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alltheirdamn · 11 months ago

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Killing Me Softly | (Joel Miller x teacher!f!reader)

Chap. 1 : Your Name

Series Summary: You've nursed a broken heart for two years. ‘Love’ felt like a foreign term, but maybe it wasn’t so far out of reach. Chap. 1 Summary: When you catch the eye of your students' dad at a school dance, he starts showing up everywhere. Rating: 18+ MDNI (for the future smut) Word Count: 6.8k Warnings: pre-outbreak AU, age gap (joel is 36 reader is 27), no smut (yet), sexual tension, flirting, pining, mentions of alcohol, language, angst, reader's last name is 'Smith' for no other purpose than the fact she is a teacher A/N: This will definitely be a slow-burn fic, so please hang tight!! Tropes include: second chance at love, strangers to lovers, secret relationship, etc. I'm actually so excited about this one, so I hope you guys stick around to see where it goes :')

Masterlist

PROLOGUE

You never thought you’d be the girl sitting at the steps of an abandoned altar with your wedding dress covered in mud from the rain.

Just minutes before you were supposed to take your first steps down the aisle, your fiancé fled. You watched the blur of his suit in the distance as he ran through the rain and left your family and friends in shock. Motionless at the back of the rows of chairs, you dropped your bouquet and stood in heartbreaking silence as the cords of the violins faded into the air. Your parents and siblings swarmed around you, trying to break the paralysis that kept your eyes locked on the vacant spot under the archway and steps of what would have been the place you said your vows. You still had them in your hand; the words scribbled neatly on a folded paper torn from your journal. You’d never get the chance to say those words aloud; he never would have deserved them, anyway.

The ring sat heavily on your finger now as you watched it glisten under the pelting rain. Your dress clung to your body in layers of silk and lace, a taunting reminder of who you had become for a man unworthy of your love and devotion.

Five years together, all stripped away in a matter of minutes.

You’d never love again.

“Everyone’s gotta do it,” Maria sighed as she stood at the student drop-off with you.

By ‘it,’ she meant chaperoning the father-daughter dance later in the week, which you seriously wanted no part of. You had been through enough school dances in your three years working at the middle school, and you were tired of watching pre-teens grinding on each other to god-awful music. You had better things to do with your Friday nights, like sitting on the couch with a pint of ice cream and a horror movie playing in the background—you’d sworn off rom-coms long ago.

“Yeah, I know,” you grumbled, waving another line of kids across the road.

You watched as they trudged across the crosswalk with their backpacks slung over their shoulders, eyes bright and broad at the realization school was over for the day. If only they were that chipper in class, maybe you’d have an easier time teaching them how to write three-point essays.

Maria chirped goodbye to each one as they passed, her cheeks pinched with a fake smile only you could recognize. You knew she loved the kids but loved the final school bell even more. You, on the other hand, hated it. The end of school was just another reminder that you’d go back to an empty home and an empty life.

Two years had passed since Bennett ran from your wedding ceremony—two years without closure or an answer. By the time you had pieced yourself together and returned home from the would-have-been ceremony, his things were gone, and the house filled with the ghost of his presence. Your in-laws went radio silent, avoiding all calls and emails from you until they eventually moved out of state and changed numbers. The hours leading up to the ceremony would forever be a mystery as to why he left, and you would spend the rest of your life fighting for an answer as to why you weren’t good enough to love.

Dragging you from your thoughts, Maria bumped you with her hip, giving you a concerned look. You shook away the memories and returned her stare with a fake smile you had mastered over the last two years. You couldn’t even remember the last time you had genuinely smiled or laughed without feeling the force of a facade washing over you. Concealing the pain of it all made it easier; maybe if you believed you were okay, you’d start feeling okay. But you never did. Not even the countless hours of therapy had helped reconcile the person you once were. Bennett had left and taken every vulnerable part of you with him, leaving nothing but a raw and broken shell in his wake.

“You’re doing it again,” Maria scolded.

“Doing what?” You asked, already aware of the answer.

“Wallowing. You really should get back out there again.”

You focused on the next grouping of kids setting out to cross the street, your hand instinctively coming up to hold the passing cars at a standstill. You plastered on a fake smile as they waved goodbye to you, and you glanced back at Maria once they finally stepped foot on the next sidewalk.

“I’m not interested,” you stated. “I’m fine on my own.”

Her eyebrow lifted as if challenging your blasé response. Your answer always remained the same, yet Maria relentlessly attempted to change your mind.

“You’ve got to at least try. What if there’s already someone out there just waiting for you?”

“Maria, I promise no one is waiting for me.”

“I wish you’d just give it a shot. You deserve to be happy.”

You had heard that phrase often over the last couple of years; a pitying tone always accompanied the words. People loved to soothe you with words that held no weight or purpose. You learned to nod along to their sympathies and turn a deaf ear to their suggestions of what you deserved.

The final round of kids made their way toward the line of parents waiting in their cars, and you followed Maria back to your classrooms to clean up before leaving for the day. Her words stuck with you on the quiet drive home; the radio wasn’t enough to drown out that taunting voice in your head reminding you that you’d never be enough.

Your single-story house was nestled into an older neighborhood of Austin, only a handful of miles from the middle school. You’d argue that the house was the best thing to come out of the failed engagement; its personality stood firm against the other houses with a vibrant shade of blue painted over its wooden panels and wrap-around porch. You spent the last few months sprucing up the front yard, planting rose bushes and trees to liven up the house. It hadn’t fixed all your problems but pacified them temporarily as you dirtied your hands in the soil.

It became second nature to shut your garage immediately after putting your car in park. You didn’t want the typical neighborly interactions or shallow conversations. You were content with living between closed doors and drawn curtains. The less of an interaction with the world, the better.

Dropping your purse and work bag on the kitchen counter, you sunk onto a barstool, staring blankly at the fridge and knowing all too well there was hardly anything inside it. You’d settle for another frozen meal and glass of wine, a typical meal these days to satisfy a hunger you no longer had. Despite the colorful kitchen cabinets, the mustard yellow couch in the living room, and the obscure wallpaper…your life was dull. How could one person suck out all the energy from another human being? How could pain last this long?

You stabbed a fork into the TV dinner meal before you and wondered if you’d ever feel happy again.

You managed to survive another week of teaching, only to now be standing in the shadows of the school gymnasium, nursing an overly sweet fruit punch. The PTA had done a decent job of turning the space into a somewhat realistic dance floor: string lights hung corner to corner of the ceiling, a DJ booth in the center of the basketball court, and colorful balloons circled the air. You spotted a few of your students dancing with their fathers, their eyes squeezed shut from their too-wide smiles and bubbling laughter. A foreign ache in your chest reminded you how you would have had a father-daughter dance at your wedding. Your father even took it upon himself to brush up on dance lessons to sway you across the floor to some overly emotional song. As corny as it was, you had been looking forward to that moment throughout your engagement.

“Look who got all dolled up!” Maria hollered as she strolled over, fruit punch in hand.

“I would hardly call this dolled up,” you said, tugging at the hem of your dress.

You only had a handful of dresses in your closet, this particular one being a flowy black cocktail dress with a halter top and ruffled skirt. It was barely passing the school dress code, so you decided to pair it with a low kitten heel to try and deter the admin’s scrutiny. You did, however, spend a little more time than usual on your makeup and hair, hoping if you looked pretty, then maybe you’d feel it, too.

“You’re too hard on yourself,” Maria sighed.

“You look great,” you said, sidestepping her lecture.

Maria had chosen a plum floor-length maxi dress decorated with embroidered blue flowers. Her curly hair was pinned in a bun, and several sparkly barrettes were clipped to the side. Her makeup was no different from usual: a rosy red lip and simple mascara with a hint of blush on her cheeks.

“Really, Maria. You do.”

“Well, thank you,” she blushed, looking back toward the room full of bodies dancing.

Your eyes followed hers, settling on the duos as they swayed to a slow song. Every father was dressed up in some sort of button-up or the occasional suit except for one—the same one who happened to be twirling around your student, Sarah Miller. You nudged Maria, pointing secretly at them with a questioning glance.

“Is that her dad?” You asked.

He wore a basic cotton T-shirt, jeans, and dirty work boots. There was barely any thought behind his appearance as if he had rolled up to the school right after a long shift at work, forgoing any effort or care. Some part of you hated him for it. The least he could do was get dressed up for a silly school dance, especially when Sarah wore a lavender tulle dress that complimented her olive skin tone.

“Yup,” Maria elongated the word. “That’s Joel Miller.”

“Sure looks like he doesn’t care to be here,” you grumbled.

Maria barked a laugh, looking at you through narrowed eyes.

“As opposed to you?” She questioned. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but weren’t you bitching about this dance all week long?”

“Well, at least I put some effort into my looks tonight,” you defended.

You glanced back at Sarah, seeing her father twirl her one last time. You caught a glimpse of his face for the first time in the flow of his movements. Messy dark curls framed his head, curling in every which way as if he’d run his hand through them a million times. Even from a distance, you could see the patchy beard and short mustache covering the lower half of his face, alongside the several creases around his eyes as he smiled. And his eyes… They looked like big brown saucers under the lights, reflecting a genuine softness as he watched his daughter dance.

And then they snapped up to meet your gaze through the crowd as if you had silently called out to him. Everything slowed around you for a moment as he studied you from afar, his eyes drifting down your body and back up with a hint of a smile teasing his lips. A rush of heat crawled up your neck, and you broke the eye contact between you. Maria cleared her throat beside you, tearing you away from the man holding your sincere interest.

“What was that?” Maria chirped.

You shook your head, glancing between her curious face and the dancefloor. Joel had since moved on, steering Sarah toward the refreshment table. He never once looked back at you, which left you unexplainably disappointed. For a moment in time, someone looked at you and saw you.

“I–I don’t know,” you stuttered. “Probably nothing.”

“It looked like something.”

You turned to face Maria, a scowl twisting up your lips entirely. You were tired of her pushing nonexistent things on you, and that’s what this was— nonexistent. Whatever moment between you and Joel had gone as quickly as it came. You were done with the night and standing among so many cheerful people. You couldn’t stand it any longer.

“I think I’m going to take off,” you announced, placing your half-drunk fruit punch on the table behind you.

Maria was defeated, knowing you'd still leave no matter what she said. Stalking out of the gymnasium, you grabbed your purse from the teacher's booth and booked it to your car with your heels in your hands. You carefully walked along the sidewalk toward your car, catching a conversation drifting through the wind between the other vehicles.

“...Dad, you promised we’d watch movies tomorrow!”

“I know, sweetheart, but Uncle Tommy needs help on the job sight.”

You hid between two cars, listening to their voices bounce back and forth. It wasn’t until you peeked out to see the two figures that you realized it was Sarah and her father, Joel. For fucks sake. You tiptoed around the car's bumper beside you, attempting to make a getaway before either of them saw you. You must have done a terrible job because Sarah called your name as you edged closer to your car.

“Miss Smith!”

“Shit,” you muttered to yourself.

With your purse in one hand and heels in the other, you turned toward them with your rehearsed fake smile. Sarah was standing beside her dad—Joel—a small smile shining up at you. You knew her usual upbeat personality in class, always laughing and joking with other kids. She was an A+ student, too, and her work showcased her smartness. But in her father's shadow, a distinct sadness clouded her eyes.

“Hello, Sarah! How did you like the dance?” You asked.

“It was really fun,” she grinned, forcing her smile wider. You saw through it.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

Joel cleared his throat, extending a large hand toward you. You blinked at his open palm, afraid of making that same startling eye contact as you had in the gymnasium. Shuffling your purse into your other hand, you took his into yours, focusing on the warmth of his grip crawling up your skin. His fingers dwarfed your own, tightening around your hand until you were forced to look up finally.

“S’nice to finally meet you, Mrs. Smith,” he said, his thick Southern accent shining through.

“Miss Smith,” you corrected. It was hard to hide the bitterness in the statement.

“Miss Smith,” he echoed. “I’m Joel, Sarah’s dad.”

His eyes still hadn’t left yours, their piercing stare making you shiver despite the September humidity. You pulled your hand away, overly aware of how his fingers lingered a moment too long. Shifting your weight from one leg to another, you were starting to feel the asphalt dig into the soles of your feet.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Miller,” you replied.

“Joel,” he insisted.

You nodded politely, giving him another faltering smile. Hauling your purse over your shoulder, you said a soft goodbye to them and bolted to your car. In the confines of the driver's seat, you rested your head against the wheel, inhaling deeply as you steadied the nerves inside your body. Why did such a simple interaction light up your body with emotions you had spent so long suppressing? And why did Joel’s smile haunt you even when your eyes were shut?

Forcing your keys into the ignition, you tore out of the school parking lot and back to the confines of your tiny blue home.

The weekends were usually filled with nothing more than grading papers and lesson planning. The coffee beside you on the kitchen counter had gone cold hours ago as the morning sunlight faded into the afternoon. Through tired eyes, you glanced up at the oven clock: 2 pm. You needed a break from reading through piles of essays, and your fridge desperately required replenishing. Grabbing your keys off the counter, you forfeited any plans of changing out of your sweat set and headed to the supermarket.

The packed parking lot and crowded store were daunting reminders of why you typically decided to leave your fridge vacant. But as you pushed your shopping cart down each aisle, you had no choice but to comply with your basic human needs and stock up on miscellaneous food you would want throughout the week. Rounding down the next aisle, your eyes caught on a tall figure standing in front of the bakery section, his face scrutinizing every cake in the display case. Shit.

You tried—and failed—to maneuver your way into the next aisle, somehow crashing into an older woman’s cart, forcing her carton of eggs to fall and smash onto the linoleum floor.

“Dammit,” you hissed, crouching down to try and help them clean up the shattered eggshells.

“S’alright, sweetheart,” she assured. “I’ll just holler for a worker to come clean it up.”

“No, I—I can help,” you stammered, fingers still running over the broken yolks spreading across the floor.

“Miss Smith?” You heard a deep voice above you.

Your head snapped up to see Joel standing above you; his forehead creased with concern. The woman you had crashed into was already down the next aisle looking for a store employee, leaving you alone with a mess you had caused. Joel crouched beside you, his hands folding over yours to slow your frantic cleaning.

“It’s alright, I got it!” You snapped, pulling your hands back.

“Just tryna’ help,” he said. “That’s all.”

“It’s my fault. I can fix it.”

You had said those words to yourself many times before, and never once did they prove true.

“Someone will come and clean this up; you ain’t gotta do all that,” Joel said softly. “C’mon.”

He offered a hand, which you took reluctantly, leaving you both standing awkwardly in front of the mess. You shifted your gaze downward, too afraid to meet those deep brown eyes that had plagued you the night before.

“Hey,” Joel said in a soft tone. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” you mumbled.

“Doesn’t seem like it.”

You huffed a sigh, gripping the handles of your cart to start moving. Today was going downhill rapidly, and you only wanted to go home and hole yourself away…like you always did.

“I, uh, was tryna’ pick out a birthday cake,” he rambled. “S’my birthday tomorrow, and Sarah wants to make sure I have a cake, ya’know? Any ideas on what she might like? I’m not sure if y’all ever have parties at school with sweets and all that.”

Your eyes snapped to his, a scowl forming on your face. Sarah’s dad was asking you what she liked? He was proving to be worse and worse by the second. But you were her teacher and needed to hold your tongue.

“I’m sure she’ll enjoy anything,” you said, a tight smile forming. “Happy birthday, Mr. Miller.”

His eyebrows furrowed together, clearly seeing through the mask you put on. It was infuriating how easily he had wove his way through your bloodstream, even in just twenty-four hours.

“Joel,” he insisted. “You don’t need to do all that formal stuff.”

“I kind of do,” you laughed. “You’re my students’ father; that’s how I’m supposed to address you.”

“S’all I’m sayin’ is that you’re free to call me Joel. No harm in it.”

There was a lot of harm in it.

You didn’t know what else to say, so you dipped your head to say goodbye and pushed your cart past him. You weren’t being the kindest nor the most respectful person, but your anger was at a low simmer. Any longer around him, and you might explode. You weren’t used to someone getting under your skin like he was. And the worst part was that he wasn’t even trying. You couldn’t understand why you reacted so strongly.

“Miss Smith!” Joel called, catching up as you moved down the next aisle.

You inhaled and stopped walking, mustering another fake smile to appease him. He gripped the side of your cart with a large hand, a simple gesture to keep you firmly in place. Clearly, he decided when the conversation was over.

“Yes, Mr. Miller?”

“Did I do somethin’ to upset you? ‘Cause I swear, I didn’t mean anything inappropriate by what I said back there.

“No, no, you’re fine,” you lied. “Just having a bad day, that's all.” That wasn’t a lie.

Joel ran a hand over his neck, studying you quietly for a moment. Something about the atmosphere around him was intoxicating and so fucking dangerous.

“Well, I’m sorry ‘bout that. Guess I was just tryna’ make small talk, and clearly, I ain’t doin’ a good job.”

“It’s fine—no need for apologies. I hope the cake and birthday celebration go well. I’m sure Sarah will tell me all about it on Monday.”

His eyes shifted over you again, lingering on your lips, set in a firm smile. You tried your best to hide the shiver that ran up your back as he drank you in.

“Y’probably think I’m a terrible dad, huh?” He sighed.

“What?” You blinked away the thoughts swarming your head.

“I mean, I know you probably heard us arguin’ last night, and I’m out here asking her teacher what her favorite kind of cake is. You ain’t gotta be polite about it. I know I’m not doin’ the best job,” he confessed.

“Mr. Miller, I don’t think that at all. I just think maybe asking your wife would be more helpful than asking me.”

That garnered a laugh from him, a genuine and sincere laugh.

“Never had a wife to begin with. Sarah’s mom left us when she was only a year old,” he explained. “Been doin’ it all on my own.”

“Oh.” Dammit, you really were a bitch.

“Trust me, I get it. I could do a better job, bein’ a dad and all that. I’m tryin’.”

“I think you’re doing just fine,” you said. “I’m sorry I didn’t know.”

He brushed it off, replacing the sad look cresting his eyes with a lopsided grin. You wanted to hate it, but your body reacted traitorously. You felt the softness in his gaze crawl over you, slowly replacing the anger coursing through your veins with something else…something you hadn’t felt in a long time. No one had looked at you that way since—well, since Bennett. Even if Joel was only being friendly, you were drawn to the charm he exuded. Dangerous, you reminded yourself.

“Anyway,” he continued. “I won’t hold ya’ up any longer. I hope your day gets better, Miss Smith.”

“Thank you,” you replied. “And Happy birthday, again.”

Joel’s eyes settled on your lips again as you talked, and you felt your cheeks warm under his gaze. His eyes flicked back up to yours, a flash of something behind them, and you were ready to bolt. He muttered a thank you and left you standing in a vacant aisle, your hands still covered in egg yolks and your mind reeling.

It was hard to maintain your good mood once Monday rolled around. Seeing Sarah sitting in class was an unwelcome reminder of your interaction with Joel on Saturday, and you had to refrain from overstepping boundaries and asking about his birthday. She didn’t need to know you cared, even though you struggled not to care. You wondered what kind of cake he decided on, how old he turned if he blushed when she sang Happy Birthday. Every thought burned a hole in your head that you tried to patch up and forget.

The final bell rang for the day, and the kids began to pack up in a rush. You straightened out the papers lining your desk, avoiding eye contact with Sarah as she slung her backpack over her shoulders and lined up to leave. Grabbing your whistle and bottle of water, you followed them toward the front gates, taking your usual place alongside Maria—who was overly chipper for a Monday.

“Soooo,” she prodded. “How was your weekend?”

“Uneventful,” you lied, walking with her to the crosswalk.

“You really need to go out and have fun! You’re young, and you need to enjoy your 20s!” She exasperated.

“Maria, I’m 27,” you groaned. “My 20s are practically over.”

She folded her arms over her chest, leveling you with a heavy glare. Maria was in her late 40’s and clearly exuded a motherly-type attitude. You shifted your focus to the kids crossing the road, watching as they reunited with their parents.

“We go out on Wednesdays for Happy Hour! Join us this week,” she suggested.

“I don’t know,” you sighed.

“Come on!” Maria pressed. “If you hate it, I’ll never ask you to go out with us again.”

There was no point in arguing with her, so you relented and agreed to one night out. A few drinks and hours of mindless conversation could be good for you. It would be better than sitting in front of the TV with a bland meal and another glass of wine.

You managed to evade all thoughts of Joel somehow the next two days, putting all your time and energy into prepping your students for their first test of the year. Lesson planning and preparation took up your free period and late evenings, leaving you little room to think about those brown eyes and disarming smile. It was Wednesday evening, and you were knee-deep in your closet, trying to find an outfit for Happy Hour. You had changed at least five times, discarding every top and skirt onto your bedroom floor. Eventually, you gave up, settling on tight jeans, a flowy red blouse, and black flats. You left your hair in wavy curls over your shoulders and simple makeup to balance everything out.

The group took their Happy Hour rituals to a local dive bar on the outskirts of town, a row of motorcycles and trucks lining the entrance. You felt a bit out of place walking into a smoke-hazed bar, with the patron's wandering eyes crawling over you, but you quickly picked out the huddle of teachers in the corner laughing over a round of beers. They welcomed you with bright smiles and hellos, offering to buy your first drink. After about an hour and a few drinks, you felt warm and far more relaxed. Conversations about quarterly goals and admin meetings flowed over the table, each teacher complaining about something. You chimed in when necessary, keeping quiet when you had nothing to contribute. You were on your fourth beer when the girls around you started whispering low about a group of men entering the bar. You stole a peek over your shoulder, eyes settling on the last person you wanted to see.

Joel Miller.

He had on his usual simple work attire, the fabric of his cotton shirt stretched out over his broad chest. His neck was tanned, most likely from working outdoors, and his hair was just as unruly as you remembered. The man beside him, shorter but with similar features, clapped Joel on the back and steered him towards the bar. You lowered your head, taking a longer gulp of your drink to try and steady your nerves. Of all fucking places, he had to be here.

“He’s just so handsome, isn’t he?” Maria nudged you, tossing back a look towards Joel.

You shrugged, feigning disinterest. Joel was handsome, but no one needed to know how you felt. Because what you felt was very, very confusing.

“He’s my students’ father, Maria.”

She rolled her eyes, swirling the contents of her drinks before taking a sip.

“Okay, and? There’s nothing inappropriate about dating a student’s parent.”

“Yes, there is,” you snapped. “And I’m not even considering dating him.”

“But you think he’s attractive,” she stated.

You didn’t want to respond to that, knowing the warmth in your cheeks was already enough of a giveaway. If you shrunk far enough into yourself, you might go unrecognized the rest of the night.

Maria thankfully dropped the subject, returning to the conversation around the table. After another hour, the ladies started to trickle out of the bar and home for the night. You, on the other hand, still had to wait a bit longer until the alcohol phased out of your body. Which meant you were sitting alone in the same space as Joel. You could feel his eyes on your back the longer you sat there, and to your detriment, decided to steal a glance over your shoulder. Joel’s eyes raked over your body, returning your stare with a soft, welcoming smile. Shit.

You watched as he slipped off the barstool, waltzing towards you with a beer clasped in his large hand. You tried so hard not to notice his thick fingers wrapped around the bottle, and you most definitely tried not to think of what his fingers would feel like inside—

“Miss Smith,” he greeted, silencing your awful thoughts.

“Mr. Miller,” you said.

“Are all these formalities necessary in a bar?” he teased.

“A couple of drinks won’t change my mind.”

Joel slid into the seat beside you without an invitation, his arm brushing against yours as he settled into the stool. It was instinct to flinch away, afraid of the reaction his touch would cause to your body.

“What will change your mind?” he pressed, keeping a steady gaze on you.

“Nothing,” you shrugged, deciding to change the subject. “How was your birthday?”

Joel ran a hand through his hair, that stupid lopsided grin forming on his lips.

“Can’t say I love gettin’ old, but celebratin’ was sure nice.”

“And how old are you, Mr. Miller?”

“Ripe age of thirty-six, Miss Smith,” he grinned.

“What cake did you choose?” you asked, watching him take a long sip of his beer.

“Vanilla. Everyone’s gotta love vanilla, right?”

Was he… flirting with you?

You’d blame your following response on the beers coursing through your bloodstream, but truthfully, you just wanted to play along, even only for a moment.

“Hmm, I don’t know. I don’t always love vanilla, Mr. Miller.”

Joel’s eyes darkened, falling to your lips as you took another drink. It was bold and stupid of you to say that, but at this point, you didn’t care.

“What other flavors do you like?”

He leaned forward in his chair, his thigh pressing against yours. The heat of his body and the smell of smoke on his clothes was a dangerous combination for your self-restraint.

“I have a few guilty pleasure flavors,” you smirked.

Joel’s hand damn near crushed the bottle when you said those words, his entire body tensing beside you. You couldn’t care at that moment about how you spoke; the drinks started speaking for themselves. You hadn’t dared to flirt with a man since Bennett left, too afraid of what falling in love again might do to you. But, for some reason, flirting with Joel felt so simple. He was older than you, and maybe that piqued your interest, knowing he was far more mature than anyone else you had considered.

“Indulge me, Miss Smith,” he whispered.

“I think I’ll leave it a mystery,” you whispered in return. “I’ve already said too much as it is.”

“I reckon you ain’t said enough,” he countered.

Heat flared through your neck and face as he leaned in closer, his face only inches from yours. This had gone too far. You had broken any rules you had previously set in place, and now you were dancing on a fragile line between professionalism and indecency.

Glancing at the clock above the bar, you watched as the hands ticked closer to midnight. Just like in the fairytales, your time was up. Back to reality.

“It’s getting late,” you started. “I should get home.”

Joel’s demeanor shifted, and his grin faltered as he watched you rise from the barstool. He brushed his hand over your arm, barring you from walking away.

“Not real sure if you should be drivin’ home yet, Miss Smith. Y’had a few drinks tonight,” Joel protested.

“How do you know? Were you watching me?”

“Gotta make sure my daughter's teacher is safe. Who else’s gonna make sure she gets straight A’s?”

He was trying to make light of the situation, but you knew better. You knew he had been watching you since he had arrived; his attention had never been on his group of friends.

“I assure you, I’m fine,” you argued. “You go enjoy your night with your friends, Mr. Miller.”

Joel’s brows furrowed as he considered you. His hand still lingered on your arm, thick fingers flexing against your skin. You glanced between his hand and his eyes, trying to make sense of his intentions. This was far past a coincidental run-in; this was a strange desire out of reach.

“Can I drive you home at least?” He asked.

“I’m okay. Thank you, though.”

“Can I at least drive behind you to make sure you make it alright?” He offered.

You looked back toward the bar, seeing the man he walked in with staring at you with an apparent scowl.

“I don’t think that’s fair to your friend,” you said.

Joel peered around you and huffed loudly.

“That’s my brother, Tommy. S’all good, he’s probably ready to hit the road, too.”

“He doesn’t look too happy.”

“He’s fine,” Joel grumbled.

Tommy noticed you both staring at him and decided to join the mix. He walked up with a grin despite the scowl he had just worn and extended his hand to you.

“I’m Tommy. Joel’s brother.”

“Hi, I’m Sarah’s teacher.” You gave him a quick shake and tried to sidestep to leave.

“Wait!” Joel called out.

“I’m okay, Mr. Miller,” you tossed over your shoulder. “Be safe tonight.”

You made a beeline for the door, hoping to escape him before he reeled you back in. You let yourself float in his atmosphere for too long, testing the waters you knew were off-limits. There was still an alcohol-induced haze lingering in your head, but the sooner you could leave, the better. Tomorrow would come with a headache and a post-drunken clarity to put you back on the right track. You needed to steer clear of Joel before you slipped up and allowed another man inside the walls you built.

You attempted to retrieve your keys from your purse, only to fumble them out of your hands and onto the dirt ground of the parking lot.

“Fuck,” you groaned.

As you bent to pick them up, footsteps crunching on the ground grew closer. You already knew who it was.

“Miss Smith,” Joel’s voice sounded pained.

“I’m fine!” you shouted, whipping your head around to find him nearly toe-to-toe with you.

The moonlight above you illuminated his brown eyes, which darkened the longer he looked down at you. You shrunk away, letting your body hit the driver's side of your door while Joel stepped closer.

“Please. You shouldn’t be drivin’ right now. Lettin’ you leave like this wouldn’t be right of me.”

Your only focus was on his lips as he talked. The plushness of his lips enticed you, leaving you imagining how soft they’d feel pressed against yours. Your control was slipping, and the alcohol was pulsing faster in your veins.

“You’re not going to give up, are you?” You wondered aloud.

Joel looked at you like he knew the layers of the question. He knew what battle you were fighting inside and saw the fear plastered on your face.

“No,” he whispered softly.

Your eyes bounced between his eyes and his lips, trying to grasp the moment's weight. You needed to be firm and say no; your future self would thank you for it. Gripping your keys, you exhaled and turned towards your car door.

“Have a good night, Mr. Miller,” you tossed over your shoulder.

The warmth of his body pressed against your back, the smell of smoke and liquor wrapping around you and enveloping you in a cocoon of temptation. Joel’s hands reached around to grab your keys from your shaking hand, dangling them between you and the car.

“M’taking you home, Miss Smith. Ain’t gonna argue anymore,” he said as his mouth fell to the shell of your ear.

“I’m—.”

“Don’t,” he interjected. “Go to my truck.”

He had the exact tone you did when you reprimanded your students, but the deep rasp of his accent made it all the more inviting. You didn’t want to listen to his demands, but you were getting nowhere successfully. Joel sidestepped to free you of the cage he had you in, watching you intently as you sulked to his truck. It wasn’t hard to know which one it was; only a few cars were left, and the truck exuded the same masculinity as the owner.

“What about my car?” You protested, folding your arms across your body as you leaned against the truck.

“I’ll give Tommy the keys,” he said. “He’ll drive it behind us.”

You were about to ramble another slew of protests when Joel yanked the passenger side door open and tilted his head toward the interior.

“Get in.”

His tone left little room for arguing, so you did as he said without another word. Despite the anger radiating off his body, Joel shut the door softly before heading back into the bar.

You fidgeted with the seatbelt, the press of it against your chest not strong enough to stabilize the rhythm of your heartbeat. You were in his truck, meaning you’d be alone with him for the next several minutes. It was enough to force a roll of nausea through your stomach. Leaning your head against the window, you watched him reemerge from the bar with Tommy in tow. There was a clear expression of annoyance etched on Tommy’s face, all at the cost of your own stubbornness.

Joel tossed him the keys to your car before rounding the truck's hood and climbing into the driver’s seat. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, so you kept your eyes on the road as it blurred past with each passing mile.

“Where do you live?” he asked, passing through another vacant green light.

You rambled off your address, still keeping your gaze steady on the streetlights as they passed by your window. He didn’t attempt to make small talk after that, and the silence settled onto you like a heavy blanket. Your control of consciousness was slipping the longer you sat beside him, but you willed yourself awake. The streets started to become familiar, and you shifted in your seat. Taking a risk, you looked at Joel, finding him white-knuckling the wheel with his jaw clenched.

“I’m sorry,” you muttered. “I—I don’t go out and drink normally. I should have just stayed home tonight.”

“S’okay,” he said, glancing at you. “Just don’t get why you’re so stubborn about askin’ for help. First at the supermarket and now at the bar. I don’t get it.”

A rush of tears stung your eyes, and you quickly looked away, trying to blink them back before he noticed. Joel’s hand fell onto your thigh, sending a jolt of shock through your body. You wanted to shy away from it, but there was no use in fighting at this point; you were already failing miserably.

“Hey,” he prodded. “Shit, I’m sorry. Don’t cry, alright?”

You swiped away the tears running from your eyes, schooling your emotions back into a state of numbness. Your little blue house came into view, and you pointed a tired finger toward it to guide him in the right direction.

“This is me,” you sniffled.

“Big ol’ house, Miss Smith. Y’live here alone?”

“Yeah,” you exhaled. “Thanks for the ride, Mr. Miller.”

“I really wish you’d stop callin’ me that,” he sighed, parking his car at your home's fence.

“It’s all formalities.”

“Yeah, I know. I just think after tonight, we’re far past all them formalities and shit.”

Your hand lingered on the door handle as you took one last look at him. Joel’s eyes looked over you with a softness you didn’t deserve. You deserve to be happy. Maria’s words rang out in your head the longer you stared at him. ‘Happy’ was a foreign word to you now, out of reach and out of your control.

“Can I just know one thing?” He asked.

You nodded, your fingers wrapped around the door handle.

“What’s your name?”

Blame the alcohol…blame your vulnerability…but you told him.

#joel miller x reader #joel x female reader #joel x f!reader #joel miller x teacher!f!reader #joel miller fanfic #joel tlou #tlou #tlou fanfiction #joel miller #pre outbreak!joel

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ephie-om · 4 months ago

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A Gentle Wrath

Part 2

Satan thought that he had done enough research to be prepared for anything Diavolo's exchange program had to throw at him. He knew more than any of his brothers about human anatomy, psychology, and biology. He had a list of potential predispositions you would have about demons and how to overcome them. But just like with the rest of his family, you managed to surprise him.

You, a human, made the choice to treat the Avatar of Wrath with gentleness. He found his thoughts wandering to his favorite memories of your fingers ghosting over his wounds as your brow scrunched in worry. Some reckless part of him found that side of you so captivating he nearly threw himself into danger on purpose.

Logically, he knew that he loved you. He knew that, logically, you must at least like him. And logically, he knew that he should reciprocate that gentleness... somehow.

He ground his teeth in frustration as he slammed another book shut. Why did every book about humans in the Devildom only have information on eating, or killing, or exploiting them? The more time he spent without a course of action, the worse he felt. If he didn't know such a simple thing, surely you would decide he wasn't worth your time any more. And then what was he to do? Spend every moment pining for you to touch him, look him over with those eyes, just one more time?

That same reckless part of him spoke up again. Had you ever made him feel stupid? it asked. No, he answered. But I'm not sure if that's a risk I'm willing to take. You don't want to while away every day thinking about them, it answered snidely. But isn't that what you're doing right now?

A soft knock landed on his door, breaking him from this thoughts. Who would have the nerve to bother him this late? He stalked to the door, tail swiping past towers of books. His clawed hand ripped the door open only to find... you. Standing there, wringing your hands. "I'm sorry. I just had a shitty day, and I know it's late, but you were the first person I thought of." Your words sounded muffled to his ears. Why were your cheeks wet?

You walked into his room and he realized he must have stepped back to open the door. He should say something. He should find out what was wrong with your eyes, to make them so red. He should do anything besides stand there wordlessly and stare at you. "C-can I just stay in here for a little bit?" You stammered out. "You can pretend I'm not even here, I just don't wanna go right now."

"Of course," his words tumbled out, faster than his brain could catch up with him. "You can stay, you can stay all night if you want." You gave him a wobbly smile at that.

He realized this was his chance. If he got this right, you could see that he could be kind too, just like you. But if he messed up, he might scare you off. Permanently. He couldn't afford to make a mistake right now.

He stepped closer. Hesitantly, like approaching a deer. "Do you want to talk about it?"

You shook your head. "Thank you, but no."

Shit. He was all out of ideas. This wasn't good. His heart hammered in his ears, louder and louder. Thud. "We could sit down." Thud. "Maybe watch a movie?" Thud. "To take your mind off of it."

For a nerve-wracking moment, you considered it. "Yeah, that would be nice." Success. He let out a breath and followed you to the couch. Flipping through channels, you settled on some stupid, cheesy, vapid romance. Your heart wasn't in it, he thought, but you pretended to watch anyway.

Trying to swallow away the lump in his throat, his hand reached out for your shoulder, ever so slowly. Millimeter by millimeter he reached for you. He half expected you to startle once he finally made contact.

Instead, as his arm rested gingerly around you, you relaxed into him. Your head dropped into the curve of his neck like it was made to fit there. Your body settled slowly into his as the man on screen spilled coffee all over his secretary's blouse. You laughed softly, your body shaking, and Satan took the opportunity to scoot in just a little bit closer to you.

"Thank you," you murmured softly, your breath tickling his collarbone, "for all of this."

He smiled into your hair as his tail rested on your calf. "Of course. I'd never dream of not being here for you."

#obey me #obey me swd #omswd #obey me shall we date #obey me satan #om satan #omswd satan #obey me fluff #obey me satan x reader #ephie writes

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eyecan02 · 5 months ago

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WARNING: MAJOR BEETLEBABES SPOILERS

I had fun watching this film. It was great seeing the OGs again, it was funny and it had a good script BUT I have to give this movie 7/10 because the pacing was off for the first half of the film and because of the two unnecessary Babyjuice scenes (We'll get to more of that in a bit.)

It just felt rushed and Beetlejuice and Lydia's scenes were limited. Yes, we knew from the get go that Keaton's scenes would be confined because that's how he wanted it but I just like complaining. lol

Before Lydia and Beetlejuice officially reunite, he starts spamming her phone with the Day O song playing with Beetlejuice's name in bold pops ups coming up nonstop. This happens when Rory is trying to talk about their wedding and Lydia just isn't in the mood to talk about it.

The first Beetlebabes scene is the "therapy scene" and its also the first Babyjuice scene. Lydia's belly grows quickly, her water breaks and out pops out Babyjuice. It starts crawling around and soon starts biting on Lydia's ankle. You do actually see bloody teethmarks on Lydia's ankle to which Beetlejuice says, "Takes after his dad." and he starts drooling exaggeratingly.

I don't remember the exact wording but Lydia called Beetlejuice "Demented." To which Beetlejuice replies with something like "Well, if me wanting to be with the love of my life is demented then fine I'm demented. Come here, honey." Yes, he actually calls her the love of his life!

He tries to do the gliding thing he did with Lydia during the first movie when he says this. Before Lydia is pulled to his side, she yells, "Home! Home! Home!"

That's when Lydia tries to hurry to get everyone out of the house and out of Winter River but Astrid tells her she has a date and somehow convinces Lydia to drive her to the boy's house. So Delia and Lydia board up the attic door and decide no one goes in and that they'll leave that same night right after Lydia gets married at midnight.

Now as most of us have heard- Astrid's crush has a secret. That secret is...that he's a ghost. Which, I feel so dumb about not guessing it. I should've figured it out when they showed "The Recently Deceased" book thar he claimed he bought at a "yard sale". The boy (can't remember his name) says Lydia can help him come back to life (not through marriage) and says if she travels with him to the Neitherworld, she'll help her see her dad again.

Lydia soon finds out that the boy (I think his name was Jeremy) was not only someone who killed his parents but is also a ghost (through info from Jane the realtor) so she rushes to rescue Astrid but gets there seconds too late. With no other choice she goes back to the Maitlands home and summons Beetlejuice.

The minute Beetlejuice gets Lydia into the afterlife...they're immediately separated right after the "Bonnie and Clyde line. The excuse? Beetlejuice had to "visit the little boy's room" as a plot device so that Lydia and Astrid could reunite with Astrid's deceased father. He's the one that saves them from the sandworm and helps them make up.

It turns out that Jeremy was gonna swap places with Astrid. She would've gone on the Soul Train that takes you to the "Great Beyond" and he would've resurrected as a living person. This takes place at an immigration office. Beetlejuice has kind of a heroic moment where he switched places with the person behind the glass that gives the "stamp of living approval."

When Jeremy looks at the paper that Beetlejuice gives him, it reads "Shit Out of Luck Fucker". XD This part had everyone howling with laughter. Beetlejuice stamps on the paper and that instantly opens the floor beneath Jeremy and sends him to hell.

Astrid's father helped Lydia and Astrid leave the Neitherworld through a portal in a mausoleum that is conveniantlly across from the church that Lydia is supposed to getting married at. Even though she doesn't really want to marry Rory, she decides to do it anyway. Tells Rory she won't change into her wedding dress- that they should just proceed as they are.

That's when Beetlejuice arrives with Delia, pushes her aside and tells her to "Scram!" lol (Earlier in the film, Delia tried to perform a strange love ritual with a pair of snakes that she was told were defanged. Spoiler: they weren't defanged so she died and got sent to the Waiting Room so since she doesn't want to wait there for ages, she summons Beetlejuice who agrees to help her if he can help her find his "runaway bride".)

Beetlejuice proceeds to drug Rory by stabbing his neck with a syringe and this somehow makes Rory confess whata scumbag he is and how he was just using Lydia for money. Another interesting moment where Beetlejuice is being "helpful" in his own way."

So the next five minutes are just as chaotic as Jenna Ortega described. And remember how we all had speculated that Beetlejuice wouldn't waste time with a song and dance and would try to get through the vows as fast as he could? We were wrong. Beetlejuice apparently thought he had all the time in the world as he starts to lip sync "MacArthur Park" and even had Lydia lip syncing the song to him. His make up got all runny as he wept at his own wedding.

They dance and then Wolf and his SWAT team crash the wedding followed by Delores storming in and Beetlejuice tells her, "It's not you. It's me. I'm just looking for a more soul mate type. You should be with a guy that is more into you."

He magically rips off Rory's shirt to reveal a shirt underneath that says "I Love Delores". Delores is not impressed. And I honestly forgot what happens to Delores but then the Sandworm scene happens and then everything calms down. Lydia, Astrid and Delia try to leave the church but Beetlejuice stops them, reminding Lydia that they have a contract. He pulls out the contract.

But then Astrid remembers something Wolf had mentioned earlier about Beetlejuice violating "Code 669" by bringing a living person to the Neitherword so she states that that means his contract with Lydia is null and void. Beetlejuice's contract proceeds to burst into flame.

Lydia steps forward and says "I'm sorry it didn't work out between us." She says something else that I forgot and proceeds to say his name three times and with each call of his name, Beetlejuice's body inflates more and more until he pops.

Delia promises she'll haunt Lydia and Astrid until they're sick of her. Wolf takes her back to the Neitherworld where Delia reunites with Charles's mangled corpse. It then skips to Lydia announcing the last episode of her show so that she can "start living".

Then it shows Lydia and Astrid traveling together. It looks like they're in Romania/Transylvania where Astrid locks eyes with a cute guy. Then a time skip where Astrid is marrying the guy. Another time skip where Astrid is giving birth. This is where it gets weird. She gives birth to Babyjuice that proceeds to start crawling on the walls. That's when Lydia wakes up, relieved that that was a nightmare when suddenly Beetlejuice leans over her in bed and says, "I just had the strangest dream." Lydia gasps and she wakes up again and slowly looks over to her left to see an empty space and no Beetlejuice.

So I'm guessing that's what that one interviewer guy meant when he told Winona "You sorta got your wish at the end." I guess it means Beetlejuice will always be haunting her and playing the long game of waiting for her. I need to discuss this with someone! What do you think of the spoilers? The ending in particular?

#beetlebabes #beetlebabe #beetlelyds #beetlejuice x lydia #huge beetlejuice beetlejuice spoilers #beetlejuice beetlejuice spoilers

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zujime · 1 year ago

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─── vi

cw. best friend’s ex! vi, fluff, implied fem reader (no pronouns used tho), acquaintances to lovers, (slight) slow burn, cuddles, sharing a bed, movie nights, pet names mentioned: princess, babe, hun, gorgeous.

note. a lil somthing i conjured up during my period insomnia :)) I'm running on one hour of sleep ya'll mrgh... anyway, should i make another part?

best friend’s ex! vi who you only ever saw in passing when she was still with your bestie. why they broke up was always a topic your friend never really expanded upon but they got off on somewhat good terms—though you do recall the prolonged stares vi would give you when she’d come by.

best friend’s ex! vi who you happened to stumble upon when going to get your lunch at the cafe that was across from your job right after you finished your shift. you remember hearing that she wasn’t really a fan of the food here because “the food ’s just glorified hospital food”, though the silly jab at her comment is caught in your throat when she greets you; silver eyes soft as they flicker between your eyes, scarred lips curling into a shy smirk as the velvety soft sound of her voice reaches your ears.

best friend’s ex! vi who you gave your number to after that same encounter to keep in touch—she’d text you during your breaks to ask silly questions and take your mind off work stress and later call you after your shifts end. and those calls end up lasting far longer than intended, either up until someone falls asleep or till someone’s phone dies.

best friend’s ex! vi who takes three weeks to ask if you wanna hang out, you know, as friends? inviting you over for a movie night at her place on your day off to watch the movies you’d been dying to watch but never got around to. you were able to get through the first two but as soon as the third movie started, you began nodding off before vi felt your head softly fall onto her taut shoulder—your lashes ghosting the exposed skin as you slept peacefully, drooling a little.

best friend’s ex! vi who chuckles slightly at the sight and at the warm, heart-swelling feeling you give her whenever you call, text—hell, whenever she sees your face. she turns the tv off before picking you up and tucking you in her bed before she goes to sleep on the couch.

best friend’s ex! vi who you wake up and walk down the hall to see laid out on the couch, limbs hanging off the couch from under the soft blanket she had on—low mumbles could be heard from her sleeping form, faint yet audible, though they’re cut short as she stretches and slides a hand over her face in hopes of wiping away the sleep, eyelids heavy as she peers at you.

“how long have you been watching me?” her voice still carried the taunt with a softness as she spoke groggily. you feel your face grow warm at her question, despite it being a tease but you brush it off and thank her for letting you stay the night even though none of you intended to have a sleepover. she hums in response before getting up off the couch. “it was like—three in the morning—and i am not some asshole who would’ve just let you go home alone, princess.” the pet name slid so effortlessly off her tongue as she passed by you, to go shower.

best friend’s ex! vi who you find yourself hanging out with more and more, and the pet names she’d give you only seemed to grow—not like you had a problem with it. she’d call you things like babe, princess, and hun far more than she’d ever say your actual name, she even calls you gorgeous, though rather sparingly because sometimes she feels like she’s going a little too far.

best friend’s ex! vi who you refuse to tell your bestie about every time she asks what you’re thinking about whenever you zone out during your monthly outings.

“what’s with that face?” she inquires, giggling a bit at the shamelessly lovesick expression you wore. “what face? what’re you talking about?” you snap back to reality, eyeing your friend anxiously as you listen to her response. “you know, that face people make in those really cheesy romcoms from the 2000s when they’d just met the love of their life or something…” she trailed off, now squinting at you in suspicion. “...are you seeing someone?” “...” “hello?!” “girl, no! i’m thinking about when imma get my mfing food.”

best friend’s ex! vi who you practically live with at this point—because of how often you two have sleepovers, she has a majority of your belongings all around her apartment; your clothes in her closet and dresser, your extra toothbrush and hair products, fav foods/snacks and drinks in the fridge, etc. though, she still insists on sleeping on the couch whenever you stay over despite you stating you have no problem sharing the bed. eventually, she caved—reluctant at first as she squirmed under the comforter to get comfortable beside you until she finally was able to fall asleep.

best friend’s ex! vi who at first when sharing the bed with you, would often wake up to make sure she wasn’t crowding your space or being touchy in any way. but the moment she woke up to your arms draped over her frame, she softened and decided to just let herself sleep—burying her face in the crook of your neck and holding you close as she slept, yet she still tries to be mindful of her movement so she doesn’t wake you.

best friend’s ex! vi who you realize is a huge sucker for physical affection. oftentimes brushing her hand against yours in hopes of holding it but hesitantly refraining from interlocking fingers when in public. and when the two of you are alone, she desperately leans into whatever you give her—head scratches, movie night cuddles, pinky holding, tracing her tattoos with your fingers, anything.

best friend’s ex! vi who realizes she has feelings for you during one of your typical movie nights, but the look you gave her when the movie ended—eyes reflecting the television screen so prettily as you tilt your head slightly to peer up at her before speaking, but whatever it was you said had completely gone through one ear and out the other as the skin of her ears slowly became a deep red.

"fuck." was the only thought that crossed her mind as she stared at your soft eyes. "vi?" you murmur, a little worried at the expression she wore. but she abruptly stands up before excusing herself and heading to the bathroom.

best friend’s ex! vi who you spent the last few days worrying about—is she ok? is she sick? did you make her uncomfortable? thoughts seemed to race through your head endlessly until she asks if you could come over real quick, through a text.

best friend’s ex! vi who—despite having met multiple people before—gets nervous when you step foot in her apartment. in her eyes, the feeling of her words falling messily from her lips as she spills her guts to you feels weird. but when you creep close to her—lips mere inches from hers as your breaths mingled and eyes heavy-lidded—that feeling dissipates.

best friend’s ex! vi who gets lost in the sea that is your lips as you drown in the feelings she was too scared to show you. callous hands slotting themselves needily on each side of your face, pulling you deeper into the kiss with every shared breath, begging never to part. almost as if accepting her request, you rest a hand against hers, smiling into the searing kiss before finally pulling away for air and softly gazing up at her silver orbs.

#reader insert #arcane #arcane vi #arcane violet #arcane imagines #arcane fanfic #arcane x reader #vi arcane x reader #vi imagine #vi x reader #vi x you #vi x y/n #fluff #arcane fluff #vi fluff #arcane x female reader #arcane x you #arcane x y/n

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mooblybloom · 8 months ago

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Last night I had two very very vivid and weird dreams I blame the famous fanfic dark matter for this

My dream is like watching it episode of a TV show I'm just a bystander watching what happens so the dream starts out with Peter Parker in civilian identity being kidnapped with Red Hood because he was just having a conversation with Red Hood in the middle of the night in crime alley So anyway they get kidnapped by this creepy cult that is going to sacrifice them Peter breaks free and immediately breaks Red Hood out of his restraints even though Red Hood could have done it himself he then turns to Red Hood in pure seriousness says "Quick! I need you to kill me Don't ask questions it's all part of the plan Just do it!" So Red Hood without hesitation shoots him in the chest Peter looks down at the bullet wound where it's bleeding looks up and smiles hysterically manic and says "Good start keep going!" Red Hood proceeds to kill Peter and he lays dead for about 3 seconds and then a green Rick and Morty-esque portal spawns over his dead body and outcomes Ghost King Danny looking very very confused and very very distraught over Peter's dead body immediately resurrect him and asks what the hell happened Peter then, like a child, points to the cult and says "They did it" and Danny goes on a rampage while Red Hood and Peter look on in impressed horror with classic red and blue 3d movie theater glasses and popcorn and that's where the dream ends I don't know why I had this dream but I did

#danny phantom #danny fenton #dp #dc x dp #dp x dc #dpxdc #ghost king danny #dp x marvel #peter parker #red hood #jason todd #daniel fenton #Mooblyboom's weird ass dreams

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httpsghostie · 2 years ago

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Under one Roof pt 2

pt 1

wraaaaaaaa

I'm emotional :c

Summary: you never knew you needed a military roommate until you got one.

Word Count: around 1k

Warnings: it's kind of nsfw but no so much but still mdni, Simon 'Ghost' Riley x female!reader, mentions of trauma, sensitive topics

masterlist

Ghost wasn't used to affection, and seeing you there, willing to cling onto him and shower him with kisses, made his stomach get full of butterflies.

And he wasn't used to that feeling either, so he thought he was just feeling nauseous like he always felt from not eating properly.

You two didn't have an established relationship, you never really paid much attention to read between the lines when you signed up being close to Ghost. But it was worth it anyway.

He enjoyed coming home to you, he enjoyed the smallest moments he could share with you, because you were simply there for him when he thought he was losing himself. You couldn't fix him, but you could make him feel better.

Ghost was still a, well, a ghost. You never knew him fully, there was always a part of him that was buried six feet under, and you knew the part of him that he wanted you to know. You knew what he showed to you.

You didn't know the acid truth he held behind the broad shoulders you were attracted to, the men that had been killed by his beautiful calloused hands, and the trauma of all of his past creeping in his mind. You knew a part of it, that you could say. But again, only what he wanted to.

He'd sometimes be strange for a few days when he came back from service, not knowing how to react to someone wanting him back in a safe place. You were his safe place, but he was too egotistic to admit that.

But sometimes he'd just come home with open arms, walking straight to a 'I missed you' hug, without saying a thing.

And he slowly started to get more flirty, a side of him that you didn't quite get. But you didn't mind a little admiration after all this time you drooled over him.

And finally you two were met with a boring sunday, stuck in the living room watching a movie like you always used to do together, and the power gets cut off by the company.

You checked your email, and there it was, a message from the company saying they'd cut the power off for maintenance. It had to be on a boring day just like this one.

You're stuck with him. It's too late to go watch the sunset but it's too soon to go out for dinner.

But he begins small talk, complaining about the power company, and you laugh at his british rants. It's cute, you can't deny it.

It's almost too cute.

You need him.

The power's out, what could you two do?

And there you were, straddling him as he pulls your body closer to his, your lips never parting. He needed you too, you felt it.

But first times aren't supposed to be the most beautiful thing in the world, they're supposed to be messy, clumsy, and in some cases you need a few more times to really understand the other person's body and rhythm.

It isn't the first time for you and neither for him individually, but together? If someone told you on the first day he moved in that you'd be doing this, you'd laugh maniacally.

And there's also another secret he keeps from you, a secret that floods his mind as soon as you kneel in front of him on the couch. He tries to shake the thought away as he looks at you, but it's too late, it had already hit his lower parts.

He apologizes, saying he just needs a bit, and he feels calm when you tell him that it's ok if he's not in the mood, but he insists on trying again.

You take your time with him, making him feel good, and he starts to relax under the warm feeling of your mouth. He likes it, it's way better than masturbation.

And he's also so gentle with you, calling you love, darling, and whatever other praises that came to his mind. He let you guide him, utterly lost in the trance you put him in.

He let you ride him despite not carefully prepping you first, because forgive him, he was too drunk on the moment to even think of it.

You made him feel good, he truly thought that, but his memories were taking the best of him. His time incarcerated, the pain he felt when he was abused, it was unbearable.

He was strong, but not invincible. And he soon found himself gripping your waist too tight and slowly heard your voice getting louder, as it was hurting you.

You didn't snap, you knew he wasn't hearing you, that he wasn't in the moment, and you couldn't resist the urge to cry when you saw him falling apart. You said you were sorry for as many times you could think of as you got dressed, and for each 'sorry' you cried, he told you it wasn't your fault.

You stood there with him in your arms for as long as you could, in silence. Your hands caressing his arms as he sobbed quietly on your chest, sometimes snuggling between your breasts as if he was trying to inhale you completely. He needed this moment more than any carnal desire, he just needed love and comprehension. He needed to fall apart.

He needed to learn how to be vulnerable again.

#cod mw2 #cod fanfic #cod mwii #cod modern warfare #ghost cod #cod x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley #ghost simon riley #ghost x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost #simon riley x reader #ghost #cod ghost

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arliedraws · 1 month ago

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Can I ask why you read those queer books about white young man for reasearch? Like for real research or was it a joke? Because I did that too, same as watching movies and series about men/boys falling in love.. And I was wondering if I might be a little weird, also considering that I'm a straight woman. I have no urge to read books about lesbians for example. But apart from that, though of course I know what I like about stories like that, I'm still wondering why it's so appealing to me u know

I’m writing a book that takes place between 1918 to the late 1960s, and it’s about men falling in love during that time, so I’m consulting fiction about that time/theme from contemporary authors.

Maybe queer lit feels good to read because there are secret, beautiful parts of ourselves that we feel are dangerous to share with others? Idk, just a thought. Queer lit has been helpful for me because I’m understanding my bisexuality more and more and realizing how much internalized homophobia I’ve held on to for most of my life (the sort that’s like ‘it’s fine for people to be gay! i’m not gay though. also, i’m weird enough already’), so reading about others going through the same thing is really cathartic.

For me, I also like exploring hypermasculinity. I am really fascinated by it (kicked off by several books we study at the school where I teach), and I’m particularly interested in how men are terrified of looking “feminine” (whatever that means) because femininity is perceived as weak. I am also really interested in the way society drives men crazy in the way that they’re expected to achieve masculine ideals while suppressing their “softer” feelings and using aggression/anger to sift through them. I love how cis men believe they are so powerful, but they know how quickly that can turn and how quickly they can lose their power.

A problem I have with some lesbian romances is that the characters aren’t emotionally stunted enough for me (usually). I want idiots in love. Total dumbasses. Like, I was disappointed in The Warm Hands of Ghosts slightly (even though I love it) because I thought that Laura and Pim were going to get together—it was exactly the setup I wanted, but it never went there. Then I read, Learned by Heart and I thought, “Great! Anne Lister! That’ll be fun!” And for a little while, it was, but I was just so unsatisfied with that one. Granted, I haven’t done a ton of digging. I’ve just been reading what people suggest when it comes to queer books.

Actually, legit, if you have “two emotionally stupid women fall in love but don’t realize it BUT ALSO THEY HAVE SEX” suggestions, please tell me. (Please don’t send me the “space lesbians” book series as a suggestion because I’m not interested.)

Anyway, that’s my two cents. TL;DR - I like reading about people who are terrified of themselves. Because that’s me.

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cityofmeliora · 6 months ago

Text

kinda late but here is the Terzo childhood headcanons AKA new yorker Terzo post. for @plaquerat <3

ok so. i don't really have a solid interpretation of the lore, and my headcanons aren't very detailed. i'm open to floating a lot of different ideas. here are some that i like:

i've liked the idea that Terzo was primarily raised by his mother ever since i first saw the interview where TF (as nameless ghoul) suggests Terzo may be nicer than Secondo because "he seems to have, i dont know, a kinder mother?" and then i found the official instagram post mentioning Terzo's mother attending his concert in New York, and i was like 'oh! maybe she lives there. maybe Terzo used to live there with her.' it got me thinking...

Terzo was born in california and then moved to new york with his mom after she and Nihil split.

seeing the skyscrapers in new york for the first time was a really formative experience for him. that sense of awe he felt eventually inspired his interest in art deco and futurist art. new york became the base for his imaginary city of Meliora. (this is partly inspired by my own experience as a native californian because we don't really have tall buildings in california and i FREAKED OUT when i visited new york and chicago and saw REAL tall buildings.)

Terzo's mother was an artist and he spent a lot of time in the studio with her and her artist friends. their apartment walls were covered with Terzo's own art.

art and music and culture have always been at the center of Terzo's life. he and his mom would always be listening to music or viewing art galleries or watching movies together. i think Terzo's dynamic with his mother was very much like this anecdote from Carly Rae Jepsen:

My mom and I would sit and meticulously go through Leonard Cohen and Joni Mitchell lyrics together. Even from a young age I remember her being like, “I’m playing this Leonard Cohen song called ‘Famous Blue Raincoat,’ and when it’s done I want you to tell me what’s going on in it.” She would give me like a fake glass of wine when I was 8, and I would listen and be like, “I think there was an affair.” Pitchfork - Carly Rae Jepsen on the Music That Made Her (2019)

Terzo turned out to be a gifted child. super smart and naturally talented at a lot of things, but he particularly loved to build with lego / blocks and play piano.

Terzo had a great relationship with his mom. she always supported him and encouraged him to pursue his interests and to do his best.

Terzo missed his dad though. his parents had been together long enough for Terzo to remember him. he was just a kid. he didn't know any better.

when Ghost debuted and Nihil became an internationally famous one-hit wonder, Terzo developed this idealized image of Nihil as a cool rock star cultural icon in his head. idolized him a bit.

after this, Terzo decided he wanted to get serious about becoming an entertainer / musician. started doing piano recitals and competitions. youth theater. film club. all the things.

if anyone asked Terzo why he wanted to become an entertainer, he'd tell them it's because it's what he's good at. and he's always wanted to be famous. which was true, but...

what he wouldn't tell them is that a part of him was trying to emulate [his idea of] his dad and secretly hoping that if he shared that interest / became famous his dad would want come back into his life.

he knew his mom was always there supporting him, but every time he went onstage he would look out into the audience hoping his dad might be there to surprise him. (he never was.)

Nihil was the first of many many disappointments in Terzo's life.

oops! i made it sad.

anyway here's a doodle of kid Terzo getting a postcard from his dad... he didn't hear from his dad again for a very. very long time after that.

there are a lot of details i haven't square hammered out, but it's okay because these headcanons are mostly for me to like, frame Terzo's character development over time. might post more later :)

#hahaha idk why but i actually feel so nervous sharing lol #i said i would post this today and it is 11:55pm so #terzo #radley post #headcanon #fan art #radley art

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thequietkid-moonie · 4 months ago

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Hiii, I'm so excited to see you write for r1999!

Could you possibly write some headcanons for Horropedia with the prompt: "Little things they do when they are in love"

Little things he does when he is in love

[ HEADCANONS ] [ Horrorpedia ]

[ Reverse 1999 ]

Hehehe 😼 THANKS A LOT FOR REQUESTING FOR HORRORPEDIA!!! im in love with that silly so im more than happy to write for him <333

Also, this is my first request for r1999 so thanks annon! You have won a special place in my heart!

Put more attention to your reactions and tries to impress you. Horrorpedia has a hard time reading the environment and understanding other's feelings but when he is in love he tries to put more attention to your reactions and understand your feelings, even if he doesn't fully notice he is doing it. He had created a few weapons, he likes telling you ghost stories or directly watch horror movies with you so he just gets the habit to pay more attention to you in an attempt to decipher your thoughts about it (even if he will end up asking your opinion anyways) just hoping he manage to make you impress you, and if he doesn't achive it then he would just have to try again

Always includes you in his plans. Horrorpedia normally just does what he wants, always planning trips to diferent places to find out if the stories are real and you are the first person he always ask if you want to company him without a fail, he is quite insistent if you don't seem convinced. Also, even if the plans he has are as simple as re watch some of his favorite movies or watch the most recent ones you are always personally invited by him

Try to take the blame when you two get into troubles. Just as he always does what he wants he is constantly getting into troubles for that, even when he become part of Vertin's team he still work for the Fundation so sometimes he just get into troubles, if he end up dragging you to those problems then he is more than ready to take responsability, but, of course, thats the last resource and only happens if the plan fails and you two get caught or his silly excuses doesn't work

Watching more movies of your favorite kind of horror. He feels somewhat closer to you when knowing your preferences and, honestly, he does this without even realicing it, Horrorpedia suddenly just feels motivated to see this kind of movies (even when he had asked you directly for your favorites). Still, the fact that are your favorite kind of horror doesn't mean he will accept it right away, he will have no problems to tell you if he thinks the movie is bad, but even if that kind of horror isn't good he just can't stop himself from watching more movies

Keeping things that remind him of you. He is a collector, he has all kind of gadgets about horror stories and once he falls in love he is unable to stop finding things that somehow remind him of you, but at the end those are the most random things and, of course, most of them has to be with horror movies, even so everything he gets just because it remind him of you are perfectly maintained and even has a special place in his room for them

Rant a lot about you. More specific, about what you two do together, he doesn't have much friends and normally just talk to others when he has to (or has a new plan that you didn't accepted to be part of) but for those few friends he has he always tell whatever you have done, Vertin and Tooth Fairy are updated on your relationship just because Horrorpedia simply can't not talk about you, he is so happy and comfortable around you that the words simply leave his lips without filter (he talks about you almost as much as he does with horror movies)

#reverse 1999 #reverse 1999 x reader #r1999 x reader #horropedia #horrorpedia x reader #x reader #x gn reader #video game x reader

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harryforvogue · 1 year ago

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hi this is the first date fic that i deleted out of hatred about two months ago. sorry for that! i won't write a part 2 but due to demands, i'm reposting this. fank u <3 harry and yasmine of course.

***

“I want to take you out,” Harry says while clearing the dishes.

Yasmine looks up at him, alarmed. “I haven't wronged you that much, I’d argue.”

He snorts, shaking his head. “No. Out. On a proper date.”

“Oh.” Yasmine frowns. “You don’t have to.”

He puts the dishes into the sink, mentally vowing to do them before they go to sleep. Or just him, if Yasmine doesn’t want to stay over in his room for a second night in a row. He’ll try his hardest to convince her anyways. He’s a master at persuasion, but his girlfriend is also as stubborn as a fucking rock.

“Why not?” He returns to her on the couch, throwing an arm over the back. “You really don’t think I’m romantic? I’ll let you know that I’m great at all that stuff. And when finals begin, we’ll get too busy with grading and studying so I think it’s a great time to do that now.”

Yasmine looks torn, which really perplexes him. “Are you so worried about being seen with me, Yasmine?” he jokes.

“No,” she answers slowly. Too slowly. She looks back at the TV. “It’s just that I haven’t been on a real date like that before.”

“Poor baby. But I haven’t even told you what we're going to do. You might hate the idea.”

“The fact that you called it a real date tells me all I need to know.”

He smiles, the back of his hand brushing against her shoulder. “You’ve never been on something called a real date?”

“I don’t think so.”

She looks so cute, frowning like that. He can’t help it. He leans over and kisses her head. She scowls at him. He doesn’t mind a single bit.

Yasmine doesn’t pull away though. After staring him down with her dark, intimidating eyes, she leans in and rests her head on his shoulder. “Fine. We can go on a date.”

“Don’t make it sound like it’s a death sentence, Yasmine.”

“It depends on where you’ll take me.”

He leans his head on hers. “We’ve never gone to a good restaurant and had overly expensive yet mediocre food? Never went out for dessert either and swapped food. That’s what they do in romance movies.”

Yasmine takes his hand and puts it in her lap She squeezes her fingers around his before beginning to play with his rings. “And how many, on average, romance movies do you usually watch, Harry?”

“Oh plenty. I take notes too.”

“You’ve gotta let me see them sometime.”

He says, “No way. Take your own notes.”

“I don’t watch romance movies. Not as much as you apparently.”

He shrugs. “I’m a man with taste, what can I say? Maybe if you switched out a horror movie with a romance once in a while, you would–”

Yasmine shudders. “I’d never do that.”

“I seriously don’t understand how you don’t have nightmares. The last movie we watched, we literally saw someone get sliced in half.”

“And it was wonderful.”

He gives her a look. “Have you considered therapy?”

“Even more therapy? Give me a break.”

Harry’s arm is completely around her now. She’s left her hair out so it brushes against his cheek. He doesn’t mind that either, enjoying the feel of her soft strands. She usually keeps her hair in ponytails or buns, so he takes advantage and runs his fingers through it.

For some reason, Yasmine immediately feels the need to explain herself. “When I showered this morning, I didn’t dry it so I couldn't put it up.”

Harry shakes his head. “I love when it’s down.”

To this, Yasmine scowls again. “Stop.”

“I can’t stop.”

“Don’t look at me like that.”

He bites his inner cheek to avoid smiling. “I’m looking at you how I always do.” His fingers trail down, ghosting over her jaw. “Can you give me a kiss?”

Apparently not only has she never been on a real date, but she’s also never been with someone who shows her affection so outwardly. When she gets embarrassed, her defenses immediately go up, hence the blush currently spreading across her cheeks.

“No.”

“No?” He tilts his head. “Please?”

“No.” She looks away. “Go away actually.”

Harry laughs softly, wrapping his other arm around her too. He lifts her up into his lap and tightens his hold, making sure she can’t get away. Yasmine doesn’t exactly push him away, but doesn’t look at him either.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” he says, kissing her head again. “We’re dating. I’m allowed to–”

“You say things like that,” Yasmine interrupts, her face hot to the touch, “out of nowhere. It catches me off guard.”

He laughs again. “Okay. Sorry. I will give you warnings before I say something similar.”

“Good.”

“Yasmine.”

She begrudgingly turns her head. “What?”

“I am going to say something very ridiculously romantic and cheesy. Please brace yourself.”

Her jaw tightens. “That’s not what I meant!”

“Can I say it? Please, oh please?”

She crosses her arms. “Go ahead,” she mutters.

“I think,” he says quietly, twirling her hair between his fingers, “that you are the prettiest woman I’ve ever seen. And I’d really really like for you to kiss me.”

Yasmine’s face is so red, Harry wants to laugh once more, but he holds back, watching the words settle around in her head. “I hate you,” she whispers, her hands balled into fists. “You just say things.”

“I do say things,” he whispers back. “Because I want you to know precisely how I feel. I reckon one of us should be good at communication.”

“I am wonderful at communicating!”

“Oh yeah?”

Her lips thin. “Don’t oh yeah me.”

“Does it bother you? Poor baby.”

Yasmine’s eyes are narrowed. She stares at him menacingly for a full 3 seconds before her fingers slide into his hair, and she kisses him so deeply, he’s pushed back into the sofa. His grip tightens around her waist, a smile curling onto his lips. She may not be good at communicating verbally, but her body language gives it all away. She’s just as infatuated as he is. Harry’s other hand holds the back of her head. Fuck, he thinks to himself when she slides her hands down and grabs his collar, pushing herself further into his lap. She pulls away to steal a quick breath and then kisses him again. This woman.

Harry tilts his head back and lets her adjust herself on his thighs, her knees on either side of his hips. It seems like they always fall into this position whenever one of them is over and the other’s place, and if they’re together, he’d very much rather be doing this. No wonder they haven’t gone on a “real date” when this is all they do.

Yasmine pulls off of him, her eyes a bit glazed over but the frown still intact. It’s honestly impressive how dedicated she is to being upset with him. He cups her face. “You like me so bad.”

“I don’t!” she answers breathlessly.

“Are you refusing to go on a date with me because we can’t be doing this in public? Trust me, when I get you home, we’ll do this and so much more.”

She pinches his earlobe. “That’s not it.”

“I’d love to know what it really is then.”

Yasmine looks away, removing her hands from his collar, tucking them into her lap. She sighs and stays silent for some time while gathering her thoughts. Harry only watches her, too mesmerized by the expressions on her face before she speaks.

“I don’t know what to do on a date.”

Harry’s eyebrows raise. “What to…do?”

“Yeah,” she grumbles. “How to be normal.”

“Well, I can pick the first place to go. I actually had something in mind. Something we’d both like.”

She sighs again. “I guess what I’m trying to say is that dates are awkward and so far we haven’t been like that so I don’t want it to sneak up on us.”

Harry smiles. “Yasmine, first dates are definitely awkward. But we’ve been together for two months now. I don’t think there’s any weirdness between us or you wouldn’t be sitting in my lap right now.”

As expected, she immediately goes to roll away. He snickers and holds her down.

“Besides,” Harry says. “I think we get along very well. I just want to treat you to something nice. I didn’t think it would take this amount of convincing just to get you to go to dinner with me.”

“We’ve had dinner together.”

“I most certainly don’t hope you mean at the dining hall.”

“No…” She very clearly does.

He gathers her up in his arms. “Dinner this weekend then.”

“Aren’t you supposed to ask me?”

“I tried that. Now I’m ordering you.” He kisses her softly. “You will have dinner with me this weekend or else.”

She frowns. “Or else what?”

“Or else I will make you watch my favorite movie with me.”

She blinks.

“Of the Star Wars variety,” he finishes.

“No!”

“Yes!”

She starts wiggling out of his hold so he lets her go. She’s on her feet. “You can’t make me!”

“Oh I can and I will.” He shrugs. “Wear something fancy, by way. I’m paying so all you have to do, my frightening girl, is show up and provide me with your company. It won’t be that bad.” He reaches for her hand. “Come on. I know you want to go out with me. I can tell.”

She doesn’t deny it this time. He’s mentioned the date so many times, so she's probably accustomed to the idea now. When she answers, it’s a nod, and when she tells him it’s late and she needs to go back, Harry tugs on her hand until she falls against him and says, “Wanna stay?”

(Yasmine’s glad he asked because there’s no chance in hell she’d straight up give him the satisfaction of asking him.)

***

At night, they’re cuddling in his bed when Yasmine suddenly turns her lamp on and moves to face him. He’s had his face buried in her hair, arms around her tight from behind, ankles crossed with hers. His eyes open when she turns, adjusting his hold.

“Hey,” she whispers.

“Hey back.”

“Are you sleeping?”

“I’m answering, so I guess not.”

“Hmm.” She searches blindly for his hand. He laces their fingers together. “When you say dress fancy, what does that mean? I don’t think I have fancy clothes.”

He closes his eyes. “You remember that one dress you wore a while back? The one that kind had a corset sort of middle?”

The silence that follows is so deafening, Harry opens his eyes to check if she’s fallen asleep. Instead, she’s staring at him with a weird look.

“What?” he murmurs.

“I only own one corset dress. The black one?”

“Mhm,” Harry says. “That one. The one with the sleeves that kept falling down your shoulders. So pretty.”

“I wore it a year ago.”

“Yeah.”

“How the hell do you remember that?”

He smiles. “Remember everything about you.”

“You didn’t even know me then.”

Harry hugs her. “I’ve always known you, Yasmine. You just never looked at me.”

“Oh I did plenty of looking.”

“Looking not ogling.”

“I don’t ogle!”

“Sure. But yes, wear that. With those black heels boots you wear with your dress pants for seminars. And leave your hair out.”

“You have so many demands.”

“Don’t let them fool you,” he murmurs. “I like you just as much in sweatpants.” Yasmine’s silent again. Harry chuckles. “Too much?”

“You are always too much,” she whispers. Despite her words, she snuggles in closer. He kisses her forehead.

Yasmine doesn’t ask him any more questions. She falls asleep against him, still holding his hand.

***

The day of the date comes, and Harry’s gone all out. Currently, he’s standing by her door, bouncing on his heels with anticipation.

He doesn’t even have the time to compliment her outfit and her beautiful hair. Yasmine looks at him and then the flowers in his hand, and then promptly shuts the door in his face. Harry leans against the frame and laughs quietly. “Oh come on! I couldn’t resist it.”

“No.”

“We don’t have to take them with us.” He reaches for the door handle, stepping into her apartment. “I just wanted to see that look on your face.”

He holds the flowers out to her, looking at her pointedly. “Go on. Take them.”

She slowly wraps her hands around the stems and takes them. As expected, her face is flushed with embarrassment. “Thanks,” she whispers.

“You look beautiful,” he continues, sweeping her into his arms. “The dress is just how I remembered.”

Yasmine pulls the dress down a bit. “A little short though.”

“Oh I know.”

“Of course you do.”

Harry watches her set the flowers neatly on her kitchen counter. She turns to him. “You look great too.”

“I know.” Harry’s gone for a more casual look with a black shirt, jeans, and a jacket. He has a hand tucked into his pocket, and he can tell just from how she’s looking at him that he looks damn well better than just “great.”

He holds a hand out. “Are you ready for a wonderful night with just me and you?”

She takes his hand and lets him tug her close. “Yes, however, I’ve thought a lot about it and I can’t agree with you paying for it all.”

“No, Yasmine. This is a real date.”

“I mean it.”

“I mean it too.” He holds her chin. “I really am.”

“We’ll see.”

“Yasmine,” he murmurs. “No.” He bends down to kiss her gently. “Now let's go. We’ve got reservations and I’ve got an Uber waiting downstairs.”

“Oh I can–”

“Which has already been paid for.”

She’s staring dagger at him when he smiles, pulls away, and begins to lead her out the door. When she’s finished locking up, he takes her hand, and starts to walk to the elevator.

“It’s going to be a good night,” he says, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “I promise.”

#i don't remember what i hated so much about it #but i'm not gonna reread it to find out #harry and yasmine #harry styles fic #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfic #harry styles writing #harry styles x oc #harry styles x woc

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five-rivers · 11 months ago

Text

Pretty in Pink Chapter 2

@jadenoryuu

“Just go ask,” said Star. “He's totally into you. He'd probably streak through the cafeteria if you asked.”

“Shut up,” said Paulina.

Valerie looked between Star and Paulina, eyebrows raised. “Is there something I'm missing here? You guys have been acting… off… this whole month. You two and Dash.”

“It's nothing,” said Paulina. “Star's hallucinating.”

Star scoffed and crossed her arms. “Pauli's got a crush.”

Paulina had picked up some freak ghost disease from the Fentons’ stupid underground tunnel, so maybe if she thought hard enough about it, she could set Star on fire with her mind. Why would she pick that as her cover story? What the freak? She had enough trouble holding onto her reputation while falling through walls and getting into fights with dead lunch ladies without people thinking she was crushing on Fenton, who looked even worse than he usually did today. What if people started to think her type was ‘drowned rat charity case reject?’

Plus, his stupid tunnel had sort of technically killed her. Wasn't she supposed to hold a grudge about that?

“Glare at me all you want, but it's the only way you'll be getting any sleep.”

“Oooh,” said Valerie. “You've got it that bad, huh? What's stopping you?”

“Well,” said Star, the traitor, “she's worried that he's not exactly A-list material, you know?”

“Girl, seriously?” said Valerie, and Paulina could practically feel her popularity points drop. “You make things A-list. Anything in your orbit catches some of that glow. Anyone you like is cool by association. You could make anyone cool. Except Nathan Lester. He must have been cursed by some ancient northern European god in a past life, because yikes.”

“See, I told you so,” said Star.

“I bet,” said Valerie, “that you could even make Danny Fenton cool.”

Valerie Gray was a literal gift from God. But Paulina couldn't run with that too quickly.

“You think so?” she asked. “Him? Cool?”

“Only through your powers,” said Valerie. She sipped at her soda. “But as far as raw materials go… He's got good bone structure, at least, underneath all that greasy middle-schooler hair, and he’s scrawny, but with the right outfit you can play that off as slender, he looks like Dash’s been beating the crap out of him, so you’d have to get him to quit that, but that’s the easiest part, probably. Yeah, you could do it, Paulina.”

“And you can always dump him after, if he doesn’t pan out or is a creep,” said Star. “We can even plan it out beforehand, so it'll be funny.”

“Well, yeah, of course you're going to dump him for whoever you're actually interested in. This is just a trial run.” She popped a chocolate-covered pretzel into her mouth. “Who are you interested in, by the way? Weston? He's pasty, but at least he's good at basketball.”

Disgusting. It was true Weston wasn't a complete troll, but she had it on good authority that he was a total conspiracy nut, and her papa said conspiracy theories always somehow led back to literal nazis, and that wasn't a good look on someone as pale as Weston.

“Ew, no.”

“Who, then? Come on, spill.”

“It's a secret,” said Paulina, winking. She'd have to make something up eventually, though. Maybe one of the upperclassmen would do the trick. Or maybe she could pretend she lost interest. “But a trial run… I'll try it out. But the minute I'm not having fun…”

“We'll be ready with the tar and feathers,” said Valerie, “just like in history class. Go on.” She made a shooing motion. “Work your magic. Entertain us.”

Paulina stood up and cocked her hips to one side, like a movie star. “Watch me.”

She walked over to Fenton's table and sat down. One of his eyes went wide and round. The other remained a blue and purple slit. Wow. Maybe she'd have to ask Dash to ease up, anyway.

“Hi, Danny,” she said, with her friendliest smile.

“H-h-hi Pauli–”

“What do you want?” demanded Samantha Manson, hypocrite extraordinaire, looking down her unnaturally pale nose. Honestly, anyone who caked that much makeup on had to be at least as self-centered as she said Paulina was.

Paulina sighed heavily. “Wow, rude, much?”

“Says the girl who bribed the school board to go back to the old, unbalanced, unhealthy, cheap as dirt menu when she brings lunch from home or orders out.”

Well, yeah, she got her dad to lean on the school board a bit. It was the only way to keep the lunch lady ghost from coming back again. She’d just kept attacking the school, over and over again, screaming about the stupid menu change. Manson should be grateful, honestly. It was her the ghost had it out for.

But, yeah, the best way to keep the ghost away or not, she wasn’t eating the slop the school served if she had any other choice.

“Says the girl who is so conceited she made the whole school eat her special menu.”

“Oh, snap,” said Tucker. Was that drool on his lip?

Men were dogs. Seriously. Ick.

“Anyway,” she said, turning back to her target. “Danny. I can call you Danny, right?”

“Um, it is my name?”

“Right, so, I heard your parents are scientists. Inventors.”

“Y-yeah. They– Yeah.”

God. And people like this wondered why they weren’t popular. Try and string two words together. Give her something to work with.

“And they're investigating that meat monster that kept attacking the school.”

“They are! They're really, I mean. That whole thing was, it was pretty bizarre, wasn't it?”

“Yeah. Sure. So, I was wondering if you could maybe show me what they do sometime? Their inventions and stuff? Maybe this afternoon?”

“I– Well, I don't know, they've been really busy, this month, ever since the portal came on, and– Ow! Sam!”

“Don't fall for it, Danny, she's just doing the ‘meet me behind the bleachers and then the whole cheer squad will be there to mock you when you show up’ thing, but with more steps.”

“Wow, suspicious much?”

And she might as well be. April DeLongpre, who had been the middle school cheer captain two years ago, had done exactly that to her, and now the whole school knew Manson was a lesbian. Except for maybe her two clueless friends.

She turned her attention back to clueless one and batted her eyelashes. “Please? It would make me feel a lot better if I could see what they were doing. That meat monster was super freaky.”

“I- I guess. You might not be able to see their lab, though, they've been trying to, um, sort some things out down there. It isn't really safe.”

Paulina already knew that. As far as she was concerned, it was a death trap. Literally. But Star was right. She needed something that could actually make ghosts go away, and the Fentons were the only game in town. Despite what happened with her hands in ‘ghost form,’ her nails weren't made for fighting.

Whatever. Once she got there and got him alone, she could pressure him into basically whatever. His interactions with Dash already showed that he had no spine.

“Thanks. I'll see you after school, then? On the corner?” That was far enough away from the school proper that at least the bus kids wouldn't see them. “You have that scooter, right?” She’d seen him on a skateboard too, but he’d been wiping out at the time, so she doubted it was his ride to school.

“Actually, Jazz has been driving me,” said Danny. “She started worrying, after, well, you know.” He shrugged with one shoulder. “She should be okay with bringing you, too.”

Bleh. Jazz Fenton. The girl wasn’t as bad as Danny. She was pretty, edging into beautiful, and Dash totally had a crush on her. Still. She was so preppy and peppy it even put Star off. She was, like, an alien or something.

“That’s… cool,” she said.

“And, um, we carpool with Tucker, too.”

Great. Well, she could cope with being drooled over for one car ride. She’d take a cab home.

“Sounds like a date,” she said, giving Fenton another winning smile.

“Oh! Um, yeah! A- a date! I’ll see you then, Paulina.”

Gag.

“See you then.”

Paulina couldn’t scoot off the bench fast enough. Hopefully Star and Valerie were letting everyone know about ‘the plan’ to seduce and dump Fenton, because, otherwise, her popularity would definitely take a hit.

The car ride was just as agonizing as she’d imagined, with Foley’s staring, Danny’s downright painful, stuttering attempts at flirting, and Jazz trying to psychoanalyze all of them. As if she could understand any of what Paulina was going through.

But then Tucker was dropped off and Jazz disappeared into the house, leaving Paulina and Danny standing on the front lawn.

“Yeah, so, it’s a bit much, but do you want to go in?” asked Danny.

Paulina gave him a sharp look, and he looked away. So what if she was a bit hesitant about going somewhere she’d been killed? That was her business, wasn’t it?

“Yeah, let’s go,” she said.

Danny nodded and dashed up the steps. “The living room is just off of here.”

“What about the lab?” she asked.

“Well, like I said, my parents are pretty busy…”

What, and he didn’t want her to see them? The whole town knew what they were like. Annoying. “It’s just… after everything that happened the past month, I’d just really feel better if I knew there was someone working on things, you know?”

“I…” Danny was visibly wavering.

“Please? Show me the lab? I’ll be really careful and quiet. They won’t even know I’m there.”

“I– Okay. But it’s not their fault, really. They didn’t mean to make it so things could pass through it.”

“What are you talking about?”

Danny made a face. “It’s easier to show you. But first…” He reached into his pocket and pulled out… a tube of lipstick.

Huh. Dash always called Fenton girly, but she’d never seen him wear makeup.

“This is just a precaution,” he said, holding it out in front of him like it was loaded.

“The lipstick?” asked Paulina, skeptically.

“The lipstick laser. The lipstick tube is just the casing, so you can carry it around.”

Yeah, Paulina would believe that when she saw it.

Fenton then turned into the kitchen and went straight to the big metal door. He braced himself before opening it, as if he expected an explosion. There wasn’t one. The only noise coming from below was the buzzing hum of the thing.

Not that Paulina was going to bring that up.

“Huh,” said Danny. “I guess they must be out. Okay. So, um, if I say to run, then you’ve got to run, okay?”

“What, are you expecting something to explode down there?” It wasn’t an out-of-nowhere question, based on what she’d seen when they were down here before.

“Not exactly,” he said.

He went down the stairs. Paulina followed.

It was empty down there. That’s all Paulina registered before her attention was grabbed by the thing. It was just as sinister and gaudy as she remembered it. A goth punk’s dream. Her nightmare.

“So, uh, this is the portal.”

“The portal,” she said. “That’s what it was.”

“Yeah. The portal. The, um, the ghost portal. That spews ghosts. Hence the lasers. They didn’t mean to. They wanted it to be a window, or something. Like, they could look at ghosts through it, but they wouldn’t be able to come through? But the thing turned on in the middle of the night all on its own, without any of their safeguards - not that there were all that many of those - so now it’s more of a door. To hell, apparently.”

“Wait, wait, wait, you think that meat monster thing came through here?”

“Yeah, probably,” said Danny. He sounded exhausted.

“Then why don’t they turn it off? Jesus.”

“They tried. Like I said, no safeguards. It sucks so much to sleep near this. You wouldn’t believe it.” He rubbed his eyes. “I hate this, truly.”

“So, it could keep… doing this? More could come through? Have more come through?” She didn’t have to feign fear at this. She had plenty of it to spare.

“Yeah, probably.”

“But your parents are doing something about it, right? Finding a way to close it, building weapons, that kind of thing?”

“Yeah, they’re building weapons, capture devices, that kind of thing…”

“Do you think… are there any that I could… have?”

“I mean, they’ve got some things for sale… But those aren’t the ones that work, right now. Some of their theories were off. Don’t buy the ghost gabber, for all that’s holy.”

“But there are things that work?”

“Yeah, but they’re prototypes. Design stage stuff.”

“Could I maybe take one of those?”

“One of the prototypes? Um. No. That’s– Those aren’t mine to give away. Those’re my parents’.”

“Oh, come on, they’re not going to notice!”

“Trust me, the lab might look like a mess, but they’d notice.”

“But what if one of these ghosts comes after me? Like, your dad’s a big guy, and doesn’t your mom do martial arts?” That was one of the things he’d mentioned on that car ride.

“I mean, yeah… But they’ll be really upset if they notice something’s gone. They work really, really hard on these things.”

“More upset than me, if I run into a ghost? I’m just asking for something for self defense.”

“I– Okay. But, um. But. I think. Maybe. Um.” He turned bright pink. “I’m taking a big risk, here. So maybe. Maybe you could come to the– the fall dance with me?”

“What.”

“Just the dance! If you don’t like it, you don’t, um. You don’t have to go out with me again. It’s just the dance. As, like, an exchange of favors.”

“Fine,” said Paulina. Danny beamed. “But you’d better give me something good.” Or else she was doing the ditch at the dance.

“I will! But self-defense only. Small stuff. The bigger guns can seriously hurt people, and can hurt you, too, if you don’t know how to use them. And you have to practice with all of these. They’re weapons, not toys.”

It was better than no stuff. And she could work up to big stuff later.

Danny pressed the ‘lipstick laser’ into Paulina’s hand. “Don’t go showing this off. My parents will kill me if they know I gave it away.”

“Yeah, I know the feeling. Is there, like, anything else?”

“I…”

“Please, Danny, you’re my only hope here.”

“I… fine. Fine.” He looked around the room, hands on his hips. “Okay.” He strode over to the table and picked up something that looked more like a thermos than anything else. “I’m only giving you this because they’ve already gotten the second one in production. This is the Fenton Thermos. And, yeah, I know, we slap our name on everything, I get it.”

“And it does… what? Keep your coffee hot?”

“It traps ghosts. It’s actually pretty cool. Dad caught these octopus ghost guys with it last week.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah! It was one of the coolest things I’ve seen my dad do, honestly. So, um. Practice! Let me show you how to use a lipstick! Not that you don’t– I mean, obviously– I mean, a laser. And a thermos. Ghost thermos. You get what I mean.”

“Yeah,” said Paulina. “Just show me, okay?”

#danny phantom #phic phight #fic

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melanieph321 · 2 years ago

Text

Ruben Dias x Reader - The Houseguest (Part 2)

Summary - A three part series where the reader and family goes on a chaotic holiday with Ruben as their guests.

Enjoy

Yeah, last night was most definitely a dream. You woke up the next day and Ruben was nowhere to be find and no one in your family had even heard of him.

"He's like 6 feet, braud shoulders."

"Sounds like you dreamt that shit."

"Anita." Your mother slapped your sisters hands.

"Ouch Mamãe. Whatchu do that for?"

"Don't make your sister feel bad for having wet dreams."

"It wasn't a wet dream." You groaned.

"Wet dream? Who's having wet dreams?" Tomas overheard your conversation upon entering the kitchen. He was shirtless and you would be impressed by the fact that he has been working out, if it wasn't for Ruben. Last night wasn't a dream, there was a six foot man making laps in the pool. He was as tall as a tree and had the most handsome eyes/abs.

"Y/N. She says Bernardo's friend woke her up last night swimming around the pool."

"Bernardo's friend?" Tomas frowned. "Wasn't he supposed to arrive later today?"

"Exactly. Bernardo is probaly picking him up as we speak. Stop watching wierd movies before bed Y/N. You'll have less wet dreams, trust me. "

"I give up." You sighed. "No one believes me anyway."

"There there, let's not argue about who is right or wrong." Your mom said. "Your father wants us to meet him at the yacht festival down by the marina."

"Don't tell me he's buying a boat?" You said.

"No, your father just likes to dream. We will be joining him for lunch."

It was the perfect day for it. The sun was out and a lot of people roamed the Portimão marina. You couldn't help feeling like a third wheel though. Your mother and father walked ahead, arm and arm, whilst your sister and Tomas went off to have their pictures taken in front of a giant yacht. What's so impressive about a boat the same size as a house?

"Psst... Y/N." Somone hissed.

"Huh?" You shifted your head but to no use.

"Overhere."

"Where?"

You were talking to a ghost. It almost sounded like the voice was coming from above you.

"Look up!"

You raised your head to see "Ruben?" hanging off the railings of one of the boats.

"Care to join me?" He smiled.

"You're real!" You wanted to exclaim. "What are you doing here, on this boat? Is it yours?"

You came around the large fleet. Ruben waited to assist you to hop on.

"My uncles actually." He said, stretching out a hand, helping you cross the bridge from the docks.

"Why is it here, parked on the docks? Is it appart of the festival?"

"No, actually it's kind of my way of helping your brother out."

"Help Bernardo? How?"

"Well..." Ruben's smile looked devious. "Turns out this mystery girl of his has expensive taste in men and...."

"Let's me guess." You interrupted. "Bernardo is pretending to be the owner of this boat."

"Oh, he's told you of his plan?"

"No, but I know my brother." You sighed.

"Good, then you know that..."

Emerging, voices interrupted.

"But Pãi, wouldn't you rather enjoy lunch in a nice restaurant than on a boat?"

"No."

"But Pãi."

It sounded like your dad and...

"Bernardo?"

"Y/N?"

"Ruben?"

"Mr Silva."

It was a bit of a mess, with your dad pushing past you to get to Ruben, greeting him like an old friend.And then there was Bernardo, looking a bit stressed to see you on the boat.

"What are you doing here?" He hissed.

"I'm..." You didn't get to finish your sentence until more voices emerged on the boat. This time it was your mother, Anita and Tomas.

"Where did you go Pãi?" Your mother said, breathless from climbing the stairs onto the top deck.

"I told you I spotted Bernie by the docks and look, it was him." Your dad said.

"What's going on and who's he?" Said Anita, pointing to Ruben.

The top deck of the boat was getting really crowded now, something that made your brother more and more anxious.

"Okay, everyone listen up!" He shouted. "I'm suppose to meet a friend for lunch in about five minutes, so can all of you please get off this boat, like now?"

"Friend? What friend?" Your family exchange confused looks.

"I thought you were having lunch with us?" You mother looked quite hurt by the betrayal.

"No, Mamãe. I told you and dad to meet me at the restaurant, after lunch."

"After lunch?" Your dad snorted. "I'm staying, I wanna have lunch on a boat."

"Then I'm staying too." Your mother said, locking arms with your father.

"Me too." Said Anita, which didn't give Tomas much of a choice.

"Alright, alright, alright!" Bernardo looked to want to pull out his hair. "You can all stay. But when my friend, who also happens to be the love of my life..."

"What!" Your family gasped in unison. Ruben however, turned his head for us not to see him chuckle.

Bernardo rolled his eyes. "When she gets here you all have to play along and say that this boat belongs to me and not Ruben's uncle."

"That's Ruben?" Your sister said, her eyes gazing him up and down. She then looked to you.

"Told you." You grimaced.

"Yes. That's Ruben. Ruben meet my family. My parents, two sisters and their boyfriend Tomas."

"Ex!" You hissed

"Right, right. My sisters boyfriend and my other sisters ex boyfriend. We're a fucked up family, I know. Either way. Five minutes guys. Mamãe, Anita, help me set the table. Y/N, help dad bring the food out and Ruben tell the captain to prepare to get this boat off shore."

It was bizarre, Bernardo bossing everyone around for the sake of sceaming some poor woman. But what didn't you do for your family?

Once his mystery woman arrived you were all off to an exclusive trip on Ruben's uncles luxurious yacht.

"I didn't know you had such a big family Bernie." Bernardo's woman said. Upon meeting her you took back the thought of her being poor in any kind of way, because this woman wore designer from top to bottom. Even her red toe nails were painted with Dior nailpolish. No wonder Bernardo felt the need to lie about his middle class upbringing.

"You okay? You look nauseous?"

The only good thing about this unscheduled boat trip is that you got to sit next to Ruben. He often leaned in to whisper funny comments about this whole situation. Somthing that made Anita but specially Tomas, throw irritating glances your way.

"I'm fine. It must be Bernardo and his lies that's got me feeling bubbly."

You thought that would make Ruben laugh, however he kept looking at you with a serious expression.

"Or you could be getting sea sick." He said. The way his eyes held yours made you blush.

"Pass the chicken, will you?"

Somone kicked your foot underneath the table. Anita. "Ouch." You wheezed. "Whachu do that for?"

"Pass me the salt, will you?"

She was too short to reach it and so you passed it to Tomas instead. For some reason he avoided your gaze, looking over your shoulder to where Ruben sat. Perhaps it was because his arm rested around your chair, making it look like you two were a couple in front of Bernardo's woman She even made a comment about it.

"So cute. How long have you two been together?"

Perhaps Ruben had caught on the dirty looks thrown your way because he was more than happy to play along.

"Two years." He said, moving his arm to really rest around your shoulder. "I was planning on buying her a ring by the end of this month."

"What?" Your sister gasped.

"Honey?" Your mother said concerned, thinking you had been hiding things from her. Your dad however just found it very amusing. Apparently he knew Ruben and his family very well, something that felt really reassuring to you.

"Some more wine meu amor?" Bernardo said, afraid that his cover would be ruined if we all got to comfortable about things.

"No, wine. I wanna hear more about this not so unexpected proposal." His woman, which name was a Russian one that you couldn't quite pronounce, said. "I love weddings."

"Um...well." She really put you on the spot. Good thing Ruben was a better lier than you.

"We're crazy about each other. No point in beating around the bush. I want to merry her."

"But..." Anita cried, however, sudden movment underneath the table indicated that Bernado gave her leg a kick. To your amusement of course.

"A man that knows what he wants. I like it." The woman said.

"I know what I want." Bernardo said, raising his hand.

Once the conversation switched to dogs and golden beaches Ruben leaned in to whisper again. "You sure you're alright, you look really pale."

Maybe he was right. The air around you seemed to get a bit heated. And so both you ad Ruben excused yourself so that you could get to the leeward side of the ship, where the wind blew less. You leaned your body over the railing incase you'd throw up. Ruben however made sure to keep you steady I'm his arms, preventing you from falling over board.

"What's going on here?"

At one point Anita came looking for you. It wouldn't surprise you if she thought you and Ruben had snuck off to get a quicky in somewhere.

"I think she's sea sick." He said.

"Sea sick?" Your sister frowned but took over Ruben's position of holding you steady.

"I'll go talk to the captain, see if he can turn us back around." Ruben said, disappearing somewhere around the corner.

"You good?" Your sister said, patting your back.

"No." You said, spitting out the bad taste in your mouth.

"You know, if this is your plan to make Tomas jealous or something, it is not working."

"What?" You looked up from the railing and couldn't believe what you were hearing.

"Oh please, I see the way you try to flirt with Ruben in front of him. It's pathetic."

"I don't know what your talking about." You muttered.

"No? Either way he is so out of your leauge."

"Excuse me."

"Y/N?" Said Bernardo. If he, Ruben and the rest of your family hadn't come around deck, you might have thrown Anita to the sharks.

"You okay sis?" He said, finally dropping the rich kid act, to be the brother that you knew and loved.

"Do I look okay?" You sighed. The sea sickness was getting worser and worser with the wind that was picking up. Grey clouds roamed the skies, perhaps there was a storm coming?

"Ruben said that the captain wants us to dock at the next Island, stay there til the storm blows over."

"And when is that?" Anita said, folding her arms with the cold breeze.

"Could be later tonight. But Ruben guesses that it won't ware off until morning."

"Morning?" She frowned. "So we're staying overnight on this boat?"

"There is room for everybody." Ruben assured.

"Yay, a sleepover. I love sleep overs. " Bernardo's woman cheered. "Show me to our room baby."

Bernardo was more than happy to.

"But where are we sleeping?" Anita asked.

"What do you mean." Bernardo frowned. He spoke between clenched teeth. " Do I need to remind you about you position in this?" By position he meant his little lie. "Devide the rooms by couples. Pãi and Mamãe. You and Tomas and Y/N and Ruben."

"Y/N can't stay with Ruben." Anita frowned, behind her Tomas looked to want to utter the same thing.

Bernardo however was being torn by his womans eagerness to get to her room and his baggage of a family. "Of course she can, their about to be engaged." He winked and off he went with his girlfriend, leaving you in a very awkward position with your family.

"Mr Silva I...."

Your dad just shook his head when Ruben spoke, silencing him. "The walls are thin on this boat, rember that son."

"Yes, sir."

"Dad." You groaned. It couldn't get anymore disturbing.

"Pãi." Anita spoke up. "You can't seriously let her share rooms with this man. I mean she barely knows him."

"Nitty, your sister is sick, let her rest." He said, to everyone's surprise.

"Mamãe?" Anita turned to your mother, desperate for her to do something about this.

"Your father is right. Y/N needs to rest." She said.

"But...she's...and he's...

You felt a warm hand caress your back. It was Ruben, helping you up to get you inside. This day really took a turn for the worst, even for your family.

#fanfiction #man city #manchester city #ruben dias imagine #ruben dias x reader #football imagine #footballer x reader #football angst #footballer imagine #football x reader #football #fluff

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