#but it’s noticeable when he’s done up like his dad

[celiababy]

already in love w ur page! i would love to see dads bestfriend joel from you!!

hi! thank u sm!! and ofc coming right up on a very hot and steamy platter 😛

Not Your Daddy

Pairing: Pre-outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: You're back from your first year at college. You've changed and Joel is quick to notice.

Warnings: 18+ SMUT MDNI, age gap (36/19), swearing, p in v, size kink, loss of virginity, unprotected sex, fingering, oral (fem!recieving) no Sarah, alcohol

Celia's note: Heres jus a lil something :) (not proofread sorry) also part 3 of ain't right is coming so so soon I promise!!

Joel Miller and your father were good friends.

When you and your dad moved in next door a little over three years ago, they hit it off quickly. Their tendency to take on random jobs for cash is what bonded them. Also sports.

You were shy then, never able to hold eye contact and always avoiding him whenever he was around.

But thankfully, you've grown into a woman. Your first year at college changed you.

Now, you were back for the summer, eager to sleep in your own bed and spend time with your home-town friends.

But honestly, you were most excited to see Joel.

You wanted him to see how much you've grown. See how mature you've become, how confident.

You always had a little crush on him—mostly because he was the kindest out of all your dad's friends.

You also wanted him to be the one to pop your cherry.

You were a virgin, and kinda always fantasized about Joel being the one to take it from you.

Sure, you’ve done some stuff with guys, but never gone all the way. You were saving that for him.

You knew it wouldn't take long until he made an appearance.

Your dad had offered to host a small get-together to celebrate you being back. He would barbecue in the backyard and hold bets for the basketball game.

It was really just an excuse for him to break out the grill and gamble, but you didn't care. Only because you knew Joel would be there.

You even put on your shortest white sundress and blew out your hair for the occasion.

Your body was buzzing with the idea of seeing him again.

You wondered if he had changed at all.

Your mind started spiraling at the thought.

What if he had changed? What if he was dating someone now? What if he was engaged?

You glanced in the mirror at your nearly perfect reflection and suddenly felt so silly. What if this was all for nothing?

You didn't have long to ponder that thought because the doorbell rings.

You peak out your window and see Joel's truck in the driveway.

Your dad answers the door downstairs, the faint murmur of voices distracting your ears.

The anticipation was gnawing at you like a hungry dog.

After collecting your nerves, you slowly descend the stairs to meet them in the kitchen.

The loud cussing gave away their location. "You've lost your damn mind if you think there's a chance in hell the Privateers of all fucking teams are gonna beat—oh, hey darlin'," Your dad greets you, clearing his throat like he wasn't just cussing out Joel.

His back is to you, but when he turns around, your heart fucking ignites.

He's just as handsome as the day you left. He looks momentarily stunned by you, his eyes flickering all over your figure. God—how was it possible for someone to change so much? You looked more than amazing.

He immediately feels ashamed for basically checking you out in front of your dad, his eyes snapping back up to your face.

"Christ kid, they feedin' you up there at A&M?" He teases before stepping in for a hug.

He even smells the same as he did all those months ago, pine and smoke. You feel relieved.

It seems like the only thing thats different about him is a few gray hairs.

"Hey Joel," you greet with a giddy smile, hugging him back and relishing in his warmth. "How are you?"

Joel is very surprised. He almost doesn't recognize you. You're so much more...more.

"M'alright, aside from the fact that your dad's gonna give me a fuckin' aneurysm one of these days."

You laugh and shake your head. "Fighting about the game tonight?"

"Yeah, this fuckin' asshat thinks the longhorns might lose tonight—messin' up the whole fuckin' mojo," Your dad rambles, his voice beginning to raise before the doorbell rings again. "I'll get that, need to get away from this traitor." He snorts before heading to the door and leaving you both alone.

Joel rolls his eyes before landing his gaze back onto you and your cute little sundress. He crosses his arms over his chest and turns to face you with his body.

"You behavin' up there at school?" He asks light-heartedly, though you find it excruciatingly hard not to reply in some suggestive way.

"Mhm," You hum unconvincingly with a charmingly guilty smile, holding back a laugh.

Joel cocks a brow, pretending to look at you judgmentally. "Lyin’ is a sin, y’know." He huffs, a smile creeping on his lips.

“I’ve been good, just a lotta temptations s’all..” You murmur softly, your body naturally drifting closer to Joel by swaying on your feet.

The tension in the room is palpable.

“Oh yeah?” He tilts his head the tiniest bit to the side, his voice dropping what seemed like several octaves.

In fear of your voice cracking when giving a verbal response, you opt for a nod of your head, but then shrug just to tease him.

He glares at you but then scoffs, shaking his head.

"When'd you become such a little shit-stirrer, huh?" He chides, reaching over to ruffle the top of your hair.

You laugh before pushing his hand away, your fingers lingering on his wrist for longer than it needed to.

His skin is warm, he's almost hot to the touch. You're having a very hard time tearing your eyes away from his face.

All the sudden, your father calls you into the other room.

"Get in here! Max and Ruby wanna hear about your classes." Max and Ruby being your neighbors who had undoubtedly stopped by for the party.

You peer up at Joel, your eyes almost begging him to ask you to stay. But instead, he gestures with his head for you to listen to your dad.

"Go on now," He husks out, sliding his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

Reluctantly you leave him behind in the kitchen, your body still whirring with the adrenaline high you got from just talking to him.

***

It was nice seeing everyone that stopped by for the party. You hadn't realized how much you missed your people.

But Joel was making it hard to concentrate on conversation when you guys were playing eye-tag the entire night.

He really couldn't help himself. There was just something so magnetic about you now—it was impossible to tear his eyes away.

He watched you talk to some of your high school friends, then get up to fetch something from the kitchen.

He couldn’t stop his gaze from falling to your ass once you turned around, his cock twitching in his pants because of the way your dress taunts him with its length.

He clears his throat.

Fuck was he thinking.

This was you he was ogling for christ sake. His best friends daughter.

These thoughts were not allowed. He needed to shut this down.

But the night goes on anyway, people getting more drunk and rowdy with each passing second.

Especially your father, who was currently in a screaming match with his work buddy about the game. They're all crowded around the small box tv in the kitchen, intently watching the tiny screen.

You're watching them from afar, amused by your father and the absurdity of it all.

"Ah fuck, we're outta ice," your dad groans, lifting up the empty bowl in annoyance. "Alright, one of you sons of bitches needs'ta make an ice run, m'not missing this game."

Joel groans out, dragging his hand down his jaw. "We're obviously gonna win—the team's up 46. Make the damn run yourself." He berates your father, who in turn just shakes his head and waves a dismissive hand at Joel.

"Every time I don't watch the game to completion, we fuckin' lose. M'staying riiiight here."

"Fuckin' superstitious bastard." Joel groans from under his breath, picking up his truck keys from the counter. "You want some more beer while I'm out? Maybe my liver too? God knows you need a new one, goddamn alcoholic."

You're laughing at them in the corner, finding their banter extremely amusing.

Then, you suddenly realize this might be your chance to spend more alone time with Joel.

You lurch forward, quickly blocking his path. "Can I come with?"

He looks down at you, a barely noticeable smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He's just about to reply to you before your drunk father cuts in.

"Ya, go with him, he can't carry the ice by himself or else his back’ll give out."

Joel turns his head to yell at your dad. "Shut your damn mouth," he barks, then turns back around to face you, placing his hand on your lower back. "'Course sweetheart, c'mon."

The drastic change in his voice when he talks to you versus your father makes your heart flutter.

He guides you outside to his truck, only dropping his arm from your back when he opens the passenger door for you.

Hopping inside, you settle yourself into the worn down bench seat. Your eyes follow him as he rounds the front of the vehicle, swinging open the driver side door and cranking the engine.

His old country music starts blaring from the speakers of the car, accompanied by the loud drum of his engine.

He’s quick to whip out of the driveway, steering with one muscular arm on the wheel.

You want to drool at the sight—you know your other lips most certainly are.

"So, you got a boyfriend up there at school?" He asks after clearing his throat.

He wants to subtly test the waters, whether he knows it now or not.

You smile, the thought of dating any guy besides Joel was laughable.

"Nope. They're all kinda gross."

"Gross? Yeah, well, most guys your age are." He mumbles, thinking back to his late teens, early twenties—Yikes.

"What about you? Got a woman yet?" You ask, following his line of questioning.

Joel scoffs, keeping his eyes trained on the road. “Does it look like I got a woman in my life?”

He looks down at himself for a second to get his point across, making you follow his gaze.

His wrinkly navy shirt had paint stains on it, his jeans were so old, they looked one wash away from disintegrating, and his beard needed a trim.

You try to stifle your giggle by turning your head away. “Yeah, guess not.”

Your mind starts wandering off, imagining what being Joel's woman would look like...having dinner together...sharing a bed...showering together...

God you wanted to be his girl so bad.

You hear yourself speaking before you even know what you’re saying. “Maybe I can help you—y'know, find a woman n’all.”

Joel casts you an assessing glance, cocking his eyebrow.

“Oh yeah? N’how would you do that?”

He doesn’t even mean to sound sexy but the way he talks makes you wanna melt.

“Well, for starters, a haircut might do you some good.” You tease, scooting closer to him on the bench seat to fiddle with the overgrown hair by his neck.

The way your body is turned to face him gives Joel a clear view down the front of your dress, the skin of your breasts making his cock twitch.

“What’re you talkin’ about? My hair looks great.” Joel knows he’s lying, but he just wants to see you laugh.

Which you do. “Yea, maybe to a blind chick.”

“Oh, you got jokes, huh?” Joel chides, using his free hand to come up and playfully tug at your hair.

You erupt in giggles, swatting his hand away while simultaneously trying to tug his hair back.

Eventually, you two stop messing with each other, but you reiterate that you're serious.

"I mean it—it’d be super fun giving you a make-over."

Joel pulls into the gas station and shifts his truck into park.

"You've lost your damn mind if you think I'm gonna let you get anywhere near my head with clippers."

You roll your eyes and giggle, following him out of the vehicle.

"C'monnn, it'll be fun!" You squeal, trailing behind him as he walks into the store, the bell chiming as you both enter.

He pretends to ignore you, walking along the isles to the freezer section.

"I'll be super careful," You muse, snagging a bag of skittles from off one of the shelves before he can notice.

“I promise I won’t fuck up your cut.” You joke, laughing at yourself.

“Hey—watch it.” Joel warns when hearing your profanity, snapping back to look at you, only half-joking.

You roll your eyes—it's ironic coming from him who cusses like a sailor. You brush past him as he opens the freezer, letting your back lean against one of the glass doors, facing him.

"You're not my daddy, y'know. Can't tell me what to do." You purr, a shit-eating grin beginning to form on your perfect face.

Joel feels his blood pressure spike.

You're making this impossible for him and you know it.

His body moves for him before he can stop himself.

After he grabs two ice bags, he closes the freezer and subsequently steps closer to you, popping your personal space bubble.

"You're right. M'not your daddy." He husks, looking down at you and your parted lips. Your chests are centimeters away from each other, and you find yourself holding your breath. “Consider yourself lucky.”

The way he’s looking down at you like prey yet speaking so nonchalantly has your brain spinning. There was definitely an underlying threat in his words.

Before you can respond, he’s turned around and walking up to the register, throwing down a 10 dollar bill and telling the cashier to keep the change.

Science can’t explain the drastic acceleration your heart rate just experienced—but you can.

Joel fucking Miller.

He had to be insinuating something, right?

Your face is hot and so is the rest of your body, stumbling to catch up with him as he walks out the store.

He lugs the ice into his trunk like nothing happened, the tension in his muscles catching your eyes.

Yet, he still comes around to the passenger side, opening the door for you.

Now was your chance to get him back.

You lift yourself up in the truck, purposefully climbing into the bench seat in a way that gave Joel a clear view of your ass—as well as your thong that wasn't really covering much.

His hand clamps down so hard on the car handle that it nearly crumbles under his grip.

You hear him clear his throat before the door slams shut next to you, making you jump a bit.

When he passes in the front windshield, he's shaking his head and dragging a hand down his scruffy jaw. You can't help but giggle at his exasperated expression.

His takes longer to get into the car and start things up this time, trying real hard not to meet your instense gaze.

When he refuses to make eye contact, you huff out a breath and rip open your skittles bag.

This catches Joel's attention.

"You pay for that?"

"...sure." You murmur unconvincingly with a shrug, trying not to smile. "Want some?"

He watches as you pop a few in your mouth, holding out the bag for him.

Begrungingly, he grumbles out a 'yeah' and holds out his palm.

***

The party had fizzled out when you guys returned. There were a few stranglers sitting around and chatting, but for the most part, things seemed to be dying down.

So much for the ice.

Your dad and his friends had migrated to the living room and once Joel put the bags away, he joined them.

He sat on the couch with a grunt, his legs immediately settling into the manspreading position.

You tried not to drool but your mouth was definitely salivating. To avoid moaning just at the sight of him, you head upstairs, the old wood boards creaking beneath your feet.

You don't see it, but Joel's got his eyes on you, following you with his gaze till you're out of sight.

He feels guilty thinking about how much he wants to fuck you when he's literally sitting right next to your father, but he can't help himself.

It's a while before you come back down, when you do, theres a razor in one hand, clippers in the other.

"No." Joel instantly says, shaking his head.

"Yes." You squeal, beaming down at him.

"Awh, go on Joel, you been needin' a clean up." Your dad chimes in, smacking his shoulder. His other buddies encourage it until he has no choice than to give in just so everyone would shut up.

"Fine—fine. Y'all gon' get yours, thats for damn sure." Joel grumbles, stomping up the stairs.

You're laughing all the way up, bubbling with excitement.

"Come down and give us the reveal when you're done!" Your dad screams to which you giggle.

You basically shove Joel into your bathroom, pulling in a stool for him to sit on.

"You better know what yer doin'." He grunts, sitting down on the stool and looking at you with weary eyes.

"Anything I do to you would look better than what you have now."

Joel promptly stands back up when hearing your words, trying to walk away, but you grab onto his arm. "I'm kidding, I’m kidding! I promise I'll do a good job."

You press on his shoulders to sit him down again, your throat running dry when you see the way he’s glaring up at you.

He’s not actually angry—just a bit peeved that he doesn’t have enough self control to stop thinking about fucking you against the bathroom sink.

You start working, none the wiser, bringing the electric razor to his jaw.

Your bodies are close, Joel can smell your delicious perfume and it makes him wanna eat you up.

You start to notice how sometimes his eyes will flicker to your chest, before abrupdtly looking away and clearing his throat.

Your boobs did look great in this dress, maybe you should give him a better view...

The devilish thought pops in your brain and you're acting it out before you know it.

You set the razor down and grab the clippers, stepping around to the front of his body. "May I?" You murmur, not even waiting for his answer before straddling his lap.

You sit on his thighs and Joel feels himself straighten like a board.

“Kid—what do you think yer doin’?” He immediately sputters out, his expression stern.

He’s trying so hard not to look down at where your dress had ridden up from straddling him. He can almost see your cunt, for christ sake.

“Nothin’.” You murmur, bringing your shaking hand up to trim the hair on his jaw. You curse at yourself for not even having the wits to keep calm, you just know your flushed fave is giving you away.

“Nothin’, huh?” Joel reiterates, completely unbelieving as his eyes drag down your body slowly.

Then, everything shifts.

There’s something more assertive in Joel’s demeanor that you can’t quite put your finger on, but you know it’s there.

You feel his calloused hand on your thigh, your body erupting in goosebumps when he travels it up dangerously high. Using his other hand, he grips your wrist, pulling it down and away from his face.

“Doesn’t look like nothin’ to me.” His voice is a low murmur.

You’re both locked in eye contact now, hearts beating in sync.

He hears your breath hitch and sees how your eyes are flashing between his gaze and lips. He knows what you’re after—he’s just not sure if he wants to give in yet.

You, on the other hand, are dying of anticipation. He’s not budging, so you’re left to drag your hips up his lap and press down on the bulge in his pants.

"Girl—" He growls out before his hands come up to stop your waist from moving any further. "You don't know what your doin'."

"Do I have to fucking spell it out for you, Joel?" You rush out, dropping the scissors and latching onto his shoulders. You're panting and your face is pink, a needy/irritated expression woven into your features.

He feels your nails digging into his shoulder blades and sees that desperate look in your eyes—he's done for.

"No, I won't make ya do that f'me, sweet heart." He murmurs before abruptly picking you up from under your thighs.

A squeak of surprise leaves your lips at his effortless display of strength. You swallow your nerves after he sets you down on the counter, lodging himself between your legs.

"But I am gon make you say it."

Is he teasing you?

No, his face looks too serious for him to be teasing.

Oh, maybe he just wants clear clarification.

Your heart swells at his consideration.

Sucking in a deep breath, "I want your dick in my vagina." You giggle out, knowing he was probably expecting sexier wording. Joel smirks, crashing his forehead against yours.

"Yeah? S'that what you want?"

You're nodding against him, smiling wide because you just admitted something that you never thought you would.

"N'have you done that before? Y'know, dick in vagina." He copies your candance, but you stop smiling.

Out of all the fucking questions, that was the one that you didn't want to be asked the most.

You had hoped if you came on strong and flirted like you had done it a million times, he would've just assumed you weren't a virgin.

But the bastard always had to be so careful.

You didn't want him to know because you figured it would turn him off—then all you'd become is his best friend’s daughter all over again.

You knew if you lied he would just sniff it out anyway, but you tried nonetheless.

"...Yea. Couple times."

You watch as Joel's face forms into a 'yea right' kind of expression before he sighs out.

"Why'a lyin' to me, kid?"

You groan, throwing your head back and hitting the mirror with the back of your skull.

"Thats why—I don't want you thinking I'm a kid anymore. M'not. I'm grown. I'm grown and I want..your dick in my vagina."

He scoffs, dragging a hand down in jaw in disbelief. "Lyin' ain’t a good way to show me your grown."

He was right. You hated that he was right.

Your face crumbles because you think you just ruined this whole thing. Yet, Joel's hands come up to cup your face, holding them there a moment before they drift down to rest on your neck.

"S'alright, you're alright. M'not mad at'cha." He reassures, making sure you're looking in his eyes before he continues. "M'flattered sweetheart, I really am but-"

"Please don't say some bullshit like you don't think you're the man for this job because trust me when I say this Joel, you're the only guy I've ever wanted to be with."

You gush out, your mouth a leaky faucet. But Joel still looks conflicted.

You figured now would be a good time to bring out the big guns.

"If you won't do it cus I'm a virgin, I'll just have sex with the first guy I see, how about that?"

Joel's eyes darken and his jaw clenches. Now you've just pissed him off. "Don't manipulate me like that." He says sternly, to which you immediately falter in your confidence.

"I'm sorry, I don't know why I said that. I didn't mean it." You shake your head at yourself, biting down on your bottom lip. Joel sighs, leaning back but still keeping himself between your legs.

"Look," you start up again, bringing your hand down to hold his muscular bicep. "I've wanted to do this with you for so long. I really want it to be with you. Even if it's just one time, that's okay. Just need you in some way—Joel."

Your voice tapers off into a whisper because his stare intimidates you.

He exhales through his nose before running a hand through his hair and fixing his back to stand up straighter.

"Alright." He huffs, his face looking like he just surrendered in war.

"Alright?" You repeat, hopes high.

"I'll do it," He removes himself from between your legs and slides his grip down to your thighs. "But not right now."

Your heart drops.

"Why not?" You whine like a kicked puppy.

He brings one hand up to pinch your cheek. "Cus your daddy's down stairs, m'not a fuckin' monster." He grumbles before letting go and starting to walk out, but you grab him.

"Fine, but can we at least.." You hop down off the counter and pull him back, kissing him abruptly.

It starts slowly at first, you're both scoping out the scene, but then you get eager.

A tongue slips into his mouth and he returns the favor, his hands finding themselfs back on your hips.

In no time, he has your back up against the wall while he devours your mouth like a man starved. And just as his hand starts sliding up your dress and he's about to go back on his word, a voice comes from downstairs.

"C'mon down Joel, we wanna see the new cut!"

You groan as Joel slips from you, walking back downstairs while wiping his jaw and adjusting the boner in his pants. *** Now it was a waiting game.

Everyone but your dad's friends had left the party; they were just sitting around, watching TV and drinking beers.

You and Joel can't stop making eye contact from the opposite ends of the room. It was like torture not being able to fuck him immediately.

You're quick to conjure up a plan, though.

"Hey dad," you start, twirling a loose thread from your dress around your finger.

"Ya?"

"Didn't they reopen Chambers, like, two weeks ago?" You ask, trying to keep your voice as inconspicuous as possible.

Chambers was the local bar that your dad and his buddies loved to go to. You were just trying to plant a seed.

"Mm, yea, I reckon they did." He sighs out, eyes glued to the TV.

"S'been awhile since we've been there." One of his friends chime in.

"We should go grab a few drinks—I've missed picking up broads from there.." Another friend says, to which your dad promptly hits his arm because he doesn't like that kind of talk when you're present.

Nevertheless, he casts you a questioning glance. "You gon' be alright if we go?"

You try so hard to mask your instant glee. "Oh yeah, I'll be fine! Y'all go n' have fun."

"Alright punkin," They all stand, gathering up their wallets and keys—everyone except Joel. "You comin'?" Your dad asks him.

You glare at him to make sure he understands what you're trying to do.

Joel inhales through his nose before sighing out with a smile. "M'gonna call it a night, boys."

Thank god.

They all grunt and groan in protest, but eventually everyone filters out of the house.

You stand in the door jam and watch as your dad and his buddies file into the car, Joel standing on the porch to wave them off. Words are exchanged between everyone, mostly cussing, as they make their depature.

You both watch as they leave the culdesac, even waiting until you couldn't hear the car engine in the distance before looking at Joel.

Your breath catches in your throat when he turns around to look at you, folding his arms over his chest.

"Sly work." He murmurs, walking forward and forcing you to walk back into the house.

You're not sure why you're so nervous all the sudden.

Because you were pretending to be bold and experienced before, you had no choice but to mask your nerves. Now, that Joel knows the truth, you feel...vulnerable. But in the best way possible.

He backs you into the house before closing the door behind him, his head hanging to look at the ground.

"I had to get you alone somehow." You murmur with a shrug of your shoulders.

It was the truth.

You hear Joel chuckle and watch as he brings his head up to look at you. He's assessing you.

A beat of silence washes over you both.

"You said you would, Joel." You try to say sternly, although your voice wavers because you're scared he might've changed his mind.

"I know what I said." He steps closer, your torso's centimeters apart.

The eye contact is heavy—it feels like an avail against you. But you love it—love him. You're holding back from jumping his bones right by the front door.

"Good." You practically whisper, slowly taking his large hand in yours. You wait until he interwines your fingers before turning around and guiding him up the stairs.

Every creak under his and your feet sounds deafening in the silence between you both.

His hand is sweating, but so is yours.

When you make it to your bedroom, you walk inside and sit on the edge of your bed, gazing up at him.

"How many women have you slept with?" You hear yourself blurt before you can stop yourself.

His lips tighten into a line before he sits down next to you. Your sides are touching, his hands are resting on his knees.

"A few." He grunts, turning to face you. "Lot of 'em forgettable. But this," he gestures between the two of you. "ain't no comin' back from this, you hear me?"

You nod, your hand slipping over his knee. You're trying to trail it higher up his thigh, but he stops you with his hand.

"Need to make sure you know that before we do this. Don't want you regrettin' it later-"

"I won't." You say curtly, only because you know with complete certaintly that there was no way you'd ever regret this.

Everything is still for a moment, the only sound in the room is the both of your breathing. He's staring at you so hard, just waiting for even a hint of hesitation.

But it never comes.

In one swift movement, Joel's lips are on yours, pushing you back into the mattress and settling on top of you.

It makes you dizzy how effortlessly he's making out with you now.

He slots himself between your thighs and you moan at the feeling.

It's embarrassing how little he had to do in order to get you off.

But it's Joel, for christsake—he could just stand there and you'd probably find a way to orgasm at least twice.

It feels like he's engulfing you entirely; his musuclar arms wrapped around you, tongue down your throat, chests pressed together—pure bliss.

Suddenly and devastatingly, he breaks away for just a moment. "Sit up." He husks, to which you immediately oblige.

He lifts your dress up and off, momentairly stunned by the sight of your bare breasts.

"Christ, you're unreal." He groans before latching his mouth onto one of your nipples, using his hand to grope the other one.

You're a mess of moans, but you manage to speak in between. "Take your clothes off too," you whine, pawing at his shirt.

Joel grumbles, taking his time. He strips his shirt off and your hands are quick to latch onto his belt, fumbling with the leather strap but eventually yanking it out of the loops.

His hands come out to steady yours. "Slow down, no rush." He purrs in his texan drawl, making you shiver.

You groan out in frustration, letting your back fall down against the bed again. "You gonna make me wait all summer?"

"If you keep bein' a brat, then maybe." Joel huffs, yanking you back by the legs so he can pull your thong off. He dangles the stringy piece of fabric by his finger, looking at it assessingly.

"Joel!" You squeal, embarrassed. He effortessly holds you down with one hand against your stomach, not letting you swat it away from him.

"This what you go 'round wearin'?" He teases, grinning sharply.

You shrug, all squrimy, prodding him with your legs. "Would it turn you on if I said I wore them for you?"

You almost don't notice when Joel stuffs your underwear into his back pocket because of how drawn you are to his eyes. He's looking at you like a man starved—you love it.

"You been plottin' on me, is that it?" His voice makes your wet hole clench around nothing. He's teasing, but you also feel like you've just been caught.

You definitely weren't as suave as you thought you were.

"Stop makin' fun of me. " You huff with a flustered face, narrowing your eyes at him.

Joel smirks, finally prying apart your legs and taking a good, long look at your dripping cunt. "Christ almightly..." He groans at the sight of you, his cock straining hard against his jeans. "Pretty lil thing."

Your back arches off the bed when you feel Joel's thumb brush against your folds, tantilizingly slow. "Nice n' wet, atta girl." He muses, spreading your lips apart with his fingers.

You wanted to make a joke about him inspecting you like some doctor, but the words died quickly on your tongue when you felt him stroke your clit.

"Joel," You moan, hips squirming impatiently. "Fuck, I need you,"

"You got me, babygirl," Joel murmurs before lowering his head and devouring your cunt completely.

His tongue laps at you with fever, primarily focusing on your aching clit. The sensation nearly makes you pass out, especially when he pushes a finger inside of your hole.

"Ohmygodohmygodohmygod," You whine, fisting the sheets so hard that your knuckles turn white.

Having someone eat you out and it being actually enjoyable is one thing, but having Joel Miller eat you out and it being amazing, was blowing your mind.

He didn't even take breathers.

Joel was consuming you like he didn't need air. Soon, you feel another finger stretch you open, then another, until Joel has three fingers smoothly pumping in and out of you.

It quickly becomes all too much for your little brain. "Hmph..fuck Joel m'gonna come," You whine, your hips staggering against his mouth.

He doesn't answer you, in fact, Joel just wraps his musclar arms tightly under your thighs, securing you in place. In this position, you were rendered completely immoveable.

He kept you right where he wanted you.

"Waitwait, shit, Joel," His tongue is relentless, drinking you up like he was dying of thirst in the desert. Tears are forming in the lining of your eyes, the stimulation overloading you.

"Fuck!" You cry, coming completely undone beneath him. Your entire body shakes with pleasure as you finish, thighs squeezing the sides of his head.

Joel laps you all the way through it, humming contentedly against your soaked cunt.

When your body goes limp against the bed, thats finally when Joel lifts his lips off you. His entire face down past his nose is drenched in your juices; the sight makes your stomach flutter.

"Holy fucking shit Joel," You whimper, out of breath, chest heaving up and down. "That was amazing."

Joel lands a couple soft warning pats against your cunt, making you flinch and squirm from overstimulation.

"You cuss like a sailor, y'know that?"

"S'hard not to when you're makin' me feel so good." You're mumbling, wiping at the tear streaks on your face with the back of your hand.

"Mm, I know," He hums in that caring tone, crawling on top of you and placing a few chaste kisses on your lips.

It doesn't take long for your libido to rise again, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and eagerly kissing him back.

You bring a hand down to palm at his boner, giggling into the kiss. He groans at the feeling, rutting his hips into your hand. "Fuck me now please," You say breathlessly into his ear, nipping and licking at his neck.

He scoffs at your enthusiasm.

Finally, Joel pulls his pants off, letting his cock spring free and slap against his stomach.

You're enamoured by the sight of it. Long in length, even bigger in girth. You practically start drooling.

"You got a starin' problem too." Joel grumbles, grabbing you by the jaw and tilting your head up so he can kiss you again.

You chuckle into his lips, breaking away for a moment to speak. "I can't help it. It's handsome..you're handsome." You muse, getting a fist around his cock, managing to stroke it a few times before Joel stops you.

You don't have time to think or argue before he turns you over onto your side, situating himself behind you.

He's spooning you, except his left arm is hooked around your chest and his right has your leg lifted up, allowing his cock to slip between your folds.

Once again, he's got you right where he wants you.

"Joel," You bring your hands up to hold onto his forearm, pushing your ass back into him. "Put it in." You all but demand, trying to desperately grind your cunt on him.

He tightens his grasp on your collarbone, pulling you tighter against his chest. "Keep your leg up baby," Joel mutters lowly in your ear, letting go of your leg to guide his cock to your entrance.

His fat tip prods against your willing hole, making you dizzy with need. He runs his fingers along your folds one last time, gathering up your slick and using it to lubricate his cock.

Your heart is beating a million miles per hour. The moment you had been dreaming of for so long was finally here.

Joel, taking your virginity—your prayers were answered.

Slowly, Joel starts inching his way inside, the stretch making you gasp.

It feels fine at first, just a dull ache, but then it hurts—bad.

You squeeze your eyes shut and grit your teeth, trying to push through the pain. However, your body clenches down on the intrusive appendage, causing Joel to groan out.

It feels good for him, but he's been around the block a few times to know what's happening.

"You okay? I need'a stop?" He asks in that raspy voice of his, to which you immediately shake your head.

"Nonono, god no, don't stop. Just—just ram it in." You say foolishly, making Joel scoff.

"No, sweetheart, as much as I want to—bad idea." He brings his hand back down between your legs, rubbing a few slow circles into your clit. "Just relax and open up for me, thaaaats it," He encourages in that tone that lights fires in your core.

The perfect stimulation on the bundle of nerves made you forget all about the pain, letting your hole ease up a bit.

He takes the oppurtunity to keep breaching you deeper, peppering kisses to your neck and back in the process. His fingers stay glued to your clit, and before you know it, he's half way inside.

Your holding onto him so hard that your nails are leaving imprints on his forearm.

But you're so full of him and it's perfect. You can feel every twitch, every notch, every vein; or maybe you're just convincing yourself you can. Either way, mewls and moans are slipping from your lips and feeding Joel's growing ego.

"You feelin' good sweetheart?" He rasps in your ear, thrusting back and forth till he reaches that half way mark. You nod frantically, craning your neck to face him, desperate for a kiss.

He satisfies your wishes, kissing you slowly and passionately, like everything you've ever wanted.

His dick in you, his tongue down your throat, his arms pinning you to him. Fuck.

But you still want more.

In a shocking move, you slam your hips back against him, burying him all the way inside.

Moans fill your little bedroom, both his and yours, and for a moment, a flash of regret hits you like a truck.

He's big, and it fucking hurts.

But once the initial pain subsides, it’s like ecstasy.

"Fuck—girl, what'd ya do that for?" Joel hisses, tensing up because he's trying not to come fast.

"Couldn't wait," you pant, tears spilling out the corners of your eyes. "Please move." You're pleading because being stationary is somehow even more painful. You squirm in Joel's strong grasp, trying to stop the ache between your legs.

He's no match for you.

In a gentle but swift motion, Joel situates himself on top of you, closing your thighs together and putting them on one side of his body—all while still inside of you.

He cages you in with his big strong arms, looking down at your needy expression as he gradually starts rocking his hips into you. You're twisting your torso to remain looking at him, clawing at his biceps with your nails.

"This how you like it?" He huffs out, the sweat evident on his brow. "Deep n' slow?"

You want to respond to him, but it's hard to because every other sound you make is a moan.

He's so deep and never fails to hit the one spot that just makes you melt.

Opting for a non-verbal response, you nod with fever, gyrating your hips to meet his thrusts.

He chuckles, the sound alone makes you wanna come.

His name slips from your lips like a prayer—Joel finds it so cute because when he hits deep, your voice raises in pitch.

But he's no better, he'd been groaning in your ear since the start of it. He really cant help it, your cunt is like a silky, wet vice molded perfectly for his cock.

Joel lifts one of your legs up to his chest, securing his muscular arm around your thigh to keep it there. He continues he's deep thrusts, only this time picking up rhythm. He also brings his other hand down to lazily rub circles in your clit.

Christ.

Your head lolls back and your eyes roll into the back of your head. The stimulation was insanely perfect and all too much at the same time.

Your body wracks with jolts and spasms—your body trying to cope with everything it's feeling. Joel takes notice, a proud and lopsided smile spreading across his face.

"M'gonna cum," You whine, your body writhing against him with each thrust.

Your pussy is clenching down on him with each piston of his hips, Joel is not far behind you.

He rubs your clit in a way that makes you come undone, your back arching up off the bed and your toes curling from pleasure.

At the same time, Joel picks up his pace, only to pull his cock from inside you and pump it a few times before unloading his seed onto your naked torso.

For a moment, the only sound in the room is the heavy breathing coming from the both of you. Joel's staring down at your pussy, entraced with the way your hole is constricting around nothing.

Then, he looks at your face. Your eyes are closed, your lips are parted, your chest is heaving up and down. He's admiring you and all your fucked-out glory.

He brings a hand up to your face, wiping off the tear stains with his thumb. "You alright?" He husks out, looking down at you assessingly.

"M'perfect." You coo, slowly opening your eyes and leaning up to kiss him. Joel returns it, loving the way your mouth opens so readily for him.

He'd have to try it out with his dick next time.

"Can we go again?" You murmur into his mouth, your arms wrapping around his shoulders.

Joel scoffs because he thinks you're kidding. You're not. When he realizes this, he shakes his head in disbelief, pushing you down onto the bed by your shoulders.

"Don't worry, we got all summer."

[cosmosluckycharms]

Bug Like Angel

pt3

What's wrong with me?

After a while you rush downstairs, excited to tell everyone all about your trip and how fun it was.

You're excited to tell them all about how smart you are and how Liz Allan is considering you for an internship!

You're excited to tell them about how you and your friends didn't get in trouble and how most of the class was uninterested other than you!

You're excited to tell them about how you're so thankful for this trip!

You're excited to tell them how you even learned about Ozcorp!

You're so excited to tell everyone about how you were asking so many questions and how you even got to meet Liz Allan at all!

You find Tim on the couch watching TV while also on his phone.You ran up to him and sat next to him on the couch.

"Hey Tim!" you started rambling about your trip and your friends, not noticing him giving you a stink eye. You weren't the most observant person.

In the middle of you talking about how your friend tripped while you guys were learning about their projects, he got up and left.

"Hey, where are you going?" you asked while tilting your head.

"I need to do something, homework came up," he said, not even looking at you.

You knew he was lying.

Well, you tried...

Next up, you tried to tell Dick.

He was in Bludhaven, so you could only text him.

You've probably texted him over a million times, and he's probably only replied, like, twice.

You wish you could say "That's just how he was with everyone!" but you know it's not true. You can't lie to yourself like that.

You've seen how he treats everyone else.

How he treats Damian the way you wish you were treated by him at his age.

How he goes out to hang out with Tim.

How he checks up on Jason.

None of which has ever been done with you.

He never replied to your text, he has always had your notifications silenced anyway.

You tried telling Bruce, but he was busy trying to figure out a case. He didn't mean to ignore you! he was just..busy..like always.

There isn't much to say, other than how you're not sure this is how fathers are supposed to treat their kids.

When you were younger, you saw how your friends dads treated their kids like they were the light of their life.

And the truth was that they probably were, unlike you.

You tried telling Alfred, and he did listen! ..but he had to go help Bruce and Tim so he had to leave mid-conversation.

Duty calls.

You tried talking to Damian, but all he did was tell you you were "pathetic for being excited over something so trivial". Before sharpening his katana in an intimidating way.

You backed off.

Last but not least, you tried telling Jason.

You got excited and started jumping in place while talking about it only for him to shoo you away and yell at you for interrupting him while he was reading.

You froze and teared up when you got yelled at, you tried hiding it but even he noticed.

You stayed in your room the rest of the day.

You tried playing your guitar to calm you down only for you to break a string somehow.

Yikes. Today is not your day.

By dinnertime, you were starving.

You forgot to grab breakfast while trying to talk to the others, and you were crying when it was time for lunch due to Jason yelling at you.

You went downstairs to eat with everyone, eyes still puffy and red from crying. You were hungry.

While walking downstairs, you could hear everyone laughing and chatting together.

As soon as you appeared in the room, it went silent and the room got tense.

It stayed that way until you left.

You finally got to your room.

You don't understand.

What's wrong with you?

Your body? Face? Your hair? How you speak? How you dress?

They keep you guessing.

What's wrong with you?

Could it them?

It's probably you!

Why won't they just listen for once?!

It's clear you want them near you, you need attention, you need them.

You feel yourself start crying again.

"Please don't ignore me." you whisper to yourself.

Suddenly the room is spinning, you feel like you're melting, and everything's wrong with you!

The bite itches, it burns, you just wanna sleep, you're well rested, you feel like you're melting, why can't it stop?!

Everything's going wrong!

You're tired of them! Tired of Dicks dumb excuses on why you two could never hang out! Tired of Jason's constant pushing you away! Tired of Tim always leaving you! Tired of Damian always attacking you, verbally and physically! Tired of Alfred always defending everyone but you! Tired of your father dismissing you!

You wanna cry. You wanna cry and scream and hit something.

Maybe you should stop trying. You're the only one who cares.

You can't keep pretending you're fine.

You've decided to stop caring about them.

You think you deserve better.

You aren't sure.

You don't think you'll ever be.

Who are you really?

oml this is kinda bad...

guys trust in future chapters i WILL be including more of the spider stuff🙏🙏🙏 its on its way

everyones prolly ooc i dont know what im on about

guys pls sned asks and stuff and interact its wjat keeps me goimg 🙏

also should inpost my series on ao3 question mark

taglist: @bath1lda @mariadvorak

[enwoso]

hey i absolutely love the lovie fics and i had a request for a fic about lovie getting into alessias make up or one about her as a newborn and meeting alessias family at her parents house

DAB TO FAR | alessia russo x child!reader

grumpy masterlist

the faint hum of the hairdryer had been the background noise for most of the afternoon for alessia's as she was preparing for the fifa awards in london.

the award show being a significant event, her and a few of her other teammate's nominated for the fifa best XI and alessia wanted everything to be perfect.

she tasked her brothers, luca and gio the job of baby sitting you for the night. admittedly they were not the blondes first choice — that would have definitely gone to her mum and dad. but they were out of town choosing to extend their winter holiday in the sun.

so her brothers would have to do. but while alessia was getting her hair and makeup done. it had been surprisingly quiet in her home, too quiet.

her hair stylist, louise finishing up her curled bun as she quickly excused herself telling the girl she should probably check up on you in which she just laughed waving the blonde off to do whatever she needed to do.

alessia's gut twinged as she walked up the stairs, her hair styled perfectly with each hair having a place. but something wasn’t right.

you weren't exactly known for being silent, especially when you were at home. alessia had a hard time getting you to be quiet in the comfort of your own home. you were more of a constant giggler, singer or babbler.

alessia slipped the salon cape on the banister at the top of the stairs, "guys?" she called out.

walking into the room where she could hear gio screaming at what she discovered to be the tv, as he was glued to the gaming console, headset on, controlled in hand as he sat on the edge of the bottom of the bed.

luca was sprawled out on the spare bedroom bed, sound asleep over the noise of gio, his mouth slightly open. typical.

gio was too immersed to even notice her approach. "gio," alessia said, hands on her hips.

he jumped, scrambling to pull one side of the headset off as he noticed his sister with a not too impressed look on her face.

"oh, hey less. your hair looks nice, louise's has done a grand job!" gio smiled as he tried to waver the unimpressed look of his sisters face.

"where's lovie?"

gio face went blank, then turned to mild panic before he stuttered out a response, "uh- i..i thought she was with you?"

alessia's sharp inhale could have rivaled a gale-force wind, "you thought she was with me?"

"well, yeah, she was here a second ago-"

"giorgio!" she groaned, cutting him off as she spun on her heel to try and find you, she didn't have time to lecture him right now. her mind raced as she checked the kitchen and the backyard calling out for you.

"lovie, baby where are you?"

but i wasn't until she was doing the second check of the the upstairs when she passed her room that she noticed something odd. the door was slightly open, and alessia could distinctly remember shutting it earlier.

she gently pushed it open and froze as she poked her head into the room.

you perched on the vanity chair, one leg swinging back and forth as you were surrounded by an explosion of makeup.

eyeshadow palettes were wide open, power dusted across the table and floor like a multicoloured snowstorm. lipstick tubes uncapped and their contents smeared across your tiny face in bold streaks of red and pink.

alessia's blush brush clutched in your tiny hand, its bristles now dipped in an alarming mix of colours.

noticing your mummy in the mirror stood behind you a small wince on her face as you turned and look to her with wide innocent eyes.

your lips - mostly your chin - coated in a sticky uneven layer of alessia's favourite lip gloss.

"mummy! i pretty like you" you declared proudly holding up the brush as if it was a magic wand.

alessia bit back a laugh, she wanted to cry over her ruined makeup but the sight of you so proud of your work melted away any frustration that was building.

"lovie," alessia said crouching down to your level as you sat on the vanity chair, "what have you done?"

you big smile faltered slightly, "i getting ready for the awards.. like you!"

alessia let out a small sigh, softening her tone, "lovie, you know you can't play with mummy's makeup like this. it's special to me and not for little girls"

your bottom lip trembled and alessia quickly reached out to wipe a bit of lipstick off your cheek. "it's okay but we're gonna have to clean this up together alright?"

you nodded solemnly your hands still clutching the brush and a half melted lipstick tube.

after cleaning up majority of the mess - and giving your face a thorough wipe, alessia was matching back into the guest room as you sat downstairs in the living room watching a programme in a fresh pair of pyjamas.

walking into the room, alessia flicked off the tv in the middle of the game gio was playing as she stood blocking the view of the tv.

"hey! alessia!" gio protested, glaring up at her as the gaming controller fell from his hands to his lap.

"don't you 'hey' me. you and him are supposed to be watching her" alessia gestures to downstairs. "you know where i found her? covered in my makeup! luca's asleep and your here playing a game i know you spent more than 12 hours a day playing!"

gio winced, sensing the slight frustration in his younger sisters tone, "she was quiet so i thought.."

"exactly! she was quiet that should have been your first clue!"

alessia didn't spare him any more words as she moved over to were luca lay sprawled out asleep on the bed. jabbing him slightly hard in the shoulder causing the boy to jolt up.

luca rubbed a hand over his face as he blinked groggily, "what's going on?"

"you're supposed to be helping watch lovie, not napping!"

"she's fine" luca mumbled defensively as his eyes fluttered closed again.

"erm she's wasn't actually, she was busy picasso-ing herself with my makeup in my room!"

luca groaned but alessia was already on her way back downstairs knowing her the makeup artist here to do her makeup would be waiting as she muttered under her breath about her useless brothers

as the makeup artist did the finishing touches as you sat comfortably in your mummy's arms getting your hugs in before alessia left as alessia couldn't help but chuckle at the memory of your colourful face.

you may have made a mess and ruined a bit of her makeup that she would no doubly have to replace but there wasn't anything she would trade it for then to have those memories with you.

she would however think twice about trusting her brothers with babysitting duties again...

[konigsfavgirl]

꒰ Adorable König Habits & Routines Outside the Military — as promised my pookies :3 ꒱

Early Bird Energy: König wakes up ridiculously early, even on days off. He tries to stay quiet, but he still ends up making tea, pacing the apartment, or doing light stretches—his huge frame moving around while you’re still dead asleep.

Overgrown Houseplant Dad: He has a weirdly soft spot for houseplants. He waters them with too much care, occasionally talks to them “You’re growing well, ja? Keep it up.” and panics if a leaf turns yellow.

Notebook Hoarder: He owns way too many notebooks, some filled with tactical notes, some with random doodles, and some… just empty because he likes having them. Don't let me mention the silly patterns for notebooks he owns.

Clumsy Giant Moments: For someone so skilled in the field, König is shockingly clumsy at home. He constantly bumps into doorframes, accidentally knocks things over with his elbows, and hits his head on hanging lights. Later he tries to explain why your favorite decoration is fixed with glue magically.

Candle Enthusiast: He secretly loves scented candles. If you ever mention liking a particular scent, you will find a new candle of that scent appearing in the apartment. He would insist lighting one if you two are having a movie night — it spikes up the atmosphere

Protective Blanket Tucking: If you fall asleep on the couch, König has to tuck you in properly. He carefully drapes a blanket over you, making sure you're warm. If you shift even slightly, he freezes, afraid he woke you.

Big Spoon 90% of the Time: Even if you start off cuddling face-to-face, König will unconsciously pull you against his chest in his sleep, wrapping himself around you like a human weighted blanket. Gentle

Alarm Clock (For You, Not Him): Since you’re not a morning person, he wakes you up in the softest ways possible — rubbing your back, whispering to you, or placing little kisses on your forehead until you stir.

Absolutely Awkward with PDA: König wants to be affectionate in public, but he’s so tall and intimidating that he overthinks it. He’ll lightly brush his fingers against yours instead of holding your hand—unless you grab his first. Then he melts.

Buys You Snacks Without Asking: If he notices you like a certain snack, you’ll always find it in the kitchen. He never asks, he just stocks up on it like some silent provider instinct kicks in.

Waits for You to Get Home Like a Loyal Dog: If you come home late, König is either waiting by the door or lying on the couch, pretending he wasn’t waiting for you. Expect the long cuddling session if you were away for too long.

Secretly Loves When You Play With His Hair: If you ever tug on his hood and ruffle his hair, he groans dramatically, but he never stops you. If you start braiding it? He’s suffering but lets you do it anyway.

Terrible at Saying No to You: You want to steal his hoodie? Done. You want him to cook something random at midnight? Fine. If you give him the right look, he just sighs and does whatever you ask.

[buckets-and-trees]

I love bed Chem and the follow up!! I’d love to see them bump into each other outside of hook up times - like they’re both in the same coffee shop…and a cute barista is flirting with reader…and Bucky suddenly feels possessive when he sees it happening from across the shop but can’t say anything as they’re just hook up buds and it’s not his place to be jealous 🤭

Even Better Than In My Head

Characters/Pairings: Bucky Barnes x curvy!Millennial female!reader Word Count: 2.9k Summary: Hooking up with Bucky Barnes in the middle of the night has scratched the itch whenever you're craving between your legs, but crossing paths with the man out in the wild in normal life? Much more dangerous than you could have guessed.

Content Warnings: modern AU, hook up culture/bootycall, established sexual relationship

Author Notes: This is a follow-up to Parking Lot Chem and Camaraderie.

Logistical Notes: My first fill for @buckyboybingo (Gym) and my ninth bit for Valentine Storygrams!

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

“This entire table is a masterpiece!” your sister exclaims, thoroughly impressed and overjoyed. “I seriously owe you!”

“You do!” you chide. “You owe me many, many favors.”

“I’d promise my first-born, but that ship has already sailed!” she replies, gesturing at her daughter - your niece - who is currently engaged in some sort of statue tag game with a gaggle of other children her age.

“I’m serious, though. You know you absolutely saved me.”

"I know," you say, waving off her gratitude with a smile. "That's what sisters are for, right?"

You both turn to survey the booth, a riot of pink and red decorations adorning every surface. Heart-shaped cookies, cupcakes with swirling frosting rosettes, raspberry-lemon bars, and delicate palmiers drizzled with white chocolate and heart-shaped sprinkles cover the table in neat, enticing rows.

"Seriously, though," your sister continues, lowering her voice, "this could make or break my campaign for PTA president. The entire board is here, and they're all watching to see how this goes."

You nod, remembering the frantic phone call you'd received two nights ago.

Your sister's voice had been a mix of panic and exhaustion as she explained how her usually angelic toddler had decided to test out his superhero abilities by leaping off the kitchen counter. The result? A nasty gash that required a trip to urgent care and several stitches. But to make matters worse, she’d only been so distracted to allow the failed test-flight of her two-year-old because she’d been trying to figure out why her oven would turn on, but refused to heat up past 180 degrees - nowhere near close enough to take care of her baking needs.

So you agreed - or offered, you really don’t quite remember how this part of the conversation went at this point - to take care of making all the baked goods.

“Couldn't let my favorite sister crash and burn at the Valentine's Day bake sale, could I?"

"I'm your only sister, you goof," she retorts with a laugh. "But again, thank you. I don't know what I would have done without you."

As you're about to respond, your sister's eyes suddenly widen, and a sly grin spreads across her face. She leans in close, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Speaking of paying you back, I think I'm about to start right now."

You follow her gaze across the crowded gymnasium, your curiosity piqued. Through the sea of parents and children, a tall figure is making his way towards your booth. As he draws closer, you can't help but notice how he seems to part the crowd effortlessly, his presence commanding yet somehow warm.

"See that absolutely gorgeous man heading our way?" your sister murmurs, her excitement palpable. "That's Aiden Hartley. He's a single dad, a widower, and practically the perfect gentleman."

You try to maintain your composure as Aiden approaches, but it's difficult not to stare. He's easily over six feet with a build that suggests he's no stranger to the gym. His short blonde hair catches the light, looking almost golden under the fluorescent glare of the school's overhead lighting. Even from a distance, you can see his eyes - a striking shade of green that reminds you of summer leaves.

As Aiden reaches your booth, a warm smile spreads across his face. Your heart skips a beat.

"Ladies," he greets you both, his voice deep and smooth. "I have to say, this spread looks absolutely incredible."

Your sister jumps in, "Oh, it's all thanks to my amazing sister here! Aiden, you haven’t met her yet, but she's the baking genius."

Aiden's gaze returns to you, a spark of interest in those mesmerizing green eyes. "Is that so? Well, I'm thoroughly impressed. I'm Carter’s dad, by the way, he’s in the same class as your niece." He extends his hand.

You introduce yourself, hoping your palm isn't too sweaty as you shake his hand. His grip is firm but gentle, and you can't help but notice how your hand seems to fit very nicely into his.

"So, what would you recommend?" Aiden asks, gesturing to the array of sweets.

“I’d like one of the cupcakes,” the last voice you’re expecting to hear interrupts from just behind you, and you whip around to find yourself face to face with Bucky, the man who has been regularly - if intermittently - wrecking you sexually.

What on earth is he doing here?

Not only is he here, he’s looking devastatingly handsome in a dark blue button-down and jeans. Your breath catches in your throat as memories of your late-night encounter flood your mind.

"One of the chocolate ones," Bucky drawls, his eyes roaming over the baked goods before settling on you with a heated gaze. "Is that a strawberry buttercream on top?"

“Mhmm,” you manage to nod, throat completely dry, brain trying to figure out how to function.

You’re not supposed to be seeing this man in the light of day - does not compute, does not compute.

"Looks like someone's been busy in the kitchen," he adds.

Your sister, oblivious to the tension crackling between you and Bucky, beams at him. "Yes! Isn't it amazing? My sister made everything here."

Bucky's lips curl into a smirk. "Is that so? You’re clearly skilled with your hands - the piping on this frosting is flawless,” he says, handing cash to your sister in exchange for one of the cupcakes.

He brings the treat to his nose, inhaling deeply, his eyes never leaving yours. "Smells divine," he murmurs, voice low enough that only you can hear. Then, with a wink that makes your knees weak, he turns and strides away, weaving through the crowd with the same effortless grace that brought him to your booth. His confident stride draws more than a few appreciative glances from the other parents.

Your sister nudges you with her elbow, breaking you out of your daze. "See, I told you you're too modest with your baking skills," she whispers excitedly. "Bucky Barnes is usually a man of few words, and he dropped plenty just now."

You nod absently, still reeling from Bucky's sudden appearance and the way he'd looked at you. Your mind races, trying to process the conflicting emotions swirling within you. On one hand, there's the familiar spark of desire that Bucky always ignites. On the other, there's a new, tentative flutter of interest as you glance back at Aiden, who's patiently waiting with a warm smile.

Your sister, ever the matchmaker, seamlessly steers the conversation back to Aiden. "So, Aiden, you were asking about recommendations?" She gives you a subtle but pointed look.

You clear your throat. "Right. Well, the raspberry-lemon bars are a personal favorite. They've got just the right balance of sweet and tart."

Aiden's eyes light up. "That sounds perfect. I'll take two, please." As your sister boxes up his order, he turns back to you. "So, do you bake professionally? These look like they could be in a high-end bakery."

You laugh, shaking your head. "Oh no, it's just a hobby. I work in marketing, actually."

"Well, you certainly have a talent for it," Aiden says, his smile warm and genuine. "I can’t wait to try these,” he adds, holding up his box.

As you're about to respond to Aiden's compliment, your sister suddenly gasps and slaps her forehead dramatically. "Oh no! I completely forgot!" She turns to you with an exaggerated look of distress. "The PTA was supposed to set up the face-painting station, but I just realized we left all the supplies in my car!"

You raise an eyebrow, sensing the poorly disguised matchmaking attempt, but play along. "Oh, that's not good. You'd better go take care of that."

Your sister nods vigorously, already backing away from the booth. "Absolutely! Can't have disappointed kids on Valentine's Day!" She pauses, then turns to Aiden with a look of calculated innocence. "Aiden, I hate to impose, but would you mind helping my sister man the booth until I get back? It shouldn't take more than fifteen or twenty minutes.”

Aiden’s eyes flash to you, gleaming with amusement, clearly recognizing your sister's ploy for what it is, but he plays along anyway. "Of course! I'd be more than happy to lend a hand... or take an order or two," he jokes, winking at you.

Your cheeks flush a with heat, but you’re not totally unhappy with her shenanigans.

Your sister rushes off and Aiden takes her place behind the table. As the two of you settle into a rhythm working the table, you can't help but feel a spark of connection. His easy smile and warm demeanor put you at ease, and soon you're chatting effortlessly about everything from your shared love of books to your favorite local restaurants.

"So, marketing, huh?" Aiden asks during a lull. "What kind of projects do you work on?"

You launch into a brief explanation of your latest campaign, surprised at how easily the conversation flows. Aiden listens attentively, asking insightful questions that show he's genuinely interested. His green eyes sparkle with intelligence, and you find yourself drawn in by his charm.

"That sounds fascinating," he says, leaning in slightly. "I'd love to hear more about it sometime. Maybe over coffee?"

Your heart flutters at the invitation, but before you can respond, your eyes are inexplicably drawn across the crowded gymnasium. Through the sea of parents and children, you spot Bucky leaning against the far wall.

He's standing slightly apart from the crowd, his presence both magnetic and aloof. The sleeves of his dark blue plaid shirt are rolled up to his elbows, revealing the corded muscles of his forearms. His hair, usually disheveled when you see him, is neatly combed back into a bun, accentuating the sharp angles of his jaw.

As if sensing your gaze, Bucky's eyes lock with yours from across the room. A slow, knowing smile spreads across his face as he brings the cupcake to his lips. You watch, transfixed, as he takes a deliberate bite, his eyes never leaving yours.

The chocolate cake yields easily, and a smear of pink frosting clings to his upper lip. Your mouth goes dry as you watch his tongue dart out, slowly and purposefully licking away the sweet confection.

The sight sends a jolt of electricity through your body, igniting a fire low in your belly. Memories of that same tongue exploring your most intimate places flood your mind. You can almost feel the ghost of it and press your legs together.

Suddenly aware that you've been staring, you snap your attention back to Aiden, who's looking at you expectantly. You realize he's still waiting for an answer about coffee.

"Oh, um, yes," you stammer, trying to regain your composure. "Coffee sounds great."

Aiden's face lights up with a warm smile. "Wonderful! How about this Saturday?"

You nod, pushing thoughts of Bucky to the back of your mind. "Saturday works for me."

As you exchange numbers with Aiden, you can't help but feel a mix of excitement and guilt. Excitement at the prospect of getting to know this kind, handsome man better. Guilt because you know that no matter how charming Aiden is, a part of you is still thinking about Bucky and the raw, primal energy between you.

About how he probably would have no problem dragging you away to his car and fucking you in the parking lot right now.

You think that’s something Aiden would never do .

The rest of the bake sale passes in good conversation with Aiden, chatting between customers and stealing glances at each other when you think the other isn't looking. You learn that he's an architect, specializing in sustainable design, and his passion for his work is evident in the way his eyes light up as he describes his latest project.

"It's a community center," he explains, his hands moving animatedly as he speaks. "We're incorporating solar panels, rainwater harvesting systems, and even a rooftop garden. The goal is to create a space that not only serves the community but also educates them about sustainable living."

You find yourself genuinely interested, asking questions about the design process and the challenges he faces. As you listen, you can't help but appreciate how different this interaction is from your usual encounters with Bucky. With Aiden, there's a warmth, a sense of connection that’s so natural.

But your gaze drifts regularly to Bucky. Bucky has become attached to a young boy who looks to be about six years old. The resemblance between them is striking – the same strong jawline, the same chestnut brown hair. They grin and laugh together, Bucky follows him around to the face painting, a craft station, poses with him in the photo booth.

All you have ever shared with Bucky is sex. The two of you had given next to no time to small talk even in the first few days of messaging on the hook up app and in your first meet up. You had both made it clear you used each other for sex and didn’t want anything else from the connection.

As the bake sale winds down, your sister finally returns, apologizing profusely for needing to cover the face painting instead of helping at the booth. She winks at you when Aiden isn't looking, clearly pleased with her efforts. Aiden continues to linger, helping to fold up the tablecloth and carry boxes.

This morning you were thoroughly single, no need or with to do much to be otherwise. But now you find yourself torn between two very different men. Aiden, with his warm smile and gentle demeanor, represents the possibility of a genuine connection, of building something meaningful. Your conversation flows easily, and you can't deny the flutter in your chest when he laughs at your jokes.

But then there's Bucky. Your attention drawn back to him over and over, watching as he had interacted with the young boy who must be his son. It's a side of him you've never seen before, and it stirs something unexpected within you. The tenderness in his eyes as he looks at his child is a stark contrast to the raw intensity you're used to seeing when he looks at you.

As you and Aiden start packing up the remaining baked goods, Bucky approaches your booth once more. This time, the little boy is with him, clinging to his hand and looking up at you with wide, curious eyes.

"Hey," Bucky says, his voice smooth and charming. "We wanted to grab a few more treats before you packed up." His eyes flick to Aiden, then back to you, a flash of something - possessiveness? jealousy? - passing over his face.

"Of course," you manage, brightening your voice as you direct your attention to the small boy. "What would you like?"

The little boy tugs on Bucky's hand, pointing at the heart-shaped cookies. "Can I have those, Daddy?"

Your heart does a little flip at hearing Bucky called 'Daddy'. It's such a stark contrast to the Bucky you know - the one who whispers filthy things in your ear as he pounds into you.

"Sure thing, buddy. How about we get a few to take home for later?" Bucky suggests, his voice gentle as he speaks to his son.

You can't help but smile at the interaction as you carefully package up a half dozen of the heart-shaped cookies. As you hand the box to Bucky, your fingers brush against his, sending a whoosh of butterflies through your stomach. His eyes lock with yours, dark and intense, before he glances meaningfully at Aiden.

"Thanks," Bucky says, his voice low. "These look delicious. I'm sure they taste even better than they look." The double meaning in his words is clear, and you feel a flush creeping up your neck.

"I hope you enjoy them," you manage to reply, your voice slightly breathless.

As Bucky turns to leave, his son looks up at you with a shy smile. "Thank you for the treats!”

"You're very welcome, young man," you reply, smiling warmly at the little boy. As they walk away, you can't help but watch Bucky's retreating form, admiring the way his shirt clings to his broad shoulders.

You and Aiden finish packing up the last of the baked goods, and he helps you carry the boxes to your car.

"So, about Saturday," he says as you close the trunk. "There's this great little café downtown that does this stuffed french toast that will send you to heaven. How does that sound?”

You smile at Aiden, genuinely excited about the prospect of getting to know him better. "That sounds wonderful," you reply. "I love a good french toast."

As you exchange details for your upcoming date, you can't help but feel a mix of anticipation and guilt. Aiden is everything you should want - kind, intelligent, and clearly interested in more than just a physical relationship. Yet, as you watch him walk away, your mind drifts back to Bucky.

Later that night, as you're getting ready for bed, your phone buzzes with a text. Your heart races as you see Bucky's name on the screen.

BUCKY: Those cookies were delicious. But not as sweet as your cunt.

You bite your lip, torn between responding and ignoring the message. Before you can decide, another text comes through.

BUCKY: I'm in the neighborhood. Have any of that frosting left?

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[sandwitchstories]

Not-So Malevolent Shrine

Welcome back to more adventures in Mouse's Mini-verse! I just can't get enough of these two together!

For more adventures with Mouse and Dad!Sukuna, check out my Daddy Duty Series on my AO3 - Here! )

If you prefer to read this story on AO3 click here !

Author's Note: For anyone new to my Dad!Sukuna Series, Mouse is Sukuna's, currently, 2 year old daughter with reader.

Summary: Upon hearing Mouse yelling something in the backyard Sukuna heads out there to investigate. As per usual when this father and daughter combo are left unsupervised, hijinks commence.

WC: 1101

CW: reader is referred to as 'Mama' but not described, toddler dad Sukuna, girl dad!sukuna, true form Sukuna (4 arms), it's pretty much just plain Dilf Sukuna fluff and crack, SFW in every way, just family fluff, father and daughter fluff, I love them together, baby's first attempt at curse techniques

“Ma-leb-pu-tent Shine!!! I said Ma-leb-pu-tent SHIIIINE!!!.... Shine please and Thank you?”

Sukuna headed outside, curious just what his daughter was doing and even more curious about who she was talking to. He found her standing in the yard, doing what looked to be the toddler version of his palm sign for Malevolent Shrine. Ah, so that’s what she was trying to say.

“Mouse. What are you doing?” he asked, startling her and watching her whip around to face him.

“I tryin’ to do shine like Papa does but it no want to come for me. I even said please and thank you,” she told him with a frustrated look on her face.

“It is shrine not shine.” He stopped in front of her, towering over the toddler with his arms crossed. 

“I says that.”

“Why do you have a need of Malevolent Shrine, brat?” he asked, lips pursed as he waited for an explanation.

“That,” she turned and pointed behind her.

Sukuna saw the decent sized watermelon sitting in the grass a short distance away. He glanced down at her and asked why she had not done what should obviously have been her first choice before trying to unleash shrine. “Why didn’t you just ask Uraume or your mother?”

“No! Papa! Uhm… they no know…” she scratched her little pink head as she looked up at him.

His daughter may be a thief but at least she did not lie. He smirked down at her, “They told you to wait until after dinner, didn’t they?”

“Yes… but  starving Papa. I no have a tummy mouth but my tummy is empty and hungry, Papa!” She looked up at him with big huge pleading eyes.

Sukuna sighed before kneeling down on one knee. He reached out a hand and gripped her arm, pulling her closer with a gentle but firm tug. He tapped the tip of her little turned up nose when she looked up at him. Time to set her straight. Better do it while she was still young.

He kissed her forehead and turned her around so she was in front of him facing the watermelon. “Since the watermelon is only 1 thing and it has a small circumference-”

“Whats a cir-cub-prince?”

“Circumference. Its how big a circle needs to be. Notice how the watermelon is not very big?” she nodded. “That means it would be better to use a single slashing attack. Now, Do you want slices or chunks?”

“Chunks, please and thank you, Papa!” she said in a tone of victory, cheering her little hands up.

“Alright. Then this is what you want to use. Dismantle!” he moved his hand and the watermelon fell apart into perfect cubes.

“Thank you, Papa!!” Mouse bolted from his arms towards the juicy pile of green and pink contraband. She jumped up and down, squealing with delight before leaning down to grab a piece in either hand and come running towards him. She held up a piece to him. “You have some too, Papa!”

And wouldn’t luck have it that the moment he sunk his teeth in he heard your voice from behind. He didn’t have to look to know your hands were on your hips and your face was pinched in frustration. “What do you two think you are doing? You’re going to ruin your appetites!”

“Uh-oh, Papa!” Mouse said in a loud whisper to him. “She got her stink face on. We in big trouble.”

If you had heard her words or seen his face when she said it, he knew they would both be did. Even if not a single word she spoke was a lie. It was the perfect description for it. “Go get a piece for Mama. I’ll try to smooth it over.”

“Okay, Papa!” she nodded and took off running while he stood to face you. “I came outside to find her trying to use Malevolent Shrine to cut the watermelon she admittedly stole. But don’t worry precious one, I have corrected the error of her ways.”

“Here, mama!” Mouse said as she came running back, holding up a piece for you and eating a fresh new piece in her other hand.

“Oh you did?” You asked him, taking the watermelon from Mouse. You looked down at her and brushed bach hair from her eyes with your fingers. “So Papa already talked to you about how stealing is bad?”

“Nope! Papa taught me that to make little chunks you need to use dibanedele not Ma-leb-pu-tent shine. Because of the cir-cub-prince of a watermelon,” she explained as she held onto your robes with her sticky free hand.

You glared at Sukuna who just shrugged his shoulders. “I told you I corrected her on the error of her ways.”

“Papa is the best Papa!” Mouse laughed happily, blissfully unaware that you were conjuring the image of squashing her father’s head over and over and over again in your mind. She ran off to get more melon. 

“That’s your version of correcting the error of her ways?” you grumbled as he smirked. You shook your head, a small smile tugging at one corner of your lips. “I should have known before I even asked.”

“Mama, Papa! Come have more with me, please and thank you!” Mouse called, gesturing with her hands for you to join her.

You once again found yourself adopting the ‘if you can’t beat them, join them’ mentality with a sigh. You grabbed one of his hands and gave it a tug,  “Come on, we better go help her. There’s too much evidence there for her to eat all of it by herself and Uraume will be looking for that watermelon soon.”

“You want to teach her to eat the evidence of her crimes but I got the stink face merely for correcting which technique she needed for that situation?” he arched an eyebrow at you. 

Your eyes narrowed on his face. “Excuse me? Stink face?”

“Don’t be mad, precious one, it describes it accurately.”

You laughed and let him pull you in for a kiss. You cupped his face with your hands, letting him kiss you softly several times before you pulled back. “I supposed my having a stink face pairs well with your being a stinky head.”

“Ouch,” he said, screwing up his face and letting you go.

“Ouch in deed, ouch indeed. Now come, my beloved, we must go assist our little delinquent in covering her tracks.” It was a  life full of craziness that you led, but there was nowhere else you would rather be and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[hexgirl13]

nobody gets me

wc: 1,329

summary: one night, two loner teens find comfort in one another

warnings(?): fluff, smidge of angst, cursing, shitty dads, smoking, use of y/n

a/n: another edition to the rafe x maybank!reader series. lwk the ending is kinda bad 😭 but i tried. lemme know if y'all wanna see more!!

the cool waters lapped against the shore, washing up little treasures from the ocean. taking a long hit from your vape, you leaned your head back to let the smoke fall from your lips. you slightly grimaced at the watermelon flavoured smoke. it had been a while since you did nic, but jj finished up your last joint. you found comfort in the cold and silence that was wrapped around you. it had been a long night for you.

you came home from your workshift to find jj gone. probably out with john b and all of. however, shortly after, your dad barged into the house. definitely drunk and definitely angry. that was, sadly, something that wasn't new. you took another hit and closed your eyes, trying to drown out the hateful words that he spewed at you.

"maybank?" you heard a voice call out to you.

you opened an eye to find none other than rafe cameron staring down at you. it was a surprise to see anyone, but especially someone like him, this late at the beach.

"what're you doing here?" he asked, moving to stand in front of you. his hair was messy, like he'd run his fingers through it a bunch, and his clothes were disheveled. and was he... crying? you couldn't tell in the dark.

"i could ask you the same thing." you eyed him up and down. his movements were jittery, while his eyes darted across the beach. he didn't stop fiddling with the hem of his shirt either. either he was about to have a panic attack or he was high. maybe both. "you wanna sit down?" you offered, your voice a gentle tone. his blue eyes made eye contact with you, before shakily nodding "y-yeah."

he dropped down next to you on the sand. knee bumping yours as he did so. you glanced at him through the corner of your eye. his gaze stays focused on his hands. numbly picking at his fingers. "stop doing that, you'll bleed." you pushed his hands down. almost immediately you realized what you'd done. "sorry," you mumbled, letting go of him.

he wearily watched you, but stayed quiet. when he wasn't with his asshole friends, he wasn't that bad. he was practically hated by your friends. especially by your brother. you never thought of him that way. with you, he was nice and... shy. "i'm sorry that i interrupted your quiet time or whatever," he muttered, now intently watching you.

"it's okay. it's a public beach, rafe. not just mine," you replied lightly. a minor way to lighten the mood. he let out a quiet chuckle. "maybe not, yeah. but i find you here often. speaking of, why are you here? thought i saw your pogue brother and his friends having a party."

"oh, uh, i'm not a big party person. prefer to be alone and stuff like that." you take another quick hit. his eyes drop down to where the smoke falls from your lips and he suddenly feels his mouth dry up. he swallows. “do you mind if i…?” he asks hesitantly.

you feel yourself stiffen up when you notice him looking at your lips. however, you soon realize he was talking about your vape. “huh? oh, yeah, here ya go.”

he gratefully takes it from you and hits it. a slight grimace spreads on his face when he tastes it. “watermelon, really?” he asked.

you let out a soft laugh. “yeah, sorry. jj finished my last joint. can't even find my dispo, either.”

“you know, i, uh, i sell. all kinds of shit. like, weed, geekbar, whatever you want. if you're interested, obviously. you don't have to feel-” he started to ramble.

you place a gentle hand on his bicep to stop him. “rafe. i get it. i’ll keep that in mind.” you could feel his body stiffen under your touch and gently smiled. no way rafe cameron was getting nervous around you. your hand trails down to hold his wrist, swiping at his pulse point.

his heart was racing.

“you wanna talk about why you’re here so late?” you asked softly.

his breath hitched at your feather like touch. “uh, m-my dad. him and i got into a fight. some stupid shit about the family. i mean, he acts like i don’t care!” he begins to ramble, hands shaking and eyes welling with tears, “b-but i do… i do care, i just don't understand why he can't see that. he makes me feel like shit, y/n… and i-” his voice breaks as some tears fall.

“oh, rafe,” you cooed, guiding his head to your chest. you ran your fingers through his blonde hair, brushing his bangs out of his face. his shaky hands gripped the front of your sweater, tears soaking it. it was so odd to see a typically strong and cocky boy break so much. you always hated ward cameron. he was a terrible man, both as a person and a father. it was defnitely clear to see now.

there was always an unspoken connection between the two of you. despite growing up on opposite sides of outer banks, you both felt like you shared more qualities than most. both of you always were the odd siblings out, like the black sheep of your families. so you understood what it felt like to be practically hated by your father, yet still craving to be loved and accepted by him.

“i get it, rafe. it sucks to feel like that because of your dad,” you whispered into his hair. “but you're not a careless person. i can see that you care, you just… show it differently. you're a good man, rafe. don't let him make you feel like you're shit or anything less than.”

he sniffled, lifting his head from your chest. “you think so?” he asked shakily.

“course i do. despite what others say, i can tell who you are. who you really are.”

i can tell who you are.

rafe had never heard those words before, and if he had, he'd probably never have believed it. yet coming from you… he did.

“thanks, y/n. i know i don't say it much, hell, i rarely say it, but you're a good person to me. no matter what,” he said, smiling gratefully at you.

you smiled, noticing something. “you called me y/n…”

“what?”

“you called me by my name. like, my actual name. you never do that.”

he hadn't even noticed that. “huh, i guess i am. can't exactly call you by your last name, right? that's reserved for your brother, who i’m… not particularly fond of. i kinda like you though,” he said with a slight wink.

there he was. the rafe that you knew and grew up with. “alright, rafe,” you replied, playfully shoving him. “i literally hate you.” yet there was a smile on your face.

“nah, you love me,” he countered.

you were thankful for the moonlight, or else he’d see the blush blooming on your face. “whatever.” a few moments of silence pass by, but it's not awkward at all. suddenly, you ask, “you wanna go to the gas station with me? i’d rather not walk there alone.”

his head turned towards you, blue eyes shining. “hell yeah. you got a car?”

you shake your head. “dude, i’m a pogue. i barely got any new clothes.”

he laughs softly and it makes you feel giddy. “that's okay, i don't have mine with me. we can just walk.” he stands up, dusting off the sand from his shorts. holding out a hand towards you, you accept it. once he pulls you up, he doesn't let go. neither do you. “c’mon, let’s go.”

the two of you walk towards the boardwalk, a blanket of silence covering the two of you. it isn't awkward though. understanding, and perhaps something else, passes between you two. and maybe, that's all either of you needed. somebody who understood.

[sturniqlo]

「 ✦ BOYFRIEND OF YOURS? ✦ 」

summary: chris keeps his promise to your dad and visits the office, and chris notices the little nerd who is utterly in love with you.

cw: name calling(?), jealousy

word count: 2.7k

masterlist | WFYL masterlist | more WFYL | join my taglist

PART TWO

it was 10:29am and you stood in front of the high ceiling windows of your office and just watched the city and everyone going about their day. you saw a mom and her two kids enter the indoor play place that wasn't too far from the office building, a few random teenagers skipping school, something you wish you would've done, many people walking their dogs. it was funny just how many dogs ran into each other and stared at one another, or just barked.

you were having a bit of trouble trying to understand the plot to the a new movie that was in the talks. you had many jobs here, you went to meetings to discuss new movie and show ideas, you helped with editing, you even went to a few shootings to supervise, and the most important of them all was having the final say in approving a movie or show.

the guy, peter ray, who pitched the idea sure that the movie would be a number one hit in theaters and across the nation, but you just didn't understand it. he wanted the movie to end on a cliffhanger and not have an actual ending. but you didn't like the idea of that.

not at all.

why make a movie and leave it on a cliffhanger with no part two to it? you knew that it would get bad reviews and not do well due to the word that will be surfacing around social media. it's a no. either he comes up with a good ending, or it's a no.

you turned around from the window and made your way to your desk. picking up the phone you rang your assistant. “hello ms. y/n. everything okay?” you hated when people called you ms.celestine, you preferred your name. “hi, franny. everything is fine. is there anyway you can contact mr.ray and have him come down here? a meeting is needed.”

you heard some shuffling in the background and the sound of a printer beeping. “yeah, of course. i'll get to it right away.” she chirped, franny was always in a good mood even if it was a shit day and you had lost your patience and accidentally lashed at her. but you always apologized right away.

“thank you.” you said before cutting the call. you sighed, leaning against the backrest of your office chair. your phone that was set faced down on your desk buzzed

franny

mr.ray has agreed to come to the office. your meeting is at 11:30. anyone else's rather than mr.ray and his team i should contact ghat should attend the meeting?

you

no, no one else. thank you franny!

your father was tucked away in his office on the top floor, the very top floor. the last you heard from him was that he was doing some last minute deals and arrangements to set you up in the near future when you become ceo. even with the many, many times you told him you could handle it when the time came, he wouldn't budge.

deep into thought, there was a soft knock on your door. who could it be? you thought. “come in.” you mumbled, straightening your posture. as the door opened, you were met with oliver, an intern who was only two years younger than you, he had a shy smile on his face and gently closed the door behind him, pushing his glasses up his nose.

“sorry if i interrupted anything.” he blushed, he always did when he talked to you, or even looked at you. there was this one incident where you were trying to pass by and placed your hand on his bicep, the poor boy nearly creamed his pants. “you didn't, glad you took me out of my thoughts, though.” you chuckled, clearing your throat right after.

“what is it that y’need?” you asked, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before signing a form. “i was wondering if you'd-” a knock interrupted his sentence. “sorry, just a minute.” you told him. “come in!” you said out loud to the person who knocked.

franny walked in. “hey, i just came to drop these off. i-” she put a stack of papers on the corner of your desk, she then saw oliver and cut her sentence short. “oliver, is it okay if you step out for a minute? i have to talk to ms.y/n alone.” she gave him a lip tight smile.

oliver frowned and blushed. “oh- yeah, sure. i'll just talk to you l- later.” he scurried out.

“may i?” franny pointed to the chair in front of your desk. “go ahead.” you nodded. “so, mr.ray just called me back and he was kinda… mad. he really wants you to approve his idea, but i'm with you. a movie ending on a cliffhanger with no second part is kind of pointless—to me, that is.”

you sighed, you knew he'd have a hard time accepting the fact that you were on the verge on rejecting his idea. “i knew he'd be pissed. and yeah, a movie with no ending is fucking pointless. it's either he comes up with an actual ending to the movie or i'm going to have to say no. and he's grateful that i'm still giving him a chance. if it were my father, he'd shut the idea right down the minute he knew the idea for the end.”

franny nodded as you spoke. you and her had a great relationship. on days she wasn't needed in the office or random weekends, you two would go out for brunch or a coffee run and talk like friends. just like you and your dad, you separated your outside friendship and work relationship. in all honesty, she was like the sister you never had.

“i'm ready for this week to be over. want to hang out at my place saturday night? i could really use a gossip night.” you cracked a smile. “im there. i'll bring our favorite.” there was this one pizza place near your condo and if you could, you would eat it everyday for the rest of your life. “deal, i'll get the wine.”

you two chatted for a while more until franny had to go and take care of something. “good luck with peter, y/n.” she said before she left your office.

it had been a few weeks since he had last seen you. him and your father have exchanged a couple of emails here and there and eventually set up a date to where chris would visit the office.

and that was today.

he stood in his bedroom, fixing the collar that stool out from beneath his prada sweater. chris was excited to see you again even if he tried to avoid the thought of you for several reasons.

the night after the party, he thought about you in that dress all night. a little too much. you were definitely something.

he got into his car and began to drive to the office.

when chris arrived at the parking garage entrance, the garage door opened automatically and was met with a parking garage he had never seen before. the wall were a bright white, the floor wasn't the usual concrete floor, it was a sleek black one that the light reflected off of.

there was a booth up the makeshift hill with a man in a black suit. chris stopped the car and rolled his window down, lowing the music. “good morning, sir. you must be—” he took a look at a paper that was stuck to his laptop. “- chris sturniolo.” chris nodded. “that would be me, yes.”

“good, there's been a parking spot reserved for you. number three. it's just straight ahead near the elevators, and two cars that are hard to miss.” his arm directed into the direction of the spot. “thank you.” chris responded, slowly driving away.

it was true, the two cars parked in spots one and two were hard to miss. parked in spot one was an all black rolls royce, and parked next to chris, in spot two, was a white range rover. he turned into spot one, the only spot left. chris’ guess was that spot one and two were reserved specifically for you and your dad, but that was just a guess.

locking his car, he headed to the all glass elevator and pressed the up arrow. waiting a couple of seconds, the elevator dinged and the doors opened. inside, the small space was filled with classical music and shiny numbered buttons.

he pressed one.

as the doors opened back up again, he was met with a beautiful lobby. it was filled with natural light and beautiful structures. “good morning.” the lady at the front desk said. “hello, i'm here to meet with mr.celestine. i'm chris sturniolo.” he rested an elbow on the counter. “ahh, yes. i'll be right with you, mr.sturniolo.” she smiled, picking up the phone near her desk.

as she waited for her call to be answered, chris looked around the lobby and noticed that the tvs were playing their newest movie, violet, a thriller movie. he had watched it and thought it was an incredible movie. the actors, some of which also worked with his company for pr, were incredible.

“hey, it's pam from the front desk. mr.sturniolo has just arrived at the lobby. could you please take him to mr.celestines office?... thank you.” she returned the phone to its original spot. “alright, i have someone coming down to take you up to mr.celestines office. feel free to take a seat or have something from the snack bar.” she pointed over to a small room across the desk.

“thank you.” chris nodded, making a beeline towards the room. the room was quite big, almost like a mini kitchen. there were various vending machines—free vending machines, a see through fridge with various foods and snacks, and a table with even more snacks.

chris grabbed a bottle of water and scoped out the table of snack, he picked up a pack of skittles and put them in his back pocket. walking out of the room, he smiled at the lady sitting at the desk and made his way to one of the couches.

he waited a couple of minutes, finishing his water and candy. someone finally came to get him. “mr.sturniolo?” chris hears someone call out for him and he turns around.

“that's me.” he gets up. “great, i'm oliver. i’ll be taking you to mr.celestines office. follow me.” chris nods and follows behind him. in the elevator, chris speaks up. “so, how long have you been working here?” he looks over at the boy pushing his glasses up his nose.

“oh, i'm an intern. i've been here for almost a month.” the elevator door opens back up. “right this way.” oliver steps out first and points his arm to the right down the hall.

as they walk through the hallway, chris notices the many movie posters along the walls and various news headlines about celestine studios. movie of the year, #1 high grossing movie, celestine studios makes history winning all 6 nominations in one night, highest ranked movie, celestine studios has the most perfect scores on rotten tomatoes, and there were many more.

“impressive.” chris mumbles to himself, continuing to follow oliver. “here we are.” oliver announces as they stop in front of. door at the end of the hall. plastered on the wall is a golden sign that says ‘MR. CELESTINE: CEO’.

oliver picks his fist up and knocks on the door. they wait a few seconds before a voice is heard from behind the door. “come on in.” oliver opens the door and lets chris walk in first. “mr. celestine, mr. sturniolo is here.” your dad looks up from his laptop and claps his hands. “wonderful! thanks you, oliver. you're dismissed. chris- have a seat.”

oliver closes the door behind him and leaves. chris walks up to your dads desk and shakes his hand. “mr.celestine, it's nice to see you again.” he sits. “nice to see you too. so, what do you think of my building so far?”

“it's wonderful, really.” chris nods.

the two talk for a while, asking each other questions. “let's go visit my daughter, shall we.” you dad say, starting to get up from his chair. “sure.” chris hides his excitement at the mention of you. the two make their way down to the floor you're on.

“good afternoon, mr.celestine.” franny spots your dad and chris. “good afternoon, franny. this is mr. chris sturniolo.” your dad points to chris standing next to him. the two greet each other with a smile. “where is my daughter, we'd like to talk with her.”

“oh, she's in the fifth conference room. but, she's currently in a meeting with mr.ra-” he cuts her off. “thank you, franny.” they two walk away. as they approached conference room five, mr.celestine doesn't bother to knock and barges right in.

“—i'm sorry peter, i've given you options but you're not cooperating with me.” you look up and spot both your dad and chris. chris had never seen this side of you, obviously, in a business setting. “dad? excuse me for one second.” you excuse yourself, standing up to walk up towards the both of them.

chris looks over at the man sitting at the other end of the table who looks frustrated. “what's up… im kind of in a meeting.” chris could tell that you were frustrated as well. “hon, chris is here. remember at the party the other night? ‘said he was going to stop by.” you didn't remember. “oh- yeah. how could i forget.”

“just finish this up and meet us for lunch.” your dad patted your shoulder before turning around. “c’mon chris, let me show you some set mock ups.”

you went back to your meeting. “so, are you going to consider my options?”

finishing up the meeting that went well for you and not so well for peter ray, you were making your way to your office to wind down for a bit after that meeting. as you stepped out of the conference room, oliver spotted you. making his way over to you, chris got to you first .

“hey, doll.” he smirked. “hi, chris. nice to see you again.” oliver stopped a few feet behind the two of you, and chris spotted him, looking back into your eyes. “meeting went well?” he crossed his arms. “so-so.” you nodded, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“how's lunch sound- just me ‘nd you? your dad had a last minute meeting. told me to hang with you, said you fun to be around.” oliver, just a few feet away from you two, was red in the face with fists by his side and storms off. “boyfriend of yours?” he nods at oliver who stomps to his mini office. “who?”

“glasses over there. looked like he wanted to kill me for talking t’you.” he chuckles. “oliver? no, not my boyfriend. he's a sweet kid though.” you had noticed here and there the lingering looks he gave you as you walked by him, or the fact that he did anything you told him to. you could ask him to step on a million thumbtacks and he'd do it.

“mm.” he nods, rolling his lips inside. “so, lunch?” he asked again. “uh- yeah. sure, let me just put this in my office.” you refer to your laptop and notebook in your arms. “of course. i'll come with.” he followed behind you. as the two of you walked by oliver, he sent him a petty wink.

“so, this is your office?” he says as you two enter the room. “yup, like it?” you ask smiling as you place down the items on your desk. you round the corner to grab your phone from the drawer. “yeah, s’nice.” he nods looking around before putting his eyes back on you and noticing that you're reaching for your wallet. “ah- ah. lunch is on me. leave that here.”

“you sure?” you look at him, opening the drawer to put your wallet in there. “i'm sure.” he confirms. “c’mon, i made reservations ahead of time. you like sushi?” chris asks, his hand hovering over the small of your back as you two walked out of your office. “love it.” you giggle.

chris turned his head and saw oliver glaring at him once more. chris only shrugged at him and waved to him.

he's going to be seeing chris a lot from now on.

☁️ . . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ authors note ࿐ྂ

boring chapter :/ i promise we're getting closer to the juiciness😛

[dreamcsc]

VEILED HEARTS OF COURT — ACT I: PART 1

SYNOPSIS. You are a noble lady thrust into a treacherous game of politics and love in a world of deceit and danger. Forced to win the heart of the first prince, you stumble upon unexpected allies and enemies within the palace walls.

-> pairings: choi seungcheol x reader/you

-> word count: 2,194 words

-> warnings: none in this part.

-> refer back to the masterlist for more information!

-> author’s note: first update of my series in 2025!! english isn’t my first language so there will be grammatical errors and mistakes. i hope everyone can look beyond that. THANK YOU and ENJOY :3

taglist: @syluslittlecrows @heihihei @peachytokki @jadesniall @gyuguys

You stand in front of the crew members, gaze fixing on the city coming into view as the biting wind whipped off the Blue Sea, carrying the scent of brine and the promise of a storm. Your ship is supposed to arrive a day prior; however, the uncertainty of the sea delays it. Your fingers lace your leather jacket, jerking it tightly around your body, its weight a familiar comfort and a constant reminder of the burden you carry.

When the ship approaches the shore, the crew members are scattering around the ship to safely land. Almost every door of the ship is being opened and closed except for one: Thane Ragnar’s.

The said man and the city’s entrusted advisor, Daehyun Jang, slowly comes out of the room, the one arm holding up your captain does go noticed. Thane’s expression softens when his eyes land on you and beckons you toward him with open arms. You run to him without hesitation.

“My blood, how’d you get so beautiful?” he rasps out, palm calmly stroking your hair with adoration. Your head instantly leans into your father’s embrace.

“Dad, you’ve asked me that four times today.” You giggle, lightly smacking his arm. Thane lets out a chuckle and pulls back from the hug, his hand doesn’t let go from holding yours, in fear that this moment might be the last time he’ll ever hold you, his daughter, his blood.

“A year has passed. A full year with Advisor Daehyun Jang boarding our ship, a full year of peace and it is our greatest pleasure to contribute to a better future, isn’t that right?” Thane’s voice holds authority and the crew members bow their heads.

Daehyun Jang clears his throat while waving his hand dismissively. “The year has been well, Sir Ragnar. I’d love to stay a little longer but there’s a kingdom and a King and Queen I must attend to. I’ll send in the carriages for your people and Lady Y/N to enter the city. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

With a handshake between him and your father, Daehyun Jang quickly—though he tries to mask it—scurries off the ship.

You scoff, clasping your arms across your chest in disbelief. “That man is full of shit.” You spit out, words lacing with disgust. “Don’t you see the way he just dismissed you like that, Dad? How dare he even speak to us, worse yet, board our ship!”

Before your father could let out a word, a crew member runs up, kneeling before him as he’s shaking profusely. “Advisor Daehyun Jang informs that the rides will arrive in about a few hours.” Thane glances over at you before humming in acknowledgment.

“Get up, son. Show me your face.” Thane says with the same authority, but this time it’s softer and welcoming. The crew member shakes his head, “I dare not, Captain Ragnar.”

From the way the kneeling person is still violently shaking, Thane squats down and gently places his finger under his chin to lift the man’s head. He gasps at the sight and quickly calls for a nurse.

“You’re hurt! Who’s done this to you? Tell me!” Thane exclaims, a hidden anger building inside him. The man could only shake his head again, “I dare not speak of him, Captain.”

Your father scoffs as you approach the man, your expression is filled with pity. “Of course, that little shit still thinks they’re higher than us. Of course, he’d hurt people like us—whatever that means.”

Your father’s head snaps toward you though you can’t understand his feelings. “Nonsense! Don’t speak of that. We’re just like them, the city people, Y/N. Don’t bring that attitude here,”

“I’d love to know if they do!” You frown, upset at his words. “Why are you still protecting them? Why can’t you be angry at them, instead of sniffing the dirt they spit on? I’m tired, Dad. We all are! Aren’t—aren’t you?”

Your father arises when the nurse arrives to tend to the man’s injuries. He gives you a hard stare, hands stuffed inside his pockets before he turns around. You note the slight limp in his footsteps.

“I’ve been long tired, Blood. The moment I came out of my mother’s womb, I was tired. The moment you came out your mother, the love of my life’s womb, I’ve been long tired.”

You sigh at your father’s stubbornness of not acting on that feeling, but you still bring yourself to his side, guiding him back to his room. Your father pats your shoulder and you gently lay him on the bed.

His finger laces your face when he looks at you, the same adoration that holds your shit together. The look that keeps you from committing a rampage of sins.

After settling your father to do his own thing, you turn to walk out but your father knows. He knows you’ll be gone for a few hours before the rides arrive doing god knows what. Thane shuffles into bed before addressing you.

“You don’t have to come back, ya know. Ain’t no one stopping you from running away, not even me.”

You know. You know your father is taunting you, worse yet, you know he’s testing your ego. Curling your palms into a fist, you fix your eyes on the glowing evening lights of the city ahead.

“I ain’t like you, Dad.”

Thane lets out a loud crackle of laughter, followed by clapping at your words.

“You are Ragnar’s blood. My blood. You’ll always be like me, even if you wield it differently.”

When you get back to the ship after wasting your time at a nearby tavern, there are many carriages, one specifically catches your eye. It’s red on the outside, most definitely cherry red. One can mistake it as a marriage carriage if you don’t comprehend that it is for your father and you.

Your father waves you over when he sees you heading toward them. His smile is bright, blinding, deceiving everyone but you. He hooks his arm around your shoulder to bow at the men handling the horses of the carriages.

Rolling your eyes, you clumsily bow, fighting the urge to spit at their boots when your father furthers down your head.

“Thank you for your generosity, kind sires of the city. The name’s Thane Ragnar, this here,” Your father gently shoves you with his shoulder. “Y/N Ragnar. My daughter, my blood.”

What seems to be the leader (of the little shits) steps forward and lowers himself in a ninety-degree bow. He lifts his head and before anyone else can catch the widening of his eyes, “The name’s Seungcheol Choi. Commander of the Royal Military.” he says.

Your father reaches his hands for a handshake with a head nod. Dad is pleased. Dad is fucking pleased! You want to groan out. The respect this Seungcheol Choi is giving to them is the bare minimum for fuck’s sake, and your dad is pleased! The Captain of the damn ship is pleased!

Seungcheol moves to the side and signals you both inside the carriage. “For you, Captain, and Lady Y/N.”

“Thank you, Seungcheol. It’s nice being called Captain from you.”

When passing Seungcheol Choi, you didn’t forget to gently swing your luscious, long, and braided hair at him and boarded the carriage. You miss the slight smile gracing Seungcheol’s lips as he climbs onto his horse and starts toward the city.

Just great, you think to yourself as your father whispers about how cold and delicious the city’s water is and that he has barely gotten to drink this back when he visited. You close your eyes, ignoring his excitement, and try to gain the sleep you lost on the ship.

Anxiousness fills your stomach like storms on the sea, but this one’s not calming at all. You feel like going insane from it.

Because truly, what more of a bare minimum do these people need to give to your father before he starts eating the dirt they spit on? Probably one more action before the great Thane Ragnar laps behind these disgusting pigs like a bitch.

You pull the leather jacket tighter when the soldiers lead the crew members, your father, and you come face to face with the infamous royal palace. Somehow the air becomes gnawing cold that mirrored the dread gripping in your heart.

For weeks before arriving in the city, you argued against your father and his decision but to no avail. Thane Ragnar, your father, is a man of his word and you’ve seen it first-hand—a sight that still knocks on the doors of your core memory.

The soldiers stop in their tracks and motion you forward before building a human wall between you and the rest. “Commander Choi will be leading Lady Y/N to her place set by the King and First Prince. The rest will be following me. The royal court will be needing your attendance bright and early tomorrow.” He commands.

Your father’s calloused palm grips tighter in yours, pulling you into his embrace. To outsiders, it seems like a wholesome father-daughter moment. However; to insiders, it is a warning.

"Remember what I told you," he breathed, his voice barely audible above the wind's howl. "Be respectful, be obedient, and for the love of the Allfather, don’t argue.”

You nod curtly, your own voice refusing to form. You are aware of the stakes. Disobeying a royal summons was an act of treason, punishable by exile or worse. And your blood, the blood of a captain’s daughter, was far less precious than the King's.

Your father’s words ring in your head as Seungcheol guides you past the big gate of the royal palace.

You are the blood of Ragnar. The blood of Thane Ragnar.

“Do your people like to flaunt your wealth like bunches of whores?” You innocently glance at Commander Choi, not bothering to thank him for holding the door open.

He doesn’t say anything except shrug. You snap your finger in realization, “Right!” You exclaim, “You people do charity work for the poor, don’t you? Or is that another way to flaunt?”

“Lady Y/N Ragnar.” Seungcheol’s voice is steady, locking his eyes deep into yours. He clearly doesn’t seem to humor your outburst as he continues to walk but you couldn’t care less.

“Ah, you people are weird, aren’t you? Saying that you’ll provide for the poor and protect the weak, yet here is the grand commander of the royal military escorting a mere animal like me!”

Your laugh rings throughout the hallway of the place you’re being led to but it is quickly shut up. Seungcheol stops walking, causing you to crash into his broad back. Rumbling out curses, you shove him out of your way before wiping your clothes, in hopes that no smell or any remnants of Choi’s being remains on you.

“I respect your father, Lady Y/N. I respect his title and his work for the kingdom, but you.” Seungcheol continues, his words cutting deep into you. “You, I don’t know you. No one in the kingdom knows you as an individual—only the daughter of Thane Ragnar. So as a nobody, I suggest you pipe it down while you can before it comes back biting you in the ass.”

You cock your eyebrows at him, “Bite me.”

You make yourself look larger, puffing out your chest and raising your shoulders as the words spill out. No way in hell are you backing down from a challenge, especially with someone with power—the type of people you despise with your whole being.

Choi, on the other, only barks out a mocking laughter before placing his hand on your shoulder, pushing it down without force yet it still falls.

“You are going to be here for a while, Lady. Make it less painful for yourself, yeah? You’ll live longer that way.”

Pushing his hands off, you strip your jacket off and throw at him before continuing to walk. “I suggest you keep those pretty lips of yours sealed. I’d hate to be the only living one here, right?” You glance back with a sweet smile though the brightness of it doesn’t reach your eyes.

Seungcheol sarcastically raises his hands in defeat and places them behind him. “Doesn’t sound that hard, unlike someone who’s been chattering my ears away the moment she arrives. But who knows who she is!” He says, but that damn smile reaches his eyes. Clenching your teeth, you ignore his remark and turn around.

“You’re walking in the wrong direction, by the way,” Seungcheol shouts to you.

And that might be your last straw. You’ll be ripping Seungcheol Choi’s head and propping it in front of the city’s gate by morning, you swear to yourself before turning your heels toward the man who’s walking further and further away.

To your luck, he doesn’t even bother to look back, and that might just be his fault—not yours.

[asheepinfrance]

i wrote this with futile devices in mind but i don't think that really shows. i don't think it matters cause i think this one's silly. there's not much of a plot, this is just sorta a day in patrick's life after moving back in, in my mind a week or so post-new rochelle. i hope you like it. as always, feel free to leave any thoughts, critiques, etc. in the comments, should you have any advice on where to improve. thank you <333

The sun rose an hour ago, and Patrick woke with it, whether or not he wanted to. He can blame Tashi for the disturbance, because apparently she’d been the one to choose the thin, white curtains that are doing absolutely nothing to block out the rays of sunshine threatening to make him actually do something with his day. He’d rather not, really, when it’s better to curl up and pretend nothing is real besides the warmth of his blanket for another few hours. Eventually, Tashi and Art join the sensory input keeping him from sleep. He’s not even comfortable anymore, too leggy and curled up to fit onto their couch properly, but he can’t make himself move. He likes that he knows they’re looking at him, learning to watch him exist again. Learning to be comfortable with him the way they used to be. 

It’s quite easy, actually, to get comfortable again. He hasn’t changed in too many ways, though there’s an air about him that hadn’t been there in their younger years. Whether that came with age, a natural maturation, or their absence they weren’t sure. They’d feel less guilty about the former, though. Tashi’s holding a mug in both hands, the warmth slightly stinging at her palms, heating the metal of her wedding ring up. She watches Art watch Patrick, who shifts slightly to cover his face with the throw blanket they’d lent him. How he’d ended up staying the night at their hotel the first time was unclear. Now, here he is, curled into the couch of their actual home, acting as Dad #2 for Lily when she and Art are training, and switching off when she finally gives in and coaches Patrick a bit. She’s sure her mother appreciates the break. 

She laughs through her nose, her shoulders bouncing with it, and the sound, or lack thereof, breaks Art from his trance. “Has he always been this deep a sleeper?”, she asks like she doesn’t know the answer. Art drums his fingers against the marble countertop, a satisfying, rhythmic wave created by just some skin and bone. She wishes she could be an artist in that way, just moving her body and making something worth seeing. She used to have that. “I don’t know, it’s been a long time”, he shrugs, sniffles a little bit. They both know that he won’t move until about 12 in the afternoon, just like he always had done.

Patrick “wakes” to Tashi’s eyes level with his, and he can’t imagine why she’d kneel for him of all people, and just for the sake of greeting him. The roles should be reversed and he knows it, Art probably knows it from wherever he’s watching this display from. He feels a bit like a child with the way she speaks to him, airy and soft like he’s delicate. He isn’t entirely aware that he is. “Hey… you sleep ok?” He grunts when he sits up, a noticeable ache in the muscles of his lower back that her gaze immediately falls to, her lips pulling down the slightest bit. He’d almost forgotten what it felt like for that disapproving of hers to be born out of concern. “You know you can always sleep in the guest room, right?” He shakes his head, waves his hand somewhere in her direction to signal disapproval, and she doesn’t really understand why he won’t take the easy way out. After all, isn’t Patrick known for it? But he thinks he hasn’t earned it yet. He has to make Tashi and Art remember he’s sweet, that he can be a better man than he’d shown himself to be, because no one loves a man who only wins for himself, and then again he rarely wins at all. Everyone loves a selfless champion, so no one could quite love him. So he needs them to remember he values their attention so deeply that just knowing the layout of their house now, watching them exist and love one another, knowing the name of their preferred coffee, that’s enough for him. He isn’t sure whose approval it is that he needs more at this point.

Patrick’s favorite part of the day, or at least, part of the day to himself, has become showering. He remembers the first night, back at the hotel in New Rochelle, he’d watched dirt he hadn’t known existed run off of his skin in that warm water and he felt new. He felt clean and pure and cried like a baby, curling onto that cold, tile shower floor. He only snapped back into his own body when Art had knocked on the door after an hour, fearing Patrick had fallen. Patrick isn’t sure why he let Art come in, shakily voicing his consent through the unlocked door, considering his state, but Art didn’t mind. He minded so little that he kneeled at Patrick’s side, still clothed, and held him through it. He ignored the shirt now sticking to his skin, the inevitable heaviness of wet denim, and let Patrick fall into him like he’d needed to for 13 years. His awe at consistent availability of warm water hasn’t run off, and he can’t get out until the jack-and-jill bathroom mirrors have fogged up with steam, and he lets himself hope for a bit that his toothbrush will join theirs in that little cup in between the two sinks. 

When he watches Lily later that day, sitting on his knees to watch her intently draw on a sheet of yellow construction, she doesn’t seem to notice the weight of her words when she says, “You know, Mama and Dad haven’t been fighting so much now that you’re here.” She’s like Tashi in that sense, not knowing that every little thing she does has everyone’s heart aching. He can’t help the little scoff that comes out, more from disbelief rather than annoyance, and Lily just goes back to scribbling on her paper. “Whatcha drawing, kid?” He asks, forcing himself to change the topic and not wallow in something sickening and sweet in front of this little girl he’s still finding his way around interacting with. She pushes the paper towards him, and when he flips it over, he finds four disproportionately drawn figures, two tall men, one woman with two lines for hair, and a smaller girl furthest right. He decides then and there he’s going to hang it on the fridge, and wonders when he got so comfortable so as to feel he can make an imprint on their home. Even one so small as paper placed on the fridge with a magnet.

At night, a time that comes with a star-riddled sky, after Lily’s been put to bed and Patrick insisted on washing the dishes leftover from dinner, he finds himself staring at a small family photo on their wall. Art, Tashi, and Lily, clearly younger then, on some sunny patch of grass. He wonders what life would be like had he been there, what their walls would look like if they had traces of him, too. He feels like it’d sully their image. Selfishly, he hopes they wouldn’t mind that hit to their reputation. Maybe he hopes they actively choose to endure it. It’s late now, Tashi and Art’s voices carrying quietly from their bedroom, and he knows he won’t sleep. He couldn’t sleep anymore because he was happy, and he’d become accustomed to only dropping from sheer exhaustion. From a brain shutting down purely because it couldn’t withstand consciousness anymore. He feels like a child awoken from a nightmare when he knocks at their door, blanket draped over his shoulder, twiddling his thumbs, asking if he can sleep in their room. He insists it’s just for the night, they insist they wouldn’t mind if it was for longer than that. He tucks himself between the two of them as carefully as he can, avoiding Tashi’s knee at all costs, though he knows it’s years past being healed. They don’t do anything but touch him, a natural press from lack of space, warm breath to goosebump prickled skin, and he has to force himself not to cry, laugh, moan. He just closes his eyes and lets himself melt. He thinks if he lets his eyes close long enough, melt enough, he’ll fuse into them. Maybe that’s what he needs.

[sturns-mermaid]

strawberry wine 🍓

more of them here | credit to anyone who has done this au before

♡wc: 1.2k | proofread by Sofia!

The hot summer sun beamed down, casting a golden light on your surroundings as you sat on your front porch swing, the one your father had built for your mother, your legs curled up to your side, having a book perched up on your lap. Your fingertips flip the pages as you read the words, savoring the vivid images in your mind of the romance unfolding through the worn pages. You have always longed for romance, wanting nothing more than to experience it; your mind was buzzing with scenarios and fantasies. This summer was like any other summer spent helping your mama make pies and treats for the county bake-off and helping your dad around the farm. Being the only child left at home had its perks and disadvantages. Your older brothers had grown up, leaving you to do chores. Your dad prevented you from helping him to avoid injury, despite you not being weak. You were occupied with: Gathering chicken eggs from the coop and picking fruits for your mother’s jams and pies kept you busy; 

The sound of your dad’s beat-up pickup truck pulling into the gravel driveway disrupted your thoughts as you looked up from your book, seeing him shut the engine off and turn his head to talk to someone. Sitting up a little and setting your book aside, you peeked through the banisters of your porch trying to see who was in the passenger seat; the truck was too far away and the windows too dirty for you to tell. The passenger door shutting averted your gaze to a cowboy walking towards the house alongside your dad. He was handsome in his red and black flannel paired with worn blue jeans and a black cowboy hat. Seeing him made your heart flutter in your chest while they approached the front steps, standing by the banister and leaning against it. You eyed him, trying to be as subtle as you could without either of them noticing. “Hey pumpkin,” your father greeted you as he reached the front steps, smiling at you as he ruffled your hair. Matt paused at the entryway, admiring your beauty. He smiled at your pouty lips, white dress, and brown boots. “Who’s this?” you whispered to your dad, swinging your arm towards Matt when he immediately cleared his throat and looked away, not wanting your dad to think he was eye-boggling his daughter. “This here is Matthew. New farmhand,” he stated as he pointed at Matt before turning back to your smiling. “Matthew, this is my daughter,” he introduced you, tapping your nose playfully. You nodded, letting out a slight giggle as you looked at Matt, and stepped down the stairs as you stood in front of him holding out your hand. “Dottie,” you said, smiling up at him. He shook your hand, his eyes scanning over your features and the small blush that was creeping upon your face under his gaze. “Matt” he replied, giving your hand a small squeeze.

Your dad cut through the moment as he placed a hand on Matt’s shoulder, giving him a firm squeeze silently telling him not to get any ideas. Once again Matt cleared his throat as your hand fell back to your side watching him rub the back of his neck awkwardly, your father pulled him aside bidding goodbye as he talked with him about the duties he would have on the farm. You stood your jaw slack on the front steps staring at Matt as he walked away, your mind spiraling with all sorts of thoughts about him, how strong his arms looked in his flannel, how the top buttons were slightly unbuttoned showing off a glimpse of his bare chest. 

Soft hums filled the room as you sat by your bedroom window looking out onto the field the next afternoon. Observing while Matt stacked hay bales on your dad’s trailer, the way the sweat glistened on his skin under the hot sun made your mouth water. Thankfully he wouldn’t notice you staring from the window admiring him as you bit your bottom lip, there was something about him that drew you towards him which is how you found yourself in the kitchen making a fresh pitcher of lemonade. Taking your time and pouring your heart into the liquid as you smile the entire time, it was tedious cutting all the lemons and juicing them but the end product would be worth it. Finally, after boiling the substance you stir the mixture into the lemon juice and add ice to the pitcher. “Perfect” you whispered to yourself as you poured some into a glass and made your way out the front door and towards the field. Your heart raced and approached him watching him wipe his forehead with his forearm, his arm was so big, and his white t-shirt clung to his sweaty body as he worked. His arms were sore from stacking the hay onto each other, picking up the bales, and trying to strategically place them so they would be fine to strap down onto the trailer. Finally, you approached him smiling and you eyed his body once more before averting your gaze back to his face, where you found his blue eyes staring back at you. “I brought you lemonade,” you held out the glass in your hand feeling the condensation wet the skin of your palm. He smiled, taking off his hat and fanning his face, taking the glass from your hand, his fingers brushing against yours. “Thanks, peach,” he replied, bringing the glass to his lips with a smirk. He took a long sip, and you watched while he swallowed the liquid, your eyes glued to his movements. He brought the glass down staring at you. You never found someone doing such a simple task so attractive. “That was just what I needed,” he says, moving closer to you, his eyes falling over your features. “I’m glad you liked it,” you whispered, your breath hitching when he placed a chaste kiss on your cheek. “You gonna be out here a lot darlin?” he questions, leaning back, swirling the lemonade in the glass, and taking another sip, his eyes glued to your flustered state. Shifting your weight on the heels of your boots, your face still bright red as a tomato, your eyes staring down at the ground trying not to explode. “Cat got your tongue?” he questioned, smirking, tilting your chin up with his index finger, his eyes glued to your plump lips. You never felt this way before, your palms sweaty and your heart beating so loud you were sure he could hear it, part of you wanted to run and hide from him.

But another part of you wanted to lean into his touch and see what would happen if you pressed your lips against his. You took a deep breath gathering your last bit of courage, your eyes meeting him before you quickly closed the distance between the two of you kissing him, he was startled at first but eventually kissed you back dropping the glass, and his hand traveled into your hair deepening the kiss. “Peach?” he questioned, waving his hand in front of your face and observing your eyelids fluttering open making him let out a chuckle.” You zoned out there for a minute” he acknowledged letting out another awkward chuckle.  Matt’s brows furrowed watching your cheeks flush before you ran back towards the house not looking back until he saw you disappear behind the front door. He looked down, shaking his head in disbelief looking back up and noticing the curtain of your bedroom window flying shut. “Cute” he muttered under his breath, drinking the last of the lemonade and getting back to work.

-

a/n: part 2?

divider; @thecutestgrotto

tags: @itsmaddielouis @oliviasthatgirl @scorpio1205 @submattenthusiast @mattsplaything @brianna-grace12 @courta13 @conspiracy-ash @anyaa2s @sturnshood @stxrsniolo @sofia-is-a-sturniolo-triplet-fan @immaqulate @t0riiiis @heartsonlyforchris @blushsturns @hearts4werka @mattsbows @sweetshuga @leoslaboratory @leeeeree

@ribbonlovergirl

[sturniololuvz]

Can u do one as like matt sturniolo being your dad like any age and scenario is fine

yesss!

Matt Sturniolo Being Your Dad Moments Compilation

1. The Overprotective Dad Mode

• Anytime you mention a guy, Matt instantly goes, “Who is he? What does he want? Should I be worried?”

• When you tell him you’re going out, he asks a million questions: “Where are you going? Who’s driving? What time will you be back?”

• If a guy tries to flirt with you in public, he immediately steps in and goes, “Yeah, no. Keep it moving, bud.”

2. The Classic “Did You Eat?” Check-In

• Randomly texting you throughout the day: “Did you eat yet? What did you have? That’s not enough, go eat more.”

• If he sees you skipping meals, he literally drags you to the kitchen and starts making you food himself. “I don’t care if you’re not hungry. You need to eat.”

3. Acting Like You Embarrass Him, But Secretly Loves You

• Rolling his eyes when you get excited over something, but secretly smiling because he thinks it’s cute.

• “You’re so annoying,” but then proceeds to buy you something just because he knows you’ll like it.

4. Being The Automatic Uber Driver

• “You need a ride? Fine, let’s go.” Never actually complains when you ask him to drive you somewhere.

• If he picks you up from somewhere late at night, he has snacks and your favorite drink in the car.

• “Text me when you’re done, I’ll be outside.” He’s always on time when picking you up.

5. The Overreactions When You Get Hurt

• You stub your toe? “OMG, are you okay? Do you need ice? Should we go to the hospital?”

• If you so much as trip in public, he’s immediately by your side, holding your arm like “We’re suing the floor.”

6. Calling You Out on Your Bad Decisions

• “Yeah, that’s a dumb idea, don’t do it.”

• “I told you that was gonna happen, but nooo, you don’t listen.”

• “Do I really have to tell you not to do that? I thought you had common sense.”

7. Random Soft Dad Moments

• If you fall asleep on the couch, he quietly covers you with a blanket.

• Bringing you your favorite snacks when he goes to the store, even if you didn’t ask.

• “I’m proud of you, you know that?” (Says it in a casual way, but it means the world to you.)

8. Threatening Your Brothers Like a True Dad

• “If any of you mess with her, I swear…”

• If your brothers annoy you, Matt is immediately on your side: “Leave her alone before I actually throw you out the window.”

9. Comforting You When You’re Sad

• If he notices you’re down, he doesn’t force you to talk but just sits next to you. “You good? You wanna go for a drive?”

• Randomly buys you ice cream or snacks when he knows you had a rough day.

• Gives the best reality check pep talks but in the most Matt way possible. “Listen, you’re not gonna sit here and be sad forever. You’re a badass. Now, let’s go do something fun.”

Matt Sturniolo: The overprotective, caring, sassy, and secretly soft dad figure you never knew you needed.

[peapod20001]

I should really explore Mr. Blandamore’s character more cus he’s WAY more interesting than the “abusive” “absent” “asshole” father I keep describing him as

And the siblings take after him more than they’d like to admit

[totopopopo]

so i’m getting top surgery some time between the months of february and august of this year (would rather february obv but seems like summer might make more sense logistically). the thing is my extended family does not necessarily know that i have any kind of gender thing going on, not because they don’t have access to this information, but simply bc they don’t care enough about me to think about any aspect of my identity (because the world revolves around my cousin and i have always been peripheral). which means there is a very real possible future this year when i roll up to a week long extended family beach vacation like….. sans tits and with two new massive scars……… i don’t plan on explaining anything in advance bc i’m sure my cousin will be emailing everyone her own personal accommodations beforehand and i wouldn’t want to get in the way, but like…. surely at least one of them will notice? even if i don’t go shirtless and i wear a bikini despite not needing one, they will notice, surely? and from there, what happens? it’s a mystery, but also has the potential to be very fucking funny in my opinion

[mushlyslog]

Finally watched Kung Fu Panda 4, tell me why it unironically changed my life

[darthbecky726]

I think I'm falling in love