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blametheeditor · 2 years ago

Note

I just had this idea, wouldn’t the smell of the giants be amplified for the smalls? Everything else is amplified. David’s cologne would be overpowering to anyone unfortunate enough to be near him (he would wear it you can not change my mind). Like the bacteria that creates smell would be more/bigger to tinies than to the giants so in my peanut brain it makes sense! I understand if this makes you uncomfortable though as smell is… weird. Just an idea I wanted to share. Have a great day!

Anon, I have made an entire saga on your idea alone.

It just didn't want to work with me! So I made three separate stories, all about 2,000 long, and then I combined them together. I'm not lying when I say I want to write another one to tag onto it.

So I hope you feel validated! We will have peanut-sized brains together because I absolutely agree and love it! AND, I hope you have a great day as well!

Ignorance At Its Finest

Content Warnings: Cursing. Mentions of murder. Mentions of death. Treating people as lesser than. Unintentionally making someone scared. Being uncaring toward others. Being unsympathetic toward others.

It's all fun and game until Fritz claps back with the 'you smell like'

___________________________

David never thought him wearing cologne would ever be an issue.

Look, he’s a business man. He understands certain things are luxuries, knows the difference between needs and desires.

He’s also a very wealthy man who doesn’t need anyone telling him how to live his life.

Besides, out of everything he has, from the house that’s considered too big for only one person to live in, to the insanely expensive car that sits in his garage and is used once a year, he never thought something that costed a fourth of what one suit in his wardrobe does would make such a ruckus.

Yet here he is.

"Excuse me?”

“The cologne needs to go,” Vincent repeats as he continues to walk toward the door. Because this was stated at the very end of their first meeting, the purple man making it seem as if this is final.

“Hold on!” David exclaims, standing up to follow the other. “You can’t just say-!”

“I did.”

“-there’s no reason-”

“There is.”

“-you have no right-”

That’s when Vincent turns with a look of murder in his eyes. “Oh Davey, I have every right. Besides, it’s just cologne! You’re not going to die without it. The same can’t be said if you keep it, though!”

And that’s how David was left, staring open mouthed after the thing that criticized him for wearing cologne.

He ignores it. Because as much as Vincent terrifies him, it was an inconsequential thing. Honestly he’s unsure how the purple man even knew he was wearing it. Unlike high school boys, he knows how to properly wear it, not to mention it was only spritzed across his neck and not his wrists.

“Go wash your hands and face.”

David knew the name ‘Scott Cawthon’ didn’t belong to a fellow giant. As much as he loathed the idea of one of the lowly creatures technically in a position higher than himself, there wasn’t much he could do.

The only saving grace was the fact the man hadn’t been to his restaurant yet. Only phone calls demanding certain information as well as reviewing the documents that had a singular letter missing. Though it wasn’t certainly fun to realize the resident mutated grape favored the little pest. Meaning when he first hung up on Scott bitching at him, he got a lovely visit, and therefore has to keep himself from so much as accidentally ending the call before his supervisor was truly done.

Today was a special day, however. Apparently, wanting a human to get transferred to his restaurant required a personal visit from the voice over the phone. ‘Ensure the poor boy won’t get stepped on by an egotistical asshole of a giant’ was the exact quote.

When he first spotted the miniscule thing standing in his doorway, he wasn’t impressed. Unlike David as he sits at his desk with gelled hair and a full piece suit, Scott apparently thought appropriate work attire consists of a graphic t-shirt and shirts, his hair left to do as it pleases.

With the words acting as greeting, David’s pissed. “Would you like to repeat that?”

Scott doesn’t hesitate. “Go. Wash. Your. Hands. And. Face.”

“You little-”

“You want a human to come work for you,” the man snaps. “I’m the one who gets to approve or deny your request.”

David glares as it becomes clear Scott does in fact have power over him. And unlike Vincent, someone who should have it considering he stands only an inch shorter than the giant, it’s a human who couldn’t stop being squeezed in a fist or kicked by a shoe.

Yet here they are. Scott having the upper hand with his position in the company, and an extremely dangerous giant who’s at his beck and call.

“May I ask why?” David snarls.

“Your cologne. I know Vince brought it up on your first day.”

Goddamn it!

“What is with you dumbasses and cologne? It’s not like it’s hurting you.”

Scott goes silent. Looks him up and down. “David, out of everyone you could’ve requested to get transferred, why did you want a human?”

He’s not admitting that might’ve only crossed his mind to check once he saw the impressive notes regarding Fritz Smith.

You could’ve backed out.

And let someone waste potential like that?

You own a giant only restaurant. What could a little pest like him do for you?

…that’s a valid question.

“Is this an interrogation?”

“This is an interview. If you have adequate answers for a job description that is nigh-impossible for someone who stands no taller than the fingers of the customers who come here, then we can move onto what you’ll be doing to ensure his safety.”

“I need a face for the restaurant,” David begins with a scowl. “His profile states the animatronics are extremely respectful and mindful of him, some even say they ‘favor’ him. And considering the long list of being fantastic with customer service, glowing reviews, and coworkers stating how reliable he can be as well as the person to go to in any situation, he would be a valuable asset to have him assisting in customer relations while I focus on the business.”

Scott gives a look. “Is it safe to assume you want a secretary?”

Yes.

“My animatronics should be overseen by someone with experience. Considering the dark past Fazbear Corporation hired me specifically to eradicate.”

“God I hate business men.”

“Did I pass your test?” David sneers.

Scott wipes a tired hand over his face. Sighs because he knows the giant is right.

“David, I know this is hard to believe, but the world doesn’t revolve around you. Meaning Fritz will need safety precautions put in place-”

“I’m not an idiot, Scott.”

“-and giants realizing how much they affect humans. This includes your footsteps causing earthquakes, yelling capable of bursting our ear drums, and cologne being almost suffocating.”

David finds himself stopping himself midsentence as the last part registers. Because, of course, he never thought about nor cared how any of his actions effected their smaller counterparts. Not to mention he tries to avoid them all together.

“Aren’t you technically a mile away?”

“I can smell it from here.”

The business man immediately scoffed. “Bull-”

“I’m sure you get plenty of compliments on it, I was getting a nice warm smell with spice undertones when I was first entering the hallway. But standing here, I feel like I’m going to get knocked out from the earthy musk, and the flower doesn’t help mixed in with citrus and chocolate.”

David’s mouth drops for a second before he snaps it shut.

“No more cologne.”

. . .

Fritz is well aware David wears cologne.

When he was first getting transferred, Scott had approached him to ensure he was okay with changing restaurants. And not just the typical checking how far the commute will be and confirming his pay will stay the same or increase. No, the meeting was more in the direction of-

“Your boss will be an egotistical giant who thinks humans are nothing more than pests.”

Honestly, Fritz appreciated the sandy haired man warning him. Despite the older being a human himself, certain things are obvious when someone owns or works for a business that’s categorized as ‘giant only’. He might be a naïve teenager, but it’s impossible to completely avoid belittling comments and actions that every human receives at least once in their life.

Those who live in human only cities might not, but it’s guaranteed working at a restaurant that caters to both counterparts.

“It sounds…interesting.”

Scott had stared at him. “You’re seriously considering it.”

“Think of it this way,” Fritz grinned, held his hands out to physically stop the judgement. “On one hand he was definitely too prideful to back out again once he realized I was human. But if you didn’t immediately tell him no once meeting him, then it sounds like he’s willing to make some changes!”

“And turn you into a stress ball.”

The redhead tensed up at that. Paled at the thought that, if he agreed to it, then he’ll be completely at the whim of not just one giant, but an entire restaurant.

He knows there’s multiple reasons for people wanting to go to only businesses. Taking into account the fact they’re talking about a children’s restaurant, putting giants and humans together isn’t always the best idea. Kids get rowdy, don’t understand the moving action figure is actually a person, and it’s almost impossible to constantly stare at the ground while waiting tables.

Not every giant who works or goes there will treat him like a nuisance who shouldn’t be there.

But for those who do, would he feel comfortable knowing not even his boss cares if he’s safe or not?

“…what’s the updated job description?”

“Greeter,” Scott grunted, watched the surprised expression before he continued. “As well as animatronic watcher, coordinator, and on-hand assistant.”

“Like, on-hand-?”

“I can guarantee you will be grabbed randomly multiple times without being asked first, and not just by David. Your potential coworkers weren’t too happy about me being there. Not as much as your boss, but they won’t respect your preference on how to be picked up. Or if you’d want to be in a hand at all for that matter.”

Fritz looked down in thought. Nearly flinched at someone stepping outside the human hallway they walked in to speak privately.

Snapped his head up with something akin to panic. “Did they touch you-”

“No,” Scott stated gently. Smirked. “They know not to so much as look at me. I’m worried about you.”

Fritz hadn’t known where exactly the human blatantly worried for his safety has in the chain of command. Knew he was the person to go to when it came to hiring, finalizing reports for those who ‘quit’ or got fired, but even a lowly waiter knew the name ‘Scott Cawthon’ held respect and power behind it.

He didn’t have to ask the redhead. Could’ve denied David’s request for any number of reasons without even bringing it up to said employee. Or approved without a second thought and let the teenager get thrown into a circumstance without so much as a warning.

But he had gone to the restaurant. Berated the giant none too fond of those who stand no more than 3 inches tall.

Fritz didn’t want that to be for nothing.

“When can I start?”

Scott sighed. Ruffled his hair. Whacked him upside the head with a look that said ‘you’re an idiot’.

“Tomorrow. And heads up, he wears cologne.”

Fritz was actually confused why that had been a necessary add-on. He works around giants all day long, and never had that been brought up before. He’s noticed when customers and his coworkers come in wearing it, so it’s nothing notable.

He realized why on his first day at his ‘new’ job.

He wasn’t really paying attention at first. David hadn’t been at the door to greet him, instead waiting inside his office just like he had with Scott. Meaning Fritz was more focused on simply surviving the restaurant.

No one would open the door for him. It was Fritz vs. making the perfect timing behind a family while avoiding catastrophic shoes and a slow but very unhuman friendly door.

No one would look at him for more than one second, and even then it was only to sneer down at him. So he had to locate the elusive office himself.

No one would offer a hand either, meaning he was thoroughly terrified trying to get to the wall to travel in safety, forced to sprint as fast as possible and hope some kid didn’t stomp or grab him.

Once he reached the hallway toward the back of the restaurant, had gotten far enough from joyful screams of kids he could actually hear his own thoughts, that’s when he realized two things.

One, he made a terrible mistake agreeing to be transferred.

Two, he could smell something warm with a hint of a spiced undertone.

Fritz didn’t think much of it other than it being a weird second thought. He only continued to travel further into the hallway after spotting a sliver of light escaping from a doorway.

On the plus side, there weren’t any giants walking in and out of the hallway. He was able to take his time and let his racing heart slowly calm down.

But the closer he got, and admittedly worried that if that had been the greeting he received from his coworkers than how is his boss going to react, he couldn’t shake the smell from his thoughts.

It kept getting stronger. Nearly dizzying. He could pick out specific notes from floral, to ‘earthy’, to chocolate.

It hit him as soon as he knocked on the door barely open enough for a human to slip inside. Remembered Scott warning about David wearing cologne.

“I do believe you’re 5 minutes late.”

Fritz tensed up, allowing terror to clench his heart, truly afraid he might be crushed without a second thought. And of course, no one would care. No one would report a lowly human employee ‘disappearing’.

Scott would.

He took a deep breath, nearly choking on the overwhelming smell. “I’m sorry, sir. It won’t happen again.”

Since the beginning of the meeting, he hadn’t been looked at once. The giant suited man remained turned toward his computer, speaking without even looking at the teenager he wanted to hire. But finally hazel eyes much colder than Scott’s glanced over at him.

“Make sure you’re here ten minutes early tomorrow.”

You know, I wonder what I’d prefer. Death by a glare, or death by suffocation via perfume.

“Yes sir.”

Surprisingly, that was the end of it. No specific task to complete. No instructions on what his first day should have. Not even a tour. He was dismissed.

So Fritz did as Fritz’s do. He found the animatronics and immediately struck a deal of having a safe way of getting around the restaurant as well as back up if need be. The best part? He had a long list of bribes thought of on how to convince them to help, but apparently them interacting with a human was enough to bargain with.

And that was that. He had coworkers he could trust as much as possible because Lefty gets grabby when Orville’s around and a boss who ‘trusted’ him on knowing what to do.

He learned the flow of Fazbear Entertainment Center as well as the rules. It really boiled down to getting work done in a timely manner and never bug David. And that meant, if there’s a problem, you make someone ‘David’.

It used to be the day guard named Greg. Until Greg was faced with the issue that Lefty apparently couldn’t keep his paws off the arcade machines. Their boss said ‘take care of it’ and his giant coworker had no idea what to do.

Fritz knew he wasn’t turned to because they realized he didn’t just teleport from place to place. Knew his giant coworkers didn’t pay attention to who exactly swept him off the counter. With the smug look given before a singsong ‘Red!’ it’s safe to say they thought this would be the thing to get him fired.

It’s a right of passage being ‘David’. Fail, and you’re fired without hesitation. Pass, and you get to keep your job.

“Hey Lefty? What if we challenged each other’s high score on the game you choose. I win, you promise to only play before we open and after we close.”

“I win, and I get to challenge you once a day whenever I want.”

Fritz won. Unlike the bear, his other coworkers thought he was delusional for one, trying to bargain with Lefty, and two, think he could play a machine meant only for giants. As if there’s no fancy electronics that can be plugged into any game and allow him to play normally. And if they cared about his safety, they would’ve realized long ago all of the animatronics not only helped him, but respected him with the things he did to make their day better.

Of course, that problem was an easy fix in his eyes.

The issue was that he became ‘David’.

Sometimes it was about the animatronics fighting. Others it was about his coworkers. But a large portion/ was calming angry customers.

He’ll admit, it was draining. But it earned him a lot of respect being able to navigate the best solution for an upset mother or Greg angry at Lefty for hiding his things.

He loves the bear, but the bear is the bane of his existence.

The thing is, with being ‘David’, the true David Harrison took notice.

“Fritz.”

The redhead had to force himself not to jump at the semi-familiar voice he only distantly heard. Because why would the business man waste his time on lowly employees, especially the one human he hired.

Which was fine with Fritz! He didn’t want to be constantly berated with comments of ‘pest’ or looks of hatred or be terrified he’ll get grabbed in a fist and squeezed as if he’s some kind of living stress ball-

“Yes sir?”

“Are you able to join me in my office?”

I don’t have a choice, do I?

“Of course!”

He should’ve expected it. He was standing on the counter for the register. Near the edge because, with how many times his coworkers both giant and animatronics alike grab him, it makes it easier for everyone to just pluck him from his work.

It scared him with the speed David grabbed him. And then he was overwhelmed by the suffocating smell of vanilla/earth/flower.

He couldn’t breathe. And being held in a tighter fist than most giants didn’t help either.

By the time they got to the office, Fritz simply freed onto the desk to catch himself from falling on his face, he felt light-headed.

It’s a miracle he hadn’t tripped and fell. Not with how he stumbled a few times before standing with his legs apart, hands held straight on either side, the world seeming to spin, and with each deep breath he took he was only slapped with yet another wave of the cologne.

David stared at him with an unamused look. “What are you doing?”

Fritz panted, trying to breathe without perfume tainting the air, coughing as it just seems to be everywhere. “C-Cologne.”

He received a blank stare. And knowing Scott being as thoughtful as he was, he’s sure the eldest guard had made a comment about it.

It looks like he’ll just have to get used to it.

. . .

David realizes he is the only one who doesn’t realize how much his actions effect humans.

He’ll admit, he’s egotistical. And despite the fact he’s a giant and therefore should be knowledge of how his actions effect those no taller than 3 inches less tall, he doesn’t take the time to be self-aware concerning the smaller counterparts until he’s addressed and told he needs to change a few habits.

It happened when he didn’t watch the ground as he walked, something Vincent had to physically yank him back from possibly stepping on Scott.

It happened when he didn’t realize he turns whatever he’s holding into a stress ball, James seemingly appearing to save Fritz with the redhead too panicked to speak.

It happened when he allowed himself to forget he had a human in his pocket, Mike promising to kick his ass if he ever forgot about a Jerber, and by extension, Irish Jig, Egged Jackass, Hell Spawn, or Phone Guy ever again.

David trusts the others to tell him when he needs to pay more attention, or change something in his routine. Not because he truly trusts them, but because he has much better things to do than realize what the humans he interacts with need.

The only problem is, while the other giants are more self-aware and therefore will watch and teach him how to ensure no one gets severely injured by his hands, they don’t know everything. And if one of his human ‘coworkers’ ever brought up something to him, he would’ve forgotten about it in seconds.

That’s what he believed happened with his cologne. Because Vincent doesn’t count when it came to his first week of meeting the mutated grape.

The only time David remembers anyone bringing up his cologne was during a birthday party at what’s considered Fazbear Entertainment’s ‘first location’. Considering Mike’s the night guard, he’s usually asked to assist the day guard to ensure everyone is safe. Especially due to the restaurant being a mixed one for humans and giants alike, a large party can become concerning.

The only problem was Mike getting sick and needing to stay home.

If this had been before multiple locations being shut down and needing to turn a new leaf less the entire franchise is shut down for good, any human would’ve been asked. Meaning Jeremy would’ve been contacted, though most likely Scott being forced to take his place.

But this was after. So to keep up the good name David bent over backwards to accomplish, a giant had to be found.

Vincent was an obvious no. James apparently had classes to attend.

That’s why David of all people got summoned.

“You do realize I’m a restaurant owner,” he growled down at Scott. Who, surprisingly, hadn’t looked smug in the slightest seeing him at Mike’s location instead of his own. More just looked tired.

He hated it more that Fritz, Eggs, and Scott had been told to come as well. But apparently three humans working together can’t replace an actual giant.

“David, I might be your supervisor, but Afton had to approve someone ‘unqualified’ to take role of a day guard.”

“No one’s qualified.”

“That’s why I put air quotes around it. Just watch for any humans getting grabbed. Mike can do it, so it can’t be that hard.”

David knew what the bastard was doing, comparing him to Mike of all people. But it worked, and he fell silent. Obediently watched the running kids. Upset with himself he had forgotten to bring earplugs considering he can’t duck into his office once a headache began to form.

Realized with a start Fritz had seemingly disappeared from the human area.

In the back of his mind, he knew the redhead at worked at that location previous to being transferred. He also was aware that, despite Mike being Mike, their lead guard knew how to protect both humans and giants alike. Was arguably the best for keeping track and stopping some brat from snatching someone up before it happened.

David doesn’t really watch his only human employee in the giant only restaurant he owns. He both loathes and appreciates the comparison, but he is a bit like Afton in the way Scott is protected purely by name and association across all locations. Everyone who comes into Fazbear Entertainment Center knows Fritz is his human that is never to be touched.

But unlike Afton, no one at Freddy Fazbear’s know the redhead is his. Not when he’s only stopped at the location previously to draft plans on better improving the reputation past the ‘rumors’ of murder and missing night guards.

David cursed before quickly leaving his post, eyes scanning across tables in the hopes of spotting a living action figure having been abandoned. He moved onto searching the floor, wanting to not think about any human attempting to dodge and hide from giants unknowing and uncaring if the smaller counterparts ended up underfoot.

While his search was methodical, he didn’t see a single glimpse of a human. No miniscule flame of-

“HARRISON!”

David froze. Turned toward where he could’ve sworn he heard “Eggs?”

“TABLE! PARTY HAT!”

The business man hadn’t known what he was expecting, but it certainly hadn’t been the human mechanic breathing in relief when a cheap purple and red hat was lifted up to free him. Yet there he was, and David had no choice but to offer a hand that was immediately leapt onto.

Despite the fact Fritz was still missing, he took a moment to look at the chosen item to keep Eggs trapped. “Were you yelling my name the entire time?”

“If you ever became a human 101,” the blond began, slumped into the curled fingers cupped protectively against the giant’s chest. “Don’t ever make a sound until you know a trusted giant is around.”

“How the hell did you know it was me?”

“Dude, I can smell you from a mile away. We need to get Fritz from Freddy, though.”

The idea of Eggs apparently smelling him left his mind the second the human he specifically went looking for was brought up. “Freddy as in…”

Eggs gave him a look like he was losing it. “Fazbear? How many Freddy’s do you know!”

David rolled his eyes. Dropped the blond into his suit pocket. Made his way over to the animatronics locked on stage. “How would I immediately assume Freddy Fazbear had him.”

“Because despite that fact he’s your employee,” said bear begun with a growl, David left frozen at the hostile tone. “You allowed someone to grab him right in front of you.”

“Have anything to say for yourself, David?” Chica added, looking smug as hell.

David. Demeaning and angry attitudes. He had forgotten not all locations were like his animatronics, programmed to address everyone formally by last name and be nothing more than passive aggressive.

“It’s busy,” the giant bristled. “And I realized he was missing and went looking for him. Now hand him over.”

Freddy’s ears flicked unhappily, but his paw offered the redhead as Bonnie snipped “Shit wouldn’t have let either of them get swiped.”

“Well I’m not Mike. Your fucked up night guard will be back by tonight.”

The animatronics didn’t say anything else as he walked away. Or maybe they had, and he was too focused on checking Fritz over for injuries.

“Mr. Harrison, I’m fine,” told him the human had been more shaken up than he let on, voice wavered and hands shook as his prodding fingers were shoved away. “Thank you for finding us.”

“Thanks for trapping me in a pocket, bitch!”

Scott agreed to forcing the two to have a time out once they were put where they belonged. It wasn’t able to be long, not with the party still scheduled for another hour, but David didn’t let any of the three out of his sight after that.

That’s what lands them to now, with him frozen at the door after walking in for their weekly get-together after Eggs called over to him.

“Harrison, is that a new perfume?”

David mentally stumbles over his words until he finally manages a few. “You can smell it from there?”

He can barely see where the blond stands on a table several feet away. He’d be impressed if he wasn’t unnerved and hoping it was guessed purely to try and get inside his head.

He can’t even confirm the miniscule head is tilting in confusion. “Uh, yeah?”

No fucking way.

“No you can’t.”

“Still an earthy smell like your other one,” Scott joins in, freezing David in his tracks once again. “There’s a really small hint of vanilla instead of chocolate. Vince would be the one who can name the flower if he was here tonight, but that’s different too.”

How in the hell-

“Please tell me it’s not on your wrists,” Fritz pipes up if a bit tiredly.

“What’s that supposed to mean!”

At the sound of him being almost distraught, everyone at the table looks over at him, the humans exchanging looks.

“David,” Scott probes. His gentle tone encourages the giant to finally walk the last stretch to the table. “Do you realize just how much your cologne affects us?”

“No.”

“Vince told me he addressed it with you on your first day,” the human deadpans.

David can believe that. He’s also aware of how much the purple man is a bitch.

“I had also made a comment…” Eggs prods.

Yes. Though it was small. And again, he can’t trust the blond for shit.

Scott face palms as frustration slowly appears. “I also told you when we first met.”

Now David does not remember that in the slightest.

The business man looks the information over in his head. Turns it this way and that. Comes to the conclusion the humans in their group including Fritz are being dramatic. Though it’s hard to explain knowing the key notes to his newest cologne, Eggs could’ve found out and did reckon before tonight just to mess with him.

Despite being silent before, James straightens up. “So, much like how our voices are loud even when we’re whispering, smells act in the same way.”

David doesn’t miss Fritz glancing between him and the horror guard. “Right. When giants wear cologne or perfume, it’s pretty potent. Sometimes gets a little overwhelming, especially around the wrists if we’re picked up.”

“Then it might be a good idea we’re conscious of not wearing too much. Never on the wrists.”

David knows what James was doing. This is how he explained humans shouldn’t be treated like a stress ball at least unknowingly, a calm and specific explanation so it’s easy to understand.

Of course, it works. He’ll change his habits concerning putting cologne on before leaving the house. “You’ll just have to deal with it tonight.”

“Because James said something,” Scott snaps.

“Be happy I'm listening at all.”

“Because you never do!” the eldest guard exclaims, standing up as he begins to gesture. “I guarantee Fritz brought up not being able to breathe at least three times before giving up. I did bring it up and proved it when we first met, but you didn’t bother to even remember. Eggs constantly patronizes you with comments regarding it. But you don’t listen until a God damned giant tells you!”

Well I can trust a giant’s judgement, I can’t trust a human’s.

David nearly says it. And then he sees Fritz’s expression like he’d been betrayed.

“I…hadn’t realized,” the giant says carefully.

Scott narrows his eyes. Eggs makes a motion that says ‘bullshit’.

“In the future,” David sighs. “I will try to listen better.”

“Bet $50 it’ll last a week at the most.”

“$100 it’s two,” the business man immediately fires back at the smug looking blond.

“I’ll give it a day,” Scott snarls.

#thank you anon!#i am so sorry for how long it took #just would not want to be finished #but we did it HAHA #thank you for being so considerate ^^#but there ain't really anything I won't enjoy writing #and besides that's DEFINITELY something Fritz would clap back with #“You taste like Starbursts”#“You smell like chocolate on fire”#it's cannon David wears cologne now #g/t #giant #tiny #FNAF bois #Ignorance At Its Finest #BTE writing #answer #cw #content warning

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im-totally-not-an-alien-2 · 5 months ago

Text

Danny crawled down the aisle of the GAV, his stomach churning with every sharp turn and honest to ancients barrel rolls his parents suped up war car was doing while speeding down Gothams city streets.

He didn't think it was possible for anyone to be a worse driver than his dad, but it turned out the GAVs own Ai was powered by ectoplasm.

Who would have thought ectoplasm could be affected by Scarecrows Fear Toxin? Not Danny.

So now here he is, lying on the floor of his parents' car as its firing missiles and lazers, and the Bats are trying to beat it up.

The GAVs ring tone suddenly rang through the air, and Danny had never been so grateful to hear a Katty Perry song in his life. Hoping it was his mom calling so he would be rescued from this nightmare, he yelled out, "Answer!"

"Hello," an unfamiliar robotic voice chimed in from the speakers. Okay, so not his mom.

"Hello." He replied without thinking, his Midwestern hospitality kicking in despite no one actually being in here with him. "How can I help you?"

"Are you able to stop the machine?" Oh, so it's straight to business. Danny could respect that. "No. All the controls are on the fritz. But I think I know what caused this." He didn't give her a chance to respond before he continued, "There was a leak in the fuel line under the GAV. All my parents' tech runs on ectoplasm, which is sensitive to emotions."

"The fear toxin." The voice was still mechanical but held an undercurrent of realization, "You're a meta," the voice stated, though Danny had no idea how they knew. Scratch that. He had used his powers in Gotham a few times already. Guess the bats really do see everything, huh. "Can't you use your density sifting ability to get under the vehicle and fly underneath to repair the damage? I've seen you work on your parents' weapons before."

Danny laughed mirthlessly, "No, the GAV is specifically designed to have energy shields that I can't pass through. Besides,the problem isn't actually the leak. It's the fear. If you could force a new emotion into the ectoplasm, it might override the fear, and while I have many abilities, the Care Bear Stare isn't one of them."

#fanfiction prompts #prompts #dpxdc #danny fenton #danny phantom #oracle #barbra gordon #danny wants to touch grass really bad rn #this idea fout me. it did not want to be typed out #sorry i havent been around much. im convinced truck kun gave me depression #batman #the bats are listening in to this conversation and they have questions

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la-galleria-luna-ufficiale · 2 years ago

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Every now and then we try make Fritz look more like a staff with a simple bow that clips to his collar. He is not happy.

#“Maybe next time” I think every time #He doesn’t need it besides the guests who get concerned for him #Staff are usually around to inform #pkmn irl #pokemon irl #pokeblog #rotomblr #Fritz the Yamper

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gutsby · 15 days ago

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Easy to Please

Pairing: Sleazy Landlord!Joel x Reader

Summary: Months pass, and you can’t make rent—again. You find another way to pay your sleazy landlord. Again.

Warnings: 18+. Unprotected p-in-v. Oral (m!receiving). Dubcon à la power imbalance / sex for money. Infidelity. Pervy!Joel. Talks of abuse. Omitting one tag to avoid spoiling the ending—please read at your own risk.

Note: This fic was loosely inspired by my three favorite songs about female adultery—‘Thinkin’ Bout Cheatin’ by Mae Estes, ‘Lyin’ Eyes’ by The Eagles, and ‘Cheatin’ Songs’ by Midland. No, I don’t support infidelity. Yes, it makes for fun fiction.

Word count: 3.1k

You hate the face he makes when he cums.

You hate the way he tastes when he’s done.

You hate the grit and the heft of the man, every lone hair that sprouts silver from his chest, and the way he pats the open space beside him in bed after you roll away.

‘Never seen a girl so goddamn allergic to cuddling!’

What makes his observation worse is that you know you’re hating it more and more with every passing day.

Today you have seven Benjamins, two Grants, and a Jackson tucked into your purse. You walk with a sluggish gait, knowing you’re $310 short of making this month’s rent and last. But you go on anyway. It’s not like Joel can’t see you from where he’s seated on the porch.

The pleasantries you exchange are short. By now, you have only to breeze past him in his lawn chair and say, ‘I can’t stay long,’ and he knows the rest. He grabs his six-pack, then his Pall Malls, and asks after you all the same.

“How’s the wrist?” he says.

You sprained it over the weekend. You aren’t sure how he heard. At any rate, you ignore the question and set your bag down on the counter before going to the fridge. You deflect with a question of your own—what the hell happened to the lemonade? He had a full jug last week.

“Got thirsty,” Joel answers, shrugging.

You’re always thirsty, you tell him, and you eye the case of Heineken that he’s placed by your purse. You don’t need to see his face to feel the smile starting to form.

“Don’t I know it,” he says. Insinuating.

You’d hit him over the head if you’d been able to reach. He’s still smiling when your shoulder checks his—closer to his elbow, from the feel of it—and when you leave the kitchen, he leaves too. He trails behind you with an ease that says this is the sixth time this has happened since August, and you’re hardly a week out from Halloween.

It’s not just rent you need to pay; it’s other things. Transmission in your truck’s gone to shit. Phone’s been on the fritz since you dropped it in the tub. Talking heads on TV say the country’s on track to get hit with another recession, and from the way your boss has been slashing your hours in half, you think they may be right. The crack in your bathroom window was tiny last week. Today it’s gone, because your husband put his fist through the thing on Sunday. You patched the hole with duct tape.

Joel’s covering the cost for the pane to be replaced, but that’s because he has to. He’s your landlord—proud owner of the Delta Commons trailer park since ‘97—and that’s what landlords do. Everything else is yours to pay.

You’re a part-time student, part-time waitress, and a full-time caretaker for your ailing spouse, or so you call him. Joel knows Stetson’s not sick, just perennially unemployed and drunk. You pay for most things, and it’s rarely enough to cover your rent. Stetson doesn’t care.

And that’s where Joel comes in.

No pun intended, but in his mind, there’s really no nicer way to say it: you fuck his brains out to make up for the shortfall in rent. You blow him before work to make sure your husband and you will have enough to eat that week. You bite the warm, freckled skin between his shoulder and his neck while you ride him, because you know that gesture will get you a little extra cash when you leave. You smile after swallowing him, and Joel knows that it tastes like shit. You’ve gotten good at faking it lately.

What he hopes isn’t totally fabricated is the way you call him big. Strong. Handsome. So stupidly well-endowed that you have to wince for the first few seconds when you sit on it, and go slow when he takes you from behind

“O-ow!” you whine presently.

His dick isn’t even in you yet. You just stubbed your toe on the edge of his dresser on your way to the bathroom.

“You alright?”

“Fuck me!”

I will, he thinks.

“Want me to get an ice—”

“Let go-OW! FUCK!”

Joel barely even touched your wrist and you were flinching away with a brand new pain. You rub it, almost defensively, then pin him with an icy glare. Nice going.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles.

Now he’ll be lucky if he can swing a half-hearted handy from the one that isn’t hurt. That’s how mad you look.

You turn your body away, and for a second, Joel assumes that his fate has been sealed: you’ll bumble over to the rug by his bed, toss a pillow on the floor, and assume what he already knows to be your least favorite position. You’ll kneel, and talk of migraines and your long, grueling day and in the end find an excuse not to use your mouth. That’ll be okay. But with the debts you owe him now, it also won’t be enough, and Joel will have to ask you back again. He hates sounding needy, but baby, deal’s a deal.

Luckily you don’t give him the chance to use that line. Much to his surprise, you get on the bed. You lie down. You seem to take a little more care settling in this time, but you take off your clothes. It’s a lime green tank top and some ratty jean skirt, but it’s enough to tempt him.

And not just tempt, but oblige him to accept, unblinking. He crawls over the bed to get to you, and he finds that his spit’s filling his mouth a little quicker. His hands are starting to shake as they slide over the duvet, and the tree trunks he once called his legs are runny, like eggs.

He has to remind himself, bluntly, of your last name, the shiny ring on your hand, your husband’s name, your—

“Age—what’d you say your age was again?” Joel asks.

You look confused for a second, but you tell him.

“Twenty-one.”

Way too fucking young to have gotten hitched three years ago. But then he remembers this is Leakey, Texas, and your family hasn’t strayed more than ten miles from the center of town in four generations. You told him that.

“I thought you said twenty,” Joel says, a little uneasy.

“I did. Up until this past Sunday I was.”

“Oh.”

A beat.

“Happy birthday.”

You blink.

“You gonna take your pants off or what?”

And he does. Maybe embarrassed at first, but then the jeans come off, and his boxers go next, and without so much as a word or a breath, his worries are sliding away like water off his back. Like his clothes now peeling off.

Like your smile growing thin at the sight of him half-stripped on the bed in front of you. Joel doesn’t flatter himself to think he’s even half as handsome as he was in his youth, but he knows he has his draws. What endears him to you today is, unfortunately, his wallet. But that doesn’t mean you can’t be convinced to like him more.

More than Stetson, he thinks without humor.

Dumb son of a bitch can’t tell his ass from his elbow and yet he’s won himself you, living it up these last three y—

“Oh.”

He sounds like an owl now. His clothes are off, and you’re rubbing him, pumping him gently in your hand, which you were so kind to make wet with your saliva. It even sounds better than his, the way it squelches with every flick. Joel can only say so much in strangled breaths.

He tries anyway:

“Feel like a dream, sweet pea.”

Sweet pea.

Your pace quickens. Joel swears he can see the corners of your lips twitch, but then he thinks you’re just wincing. You move down to the floor beside the bed. Kneel almost politely while you nestle yourself between his parted legs

Your mouth is warm. It’s always warm. Joel wouldn’t expect a girl’s tongue to greet his dick like ice, but yours is always heated to a thousand degrees, it feels like. He enjoys the sting. Your lips envelop his big, leaking tip, and he swears he can stay like this forever—in you.

On you, too. He’s got his palm resting flat on your head, and he doesn’t mean to, but he pushes. He bunches your hair in a fist and drags your face to make you swallow.

Mean old man, you must be saying in your head when he stuffs your mouth full. Makes your eyes prick with tears.

Sweet girl. My sweet pea, he thinks, affectionately, and continues to rub your scalp. He holds your teary gaze.

And then you’re moving up. Down. Coating his length with shiny spit and tiny whimpers as your lips move gently back and forth, again and again. Joel’s grip tightens in your hair, and he begs for more. More.

“More,” he orders, jaw clenched, “Fit a little more’a me.”

From where you’re kneeling below, you look put off.

Then you pull off, and you wipe your wet chin.

“Chokin’ me,” you grumble, “‘S’too big.”

Normally, Joel loves to hear that.

Now, however, he’s sliding his touch to your chin and tilting your head up to him. Thumbing at the spit dribbling out on either side of your mouth and subsequently coaxing your lips further apart.

He slides back in, and you don’t fight it. You like it. Holding his gaze in a soft, docile look while your lips stretch deliciously around his shaft, you must love it. Every inch and every twinge of pleasure from the brush of his cock going in and out must be your favorite thing.

Joel hopes it is, anyway. He holds your face now, and your throat convulses involuntarily. You’re so pretty.

“Such a good, sweet girl, ain’t ya?” he presses, watching the coarse grey hairs at the base of him tickle your face.

You respond well to praise. You preen under those words, and try to nod. But his cock is so deep down your throat you end up choking again. Joel watches all of it smiling.

Petting your head and not pushing again. Grinning.

“Love my cock nice and stuffed in that pretty throat?”

You blink instead of nodding, but it’s more than enough.

“Love me deep?”

And the head of him sinks somewhere he’s never been. Your eyes are like two wide pools, and your lips leak everywhere—your chin, your cheeks, your neck.

Joel’s smearing it all with his palm and smiling so wide that he thinks he might pull a muscle. He pants heavily.

“Just what you’re made for. Just what you need.”

You look like you might agree. He keeps going.

“My fuckin’ mouth. My pretty, pretty mouth.”

He holds your face. He thinks he might cum.

“Ain’t a damn thing Stetson can do for this mouth, huh?”

And then he doesn’t. Joel barely blinks, and you’re already bucking your head out of his hold, mouth skittering away while the spit spills out. You’re practically drenched down to the chest when your face rears back. Your eyes are alight and no longer smiling when you grit:

“Don’t.”

Joel should’ve known better.

He’s hit a raw nerve, and now he really wishes he hadn’t.

It doesn’t stop there—but it doesn’t get better, either. Things progress in much the same way as they always have but with none of the need, or the warmth, of before. You climb back up and straddle him quick. Not meeting his eye, you just sit down, and slide down, and don’t wince at all. You don’t tell him that he’s big, and he doesn’t get the chance to even groan at the first influx of pleasure before you’re riding him. Bouncing and grinding your hips against his with all the passion of someone perusing the newspaper. You don’t whimper or moan.

Of course, Joel enjoys the feeling. He also wants someone to punch him in the throat for what he’s done.

“Hey, hon—” he starts, voice strained, “Hon, I’m sorr—”

“Shut up,” you snap.

Your movements hardly falter, and now your hand is seizing the headboard. You’re clenching him tight inside your wet, drooling cunt, and it’s obvious you’re trying to make him cum as quickly as possible. You swallow hard.

Joel isn’t sure what to do. On the one hand, his body is being flooded with pleasure, and on the other, he fears you may never do this with him again. Quickly fixing on the latter, he cups your face in one hand. It’s still wet.

His fingers smear the spit, and somehow you look even prettier. You keep grinding your body in desperate little fits above him, and really, you feel fucking amazing, but Joel is too focused on other thoughts. He squeezes you.

“Baby—” he tries again, but you shush him just as fast.

Your hips are moving viciously now. No matter how sore your legs might have been from a long day toiling away—just a couple hours before your shift at your next job, if Joel’s remembering correctly—you’re working him well. Doing him in. Fucking his brains out, but you aren’t his.

His fingers smear the spit even more. Never will be his.

“Sweet pea—”

“Don’t fucking call me that!”

Now he can’t deny that his climax is close. But this isn’t how he wanted it to end—with you so incensed you can hardly look him in the eye. His hand rubs more, helpless.

And just when he’s seconds away from painting your insides white, losing it all to the pleasure, he sees it.

His wet, sticky touch has uncovered a residue.

Joel pulls his fingers away in a blink, and simultaneously, your eyes are fluttering closed. You’re focused now on climax; because of that, you don’t see what he sees.

What he’s stunned to find on his fingers: makeup.

Lots and lots of thick, heavy makeup on your cheeks. Concealer, he thinks he’s heard it called once or twice.

No matter the name, he quickly comes to see what it’s for. Just as you’re hitting your peak, squeezing the headboard behind him, and coming undone with a shockwave trembling all through your body, Joel pales.

The makeup that you applied so heavy tonight hides bruises. Black and blue and awful hues of greenish-purple too, your whole face, he sees, is engulfed.

He doesn’t speak. He won’t ask.

He won’t cum tonight, either.

He’ll finish something else.

You leave Joel’s trailer angry. You don’t say goodbye. The screen door screams shut behind you when you leave, and silently, you wonder why he didn’t cum. For once, you wish he had—and hadn’t said half of what he did.

Six hours pass like molasses, and by the end of it all—the close of your second shift—Stetson’s name still echoes in your head. The way Joel said it. It hums along the walls of your skull while you walk, and as you draw closer to home, you remember that strange and infuriating tone.

Then you remember your own less than two months ago:

Don’t talk to my husband. Don’t talk about my husband.

They were two simple rules, and Joel broke them both.

He must’ve defied the first when paying a visit to make repairs that week, and that’s when Stetson mentioned your hand: how you ‘slipped’ in the bath. Tripped and conveniently sprained your wrist the same night he almost tore your arm out of the socket for looking at a waiter a tad too long at dinner. You’d bet any sum of money Joel didn’t get to hear that part from Stetson when he came over to see about the window, though.

No, your twenty-first came and went without so much as a word about your wrist. Your arm. Your face—used to getting caked with concealer every third week or so.

You wince as you open the door. You walk slowly.

At first, you’re met with silence, and you sigh with relief. Then you hear it, and shortly drop your purse to the floor.

You all but fall down yourself at the sight: your husband doubled over across from you, in the kitchen. His head in his hands. You don’t need to see the face to know that it’s bleeding. Profusely. You tread ever slower into the room, thinking somehow, some way he’s going to blame this on you. And when he straightens a little and shows off the full, gruesome extent of his injuries, you blanch to think that it might be. His body’s been beaten to a pulp.

Your pulse hammers in your head so loud you can’t hear him groan. You see him, but you don’t really believe it.

And when Stetson reaches for you, you stagger back.

Your hands skim the counter, but your brain barely registers it. Your husband’s calling to you now, ‘Quit standin’ there lookin’ stupid, do somethin’, huh?!’ He’s screaming, and you’re not hearing it. Barely feeling like a sentient person at all but just a doll stumbling backward on two wooden legs. As you walk, your palm stays stuck to the laminate underneath it, and suddenly, you feel it.

An envelope.

In this state, you aren’t sure why you grab it, but you do.

You take the lone white paper, and you turn to leave. Your hands shake as you hold the thing, and your legs are hardly any better, but they carry you, miraculously, from the kitchen to the threshold of the back door. Then out. Stetson’s not just yelling but bellowing, loud, every last obscenity known to man as he holds his bloodied side and limps in his perilous, pathetic way. Fortunately, you’re gone just in time to miss the bottle he hurls.

Outside, you walk. And walk. And in the still of the night you’re obliged to find your way through a miscellany of trailers and trucks and old, creaking vans by moonlight, and the throbbing in your head begins to slow. You don’t rush to get far, and you don’t have your keys even if you wanted to drive off. You keep walking. Watching nothing.

When your eyes drift to the envelope in your hand, you barely see that either. You’re just blinking as you look, and breathing as you wait for the sight to make sense.

Inside, you find seven Benjamins, two Grants, and a Jackson staring back. Next to them are a few dozen others—enough to cover August, September, October, and several months before that, if you had to guess.

You hope you’ll get the opportunity to thank Joel, and maybe tell him that you don’t really hate him, someday.

#GAME JOEL I OWE YOU AN APOLOGY…….I WASN’T REALLY FAMILIAR WITH YOUR GAME #WHY DID NO ONE TELL ME HE SOUNDED LIKE THAAAAAAAT!!!!#joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller imagine #joel miller one shot #joel miller tlou #the last of us fic

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schadenfreudich · 2 years ago

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Watched König Drosselbart (1965) and I have two things to say

1. Every scene looks like they're in the abyss

2. The men who tried to marry the princess at the beginning look like they are more interested in each other than the princess. Not just Eitelfritz, which is also such a name, no, all of them. They all seem like they would rather marry each other or the king. Or maybe it's just me.

(Also when I first heard "Eitelfritz", I started laughing, because that name is so on the nose. That's like calling a child "Vanitysteve". It sounds like nickname and not an actual name)

#chose steve for no particular reason #couldn't think of an english name giving off a similar name to fritz #besides how steve and fritz can be nicknames and full names #fritz being a nickname for friedrich #this is not relevant but anyways #-franz

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eff4freddie · 3 months ago

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Play With Her

Explicit - 18+ Minors DNI

A sequel to Play With It

Words: 4k

You and Joel have fond memories of the last time he called you from work. But a slight misunderstanding leads to some fun with your neighbour, and to you ( accidentally) fulfilling one of Joel’s secret fantasies.

Warnings: SMUT, people. So much. Smut. Oral (m and f receiving), phone sex, mmf (kinda), Joel talks his girl through it like a gentleman, surprise Frankie, Joel’s a little shocked but he is very into it, voyeurism, exhibitionism, dirty talk, Joel being kinda soft dom again.

You hadn’t forgotten Joel’s antics in his car in the middle of a workday, but despite a particularly explosive afternoon immediately following, you hadn’t had the time to properly get him back. It hadn’t been either of your faults, just that work continued to be relentless, something went wrong at the site, materials weren’t delivered, the vendors got mad. You developed a little twitch in your eyelid. Joel came home rubbing his neck and shoulders and turning the kitchen upside down trying to find the heat pack.

You knew there was love there, that there was passion. You weren’t worried about it, even though you missed him. You knew that it was situational. When the air cleared, you’d get back to taking each other apart.

Joel woke up early again, groaning as his muscles ached like they hadn’t had any rest at all. You were in bed beside him, and he knew that you’d had a late shift but you’d managed to rack up enough overtime that today you had the whole day to yourself. He was so proud of you, his little worker bee, and even though he was disappointed your schedules hadn’t aligned so that he could enjoy the day with you, or on top of you, he still knew it was good for you. He left a little note on your bedside, telling you he was gonna call around lunchtime. He marked it with two x’s and two o’s. For a second he imagined actually peppering your skin with kisses.

‘Soon, baby,’ he said, to your sleeping form. He was quiet in his socks on the carpet as he left.

On the way out the door, piece of toast between his teeth, he looked over the front lawn. It was getting out of control, and he’d been meaning to cut it, but he just couldn’t find the energy on a weekend, and as the days were gettin’ shorter as the weather changed, he was leaving in the dark, home in the dark. He didn’t like the look of the lawn, worried that the state of the grass was a direct reflection of the state of his aging body, of his bone-deep fatigue most days. That the neighbours would twig he was getting older, purely by the weeds spreading their tendrils over the path to the door.

‘Morning, Joel,’ he heard a voice call, and he glanced over to next door’s patio, where one such neighbour was standing with the newspaper in his hands.

‘Frankie,’ he said, nodding his head. He got on well with Frankie, even if he wasn’t 100% sure he trusted him all the time. He had a kid he had over every other weekend, who Sarah adored, and other than that he lived alone. Ex-military, he reminded Joel of Tommy, and he tried to be sensitive knowing some of the shit he must have seen. He didn’t seem lonely, he was handy and knew how to get Joel’s truck going when the engine was on the fritz, and more than anything he treated you respectful, tipped his cap when you walked by, and Joel liked that. Appreciated the manners.

‘Early start,’ Frankie said, and Joel sighed. He rested a hand on his hip.

‘Too early,’ he grunted, and the younger man smiled knowingly at him. As Joel moved to the truck he limped a little, his hip bothering him after he carried some lumber the wrong way on the site a few days ago.

‘You ok?’ Frankie asked. Frankie noticed everything, Joel knew. It would have kept him alive in his last job, he supposed.

‘Yeah, just gettin’ old, getting’ tired.’ Joel nodded to the lawn. ‘Can’t you tell?’

‘Could help you with that, got the day clear today and…well, don’t have other plans.’

Joel had seen Frankie out on his back porch drinking on his own, sometimes with a couple of other men who all looked a similar age, similar previous occupations. He didn’t mind so long as they kept it down and didn’t catch your eye too much.

‘Can’t ask ya for that,’ Joel started, but Frankie waved him away.

‘You’re not. I’m offering, hermano.’

Joel nodded. It might be a nice surprise for you, he thought, to have the house reclaim some of its street appeal. Lord knew it didn’t have much to start with.

Sitting in his truck he fired off a quick message to you so you wouldn’t be surprised by Frankie on your front lawn. ‘Organised a sruprise 4 you, baby xxoo,’ he wrote. He was going to be late. He sent it without too much thought.

You woke, lifting your arms up over your head and listening to the pops of your joints as the stretch moved up your spine. You couldn’t remember the last time you had a day off. You had no idea what you were going to do with your spare time.

After a second or two of blissful cotton-headedness, you noticed a droning sound from the front of the house. You stood on achy knees and padded over to the window. Surely Joel hadn’t taken the day off too, with the worksite being so crazy lately?

You sucked in a tight little breath when you saw him. Shirtless, with his curls poking out the side of his ballcap, pushing his lawnmower over your unruly grass in the late-morning sun. You scrabbled for your phone to check the time and also to try and orient yourself, to make sure you hadn’t accidentally fallen through a wormhole in your sleep, as though Siri would be able to tell you one way or the other.

You saw the message from Joel. A surprise? You glanced around the room, looking for any clues. Eventually your eyes fell on a scrap of paper on your bedside, and you read that, too. For a second you stood, confused, trying to put the pieces together. He had organised a surprise, there was a half-naked man on your lawn, and he was going to call you at lunchtime. And you remembered exactly what transpired the last time he did that.

Your felt your brows shoot up to your hairline as realisation dawned. Did he know you’d had a crush on Frankie since the moment he’d moved in next door? How could he know, you’d been so careful not to stare too long, not to smile too much. You’d felt the sparks, and you’d poured cold water of them well enough, you’d thought.

But nothing got past Joel. You couldn’t believe it, but also you definitely could.

A surprise for you? No. This time you were going to be one step ahead.

Joel didn’t like to eat his lunch in the truck, never fully able to get the tang of egg salad out of the upholstery after, but this time he made an exception. He’d pulled back around to where it was quiet, knowing some of the guys on site liked to pump the tunes during their breaks, set up a little jerry-rigged tailgate to try and while away the 40 minutes they had to themselves. He thought with a shiver about the last time he’d snuck off to park somewhere quiet. He let himself wonder for a moment if you’d be up for something like a repeat. He grinned a little as he dialled. He didn’t think he should push his luck.

The call connected almost straight away, like you’d been waiting for him, and he felt a little flutter in his heart. You were so sweet to him. He needed to take you out somewhere special soon, make you flutter for a little while.

‘Hey baby,’ you said, your voice high and breathy, and he guessed you were still in bed.

‘Hey, sleepyhead,’ he said, teasin’ you.

‘Mmm,’ you said, ‘no cameras this time?’

‘We can if you want, baby, but I was just calling to check in on ya.’

‘Oh?’

‘Yeah, and to make sure Frankie’s doing his job,’ he said, chuckling a little.

‘Frankie’s doing just fine,’ you said, and you sounded weird somehow, maybe a little out of breath?

‘You ok, baby?’ he asked, and you hummed in response.

‘Wanna see you,’ you said, and he felt a shiver up the base of his spine. He knew that tone. He felt the smirk appear on his face.

‘Yeah, you sound like ya do,’ he said. He took the phone from his ear and connected Facetime. He heard you doing the same.

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting to see. He’d assumed you were in bed, so he was surprised to see you were up, standing in front of the big picture window overlooking the front lawn. Your cheeks were a little flushed, and you looked a little sweaty. He wondered if you’d been for a run.

‘There’s my girl,’ he said, because the sight of you always lit something up in him, and you smiled at him, a coy little thing.

‘I got a surprise for you,’ you said, a dimple appearing on your cheek as you arched a single brow at him.

‘Oh yeah?’ he said, feeling his cock stir. Maybe you were up for a repeat after all.

‘Mmmhmm,’ you said, biting your lip. You were holding the phone up with one arm, but he could see your other arm held fast in front of you. Were you touching yourself in the living room?

‘Show me,’ he said, and you grinned at him. You panned the camera down, slowly, so that first thing he saw was the straps of your camisole, one hanging off your shoulder to hover just over the swell of your tit. You lowered it again, over the belly, where you had shucked up the hem and he could see some exposed skin, your little belly button he sometimes liked to tickle with his beard just to hear you squirm and squeal.

Then a little further down. Angling the camera so that he could see down your body, to your feet on the carpet, and to the man on his knees between them.

Joel blinked. He was sure his heart stopped.

‘What…’ he started, but he couldn’t finish his sentence because he was too distracted by the man hitching one of your thighs over his shoulder and opening you up, teasing the lips of your pussy apart to properly latch to your cunt. ‘Oh my god,’ he uttered.

‘Oh my god!’ you gasped, as Frankie sucked your clit between his teeth. ‘Oh baby, he’s so good,’ you groaned.

‘Baby, what are you doing?’ Joel asked, trying not to overthink that his cock was rock hard while he watched another man lick a stripe along your seam.

‘Surprise…’ you gasped. ‘Got a head start.’

Joel’s hands were shaking. A head start on what? He watched as your hand gripped Frankie’s head, his ballcap on the floor beside him as he grasped at your hips, pulling you down harder on his face. You were squirming there on top of him, as he huffed out little exhales into your skin.

Your breath was starting to get faster, coming in little pants, as your thigh clenched around Frankie’s shoulder. For a brief moment you worried you were going to suffocate him, and then he ran a finger up the inside of your thigh and teased at your opening and you simply didn’t care.

You angled the phone back to your face, your eyes fluttering shut so that you didn’t see Joel’s slightly shocked expression.

‘Such a good surprise, baby, thank you,’ you said, and Joel felt his belly flip in on itself. You were blissed out, he could see just by your face you were half gone already. Your little whimpers were sending electric shocks to his cock. He couldn’t deny it wasn’t one of the hottest things he’d ever seen, or that he had wanted to see it ever since Frankie appeared next door. He just assumed you’d never be into it, and now looking at you writhing he couldn’t remember why.

He swallowed on a dry throat. You cracked open an eye, noticing he’d stopped talking. You saw that he looked a little pale, and worried for a second he was regretting it.

‘He’s not better,’ you said, trying to form words to reassure him while Frankie was pushing any sensible thought out of your head with his tongue. ‘He’s good, just as good. It’s just different.’

You were shuddering a little, Joel could see that you were trembling from the pleasure the other man was wringing out of you. ‘Yeah?’ he grunted, because he couldn’t think of anything else to say. Because he didn’t want to take this from you when you’d accidentally given him something he thought he would only ever dream of, not when you were feeling so good, not when you had apparently read his (dirty, filthy) mind. Because he was enjoying it, if he could tame the beast that was howling mine mine mine every time you whimpered under Frankie’s tongue. Because, ok, this wasn’t what he had planned for the day, but it was so much better.

His cock was already so hard it was almost painful. His beautiful, dirty girl. ‘He eatin’ it right, baby?’ he asked, and you moaned a little in response. He heard Frankie grunt a little from beneath you. ‘Show me,’ he said.

You angled the phone down again, this time reaching to put it closer to your cunt, so that Joel could see the way Frankie was suckling at your cunt, the way his tongue was working his way in and out of you, how at some point he had slipped two fingers into your cunt and was pumping them slowly, angled in the way Joel knew you liked, the way that made you stutter.

‘Fuck…’ he groaned, as Frankie huffed out an exhale.

‘She’s good, man,’ Frankie said, pulling his mouth off you for just long enough to force out the words. ‘Tastes like a warm spring morning.’

Joel could feel his cock pulsing, could hardly hear for the pounding of his pulse in his ears.

‘You treat her right,’ he ground out, his jaw ticking. He could feel the furrow in his brows, knew he was almost glowering at Frankie. ‘That’s my girl you got there,’ he added, feeling the need to remind him. To remind himself.

‘She always get this wet for you?’ Frankie asked, and Joel practically growled. He was about to tell Frankie you could practically drown him every night when he noticed your thighs were trembling, your hand in his hair moving to his shoulder to try and get purchase.

‘Lay ‘er down,’ he instructed. ‘Don’t let her fall.’

The camera moved, blurred as Frankie got up off his knees and pulled you over to the couch. He heard you sigh as your muscles relaxed, Frankie lying you down and settling between your open thighs.

‘Thank you, baby,’ you whispered to Joel. He swallowed.

‘Look after you,’ he said, fumbling with his fly. He was rock hard and worried as soon as he held himself in his hand he’d nut like a teenager. He wanted to ride this out with you, wanted to be present for all of it, wanted to stave it off as much as he wanted to chase it down.

‘Oh, he’s got his fingers in me,’ you said, gasping. ‘They’re so thick, just like yours…’

‘He hittin’ the spot?’ Joel asked, as you angled the camera down your body and he saw Frankie hovering over your cunt, lips once again suctioning at your clit.

‘Mmmhmm’ you replied, breathless. ‘He’s good, baby, he’s so good.’

Joel couldn’t form words for a second, gripping the base of his cock to try and regain some sort of control over it.

‘Wish you were here,’ you said, as you pushed your hips down onto Frankie’s face.

‘Yeah?’ Joel asked, wincing as he drew his palm over the weeping, sensitive head. ‘What’d you do if I was there, baby?’ he asked.

‘Want you everywhere,’ you groaned. ‘Want you in my mouth, in my pussy while he sucks on my clit. Want you in my cunt while I suck him.’

Joel gasped, his eyes slamming shut as his head tilted back on his shoulders. You were going to be the fucking death of him, and he would happily go if this was how you’d go about it.

‘Want your tight little cunt, baby,’ he grunted, pumping now, not able to help himself, the want for you overwhelming as Frankie raised his head a little to eye him through the camera. Your hips were bucking now, involuntary and fast. ‘Play with her,’ Joel said to him. ‘Don’t let her come yet, not ‘til she’s earned it.’

He heard you whimper, a desperate little cry, and watched as Frankie pulled back. Joel watched as his face glistened with your slick.

‘Joel!’ you cried, and he sniggered a little.

‘Ain’t what I meant when I said you could cut my grass,’ he said to Frankie, who grinned at him.

‘Not my fault your girl’s got a delicious cunt,’ he said, shrugging.

‘Let me see her,’ Joel said. He held his breath as Frankie took the phone from you and angled it back towards you. He saw you, splayed out on the couch for him and for Frankie, one leg on the floor and the other held fast against the couch, your slick spread over your thighs as your pussy grasped at the air, desperate for something to lick it, to suck it, to fuck it. ‘Jesus,’ Joel said, staring at your folds.

‘Don’t know how you leave the house with this waiting for ya, hermano,’ Frankie said. Joel shook his head.

‘M’a damn fool,’ he agreed. He saw you giggle, and he smiled.

‘Get on your knees for him, baby,’ he said, and watched as your smile fell, shock and want painting your pretty face.

‘You sure?’ you asked, so quiet he almost didn’t hear.

‘You wanna be good to our guest, right?’ Joel teased, and he watched you smile.

‘I’m a good host,’ you said, and he smiled.

‘The best, baby. Go on now, make him feel welcome.’

‘Oh fuck, Joel,’ Frankie muttered, as you got up on your knees on the couch and crawled over to him, your eyes on the younger man’s cock.

‘Just wait ‘til you see what she can do with that slutty little mouth,’ Joel said. He was holding himself by the base again, almost holding his breath in anticipation. Frankie angled the camera down his body so that Joel could see your hand as you reached out to hold him.

‘It’s big,’ you said, looking up and straight at Joel through the camera. You could see how far gone he was, how much he was holding himself back. You felt more arousal pool between your legs just at the look on his face.

‘You can take it,’ Joel said. ‘Make it good for him, baby.’

You watched as he mirrored your smile. God, you loved him. Even now, with another man’s cock in your face, he was the love of your life and as soon as he was home again you’d tell him. Show him. Never let him doubt it for a second.

You extended your tongue to kitten lick at Frankie’s tip, tasting the pre-come that had gathered while you and Joel encouraged each other. You heard the twin groans of Frankie above you and Joel through the phone. You hitched your mouth over the head, gathering saliva and letting it run out over the sides. Frankie was big, but so was Joel, and you breathed through your nose as you slipped your mouth over him, opening your throat and trying to calm your racing heart.

‘Oh, fuck me,’ Frankie said, as Joel held his breath. You hollowed your cheeks, a bolt of want shooting through your cunt as Frankie stuttered, groaning low and heavy in his chest. He smelt faintly of Old Spice and grass clippings, and you tasted the salt on his skin of his exertion. Joel smelt of pine and lumber. Between the two of them they were a symphony of delicious masculinity.

‘Can you reach her tits?’ you heard Joel ask, shivering. Frankie grunted his ascent. ‘Reach down, if you play with her nipples she’ll soak the couch.’

You whimpered, breathing out hard through your nose as you worked Frankie further into your throat.

‘Look at me, baby.’ Joel instructed and you opened your eyes, letting them travel up Frankie’s glistening tanned body to catch Joel’s eyes. You could see he was working himself again, panting and squirming in the driver’s seat of his truck. His hands were trembling a little, causing your view of him to shake, and it matched the tremors that were coursing through your body as you sucked Frankie down.

You felt his hand grope at your tit and you rounded your spine to try and give him more room, sticking your butt out into the air in the process. You kept your eyes on Joel, fighting the urge to let them drift closed, wanting to watch him watching you with another man’s cock in your mouth.

‘Doin’ so good,’ Joel muttered and you preened under his praise. ‘Put your hand between your legs, rub that little clit.’

You whined, following his instruction, a little lightheaded from the heat and the desire and Frankie halfway down your throat. ‘Such a pretty girl, my beautiful girl,’ Joel prattled. ‘Love you like this, baby, throat all stretched out taking on another man.’

Your eyelids fluttered as his words hit you in your core, Frankie’s hips starting to roll as you eased your finger over your clit and started rubbing tight little circles on the bundle of nerves. Frankie pinched hard at your nipple and you gasped, sucking in air through your nose and trying not to gag in the process.

‘Oh fuck, she’s squeezing me with her throat, hermano,’ Frankie muttered.

Joel watched, almost completely out of his mind. He never wanted to look at anything else ever again, wanted this view of you tattooed on the inside of his eyelids so he could see it anytime he wanted. Your eyes were starting to water, your skin glistening with sweat, as your hips shuddered under your own touch and under Frankie’s.

Joel was so close he wasn’t going to be able to stop it. He knew he had only seconds left, and by the looks of it, so did you.

‘Oh fuck baby, look what you did to us,’ he said, and you let your eyes drift from Joel’s to Frankie’s face as he grit his teeth, his eyes staring down at you, just barely managing to hold onto the phone as you sucked him.

‘So good,’ Frankie said to you, ‘can’t…gonna…’

You groaned, taking him out of your throat and reaching up to jerk the shaft while you sucked hard on the head. Still circling your clit with one hand you reached the other up to gently roll his balls in your palm. He cried out, the shock of the pleasure making him finally drop the phone. It landed, face up, just by his knees and angled up under your chin as Frankie shot his load into your mouth, gripping your tit in one hand and the other coming to rest on the crown of your head as he pumped his hips, his come shooting into your mouth as you rolled it over your tongue. Joel had an obscene view of it, watched as Frankie’s come spilled out of your mouth and onto the couch below you, nearly splattering over the lens. It was too much, finally too much, Joel shooting come into his hand and over his shirt as he fucked his palm, imagined it was your mouth, your cunt as you sucked Frankie’s come down, imagined he was inside you and also beside you, holding your head up as the younger man painted your throat.

He came as you did, gasping and whimpering for the other, your voice calling for him as he grunted out for you, and he recovered just enough to watch as you shuddered, your body shaking and rolling with the pleasure of it as you rested your face on Frankie’s heaving belly, sweat plastering your hair to your head, come dripping from your lips, as you rode out your high.

‘Fuck, baby…’ you whimpered, while you fought to catch your breath. Joel could see you collapsing, the pleasure wringing you out, leaving you shaky and spent. He swallowed, collecting himself enough to instruct the younger man.

‘Washcloths are under the bathroom sink. Make sure the water’s warm.’ He took a second to breathe, trying to clear his vision enough to be able to drive. ‘Wrap her up in a blanket, there’s one on the back of the couch.’ He watched as Frankie nodded, listening hard. ‘Hold her ‘til I get there,’ Joel said, his heart thrumming again, an ache building in his chest to be with you as he fumbled the keys into the ignition.

‘Hold my girl for me ‘til I’m there,’ he said, again.

#joel miller x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfic #pedro pascal #joel miller smut #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal fic #frankie morales x you #frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales fanfiction #triple frontier fanfiction #francisco morales #frankie x joel x reader #joel miller

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ceilidhtransing · 3 months ago

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Having spent pretty much the entire year immersed in studying Nazi Germany, the Holocaust, and genocide more broadly, my heart is bursting with the need to stress how much you should take Project 2025 seriously. This is a long post but please stick with me.

Don't take this post as an attempt to concretely predict anything. We can't ever fully know the future and I think it's silly to say with total certainty “if Trump wins then America will become just like Nazi Germany” - not only because the future isn't written yet, but also because Germany under the Nazis was a very specific regime with its own quirks and peculiarities and I don't think that even a worst-case-scenario Trump regime would look exactly like Hitler's Germany. No two regimes ever look exactly alike: it would use the same colour palette as all far-right dictatorships but be constructed from a different medium, like what a watercolour is to an oil painting.

But just because Trump is a very different person from Hitler, and a worst-case-scenario Trump dictatorship would not literally be “Nazi Germany all over again”, that doesn't mean that what happened in Germany isn't instructive here. Forget the specifics of whether or not Trump as a dictator would organise a state identically to how the Nazis organised Germany or whatever; on a far broader and more relevant level, there is a distressing number of similarities. And too many people are falling into the same thought traps as they did then.

Please don't assume that Trump is “way too incompetent” to achieve what's in Project 2025 or Agenda 47. They said the same thing about Hitler. They said that there was no way this showman could govern effectively - holding big rallies and making speeches that get people riled up isn't the same as being good at running a functioning state and achieving what you want. The New York Times even wrote after he became Chancellor of Germany that this would only “let him expose to the German public his own futility”. And in many ways Hitler was pretty incompetent. But that didn't end up mattering. The greatest crime of the Nazi regime, the Holocaust, was masterminded mostly by a whole load of people besides Hitler, who were delegated the nitty-gritty task of actually orchestrating it. Hitler's personal incompetence didn't prevent war or genocide.

Please don't assume that Trump is “just a wacky nutcase” who “can't possibly be a real risk”. They said the same thing about Hitler. The mainstream media gave constant coverage to all the crazy extreme things Hitler said as if he was merely a bit of a joke and not a massive threat. The Nazis were quite happy with this. To quote Goebbels repeatedly in his diary, “The main thing is they're talking about us.”

Please don't assume that being in power will “moderate” Trump and that “of course he won't be able to do all the crazy stuff once he actually has to govern”. They said the same thing about Hitler. It was a common sentiment in the early 1930s that all the sensible politicians around him would force him to moderate his stances. Fritz von Papen, the last Chancellor of Weimar Germany, persuaded President Hindenburg to make Hitler the Chancellor by assuring him, “In a few months, we will have pushed [Hitler] so far into the corner that he will squeak.” It turns out that power doesn't “moderate” people who are openly talking about a dictatorship.

Please don't assume that there's any truth to the whole “Trump has nothing to do with Project 2025 and trying to link it to him is just liberal hysteria” line. They said the same thing about Hitler. People repeatedly asserted that Nazi street violence wasn't really representative of the party leadership; it wasn't representative of Hitler. He was even subpoenaed by a very brave lawyer in 1931 in a bid to prove that recent violence by Nazi stormtroopers was committed with the knowledge and encouragement of the party leadership, with part of the prosecution's argument hanging on a pamphlet by Goebbels that promised a violent overthrow of the state if the Nazis couldn't come to power legitimately. Surely no legal political party could be publishing that. In a successful attempt to escape criminal charges, Hitler repeatedly lied that the pamphlet was not official Nazi Party material and that he didn't know anything about it. No Trump didn't write it, no it isn't an official GOP manifesto, but the links between Project 2025 and Trump, the previous Trump administration, and Trump allies are extremely well documented. Just the other day, Project 2025 co-author Russell Vought was caught calling Trump's disavowals of the document “graduate-level politics” and saying, “what he's doing is just very, very conscious distancing himself from a brand ... he's in fact not even opposing himself to a particular policy.”

Please don't assume that “there's no way something like that could happen here; we're way too educated and advanced”. They said the same thing about Hitler. The Germany of the 1920s and 1930s was one of the most educated and most scientifically and industrially advanced nations in the world, and its cities were some of the most progressive in the world. People were stunned and horrified that it was in Germany of all places - Germany, land of music and art and science and literature! - that fascism took root. Germany's economic and social advancement didn't stop about 40% of its voters choosing the Nazis. It didn't stop them taking power.

Please don't assume that Project 2025 is “just a wishlist” and “not actually a serious plan”. They said the same thing about Hitler. As is hopefully very clear by now, plenty of people did not think that the Nazis were capable of, or would dare to try, putting into actual practice the horrific ideas about race that undergirded so much of their ideology. “I like Hitler; he talks sense economically and I think all this stuff about Jews is just bluff and bluster.” “Every party has a loony wing, right? You have to understand they're not serious when they talk about this stuff; they're just telling their base what they want to hear.” “God have you heard this crazy race science shit about head shapes and stuff? It's hilarious! I'm sure none of them at the top really believe that; there's no way they'd be that nuts.” When a group of people like this tells you what they believe and tells you what they want to do with power, believe them. No matter how ridiculous they seem, they're not joking.

In the words of Hans Litten, the lawyer who subpoenaed and cross-examined Hitler in that court case in 1931, “Don't listen to him; he's telling the truth.” Litten was arrested on the night of the Reichstag fire in 1933 and spent the rest of his life being tortured in concentration camps before dying in Dachau in 1938 at the age of 34.

A tyrannical dictatorship can often be seen coming a mile away. I don't want to imply for a second that what the Nazis did came as a surprise to everyone and couldn't possibly have been predicted. There were people who saw this coming in the 1920s and 1930s and tried to sound the alarm while they still had a chance. But they were too often in the minority, taking the threat seriously while others had convinced themselves that there was no need for concern because the Nazis wouldn't really do all the things they repeatedly talked about wanting to do. Everyone should have seen this coming, but too many people wanted to believe it couldn't be true.

Don't let this scare you. Let it energise you. Talk to the people in your life about Project 2025 and Agenda 47. Push back against people who assert that “they'd never actually do all that stuff” or “Trump didn't even write Project 2025” or “it's not a real plan, just a list of crazy shit to get the base riled up”. Have conversations with folks you know who are on the fence about voting or about who to vote for and who seem persuadable. Make sure you're registered to vote, and keep making sure, especially if you live in a red state where people keep mysteriously dropping off voter rolls.

Now, again, please don't read this as some confident prediction that Trump will be a Hitler figure. I want to stress that is a worst-case scenario. If a Trump presidency is what happens, I would much prefer the best-case scenario: that he spends four years fumbling around and not really accomplishing anything and then gives up power at the end without much of a fight. But it would also be a folly to be smugly overconfident that the worst-case scenario “won't” or “can't” happen. It could. It has happened before. There is no reason it couldn't happen again.

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albertasunrise · 2 months ago

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Work Wife - One

Masterlist

Summary: Working as a Secretary and Miller & Sons Construction, you fall hopelessly in love with the eldest son Joel. What you don’t realise is that Joel’s completely in love with you too. What will it take for the two of you to realise whats’s right in front of you?

Pairing: Young Joel Miller x Reader

Warnings: Like AO3, I choose not to give any so the plot isn’t spoiled. This fic is 18+ (So here’s the first chapter as promised! I hope you all enjoy. Let me know what y’all think ♥️… I wrote half of this on my iPad so sorry for mistakes 😅)

Series Masterlist

Working as a secretary at Miller & Son's Construction had its highs and lows. You loved the job. The pay was great, and all the guys treated you impeccably, but there was just one slight problem that, if you were honest with yourself, wasn't really a problem but more of a personal issue.

You were in love with Joel Miller.

At 21, Joel was already shaping up to be a fine businessman, taking on a lot of the work from his father so that Cole Miller and his wife Lucia could take more time for themselves. The youngest Miller brother Tommy was shaping up to be a troublemaker. At 17, he was often out drinking with his friends and getting himself arrested and it had fallen to Joel to bail his little brother out every time.

You were a year younger than Joel but as he always said, years ahead of him on the maturity scale. You had always been an old soul but that hadn't stopped you from developing the biggest schoolgirl crush on Joel the day you had started, two years ago. What had started off as a temporary job before you went off to college became permanent when your mum had gotten sick and your dreams of going to college were dashed.

Her illness took her a year after she had been diagnosed and with no father to speak of, you were left alone in the house you'd grown up in. Alone, with nothing but the photos on your walls for company. That time had been what had brought you and Joel closer together but had also forged your crush into what it was now. Unrequited love.

Or so you thought.

"Sup Pip." Said Joel as he placed a paper coffee cup down beside your keyboard "How's my favourite secretary this mornin'?"

"I'm you're only Secretary Miller." You chuckled as you picked up your cup to take a sip and hummed at the perfect coffee flavour that exploded across your taste buds "Better now you've brought me coffee."

"Always happy to assist Pip." He said with a wink and you prayed your flushing cheeks didn't give away how much his wink affected you.

Pip had been a nickname Joel had affectionately given you around three months after you had started. You had been eating a plum at your desk, not a care in the work and engrossed in the customer email that you were reading that you hadn't noticed that the next bite you had taken had contained the pip. Joel had walked in just in time to witness you choking and, using his first aid training he'd acquired just the week before, had managed to save you from a fruity death.

From that day he had called you pip.

Because you'd almost choked on one.

"Anything I need to know about before I head to the site?" Joel asked, pulling you from the memory of your near-death experience and you shook your head slightly before giving him what you hoped was a bright smile.

"Yes." You replied as you pulled out the list you had compiled for him "A Mr and Mrs Cork have emailed, wanting a quote for an extension and kitchen refit." You stated as you handed him the email with a post it note with their number on top "You have a call with a new cement supplied at 2 and Gloria Mullins called this morning asking that you call her when you get a chance, apparently her boiler is on the fritz again."

"I need to tell that woman one of these days that I'm not a plumber." He chuckled to himself as he took the rest of the notes from you.

"You just need to stop being so nice." You chuckled "You've set their expectations now."

"I think you're probably right." Joel chuckled as he grabbed his own coffee cup and took a large swig "Anything else?"

"There's just one more thing." You said shyly as you smiled awkwardly "I need to duck out a little earlier today."

"Hot date?" Joel asked and you knew he could see you blushing now.

"Actually yeah." You answered as you looked down at your hands, missing the way Joel's expression dropped "Simon asked me to dinner."

"Simon Richards?" He asked and you nodded "Oh, wow. I uh... I didn't realise you were into him." Joel shrugged before taking another sip of coffee to try and settle his nerves.

"Well, he's cute and sweet and it's not like I have guys lining up to ask me out." You replied, your smile almost sad "So I thought I should at least go. See if there's any chemistry there."

"Sure... Of course."

Joel knew his response was cold but he couldn't help it. Learning that you were going on a date just made him want to find the nearest pillow and scream. These feelings he had for you drove him crazy and it didn’t help that all his employees knew how he felt about you too. He’d allowed them to plant false hope when they told him that it was obvious you felt the same way. It was becoming painfully clear now that that wasn’t the case.

He needed to get over you.

You couldn’t help but notice the slight icy tone that had coated Joel’s response to your request and you couldn’t help be feel a little confused by it. You never asked for things. Often worked late to make sure everyone and everything was up to date. You would argue that you were one of his hardest workers so sue you for wanting to let your hair down a little.

It’s not like he felt for you the way you did for him.

“Sure.” He said after a short and awkward pause “Lord knows you deserve an early finish.” He chuffed before gathering his bag, the papers you’d given him and his coffee “And, seeing as I won’t be back today and Friday, I suppose I’ll see you Monday!”

“That you will!”

“Enjoy your date, Pip.” he finished before giving you a friendly wave and then leaving.

“I’ll try to.” you said sadly as you watched him walk away.

...

"You are my hero!" Hailed Gloria as she clapped in delight at Joel's handy work.

"Was an easy fix." Joel shrugged as he waved the older woman off.

"You always talk yourself down." She chuckled, her Jamaican accent coming out thicker with her statement.

"I'm just speaking the truth ma'am."

"How many times do I have to tell you to call me Gloria?" The older woman chuckled and Joel winked as he replied.

"At least once more."

"Auntie G... you home?" Came a voice that Joel didn't recognise and he looked up just as the owner walked into the room he had occupied with Gloria.

"Ah, darlin' this is that fine man Joel I was tellin' you about." Said Gloria as she smiled at her niece.

Joel was instantly aware of the fact he was wearing paint-stained jeans and a t-shirt so worn that he was sure this mysterious girl could see his nipples through it.

"Joel, darlin' this is my niece, Eliza." Gloria stated and Joel quickly rubbed his hands down the front of his jeans before taking the hand that was being held out to him.

"Nice to meet ya' darlin'." He said sweetly as he gave her a shy smile "Was just helpin' Gloria here with her boiler. Darn thing needs replacin' really but-"

"I won't replace something just because it's a little saucy with me sometimes.'

"You won't replace it because poor Joel here keeps fixing it for free." Eliza teased and Joel scratched the back of his neck nervously as he replied.

"Well not completely free." He chuckled "She sends me away with weeks worth of food."

"You're too skinny." Gloria chuffed "No girls gonna want to marry a man with no meat on his bones."

Joel chuckled at the older woman's statement before looking back at Eliza who was grinning at him as she practically fluttered her thick black lashes at him.

"Well, I need to get to that meeting I was talking about." Stated Joel as he coughed nervously.

"Don't forget to pop by later for your food!" Gloria ordered as she watched him collect his tools "I made you my famous jerk chicken with rice... peas on the side." She finished with a wink.

"Why on the side?" Eliza asked and Gloria simply rolled her eyes as she said.

"Boy don't like them mixed in."

Eliza mouthed an 'ooooooh' before watching as Joel started to leave.

"I'll see you later to grab that food."

"Or I could bring it by?" Eliz suggested, "You give me your address and I can swing by and drop it off when you're home."

"Oh that's-"

"Ah, splendid idea." Gloria interrupted, leaving Joel looking like a fish out of water "Don't worry dear, I'll give her your address. Get her to drop it by around 9. You're normally home then, right?"

"Right but-"

"9 it is now you best get going or y'all be late." Said Gloria as she practically herded Joel out the door. Leaving him speechless when he made it back to his truck.

What an earth just happened?

...

The restaurant that Simon had brought you to was nice. Not too fancy but not exactly a dive either. Conversations had been a little awkward at first. You'd not really been on many dates but after being honest with Simon about your lack of dating experiences, he put you at ease and now after one glass of wine and a very large meal, the two of you were chuckling away as subjects came easier to you both.

"So how long have you worked for Mr Miller?" You asked as you sipped at your second glass of wine. Simon had already been at the company when you had started and was a few years older than you and Joel.

"More or less straight outa of high school." He replied as he took a swig of his soft drink "Have always been good with my hands so when Cole put up an advert for an apprentice I marched myself over to his office and waited till he got back to speak to him..."

"Wow." You chuckled around the rim of your glass.

"Guy liked my tenacity. Offered me the job on the spot."

"Well, you know my story so..." You trailed off, smiling sweetly at him as he grinned at you.

"So glad you agreed to come out with me." Simon confessed, his cheeks tinging pink "Been wantin' to ask you out a while but didn't outa respect for Joel, but can only wait so lo-"

"What do you mean, out of respect for Joel?" You asked and Simon's expression took on one of a deer caught in headlights.

"Well... with him being into you and all." Simon clarified and your brows drew together as you shook your head.

"Joel isn't into me." You pushed and Simon grew more uncomfortable with each passing moment.

"He's been crushin' on you more or less from day dot." Your date continued when he saw you needed further clarity "We've always teased him for it but he never made a move so I thought, you know, with him not trying to date you it'd be okay for me to."

You weren't sure what to do with the information you'd just received. For years now you had pushed your feelings down for Joel because you believed he didn't return them. So to learn that he might really put a spammer in the works for you.

The subject moved on after that but the atmosphere wasn't as relaxed. After Simon dropped you home, you allowed what he'd told you to run on repeat in your brain. Keeping you from getting to sleep until late that night. Yet, you came to a decision before you finally drifted off. You were going to go to Joel's in the morning and ask him.

You had to be sure.

...

Joel wasn't surprised when there was a knock at his door at 9 pm sharp. He opened the door to see a beaming Eliza on the other side, her arms full of food containers.

"Shit, come in." Joel said before grabbing a few containers to ease the load. "Let me take some of those."

"Auntie G likes to feed you huh?" She chuckled as she followed Joel into his kitchen.

"I had to buy a second freezer." Joel stated and Eliza barked out a laugh, taking Joel by surprise.

"She's always been a feeder." She chuckled before placing the food down beside where Joel had put the other containers "Think it's a Caribbean thing."

Joel chuckled before turning to face his guest.

"Thank you for dropping this by. You really didn't have to go through all the trouble."

"It's not trouble is I offer." Eliz chuckled and Joel chuckled at her reply.

"Either way... that you for bringing the insane amount of food your aunt,

made me over."

"You are quite welcome." Eliza replied as she placed herself within kissing distance of him "I wanted to see you again anyway."

Joel blushed at her statement. Taken aback by how forward she was then, in what felt like the blink of an eye, she was kissing him. Starting softly and gradually growing hotter as tongues tangled.

"I uh... I feel like I should tell you that I'm kinda getting over someone so I'm not looking for anything serious right now," Joel stated and Eliza chuckled.

"Who said I wanted anything serious either?" She whispered against his lips "I think I can be of great help... assisting you in getting over whoever this person is."

Joel looked into Eliza's eyes a moment, trying to discern her endgame. Then, when he was sure that she was being honest with him he kissed her again. The food is forgotten as clothes are discarded in a breadcrumb trail to his bedroom.

...

You let out a steadying breath before knocking on Joel's door. Your slightly shaky left hand clutching the to-go coffee tray that contained your and Joel's favourite coffees. You chuckled when you heard Joel inside, calling out to wait a moment before suddenly opening the door, looking rather flustered.

"Pip." He said as his expression turned from surprised to confused "What are you doing here?"

"I need to talk to you about something." You replied with a smile "I brought you a coffee. Mind if I come in?"

"Now's not a great time... what was it you wanted to talk about?" He replied nervously, smiling awkwardly as you handed him the coffee.

"It's just about something Simon told me on our date last night." You chuckled "You see he said that you have-"

"Who's this?" Asked a woman that you didn't recognise, dressed in a shirt you assumed was Joel's and nothing else. Her brown skin glowing in the early morning light.

"Oh, I didn't realise you had company." You said awkwardly as you started to take a few steps backwards "I'll um... I'll see you Monday." You choked as you fought to keep your tears at bay, but in doing so you missed the step down and went tumbling onto your backside. Your coffee going all over your arm.

"Shit... Pip, are you okay?" Joel shrieked as he leapt towards you, stopping dead when you held your hand up to stop him...

"Fine... I'm fine."

"That coffee'll be skalding." He said as he took another ginger step towards you "We need to get your arm under some cold water or else it'll blister."

"Please just let me go." You choked, your resolve crumbling under the weight of your sadness and embarrassment "I... I just need to go." You affirmed and Joel nodded, giving you a small smile before stepping back into the threshold of his home "Bye Joel."

The older Miller brother watched with concern etched into his features as you left. Glancing at Eliza who was watching you and looking equally worried.

"You think she's okay?" She asked and all Joel could do was shake his head as he replied.

"I don't know."

...

You spent the rest of the weekend dreading Monday morning. You felt like such a fool going over to Joels to, you had hoped, profess your love but instead, you had fallen ass over tit in front of him and his date and burned yourself in the process. Said injury was now wrapped in gauze and throbbing with each knock and graze of your arm on your desk. You had spent the morning wishing you lived somewhere colder so you could hide your accident.

But alas, it's 100 degrees outside and you were forced to wear a short-sleeved blouse. The air-con once again broke at the most inconvenient moment.

"Morning Pip." Said Joel as he stepped into view, placing your coffee down as he did every morning.

"Morning." You replied, not takimg your eyes off your computer screen.

"How's the arm?" He asked upon seeing the brilliant white bandage wrapped around it.

"Killing me." You answered shortly, still not looking at the man who was desperately trying to pry any form of conversation out of you.

After a long, heavy pause, Joel spoke again. His question finally tearing your eyes away from your monitor.

"Did I do or say something to upset you?" He asked, his signature kicked puppy look making your stomach twist.

"No." You answered simply and he nodded.

"What was it that you wanted to talk to me about?" He asked and your brows drew together "On Saturday... you said you needed to talk to me." He clarified "Said Simon had told you something on your date."

"Doesn't matter now." You bluntly replied before returning to the email you'd been writing before.

"Seemed important then."

"Well, it isn't now." You growled, your tone stopping the conversation dead.

"Okay." He couldn't hide how your aggressive tone wounded him. He didn't understand why you were suddenly so cold towards him. What could he have possibly done?

He opened his mouth to speak, only to be interrupted by Simon as he blasted into the office.

"Morning Boss!" He said chirpily before turning his attention to you "Morning beautiful."

"Morning" you replied with a smile that he returned tenfold.

"Fancy going out with me again on Friday?" He asked and you nodded without hesitation "Great!... see you later beautiful."

You grinned at Simon as he left. Not seeing Joel's crestfallen expression.

Perhaps he did need Eliza.

For updates follow @albertasunrise-ficsblog

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #joel miller the last of us #last of us #the last of us #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #pedro pascal gif #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #the last of us fanfiction #last of us fanfiction

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buddie-buddie · 6 months ago

Note

Bucktommy + “Go back to sleep.”

“Go back to sleep,” Tommy mumbles, his voice thick with sleep.

Buck finishes tugging Tommy’s duvet up, tucking it beneath his chin and curling in on himself in an attempt to warm up. He doesn’t care if it makes him a blanket thief; he’s cold. Plus, Tommy is practically a human space heater. He’s laying beside Buck in nothing but his boxer briefs and looks perfectly content. Meanwhile, Buck’s in sweatpants and a hoodie and can’t seem to shake the chill that’s climbing up his spine and taking up residence deep in his bones.

He mumbles a sleepy apology, but if the way Tommy’s breathing has already evened out again is any indication, he doesn’t hear it.

Waking up next to Tommy is all of Buck’s wildest dreams come true. He loves waking up with the familiar, grounding weight of Tommy’s arm draped over him, loves the way Tommy tightens his grip as he feels Buck stir beneath him, how he mumbles a sleepy “Morning, baby,” into his hair as Buck slowly blinks his eyes awake.

Every day he wakes up next to Tommy is a dream, but days off are the best.

Days off are when Buck wakes up warm and cozy in a sun-drenched room, tucked against Tommy, their bodies curled around each other like a pair of parentheses. The warm, familiar rumble of Tommy’s early morning voice low in his ear, the brush of his lips against the shell of his ear, chased away by the slight burn from Tommy’s day-old stubble against his skin as he trails kisses down his cheek, across his jaw. For a few quiet moments, it’s just them. There are no alarms ringing, no fires to put out, no helicopters to fly, no nothing. There’s nothing but them. Nothing to do except just be.

The thought of this particular day off– this particular morning– was the thing Buck was most looking forward to all week. And it had been an epically awful week. It had been six days since the last time their days off had last lined up, and he’d been all but crawling out of his skin with his need to see his boyfriend outside of a quick FaceTime call between claxons ringing.

On top of that, the station’s A/C had been on the fritz and Chimney had been out sick with a flu he still insisted he didn’t have, both of which made shifts considerably less enjoyable. They’d had a few really tough calls, including an especially hard loss in the middle of the week that was still living behind Buck’s ribs and needling at his heart each time the air fell silent and his mind began to wander.

Their shared 48 off had been the light at the end of the tunnel. A very dark tunnel that was starting to feel less like a tunnel and more like an inescapable hole towards the end, but a tunnel nonetheless.

“Hot date?” Hen had teased him as he all but ran for the locker room the moment B shift started filtering in through the bay doors.

Buck thought about what was waiting for him. His sweet, beautiful boyfriend. His favorite pad thai takeout from the mom and pop place around the corner from Harbor. Sheets that smell like Tommy and a pair of reading glasses on the nightstand and two toothbrushes next to each other in the cup beside the sink.

“Yeah,” Buck grinned, dipping his chin as his cheeks flushed. “You could say that.”

The feeling of waking up beside Tommy is everything Buck always wanted and never let himself believe he could actually have. It’s better than anything he ever could’ve dreamed up. Even now, when he wakes up and it’s still pitch black outside, the only light in the room coming from the glow of Buck’s phone on the nightstand as he taps it awake to check the time. It’s not even four o’clock.

No wonder Tommy told him to go back to sleep.

They’ve barely been asleep for five hours, and after the week he’s had, Buck would like at least twice that before even considering getting out of bed. But he’s up now and he’s freezing. He flips over beneath Tommy’s arm, turning to face him and curling himself into Tommy’s side with a small, content sigh. He tucks his head beneath Tommy’s chin in a shameless attempt to leech his body heat.

Tommy murmurs something indecipherable in his sleep, one of his big, warm hands coming up to rest between Buck’s shoulder blades. His welcome touch is warm and familiar, instantly soothing. And yet, it does nothing to stop another shiver from running through Buck.

He closes his eyes, starting to drift back to sleep just as Tommy shifts beneath him.

“Evan,” Tommy says quietly, concern clinging to the word. “Baby, wake up.”

Buck blinks slowly, confused. “Y’just told me to go back to sleep.”

“You’re burning up,” Tommy says, his other hand coming up to feel Buck’s forehead. He makes a tsk sound under his breath. He tries to sit up, but Buck protests by way of a sleepy whine, holding onto Tommy even tighter.

“M’cold,” Buck mumbles against Tommy’s chest.

“C’mon,” Tommy says gently. “Let me up. I’ll be right back. I promise.”

Buck is too tired to argue. Tommy extricates himself, and Buck can tell he tries his best not to disturb him too much as he does. True to his word, Tommy returns a moment later. He runs the thermometer over Buck’s forehead, and its rapid warning beeps are followed by a small displeased sigh.

“Fever?” Buck asks. Another shiver wracks through him, and he knows the answer.

Tommy’s hand is warm and solid as it rests on his cheek, his thumb stroking over Buck’s cheekbone in a soothing back and forth. “Yeah,” Tommy says. Buck can hear his frown. “Gonna give you some Tylenol.”

Buck lets Tommy help him sit up enough to bring the pills and a glass of water to his lips. He’s a little more awake now, enough to register the way that his head feels heavy and his eyes feel hot behind their lids. His arms and legs ache as he settles against the pillows, and he has a fleeting memory of Maddie saying that Chim’s flu started out with a high fever and body aches.

“Be right back,” Tommy promises.

And he is. He returns a moment later with another blanket, a heavy one. He covers Buck with it, tucking it beneath his chin and running a hand through his hair fondly before climbing back into bed beside him.

“No,” Buck protests. “I’ll get you sick.”

Tommy’s arms encircle him, pulling him in until they’re pressed up against each other. “Don’t care,” he says simply. “We’ve already been pretty close.”

Buck sighs against Tommy’s neck, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth as he remembers the very enthusiastic reacquainting that happened against the back of Tommy’s front door no more than a minute after Buck had come through it. Not to mention the hours they spent on the couch watching a movie after dinner, with Tommy’s arm around him and Buck’s head on Tommy’s shoulder. All of which was before they fell asleep practically plastered to one another.

Tommy does have a point.

But Buck felt fine going to bed, which means the fever must have spiked pretty recently, which means it could be early enough that Tommy could still save himself and—

“I can hear you overthinking.”

Buck frowns. “Am not.” And then a moment later, “I’ll go to the guest room.”

“No you won’t,” Tommy says simply. “There’s no blanket on the bed.”

“But you—”

Tommy silences him with a kiss to his forehead. “I am exactly where I want to be.”

Buck’s heart squeezes. A tiny, happy sigh falls from his lips. And for the first time since waking up, he feels warm all over.

prompt game

#prompt game #my writing #bucktommy #evan buckley #tommy kinard #tevan #kinley #kinkley #it’s not lost on me that these are supposed to be like six sentences long #and i am repeatedly clocking in at over a thousand words #idk what to say #i open a google doc and the brain rot takes over and here we are

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