the center of it all. You hated your mind for twisting the truth like that. However hard you tried to fight it, eventually, you were simply in too deep to get out. These hateful thoughts of yours were like a swamp full of thick tar that would never let you leave unscathed, once you were unlucky enough to fall in. Picking apart every kind word he ever said to you, trying to expose the lies that weren't even there to begin with, convincing yourself that he was just confused... It was painful. You didn't want to do that. You didn't want to do that to Saeran and you didn't want to do that to yourself, either. But, you couldn't help but question this newfound happiness you've found with him by your side.

Did you really... deserve someone as warm and loving as Saeran in your life? Maybe he would have been better off without you and your depressive episodes. After all, he wanted to see the world, to be happy and free... and you were only holding him back from achieving that. What is he getting out of babying you, as if you weren't a full-functioning adult who should be able to take care of themselves just fine? Sure, maybe you did help him sometimes... but, it was all overshadowed by your worst days that he had to withstand by your side.

As you immerse yourself further in the messy blankets, you shut your eyes tightly, helplessly hoping that this pathetic attempt to hide from your cruel thoughts would finally be successful. You hated being confined to your own bed like this, but you hated the idea of getting up even more. On days like these, you tended to avoid looking at yourself in the mirror or... looking at yourself overall, really. Your choices weren't ideal, but you'd much rather spend your day hating your character, rather than your body. So, burying yourself into the blankets up to your nose until you couldn't see much of yourself was the only option that worked best.

It felt like every single thing about you was wrong, both in and out.

But, Saeran viewed you differently. You were his love, his angel, and his promise of happiness. And, even despite your worst traits being at play here, just the thought of his tender smile and soft voice made your chest ache in a much different way than before. You missed him. It felt so silly. You isolated yourself like this on purpose, but here you were, already desperately hoping for him to come in and chase all of your demons away with his warm touch like he always did.

So, so stupid...

As you were about to shed a few tears, the bedroom door swung open, causing you to almost fall out of your bed from shock. Maybe getting so tangled up inside of your blankets wasn't as functional as you initially thought after all. Either way, you were way too embarrassed to show your face, since you didn't have to guess on the identity of this bold intruder of yours. There was only one person in the entire world who could come barging in into your room like this whenever you were having a hard time. Knowing full well how stupid you were behaving, you hid your head under the blanket regardless, staying quiet as the soft pitter-patter of footsteps hurriedly moved closer and closer to you.

Well, 'be careful what you wish for', as they say. Still, if you said you weren't happy to see Saeran close by, you'd be lying. Just knowing he was right there was enough to dull your negative thoughts, albeit slightly. If it wasn't for your inner shame for hiding yourself away from him like this, you would have already nuzzled up close to his chest, seeking the comfort that his closeness would bring you. But... truth is, you felt guilty.

You made a promise to each other that you wouldn't lie about things like that. That you would trust each other to lend a helping hand whenever one of you needed it. And yet, you did exactly the opposite of that. You knew Saeran wouldn't get upset with you for this, but that did not take away your own shame on the matter. Maybe you were being way too harsh on yourself for something terribly small, but you didn't care. It didn't feel right to throw yourself at him for comfort when you were the one who let things get this bad in the first place. It felt fairly selfish even.

You could hear a slight shaky breath from him as he carefully lowered himself onto the edge of the bed, the warm sensation of his palm touching the top of your head that was hidden beneath the blanket making you shiver. Really, you felt even more silly for tearing up at something so insignificant. It wasn't like you to be such a huge crybaby over a small thing like that. It's not like his kindness is something new to you... so why is your chest aching this much?

Caressing your head, Saeran was the first to break the silence between you, not a single hint of anger or disappointment present in his soft voice. "I knew something was wrong... My love, why didn't you tell me?"

You bit your lip, feeling your tears slowly forming an ugly, damp spot on the pillow that you buried your face in. "I told you I was just tired... How did you even know something was wrong? I thought you wanted to plant those tulips you showed me today."

Idiot, what are you saying-?

"I had a feeling that you needed me, and I couldn't stay still, so I rushed to check on you. I'm happy I didn't ignore this bad feeling of mine. I'd hate to know you were suffering all alone like this."

"That sounds like you, haha." You chuckled softly, imagining him dropping everything to run straight to you. It was such a strange phenomenon, this special connection of yours. While you'd like to say you were annoyed by it, it really wasn't true at all. Somehow, by some weird force of nature, you just knew whenever one of you needed someone by their side. It is how you found him by the lake right before his father could do the unthinkable, against all odds stacked against you. And, it's really no surprise to you that it worked in the opposite direction just as much. Truly, it was such a bizarre thing.

But... did you deserve to share such a special connection with someone? This all felt... too good to be true. Too good for someone so dark and bland like you. If you told Saeran this, he wouldn't take it seriously. You didn't know who was right between the two of you. It's hard to figure out the truth when your brain is playing all kinds of cruel tricks to keep you distressed and anxious at all times of the day. And, try as you might to shut out all your emotions in favor of staying rational... It didn't work all the time.

Well... no reason to hold back now. Saeran was already aware that something was wrong, and he would remain by your side until he was confident that you were fine. And, it's not like you wanted him to leave anyway. Call it weakness or clinginess on your part, but you couldn't possibly let go of him now that he was right there for you hold onto.

"I just... I don't know what's wrong with me. I'm fine, you're fine, and everyone else is fine. So... I should be happy, right? I should be bright and cheerful, exploring the world with you. But I... can't. I have no reason to feel so horrible and disgusting, but I still do. And I can't do anything about it! I don't... I don't want to hold you back from your happiness just because I can't even function properly, so... I decided that I should just wait it out on my own this time around. But, heh, as you can see, I can't even do that right." Bitter laughter left your lips in a suffocating burst, being accompanied by a series of hiccups and a new wave of tears now streaming freely down your cheeks. You were glad he couldn't see your face right now. You probably looked really gross, considering that you didn't even leave your bed to freshen up or brush your teeth today. God, you were such a mess. "I don't know what I did to deserve someone so kind and patient like you, but I... I feel like I'm just using you to feel better about myself, and I hate it. I shouldn't be crying like this over nothing and making you pity me. Not when I'm the only one who's at fault here. I don't want to feel like this, Saeran. I... I hate feeling like this. I want to be normal and just- Live my life peacefully. With you. But- But why can't I stop thinking all of these bad things? It's driving me crazy..."

After you released all of this negativity into cohesive words, instead of holding it in until it swallowed you whole, you felt relieved. But, another part of you felt guilty for burdening Saeran with all this pessimistic talk like this. You didn't need to look at him to know that he had a deeply troubled expression on his delicate face. Either way, you didn't try to push him away or deflect what you just said. There was no reason to. His hand momentarily stopped its movement, and you swallowed, feeling the bedsheets shift ever so slightly, as he hunched over you.

The next time he spoke, his voice sounded much closer, making your heart inadvertently skip a beat. "Can I... Can I see you, Y/N? Please. If you don't want to, that's okay, but... you need some fresh air to help you breathe better."

Pursing your lips together, you nodded, clutching the pillow to your chest. You didn't resist as he carefully found his way around the blanket that was wrapped so tightly all around you, you wondered how you even got this tangled up in it in the first place. Finally, after a few awkward movements of your numb limbs, you could feel the weight slipping off of you and fresh air rushing into your lungs.

Wow. He was right. It was definitely way too stuffy in there for you.

Saeran didn't hurry you to get up, but instead sat beside you quietly and gently caressed your back without saying a word while you cried into your pillow. You knew he wanted to say something. The only reason he was so silent is to avoid overwhelming you with his words. As always, he was way too patient with a crumpled mess like you. Either way, his tenderness did motivate you to eventually lift your head up from your scrunched up pillow, sniffling and wiping away at your damp cheeks.

"Do you feel better, my love?" He quietly asked, brushing your cheek with the back of his hand. There was nothing but worry in his bright mint eyes.

Your voice was too shakey for your liking from crying, so you nodded again and leant into his warm touch. You did indeed feel better after getting all of this negativity off your chest, as well as getting some fresh air for you to breathe. But... of course, this didn't mean you were feeling okay in any way. You still felt embarrassed and upset about this whole breakdown, and these heavy feelings wouldn't just disappear any time soon.

Saeran gave you a small smile and now fully cupped your cheek, but he didn't go any further than that. So respectful, as always. He sounded so calm and composed amidst your raging emotions that you automatically hang onto his every word, like he was your lifeline. In a way, he truly was. "Good. I'm sure it was painful to keep everything bottled up like that... Do you want us to talk about these feelings you're dealing with right now?"

"I think... I might be too tired for that. But... We can talk about this tomorrow morning. Maybe." You mumbled awkwardly, feeling a bit self-conscious about the prospect of discussing this incident any time soon. Saeran was right, though. You two needed to talk about it, or things would only get worse, not just for you, but for him as well. It was unusual. Accepting someone's love and care like that, as well as being so open with your inner struggles. But, you did want to try. If not for yourself, then for Saeran.

Sniffling the last of your tears away, you did your best to keep your focus on the young man beside you instead of any insecurities still buzzing around inside of your head. "And... I'm sorry. For not telling you anything right away. I should've-"

Before you could finish your thought, he gently kissed your forehead and now his other hand was also cupping your other cheek. All you could do was gasp, feeling your heart pick up the pace from such a lovely gesture. Leaning back, he rested his forehead against your own, steering all of your attention back onto him and him alone. You could see how much he wanted to say: it was all written so clearly on his features in the dim lighting of your bedroom.

"There's nothing to apologize for, flower. I know you're not ready for us to talk about this now, but... It's okay to not be okay sometimes. My love for you does not require you to be someone else or do anything you don't want to do. We can figure it out. Not because we have to, but because we want to. I love you as you are, just like you love me as I am. I know it can be hard to believe in that sometimes, especially when all love you've experienced before was conditional... But, we can take it at one step at a time. Together. We have all the time in the world now to love each other and ourselves as we are. And, I'll be by your side on every step of this journey, holding onto your hand tightly whenever you need me. That's what we promised to each other, right?"

You had faith in him in your heart. He wasn’t saying this out of mere pity or any sense of obligation to you... No, those were his earnest thoughts and feelings he decided to share with you on his own accord. It was okay to mess up sometimes, and it was okay to have bad days. Saeran had his low moments just as much as you did, you knew that fact all too well. You never judged him for that. You never judged anyone out of the RFA for having bad days of their own. So, why should he do that to you?

Maybe... you let your inner demons get the better of you today. It's not a good idea to punish yourself for that, though. After all... the thought of you being a burden unworthy of love wasn't planted into your head on its own. It was simply easier to justify the hurt you were given by believing that you deserved it, even if it didn't make any sense in hindsight. It was hard to accept that all the bad things you had to endure happened without any grand reason to them. It didn't feel fair.

"...Thank you. I was in great need of hearing something that." You acknowledged, letting out some of the tension that was still in your system with a deep sigh. It wasn't easy. Some part of you still protested and squirmed deep within your mind: demanding to be heard, urging you to throw away his hopeful reassurance and interpret it as nothing but a lie. But, you did your best to ignore it. Thankfully, now Saeran was right here to hold you in his arms, and he was a hundred times better than even your most favorite blanket.

He appeared to appreciate your response, his smile widening ever so slightly before ultimately pulling away. Although, it wasn't long before his hands took hold of your shaky palms, his fingers interlocking with yours in such a simple, yet lovely way. "I'm happy I could help, my love. Now... why don't I help you take a warm bath? I'm sure you feel exhausted. And, it'll be good for you to eat something."

"That would be lovely, Saeran." You said, slowly but surely gaining some of your former confidence back.

Maybe you'll never get the picture-perfect happy ending you've envisioned for yourself in your daydreams. Maybe you'll never be that ideal version of yourself you were striving so hard to be. Maybe you'll never know for sure whether or not you were on the right path in life at all. But, perhaps, your reality didn't have to be ideal for you to find solace in it. This moment in time wasn't perfect or pretty at all, not from a traditional standpoint. And yet, your chest swelled with a warm, ticklish sensation as you sat on the edge of the bathtub, waiting for the water to fill the space and listening to Saeran talk about his day.

Maybe, you didn't need to be perfect to find solace in the little things life offered you, even in the darkest of times.

Even though you had heavy limbs, burning eyes, and a pounding headache to deal with, you found peace, a tired smile slowly appeared on your face. The feeling of Saeran's hands in yours, the sound of his voice, the view of his warm eyes gazing into yours with nothing but care and affection swimming within them... It all felt so imperfectly soothing to you.

#mystic messenger #mysmes #mysme #mm #saeran choi #ge saeran #saeran x reader #ge saeran x reader #tw insecurity #tw low self esteem #tw depressing thoughts #a comfort fic but i really really like how it turned out so decided to post it <3 #also listening to 'safe and sound' made me emotional jftjftht #no thoughts just saeran cupping your face into his hands like you're the most precious thing in the universe

116 notes · View notes