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dpimagines · 4 months ago

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Blind Date

SYNOPSIS: Wade is set up with a friend of Ellie's and Yukio's. It goes better than anyone expected it to.

Warnings / Notes: Mentions of past bullying, Deadpool being Deadpool (But His Sweet Side, so Mildly OOC) / I'm super open to writing a continuation of this! This is uncharacteristically fluffy of me, so I'm craving the smut or angst we could get out of this. Shoot me a request if you have any ideas!

Yukio squeals. Wade’s used to her giddy noises, squeaks and giggles and the like. Ellie still cringes like it’s the first time she’s ever heard it, but she still looks at Yukio like it’s the first time she’s ever seen someone so beautiful every time she looks at her, so it balances out.

“What is it?” Ellie asks, stirring vegetables around a sizzling pan. Wade somehow managed to invite himself to their fajita lunch, and smelling the food makes his stomach growl.

“Y/N!” Yukio exclaims.

“Where?” Ellie says, looking around.

“No, silly, we should set Wade up with Y/N!”

“Why? Are you mad at her?” Ellie remarks.

“She literally cannot help but romance Hancock on every Fallout 4 playthrough. Seriously.”

“That’s your basis? A crush on a fictional character?” Ellie asks, and Wade could spot her amused-bordering-on-pissed expression from miles away. You must be special to her in some way.

“Well, she… Y’know, she’s different.”

“You think she should settle for him just because of her mutation?”

“No! No, not at all! I meant her personality! She’s so sweet and patient and stuff!” Yukio quickly says.

“So why would we torture her by sticking her with him?”

“Y’know, you girls haven’t even asked me if I’d be interested. What if I think she’s a total butterface? What if I talk about my ex-fiancée the whole time? What if she’s too pretty for me? What if-?”

“You asking those questions means you’re interested,” Ellie cuts him off dismissively. “Fine, Yukio. You win. Go for it.”

“Texting her now! Yeah, she’s interested. Just let me know what you’re planning and I’ll tell her when and how to dress.”

“Oh, uh… Maybe a movie?”

“That’d be good,” Ellie says quickly. “That’s a really good idea.”

“She’s ugly, isn’t she?”

Ellie glares daggers.

“Never mind, not a movie. Dinner… At De Luca.”

“De Luca?!” Yukio exclaims.

“Uh, yeah? That’s a place people go for dates around here, isn’t it?”

“It better be your treat, that place is expensive!” Ellie demands.

“Well, duh. You guys seem to forget that unaliving people pays incredibly well. Anyways, what’s wrong with her?”

“Nothing,” Ellie insists.

“If he doesn’t know, he might hurt her feelings,” Yukio insists.

“He can ask her himself. Let her say it in her own words, share what she wants to share.”

“Oh, yeah. I’m gonna fuck this up,” Wade already knows. “But at least she’ll get a free meal out of it. How about tonight? The anticipation is already killing me.”

Yukio texts, before looking up and nodding.

“What time?” she asks.

“Can she meet me in the foyer at five?” he suggests. She types some more.

“It’s a date!” she cheers.

“And lunch is served,” Ellie declares gloomily.

“So, what’s the deal with you and her, then?”

“Ellie dealt with some bullying when she first got here,” Yukio explains. “It was mostly light-hearted teasing, but it was just too soon, and with some people, it kinda got out of hand. Y/N was a senior at the time and stood up for her. From then on, she’s admired her and is always looking for opportunities to repay the favor.”

“That is so fucking cute I could die,” Wade coos. “I’ll take good care of her, I promise.”

“Hearing that coming from you, I’m more concerned,” Ellie grumbles, pushing a plate towards him. “Just eat. And be respectful. Now, and then.”

“Aye, aye, captain!” Wade replies before digging in.

A few hours later, Wade invites Yukio to give him one last once over before he meets you at the door, and her shadow has trailed along diligently. Yukio gives him some helpful pointers while Ellie sulks in silence, still not a huge fan of this idea.

“Lose the mask,” Ellie finally contributes.

“Lose the- No! If I’m paying this much for food, she better be able to eat it!”

“You didn’t seem to mind the price earlier. Besides… She’s not like that. Yukio had a point earlier. Your face works in your favor, this time around. It’s everything else about you that you need to tone down a little,” Ellie argues.

“Fine. But when she throws up, I’m calling you down there to clean it up,” Wade retorts, taking off the mask. He feels naked without it despite his suit and loafers. This is the nicest he’s dressed since his mother’s funeral.

“There we go,” Yukio says with a beam. “Perfect. Now, go! It’s almost time.”

“Thank you, my fairy godmothers. Wait, it’s not offensive to call you guys fairies, is it? ‘Cause I didn’t-”

“Go,” Ellie insists. He scurries downstairs. You’re not there yet, but there’s a young woman lurking around down there. He hesitantly joins her, and she looks at him with surprise before smiling. Wow, she’s gorgeous, so pretty that he starts to question if she’s a figment of his imagination.

“Wade?” you ask. Your voice sounds like Negasonic’s, so much so that it’s weird, but he brushes it off as best as he can.

“Y/N?” No way, you’re stunning in a flowy knee-length dress and mary janes, your hair styled in an effortlessly pretty way. You might just be the most gorgeous woman he’s ever seen.

You nod, offering your hand to him. Your eyes say, “Shall we?” He hesitantly takes your hand. Your smile widens. He leads you outside. You trail alongside him to the car, letting your hands swing together, though not too much.

He lets go of your hand to open the door for you. You get seated, and he closes it, quickly making his way to the driver’s seat.

“Sorry it’s kind of a beater, I can’t be driving anything too showy for obvious reasons.”

You shrug, but he can tell it doesn’t bother you.

“Not much of a talker, huh? I guess that’s why our friends thought we’d work. I talk, you listen, very cutesy…But I need someone to feed off of to be funny, so you better be up to the challenge.”

You giggle, covering your mouth.

The drive to the restaurant is in awkward silence. He really doesn’t know what to say. He could ask you about yourself, but that might make you uncomfortable considering how little you’re willing to speak. He could start talking about himself, but that has the potential to put you off for more than one reason – either you’ll be disturbed by his life story, or he’ll come across as self-absorbed.

The two of you enter and despite a wary look from the hostess, you’re seated relatively quickly.

You’re brought ice water and bread.

“Damn, this place is fancy…” Wade remarks as you sip your water. You smile sheepishly. “Hm… You seem normal. I was told there was something different about you. In fact, when Yukio had the idea to set us up, Ellie accused her of thinking you should have to settle for someone like me because of your mutation. I was expecting, I don’t know, snakes for hair, Silly Putty for fingers, something. I’m gonna start guessing if you don’t come out with it.”

Your sweet smile changes into a devilish smirk as you challenge him with your eyes. He realizes it’s more entertaining for the both of you if he does attempt to guess, so he gives it a shot.

“Acid spit?” he asks. You shake your head. “Hiding a third boob in there?” he wonders, lifting his head and looking down for it despite your somewhat modest neckline. Your face scrunches up with amusement as you shake your head again. “Damn it. Can’t blame a guy for hoping. What about another face on the back of your head, Voldemort-style? That would be kinda cool.”

You shake your head once more, though you’re clearly amused by his attempts to figure it out.

“Wait,” he says, lowering his voice to a whisper: “Does your vagina kill people? Like that one girl on American Horror Story?”

“No,” you finally say, laughing. “It’s my voice.”

“Whoa,” he murmurs.

“Yeah, I can only speak words I’ve heard before exactly as I heard them last.”

“That’s why you sounded like Ellie earlier, when you said my name. She was the last person you heard say it.”

“Exactly,” you reply.

“Well, that’s not so bad.”

“Most of the time,” you agree. “But I can’t always control my TONE!”

You slap a hand over your mouth as your fellow guests give you brief glances of concern and confusion.

“Tone,” he says in a normal volume.

“Tone,” you echo with a look of astonishment. “They call me Spirit Box.”

“Like the things ghost hunters use, right? That’s so cool. You must be great for espionage. Just bring you along as a secretary or assistant or whatever, then slap some headphones on you and turn up some instrumental music all the way ‘til you can get to a recording device and repeat what you heard.”

“I suppose so, but honestly most of the time I just hang out. I have some martial arts training, but when someone can choose between that and a human bomb, WELL, it’s not really a choice,” you explain.

“Well,” he says for you. “I think it’s super cool. Normally, I get bored listening to other people talk. I doubt that’ll ever happen with you.”

“I might as well warn you- Damn it,” you swear. It’s in his voice.

“What is it?”

“If I say this word I’m going to end up yelling it.”

“Uh, wanna type it out on your phone? I can read it.”

You blush, shaking your head.

“Sounds are the same way. Even when I laugh it’s not MINE.”

“Mine,” he repeats, as you seem to appreciate it. “I don’t understand why I’d need a warning for- Oh. Gotcha.”

“I may be an alright… Talker to you, but I doubt you’d want to hear a man’s voice during sex!” Your eyes water as they avoid his in shame. Someone said that to you, and harshly.

“I hope you don’t mind if I don’t repeat that,” he murmurs, reaching for your hand. You give it to him, your hands resting together on the table. “Besides, I’m pansexual, so, honestly… It’d be kinda hot. Best of both worlds.”

“No kidding,” you reply. It’s all Ellie. “That’s great!” you chirp in Yukio’s voice.

“You’re pretty good friends with those two, huh?”

You nod.

“Keeping a small circle helps with consistency,” you add. “But I’m a TV addict, so…”

“Me, too. That totally makes sense. Oh, we should look at the menus. I’ll order for you, if you want.”

“Please,” you moan, swiftly retracting your hand to cover your mouth once more as your cheeks flush. He laughs.

“I’m not repeating that, either. Hot,” he teases you.

“You’re mean,” you reply with a laugh, his laugh.

“Please,” he says. “Forgive me.”

You smile in response before looking over the menu.

“You haven’t said anything about my face,” he realizes.

“Oh, sorry. You’re very handsome.” You don’t even look up, still looking for something appetizing. “No prices. Yikes. What are you getting?”

“Uh… Seriously. You don’t wanna ask?”

“I think you should tell me when you’re ready. I meant it, though. I think you’re very handsome.”

“Thanks,” he mumbles, feeling heat rise in his cheeks. “I think I’m gonna go with the seafood alfredo.”

The rest of the date goes swimmingly, the two of you conversing on various topics: TV shows and music you both like (and exchanging recommendations,) he shares his story (you fawned over him, maybe a little too much,) your careers (you transcribe classes at Xavier’s for students who are Deaf and/or have learning disabilities, he’s a…freelancer. You giggled at that. He doesn’t care whose sweet little giggle that is, it’s yours now,) and more.

All good things must come to an end, though. Once dinner’s over, the two of you head back to the school. He walks you all the way to your room.

“This was really nice,” you tell him. “Thank you.”

“It was,” he agrees. “Can I see you again? Maybe you could come up with a list of words for me to say for you, and I can say them for you over lunch.”

“That’s so sweet, Wade. I’d really like that, but I feel bad. Is there anything like that-” you cover your mouth again at the unmistakably pornographic tone, but he removes your hand gently with an amused smile.

“Keep going,” he encourages you. “Like that.”

“Is there anything like that I could do for you?”

“Well, you wanted to go on a date with me after seeing my face, so, you kinda already did.”

You open your mouth, but close it quickly.

“What is it that you’re needing to say?” he asks quietly, like he’s trying not to embarrass you in front of someone else despite the two of you being alone in the quiet hallway, the only sound besides you both being the ticking on an old grandfather clock. You raise your hand, touching his lips. “You want to kiss me?”

“Yes, I want to kiss you.”

Wade grins before taking your cheeks in his hands and uniting your lips with his for the first time. Neither of you wants to pull away, but air is an unfortunate necessity.

You take your phone out of your purse, tapping around before presenting it to him on the Add New Contact screen. He eagerly types in his name and contact details, adding in the notes: “Just FYI after the whole Weapon X debacle I am hung like a horse and have an incredible refractory period. I only mention the refractory period because I’m pretty sure I’d explode if you even looked at it. Seriously, you are MAJORLY hot”

He passes the phone back to you, and you look. You turn red before nodding in understanding.

“Goodnight, Wade.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

#deadpool x reader #wade wilson x reader #deadpool fanfiction #deadpool imagine #wade wilson imagine #x men x reader #x men imagine #marvel x reader #marvel imagine

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httpsserene · 8 days ago

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𝐬𝐧𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐭 | 𝐬𝐢𝐩 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞 | 𝐜𝐡. 𝟐 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 '𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲-𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞

poly! carlando x reader | read chapter one here. | join taglist

˖♡ - ̗̀ ⇢ this is the entire intro to the second chapter. in the outline, it's called "the first strike." any predictions? well, you're in for a ride, let me tell you that. full chapter two coming soon. tysm for being patient and understanding x

On this Monday in May, you’re awake before the sun, watching it rise over Madrid as you drive to Golf La Moraleja. This summer begins the same as those before it, with your coworkers complaining about being required to attend a meeting—filled with the same information you’ve all heard every year since you first started—and, holding it so early in the morning.

Your eyes ache from lack of sleep but it doesn’t hinder you from complaining all the same; returning employees should be allowed to skip the first meeting of the season as it’s more of an orientation for the new hires. Marco, your boss, disagrees. He says that senior employees need to be present to set a good example of the standards and expectations for the rookies.

You’re unsure if a group of seven, sleep-deprived, twenty-something-year-old, beverage cart drivers could be described as a “good example.” At least there’s a breakfast spread. The seven of you can be good examples of how to take advantage of a free meal.

As Marco drones on about procedures and policies, your mind drifts to the late-night you had.

Your eyes burn with exhaustion because you missed out on a few hours of sleep to talk with your boyfriends. You listened as Lando ranted about how disappointing his car performed this weekend and Carlos still seemed surprised that he managed to hold onto fifth place with a time penalty. Neither of the boys wanted to sweat out more of their body weight in water in a packed, humid, Miami club after a particularly demanding race, but you convinced them to at least have a drink or two with Fernando Alonso to celebrate his podium finish.

You may not have the most in-depth Formula One knowledge, but you know that dragging that Aston Martin onto the podium is an astounding feat. Carlos admires the man greatly, even if he pretends to be salty about being the second-favorite Spanish F1 driver. Lando respects Alonso largely as well, he talks kindly about the time he spent shadowing him at McLaren.

You styled their outfits for the night with sleepy eyes. Carlos endlessly showered you with compliments every time he glanced at you through the screen of his laptop. The butterflies in your stomach fluttered at every endearment; you believed in the hermosa’s and linda’s with each repetition, even as your phone mirrored the image of you: makeup-free, bonnet, and pimple patch-riddled.

Lando (after Carlos kicked him out of the bathroom for being unable to control his wandering hands) splayed across the hotel bed on his stomach, the love ? —the longing he has for you is visible through the pixels. His feet kicked back and forth behind him mindlessly as he attentively listened to you ramble about the authorship credit you received in a textbook for research you did last year.

You sighed deeply. If only the world knew how these two men ended the call by blowing kisses through the screen, whining about having to wait another couple of months until they get to see you in person.

If the world knew, maybe that woman in the club wouldn’t have tried (and failed) to make a move on your boys.

When your alarm sounded for today’s early morning meeting, you awoke to the sight of your phone being spammed with Twitter links and texts with your name in all caps.

The hashtag Carlando is trending on Twitter because of an anonymous submission to a gossip account that details Lando and Carlos “getting cozy” with a woman in a club. Thankfully, the anonymous submission was proven false—with photo evidence, at that.

The first photo caused a sense of dread to build within you. It shows a blond woman standing next to them at the bar, her beady eyes predatory as she stares up at Carlos with a disgusting smirk and her hand is offensively outstretched, tugging at the collar of his polo. Lando, who’s standing next to the Spaniard, looks at her with an expression of shock and disbelief, while Carlos only offers her his trademarked confused stare.

The second photo transformed that sense of dread into a feeling of relief, pity, amusement, and vicarious embarrassment.

The image captured the woman dropping her hand away with an annoyed frown and a sharp glare thrown at Lando, whose disposition has switched from surprised to unimpressed, illustrated by his well-known disgruntled nose scrunch. Carlos isn’t looking at the woman anymore, he’s taken a step backward and is staring at Lando. His hand is clasped on the younger man’s shoulder and he’s seemingly trying to pull him away from the woman.

You wish there were more photos.

The online consensus is that the woman in the photo needs to change her entire identity if she wishes to have another peaceful day on Earth. The F1-adjacent internet is clowning this poor girl about her seduction attempt on Carlos going so terribly that Lando had to put a stop to it. There’s a smaller portion of people saying that Lando couldn’t handle the sight of somebody trying to flirt with Carlos right in front of him—they’re closer to being correct than they know.

Nevertheless, you kind of feel sad for the woman: waking up after a night out with a nasty hangover only to find out you’re being lambasted on social media because there’s photo evidence of you being rejected after a terrible attempt at flirting. You refuse to imagine it; seeing her experience is enough for you.

While it’s early morning in Spain, it’s midnight in Florida. The two men are asleep and unaware of their current trending status. Hopefully, that will last until you’ve returned home from this staff meeting and taken a long nap. But, damn, you’re dying to know exactly what Lando said that had her looking so insulted.

You jolt to attention at a tap on your shoulder.

“Muchacha, the meeting is finished,” Isa’s eyes match your exhaustion, “Were you even paying attention?”

“Does it matter if I was?” You ask, heaving yourself out of your seat and waiting for your friend to do the same. “We’ve had the handbook read to us for the last five years. Zoning out during this orientation doesn’t matter to me.”

“¿Perdóname?”

You turn around to see one of the new hires addressing you. The first thing you notice is that he’s tall, like an American basketball player, type of tall. The second thing you notice is that he can’t be any older than twenty; unless he’s lucky enough to be so babyfaced. He’s tall and lanky, sporting sharp cheekbones, a nose that reminds you of Carlos, a pair of eyes similar to Lando’s, and an artfully styled mess of dirty blonde curls atop his head. Objectively speaking, he’d make a hell of a supermodel.

“I’m Alejandro, or Alé. I wanted to introduce myself before I started training with you tomorrow,” he states kindly, with a broad smile.

Zoning out during this orientation suddenly mattered very much. Last summer—sometime in June, before Carlos and Lando reappeared—you offered to train an employee if Marco needed the extra help. You must have missed the part of the meeting when he assigned Alejandro to you.

“Oh! Yes, sorry,” you introduce yourself to the kid kindly, apologizing mindlessly, “I am very tired and I was not paying attention—don’t tell Marco that. I’m supposed to be setting a good example for the new kids.”

He laughs, “I think you are a great example of reminding everyone to sleep for at least eight hours every night.”

“I can’t disagree with that, can I?” You smile politely, “Well, I promise I’ll be a better role model when training officially starts. You’re stuck with me for a month, right?”

“I would not say I am ‘stuck’ with you—that would be mean,” Alejandro snorts lightly, “But, yes. I will be riding along with you for a month. Marco says that I’m lucky to be paired with you.”

“Did he?”

“Sí. He said you’re one of his best cart servers and that you bring in the most tips.”

Isa snorts behind you. Without needing to look, you reach behind to smack her on the back of the head. He doesn’t need to know that your secret relationship with two Formula One drivers is responsible for the extra money you made last year.

“I’m a young woman working on a golf course. Which, is why I make plenty of tips.”

Alejandro hums, raising a brow, “Really?”

“There’s more than a few sleazy men that come out here willing to throw cash at anyone who wears a smile, skirt, and pigtails.”

“Ah, well,” he shrugs jokingly, his picture-perfect smile relaxing into something natural, “I do not have enough hair for pigtails and could not pull off a skirt. I do think I can manage a smile.”

Squinting, you survey his form, “Don’t worry; there are men out there who prefer the sight of boys in tight shirts and short shorts instead of girls in short skirts. Ask Ryan or Rob. They make more money than me some days!”

“Is this your fancy plan to get me into tighter clothes?” Oh. He’s misunderstood you.

“Wow,” you deadpan, “You caught me. No, niño, I’m only ‘training’ you on how to make your wallet very happy. If you are uncomfortable with showing a little thigh, that’s okay.”

“I’m a model,” He scoffs with a smirk (you called it, him being a model), “of course, I do not mind showing more skin; however it looks like you want to see me in less clothing, as well.”

Your mouth drops open at the insinuation. Behind you, Isa full-body laughs herself to tears. The rest of your cart team—Lucas, Rob, Ryan, Sofia, and Steph—turns to look at Isa, wanting to know what she finds so funny. The entire clubhouse will know that the new kid tried to flirt with you by the end of the day.

You shake your head fervently, “Woah, uh, no. ¡Dios m��o! I hope I never see what’s under your clothes, full offense. I’m happily in a relationship! Also, not that it matters to me since I’m not interested in you, but—you are way too young for me, niño. It would be best to respect that and forget this part of the conversation ever happened, or it will be an awkward month of training.”

He immediately loses the smirk, stepping backward and raising his hands placatingly, apologetic, “¡Lo siento! I did not mean to make you uncomfortable. I assumed you were—well, it does not matter, I assumed you meant more, and that is my fault. Pero, I am not a kid–I am nineteen.”

You and the rest of the eavesdropping beverage cart crew all gasp, abhorred at just how young he is. Does this mean you are all too old to be riding around serving drinks on a golf course?

“Nineteen?! What year were you born in? Never mind, don’t tell me—it’ll make me depressed. Look, niño, you’re forgiven—I could see how telling someone to show off their…assets, could be seen as flirting. So, I’m sorry, too. This is incredibly awkward, let’s never speak of this again?”

“Yes, I agree,” he nods vigorously, “But—Do you have to call me ‘niño?’”

“It fits, though? You are the youngest cart driver we have. Speaking of cart drivers—what’s your phone number? Lucas has to add you to the work chat.”

Your coworkers introduce themselves to Alejandro without hesitation. Conversation flows seamlessly as you all begin to catch up on what’s occurred in your lives since last summer. Rob’s sister-in-law exposed his older brother’s affair over Christmas Dinner, Sofia’s younger sister is pregnant with twins, and Lucas graduated with a degree in journalism. Midway through Ryan’s explanation of how his car was stolen three times in two months, the last two new hires shyly join your discussion. Laura and Giulia are training with Steph and Ryan, respectively. You and the other senior drivers begin to whine about old age when they reveal that they're nineteen, like Alejandro.

Isa catches a ride home with you and she asks if you're going to tell Carlos and Lando about how your trainee tried to make a move on you. You won’t tell them because there’s no reason to. Alejandro apologized and backed off—that’s all that matters to you. Why tell your boyfriends that the kid you’re going to be training tried to flirt with you? It won’t do anything more than make them jealous, probably, and that’s unnecessary.

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rxzennia · 8 months ago

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domestic headcanons

– tales of the voracity pathstrider

✎𓂃 ambiguous relationship (oh my god they were roommates); living together; word vomit; incoherent scenarios; ooc aven probably. i offered my exp mats to gepard instead and now i have to grind traces all over again, maybe i should build clara while i’m at it (losing this particular 50/50 has driven me insane istg)

after aventurine’s endless pestering, you finally agree to move in with him. he’s got a whole block all to himself, so what’s you temporarily claiming a room going to change?

the moment you agree, and by that i mean the very second you agree, he’s going to arrange for people to move your stuff

you just need to move yourself over

he’s not going to let you do any hard labor, that’s what the grunts are for

it’s so quick? like, it only took the morning to have everything packed, moved, and unpacked

when you get to your desk the first thing you do is clutter it up

but there’s so much space?

you just can’t stack your stuff enough so that it’s snug the way you like

you try, but all you’ve managed to do is make a paper fortress on one side of your desk

why do the senior managers have so much space?

but you soon realize you didn’t really need to finish building your wall of documents

because your boss sits on your desk whenever he fancies annoying you

so there’s your clutter for the other side

though you still leave a few of your spare scarves there just so it’s not completely empty

a little out of place, but you have nothing else bulky enough

it’s okay, that corner of your desk is often occupied by a certain someone anyway

surprisingly, living with aventurine isn’t unpleasant at all. maybe it’s because you’re almost always within reach now, he’s started bothering you less – instead, he’ll do his work in your office. he has a perfectly good office of his own (arguably comfier too), but he insists on sitting next to you.

frankly, you are tempted to kick him out, but this is his place. you shouldn’t try to kick out your host landlord. and it’s not like he’s actively preventing you from concentrating. you usually leave him be, but you might’ve accidentally gotten used to it – when he’s not around, you feel like something’s missing. just a little bit, though.

he can and will always poke his head over to see what you’re working on

“arranging your meetings, go away.” you push his face back towards his laptop

“hey, leave 6pm to 8pm free!” he whines, as always, he’s trying to get a dinner date(?) with you

“no can do, you’re having dinner with mr diamond.”

he will throw a hissy fit

“why must it always be meal times? i want to eat with you!”

will complain and complain and complain even if you ignore him

you give him a flat “i will be present as well.”

you’re so bloody infuriating

he stares at you for a whole minute. and then he closes his laptop

you look at him. what is he trying to do now?

“not what i meant.” he gently whacks you over the head with the device, “you and i. dinner. alone. get it?”

normally you stand your ground and make him go through with these meetings

but sometimes you cave and indulge him

this is one of those times

“fine, i’ll push back your meeting with the media department tomorrow.”

you see literal flowers around him as he gets his way

well, not exactly his way, because if he had his way he would be free today

a compromise for tomorrow is good enough, he supposes

he will bring you out to lunch and dinner every day if he could

if only you’d stop telling him you technically don’t need to eat and just go along with it

and if only you’d stop scheduling every. single. important. meeting. during. meal. times.

still, he finds it amusing to read your face whenever you’re in those meetings with him

the only good thing about them, really

because you will have the tiniest furrow in your eyebrows when you eat something you don’t like

and it’ll last until the taste goes away (which is usually the entire meeting)

or you’ll have the most serene expression ever (though it’s more neutral than anything, really) when you find something you like

loves it when you try to not make it obvious that you like a particular dish because you’re not discreet at all

that is all you will eat for the rest of the meeting

you are given your own room, but more often than not you find yourself in aventurine’s room at night.

mostly because he drags you away from your desk – no, scrap that, it’s only because he drags you away from your desk. otherwise you would’ve kept working. or maybe gone and did some combat training. or anything but sleep, really.

you soon realize he likes cuddling you when he sleeps

this is something you’ll never deny him if he asks

in fact, he doesn’t even need to ask nowadays

you show up in his room everyday at around the same time

if he wants a nap in the middle of the day, you’ll also be there

you notice how much more quality rest he gets when you’re by his side

and how much less nightmares bothered him compared to before

(maybe you should try casual sleeping, too?)

whenever you try to slip out of his death grip to get some documents, or to use the bathroom, or for water, he will quietly ask you where you’re going

in a very, very slurred, sleepy way

you will try to explain, and all he’ll tell you as you wrench yourself out of his arms is a quiet “stay”

how are you supposed to go if he says that while letting you go?

good luck if you’re hoping to use the bathroom, most likely you’ll have to hold it in

otherwise, if you need anything else, your scarf-serpent can get it for you

although one time it returned with your documents in its mouth and drool all over it

then you had a rigorous session trying to teach them how to coil around things to pick them up

more like you had to learn, since they’re somewhat sentient extensions of you

on the off chance that you’ll be out for the night, you’ll leave your favorite scarf with him

it’s not as comforting as your person, but it does smell like you and feel like you

he’ll take it as a placeholder until you’re back :(

aventurine hates it when you’re out of office. whether it is to represent him, or to discuss matters with clients before you pass it onto him, he hates it when he’s alone at home.

odd, because he was so used to being on his own, and he was so certain he was going to be alone for the rest of his life.

this man will sit in your office regardless of your presence

your spare scarves keep him company

imagine his surprise when a bunch of faceless noodles slither onto him

he makes the connection very quickly

did not expect that every one of your scarves are mini leviathans

he thought there was only a few, and they move between scarves

a welcome surprise because he knows these huge little guys are friendly

those are the same guys that swallow monsters, so they’re actually not very friendly

but they’re friendly to him because they’re you

one of them will coil into a pile on his lap and rest its head on his thigh

and the others will be all around him

will slobber over him 100%

he will try to pet them, and will realize that they’re really affectionate with him

they will try to eat his hands

but, like, in a not alarming way

hold his hand in their maws but will not bite. only drool

when he pats the one who has his hand, it’ll let go

literally “that’s a weird looking dog” but there's more than ten of them

when you return from your errands, the first thing you see is aventurine dragging a bunch of your snakes along with him as he practically runs to greet you.

you wrap your arms around him as he jumps towards you, and you give him a few spins before setting him down again.

then you lower your scarf

you’re comfortable enough with him to not cover yourself up anymore

oh how he loves seeing your face, aeons, you have no idea

“guys.” you snap your fingers, and the creatures collapse back into inanimate fabric

you catch all of them, of course, then you open one arm for your boss

the best part (real)

he snuggles up against your side naturally

you lift him up easily even though both your hands are busy

he’s practically sitting on your forearm as you walk around the house

princess treatment

you’ll cuddle with him properly once you drop off your stuff

“ten minutes,” you tell him, “then i’ll have to get back to work.”

he will throw another hissy fit, like, “why are you busier than i am? i’m the boss!”

you pinch his nose and go: “exactly, mr aventurine”

instantly droops like a kicked puppy

he doesn’t even try to hide it

absolutely hates it when you’re formal with him in private even if you’re joking

feels like you’re back to square one all over again

“don’t call me that,” aventurine groans as he grabs your hair and tug at it like a toddler.

you glance at him. “displeased?”

“of course!” he tries to shake your head violently, but damn you and your stupid strength. “what happened to aven?”

you don’t respond

you’re busy tossing everything onto your chair and praying nothing falls off

he moves on to slapping your face lightly

“hey, hey!” as his hands smack and grab everything that’s touchable on your head

surprisingly, you let him

he might also pull on your scarf

and after a while, he’ll resort to rubbing his cheek against yours

“are you ignoring me…?”

you sit down on the couch and set aventurine in your lap. “impatient, are we?”

“can’t help it,” he doesn’t hesitate to bury himself into your embrace. “i hate when i’m alone…��

“aven…” you pat his back, knowing full well you’re falling for his tricks again. “there, there. should i just call it a day?”

“you would?” he asks, like a child receiving a gift for the first time, “really?”

“really.” you sigh as he tugs you down into spooning him, and you watch him tangle his limbs with yours.

eventually, you pull him closer to you. jeez, there’s just no way you can win against him, is there?

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #aventurine #aventurine x reader #ares's voracity pathstrider tales

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razrbladekiss · 3 months ago

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GUILTY AS SIN? | Joel Miller — PART TWO

SUMMARY: after a chance encounter, joel miller is faced with a dilemma. will he be able to resist temptation, or will he crumble beneath your mystifying gaze?

PAIRING: dads ex-best-friend!joel miller x afab!reader

WORD COUNT: 3.6k.

WARNINGS: MINORS DNI, 18+ WORK BELOW THE CUT. soft!joel, i yearn for this amidst all of the angsty, grumpy old man joel. some dialogue that melts me. dirty talk. pervy joel. mentions of f&m masturbation. pussy eating. fingering <3 protected piv cus if you’re gonna fuck your dad’s ex best friend, then you need to at least do something sensible!! sarah calls joel while you’re…yano.

happy birthday joel <3

PART ONE

Should I really be doing this?

Joel’s inner monologue—and conscience—is about to implode, firing fragments of stupidity into each corner of his brain it seems. Because that’s the only way this could be described rationally.

He’s fucking stupid. He has to be. To come back to Point Pleasant, for one, to admit that he has a crush on his ex-best-friend’s daughter another, and then take her HOME with him.

To the house that your parents used to go to every Saturday night for parties, gatherings, meals. Joel used to host Superbowl Sundays there, too, which were arguably some of the best days had by your father and something he’ll always remember regardless of the precarious terms that he’s on with Joel.

That house would be your after-school retreat, when you and Sarah were best friends growing up. You’d spend hours there playing games, riding your bikes in the yard, telling one another your deepest darkest secrets.

You took your first sip of alcohol in that house at a party that—to this day—you and Sarah still keep secret from your parents. You had your first fight there—at the same party, actually—and the scar from the Jack Daniels bottle still sits uncomfortably above your right bicep. The scar that your dad still believes is from you cutting yourself on chicken wire, and not a result of an intoxicated kerfuffle with a college senior when you were sixteen.

You haven’t set foot in Joel’s home for years, and that’s what terrifies him.

What if this all becomes too real? What if she doesn’t want me when she remembers all the history, all the things that happened here?

His brain is working faster than what his mouth or body can even dream of keeping up with, and he hasn’t even realized that his truck is still stationary outside of the bar.

“Joel.” You say his name for the third time, and he finally manages to cut free the ties between his reluctance and desire. He smiles at you.

“Yeah?”

Eyebrows fused together, you stare back at him. Joel fiddles with the keys to his truck before he’s stuffing them into the ignition.

You choose to stay silent. He knows that you know that he’s playing dumb. How couldn’t you? You’d been having those same reticent thoughts leaving the bar, too.

It’s a tricky situation to be thrust into, but it’s not exactly your worst nightmare. Banging Joel is only something you could’ve imagined. And, truthfully, it was.

You’d spent many a night with your deft fingertips between your legs, touching yourself to the mental image of Joel’s cock splitting you open and fucking you so hard that you’re seeing stars. But you’d never admit that.

How could you? He’s Sarah’s dad. At one point, he was your father’s oldest friend. A man that—despite his physical allure and more than charming personality—is much, much too old for you.

You swallow your indecision, rolling down the window when you feel the air getting thick. A cool��almost orgasmic—breeze flits through the cabin and you’re suddenly comfortable again.

Too comfortable, maybe.

“When did you realize that you wanted me, Joel?” You ask. It’s a bold question. One that he mightn’t hold the answer to. But it’s worth a shot.

Joel clears his throat, focusing on the road ahead. His knuckles begin to turn white for the grip that he has on the leather-bound wheel is unyielding. Though, he doesn’t feel as tense as he appears.

“Actually, you don’t gotta answer—“

“When you left for college.” He speaks over you, feeling an inexhaustible shade of maroon bleed into his cheeks. “When your father called Sarah ‘n I over to say our ‘goodbyes’ before you went, that’s when I realized.”

Your heart starts to thump.

“I think it was the thought of not seeing ‘ya for a few months that put it into perspective for me.” Joel admits somewhat uninhibited. It was nice. “I was so proud of you, goin’ ‘n chasin’ your dreams. Always been a bright girl.”

You smile at him. He’s still focused on the road, trying not to heed too much the glare from oncoming vehicle lights as Joel’s old age has cursed him with damn astigmatism.

He squints.

“Always had more of a soft spot for you than what I should’ve.” He says. “Not in a gross old-man way. Just always saw so much of your dad in you when you were growin’ up, and it took me back to when we were kids ourselves. And then when you turned eighteen—and grew up a hell of a lot—I couldn’t stop thinkin’ ‘bout you.”

“Perv.” You joke and he just shoots you a pointed glare. But he knows you’re kidding.

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t think that I forgot ‘bout what you said. How you’ve always wanted to fuck me.”

Eighty-five million shades of crimson flush into your face at Joel’s crude remark, but all he can do is laugh at your suddenly reddened state.

“How old were you when you had your sexual awakening?”

“Fuck off.” You chuckle and swat at his shoulder. “Eh. Dunno. I always thought you were kinda cute, but the shitty sex in college made me yearn for a good pounding from a seasoned professional.”

Joel’s jaw drops. You’re filthy. He loves it.

“Have you ever touched yourself thinking of me?” You ask completely nonchalant, mainly because you have fingered yourself to the mental image of Joel.

He huffs out a laugh—humorless—and turns to you when he hits a stop light.

Joel never thought he’d be asked a question like this, let alone have to answer it.

“Yeah.” He concedes. “I—uh—I have.”

Your pussy throbs.

“Spent a lotta time fuckin’ my fist ‘n thinkin’ of you.” He divulges and suddenly feels that familiar ache in the chasms of his tummy. His jeans start to constrict as his dick feels like it’s getting strangled by taut denim.”Those vacation pictures you posted on Facebook last summer…”

Joel shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

“That little bikini.” He continues, torturing himself. “Fuck. The things that I’ve wanted to do to you—“

“Then do them.” Bold—completely brazen—you say. “Joel, I didn’t say that I wanted to fuck you just for the sake of it. I want you.”

“And I want you, too.” Joel tells you, shifting a little to look at you as he promptly realizes that his house is another ten minutes away. “But I can’t wait.”

Hastily—in a moment of complete madness, blinded by the most lecherous haze—Joel takes a sharp left turn down some slightly sketchy side-street. He yanks up the parking brake.

“What?” You blink at him, heeding the raging boner he’s flaunting. “You want to do it here?”

Joel nods. “Car sex not good enough for the princess, huh?”

He starts unzipping his pants while you, on instinct, pull off your dress.

“No.” Your head shakes. “No, absolutely not. Just didn’t think you’d want to eat me out in the passenger seat, s’all.”

“Yeah, well.” He pulls his jeans and underwear down, and his prick springs free. Its so hard it looks almost painful. “I’ve waited long enough to get you alone, ‘n I ain’t wasting no more time.”

You nod, pulling almost sheer fabric over your head. Fair enough.

Joel’s eyes all but pop out of his skull at the sight of your tits. They’re even more alluring in person, than what that goddamn Facebook picture alludes.

“God. Your father is gonna kill me.”

“What daddy don’t know won’t hurt him.” You retort with a smile. It’s almost innocent. It’s almost driving him fucking crazy.

His features harden. As Joel puts one hand to the back of your neck and the other wraps around his cock—slowly pumping his length—he kisses you. It’s teeth and tongues, and he’s moaning because the pleasure flowing straight to his tip mixed with the saccharine liquor on your tongue is almost too much.

It’s intense. It’s steamy and needy, and Joel just smells so good. He tastes pretty sweet, too.

You whine into his mouth, feeling a haze of lust devour any sense of rationality that you might’ve had before this very juncture.

“Fuck.” He rasps as he pulls away, his hand still affixed to his literal throbbing cock. “Get on your back.”

You oblige in a heartbeat, laying against lukewarm leather, skin already sticking to it as its getting damp with sweat.

“Jesus Christ.” He lets out an expletive, feeling his already solid cock harden to an almost painful degree as you begin to leak liquid sexuality at the mere thought of Joel eating you out.

Your chest heaves as Joel starts to lick at your cunt.

A searing warmth percolates through your body as his tongue works your heat, licking a chaste trail through your folds. Its demure, its soft yet lascivious, and its driving you absolutely insane, the way he’s touching you. Feeling you. Eating you.

He laps at your honeyed sweetness, hastening the pace at which he licks and sucks and jabs at your core. Your wanton—borderline licentious—whines only encourage him.

“So sweet.” He comes up for air, slipping his middle finger into your pussy while he writes his fucking name with his tongue on your clit and wrenches inside of you. “So fuckin’ sweet.”

“Joel—“

“Baby.” The man murmurs against your swollen bud, overstimulating you to a point of almost no return, and you whine. You cry and whimper for him as he laps at your weeping bloom, feeling every ounce of pleasure twist within the chasms of your abdomen.

He spreads both of your legs apart and pulls them over his shoulders—hands firmly clamping against your stomach—and goes at it, hammer and tongs. No remorse. No mercy. No goal aside from making you squirt and scream the place down.

And of course it feels wrong, to be pinned beneath the man whose first sexual escapade was most likely shared with your father mere moments later. But you don’t care.

You don’t care that half of Joel’s life was spent by the side of your parent, or that he was there the day that you learned how to ride a bike for the first time. Because it’s so different, now.

You don’t know him anymore. Joel isn’t the same. He doesn’t look the same, or act the same. He was so grumpy, so mad at the world for the longest fucking time. But now he seems to be at peace.

Here. With you.

“Bet those stupid college jocks never tried suckin’ your soul outta your cunt.” Joel mumbles against trembling thighs, kissing and biting a little trail before he’s diving straight back into your heat.

Your head shakes and you whisper a little “no.” Speaking feels impossible, now.

And while the words won’t fall from your lips, a sharp mewl—shriek, almost—falls from your lips as your warmth devours Joel’s tongue and fingers. You tighten around him, immediately feeling your release.

But he doesn’t stop. Joel stays at it. He laps up the desire that’s pouring from you, feeling his cock start to leak at the sound of you and the way that he’s forcing your body to convulse.

You writhe and moan and he wants to take pity on you, but he can’t stop. He paws at his length and jerks his hand in time with his tongue as it slips through your folds.

“Joel—“ your hand goes to his head on instinct, wreathing fingers into his hair as his hold is relentless. “Fuck me—I—“

“You what, darlin’?” He lifts his glance, watching your eyes roll back in your fucking head. “You can’t take it anymore? You want me to show you what a seasoned professional can do?”

You cringe at your words being thrown back in your face, but you nod. Because Joel’s calloused fingertips strumming away at your clit is making you fucking ascend, and you’d like to leave his truck with at least some of your dignity.

He goes back down for another taste, drinking your come as it pours out of you. He licks a final trail through your pussy and lands at your clit, sucking it before releasing with a soaking pop.

Joel pulls away and gets on his knees bwteeen your legs, admiring the mess that he’s made of you beneath him. It’s a beautiful sight. But he worries that if he basks in it for too much longer, then he’ll blow his load all over you.

Fuck. His load. Joel grunts, pulling a hand over his face.

“Is something wrong?” You ask, propping yourself up by your elbows. “Joel?—“

“Condoms.” He rasps. “You got any?”

“No.” Joel throws his head back, frustrated. “Hey. I’m sorry that I don’t carry them around with me, but I don’t usually go fuckin’ around with people that I run into in the hardware store—“

“Sorry.” He apologises, hoping that he hasn’t ruined the mood. “Think I got some in the glove box.”

“Hope they’re in date.” Joel glares at you. “What? When was the last time that you got laid, Miller?”

He rubs his lips together. He ignores your remark, instead pulling a lone rubber from the glovebox. Joel sighs, complacent.

You peer at the back of the foil. 02.04.26.

“Huh. Got your dick wet pretty recently.” You muse, slightly downcast. But if it weren’t for being at the store today, you wouldn’t be in this situation and all would be so different.

Joel feels your trepidation. But counters with “I’m pretty sure that Tommy put these in here after I went on a Tinder date in January.”

You watch as he rolls it over his prick, and raise a brow.

“You haven’t had sex since January?”

He shakes his head.

“Fuck. That’s wild. I thought you were always out bangin’ bitches.”

“No.” He chuckles, gripping firmly his cock. He lines it up with your—still completely soaked—core. “Used to be, but not anymore.”

“Aw, I feel special, now.”

Joel leans over, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. “Always been special, sweetheart.”

Throbbing once more, your cunt glitters. It’s humiliating, getting so wet so fast. But Joel is fucking luxuriating in it. He loves this sight, you underneath him.

“You ready?” The search for consent—or at least approval—forces butterflies to wreak havoc inside of your stomach.

You nod at him. “More than.”

Joel’s heart pounds. He can’t believe he’s doing this. He can’t believe that he’s being so fucking stupid. But, here you are. Here he is. About to have TRUCK sex with you, like you’re just some girl that he’s picked up from the bar.

IDIOT.

But he heaves all disinclination to the side, and pushes slowly his cock into the searing warmth between your legs.

He hisses out a “fuck” while you throb around him. You’re tighter than he thought, and he can’t believe it. He can’t get over the fact that he fits you almost perfectly, like his prick was just fucking made for you.

He could stay like this all day.

But he needs to get off. Quickly. Because it’s almost eleven-fifteen, and he promised Sarah that he’d call to see how her flight to Kansas was at eleven-thirty.

“Christ, Joel.” Your head hits the seat with a thump, feeling quickly the second orgasm that he’s bestowing upon you this evening. “Feels so good.”

“Can say that again.” He replies, breathless as he starts to hasten his pace. His knees dig deep into the leather-bound seat as he strives to keep his balance while rutting into you.

Your back arches as a surge of pleasure strikes your core, and Joel puts his right hand beneath the curve of your spine while the left is gripping tightly your thigh as it shakes and shivers.

“This pussy.” He groans through gritted teeth, watching his cock slide in and out of your weeping cunt. “This fuckin’ pussy is perfect.”

More of that arousal seeps onto his cock, slick and wet. A sharp squelch urges you to cringe, but the physical sensation cancels out any feelings of sheepishness.

You’re a mess. In Joel’s truck, on the front bench, you’re a fucking mess.

But it’s some of the best sex you’ve had in—well—forever, and you can’t even dream of elucidating the gory details to anyone. Because this is wrong. Completely forbidden. Yet it feels so good.

You’d die if anyone found out, but you’re hardly being private about it.

Your moans—loud and obnoxious—reverberate through the cabin and you’re pretty sure that people a mile away can hear how well Joel’s fucking into you.

“Wanna get on top.” You muster out and take him by surprise. But he’s into it, and pulls out to sit back down on his ass.

You clamber over—and feel that pooling wetness seap down the inseam of your thighs—watching him watching you.

Both legs land either side of Joel’s, and he takes it upon himself to line his cock up with your slit. You rub over the tip, slowly sliding down onto him while your eyes are locked on his.

Joel twitches and writhes underneath you. You put both hands on his chest—exposed through his green and red flannel—and slowly ride him. You’re gentle, with your movements. Unyielding, but gentle.

“Love your cock.” Through bated breaths, you say. “So, so big.”

“Love your pussy—“

He’s cut off by the almost offensive ringtone that came default with the phone that—honestly—you couldn’t put a name to even if you had a gun to your head

“Aw, fuck. What time is it?”

You shrug, rolling your hips. “Like, eleven-thirty.”

Joel grunts and groans, fishing around for his cellphone. He pulls it from between the seat and the door.

Sarah.

“Darlin’—it’s Sarah you’re gonna have to—fuck—gonna have to stop.”

You shake your head no. “I’ll just be quiet. And I’ll go slow.”

“Fine.” He says, though knows that you “going slow” will destroy him.

Joel clears his throat, feeling quickly his release looming.

“Hey, baby girl.” He greets her, and you hear her mutter something back. Something about him needing to stop saying that, and asking him to refer to her as something normal.

She hasn’t changed. You smile. It’s cute. You just want to kiss him.

But you want to torture him even fucking more.

Both hands take purchase against his shoulders, and you rock at a pace that you know is killing him.

He grinds his lips together, humming in response to something that she’s saying.

“That’s great, Sar’.” Joel shoots you daggers as your tits press against his chest. You moan quietly, writhing on top of his prick.

You’re not going to quit, and he knows that. So as she’s describing—in depth—the ordeal that she had at the airport, he takes it as his cue to lift his hips and pound into you. All the while striving not to make a noise.

“Fuck, Joel. I’m gonna cum—“ You whisper, hating how quickly you’re unraveling atop him. He jolts his hips upwards—fast and lazy—as you’re orgasming in front of him. Again.

And it’s only a matter of time before he starts his unyielding release, and so you ride him until you’re seeing stars. You’re so sensitive and overstimulated, and feel as though your cunt is going to drop off.

But it’s worth it. To see Joel’s face contort, and his breathing grow sporadic, is so worth it.

“What—uh—what day will you be home?” He asks her, throat hitching.

“Saturday.”

He groans, watching you throw your head back.

“Dad? You alright?”

“Yes.” He says, short. “Sorry, that was blunt. I’m alright. Kinda caught up in an emergency, hon. Mrs. McKaye’s pipes are blocked. Can I call you back in the morning?”

She mumbles something about him being too nice and how he can never say “no” to anybody, and agrees to speak in the morning. Joel switches off his phone and throws it behind him, quickly fastening his palms to your thighs.

“”Mrs. McKaye’s pipes are blocked?” Joel, you are such a shitty liar.”

“I know.” He says, letting his cock hit the spongiest part of your cunt as he slams into you—hilt deep—and mumbles a slew of curses entwined with your name. “I never lie. That’s why I’m so bad at it.”

You laugh for a millisecond, before pleasure is surging over you and your sweat-slick torsos are fused together. A gorge of complete and utter rapture almost drowns the two of you, and before you know it Joel’s cock is twitching—pulsating—inside of you as he hits his release and cum is spitting from the tip of his prick.

You’re grateful for the condom—as getting pregnant by your dad’s ex-best-friend is literally a death sentence—but desire the feeling of Joel’s hot cum painting threads of white against the walls of your pussy.

“Fuck.” You whimper, wriggling as he’s still deep within you. “Joel, that was—“

“Fucking amazing.” He finishes, panting. Sweat beads against his forehead, chest and neck.

Joel��hesitantly—pulls out, and his head hits the rest behind it. You peel yourself away and reach for your dress, quickly shimmying back into it before you’re curling up next to him. Joel puts his arm around you.

“Kinda glad that I went lookin’ for a gate lock, now.”

“Mhm. Me too, sweetheart.” He replies, pressing a soft kiss to the side of your head.

“I’ve gotta go and get caulk tomorrow. You gonna be there?”

Joel chuckles. “Depends. You gonna come home with me again?”

“We haven’t even made it back to your place once.”

“This is true.” He says.

Joel reaches for his pants and jeans.

He leans into you, nipping your ear. “But I ain’t done with you yet.”

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x afab reader #joel miller x you #tlou #tlou x reader #tlou x afab reader #tlou x you #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader smut

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koipalm · 1 year ago

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liushennnn in my attendant sy au (read right to left)

notes on this au:

sy transmigrates into a new body when sqq fights the system trying to force him out of his body. sqq is livid and decides to take sy as his retainer/secretary/assistant, forcing him to do most of the accounting & administrative work on qing jing peak and work for sqq for free while also helping sqq avoid his tragic fate by telling him spoilers and secrets about the world that sy remembers. sy has no golden core and no cultivation, and cant wield a spiritual sword or fight. sy has no documents, no money, and no prospects. sqq basically provides everything for him & can also take it away. sy moves into the other room in the bamboo house and cleans and organizes as well, although his own room is a mess. sqq never makes it clear what sy's position on the peak is, so all of the disciples follow his orders in fear of disobeying sqq. sy is basically 2nd to sqq, although he doesnt see it that way; he sees himself as sqq's overworked servant. he resents sqq for his control over sy's life, but he's terrified of being kicked out.

sqq takes sy to the peak lord meetings as well, using sy to carry documents, serve tea, and to give him information about anything that might be useful to sqq if it comes up during the meeting. sy also often acts as a messenger for sqq between peaks. he doesnt get much interaction outside of senior disciples and the other peak lords.

since sy's hands are usually full with documents, accounting books, talisman paper, & anything else sqq wants him to carry, sy can't use his fan to hide his face as much. instead he uses his hair & his glasses. his skin is sallow & he often misses meals from running around doing sqq's errands, so he always seems tired. clothes he wears are simple & loose, either slip on or buttoned up. he dislikes loud & bright patterns bc he doesn't want to stand out, but sometimes has no choice bc sqq buys his clothes. sqq will often make him wear more extravagant patterns, even when it makes sy nervous about attracting attention.

since sy seemed to appear out of nowhere to the other sect members, sy is very worried about acting too suspicious and getting kicked out. he copies sqq as much as possible to acclimate to the world and seem unphased & elegant.

sy is very interested in the other peak lords since he interacts with them often, especially liu qingge. liu qingge often catches him staring, but sy tries not to interact with anyone more than he has to. liu qingge usually sees him hiding behind sqq as a buffer. if sy does speak, he does it low & quiet, & if behind his fan if possible.

sy looks like his old body & has long black hair, similarly styled to sqq by his insistence. sy dislikes this.

sqq calls sy "a-yuan" bc sy doesnt like it. sy doesnt like telling people his name though bc it makes ppl think theyre related, which he also doesnt like, so he doesnt stop sqq from indroducing sy as "a-yuan". this makes it very difficult for other ppl to know what to call sy in fear of being too familiar

sy does meet sqh earlier in this au, and he helps him as much as he can get away with behind sqq's back. since sy is less bound by the system than sqh is, sqh sometimes "sponsors" sy to do things he himself cant do.

sy calls sqq the equivalent of "sir".

#my art #shen yuan #liu qingge #liushen #svsss #sy attendant au #notes r basically just copied and pasted from my notes app lol..#i still cant for the life of me figure out sy's term of address for sqq #it's supposed to be familiar enough yet reverent enough that sy can get away with it #because he doesnt want to call him shizun or peak lord shen qingqiu #also i get that like theres this whole thing of making everyone be like oh sqq/sy you are so beautiful and so moe #but i think that gets boring. what if everything sucked for him all the time and he was rly dehydrated and lqg still liked him like that #also its right to left bc thats just the way the paneling worked out best

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versairic · 10 months ago

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Mariquita | CS55

In which Carlos' appendectomy triggers a huge emotional chaos in you and makes you realise just how big your feelings for the Spaniard actually are

In which your concern for Carlos clearly shows the Spaniard that you probably feel the same way about him as he does about you

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The last few days have been pure confusion. You could clearly feel this at Ferrari.

After Carlos' appendicitis was announced, on which he had to undergo surgery, the young Briton Olli Bearman was brought in to replace Carlos and chaos began to reign in the team.

Some things had to be changed, such as the adjustment of the seat, as well as various other things up to the well-known gift in the social media.

The hustle and bustle could be clearly felt throughout the team. But the excitement was not just for the young 18-year-old Brit, but also for the Spaniard. Because most of the time, the team's thoughts were on Carlos, who should soon have the operation behind him.

" Have you finished the Instagram post yet? " Lucy asked me as she sat down at the table opposite me.

" Uhm, what? " confused, I lifted my eyes from my mobile phone, which I kept glancing at hopefully to be the first to hear the news about Carlos' condition.

But so far there was still no news, which slowly started to make me more and more nervous.

"I wonder if you've already posted on Instagram that Carlos has come through the operation okay," Lucy continued in a gentle voice and put her hand on my arm.

It took a few seconds for her words to sink in and for me to really understand what she meant.

" W-really? " I stammered, while at the same time a huge stone fell from my heart and I began to feel the tightness in my chest, which had been there since yesterday, loosen.

" But I didn't read anything in the group. How do you know that? " I was sure I hadn't read anything, because for the last ten minutes I'd been checking the Ferrari chat on my mobile phone, hoping I hadn't missed anything.

" Fred just came up to me. He was talking to Carlos Senior. Everything went well and he's now recovering in hospital. " Lucy gave me a soft smile as her thumb gently stroked my arm.

Not only was she my best friend on the team, she was also the one who knew how close Carlos and I actually were.

When I joined the team about a year ago, Carlos was the first to welcome me with open arms and show me around.

During my first day at work, the Spaniard kept coming round to ask me how things were going.

When he invited me for a meal at the end of my first shift and listened attentively to what I had to say about my first successful day at work, a friendship developed within a few weeks.

"Thank God," I whispered quietly as a relieved smile crept onto my lips.

All your fears and worries that something could have gone wrong during the operation vanished within a few seconds.

"I'll post it straight away! " I almost shouted as I reached for my mobile phone and then opened the Ferrari Instagram account that I was partly responsible for.

One of my tasks in the team was to keep the fans up to date via Instagram and Twitter. I also had a say in the C2 Challenges on YouTube, where I always created fun content for the fans.

It wasn't long before I had chosen a photo of Carlos and typed up a short text about his condition and then posted it.

"Now I can get back to work feeling better," I mumbled as I reached for your fruit salad, which had been sitting untouched on the table in front of me, and started eating.

" I believe you. It's about time my favourite colleague was finally back at work with a smile on her face. "

Yesterday almost flew by, which was probably due to the good news that had lifted my spirits so much that I was completely back in the swing of things.

Olli had done well in the third free practice session and in qualifying, as had Charles, who would start today's race from second place.

This lifted my spirits even further, so I entered Ferrari Hospitality with a smile on my face and greeted a few of my colleagues who were already having breakfast.

"Morning sunshine," Charles greeted me with an amused smile as I stood next to him at the buffet and reached for a plate.

"Morning my favourite Monegasque," I replied brightly and then reached for a croissant.

" Do I want to know why you're shining like the non-existent sun today? " Charles asked as he reached for a bowl of muesli and then continued. " Well, actually, I know what it is..."

Charles winked and then began to waggle his eyebrow dramatically, which looked rather strange.

"Are you all right? " I asked him, while I also secured a bowl of muesli and placed it on my tray.

" I'm doing great. I'm ready for the race, but that's not the issue right now. Try not to get distracted," he almost admonished me and raised his index finger in the air in warning before continuing. "Could it be that your good mood is back thanks to Carlo's successful operation? Because since this was announced, you seem to have changed. "

" It's race day..." I tried to talk my way out of it, but I couldn't, as Charles hovered his index finger over my lips to indicate that I should be quiet.

"I'm neither stupid nor daft. I know for a fact that there's something going on between you and Carlos. It's certainly none of my business, but I can see that you're good for each other and I think that's great. Don't stop doing good for each other, okay? Okay, great! See you then! "

Before I could open my mouth to give Charles an answer, the Ferrari driver had already fled, almost running, with his tray.

Shaking my head, I looked after the Monegasques for a few seconds before I ran over to one of the free tables with my tray and began to eat my breakfast in peace.

And as I sat there eating my breakfast in comfort, my thoughts kept wandering back to Charles' words.

Were Carlos and I really on good terms? And if so, was Carlos and my behaviour really so obvious that others had probably noticed?

Once again, a tightness began to spread through my chest, so I pushed the breakfast on my tray to one side in disgust and began to sigh softly.

But before I could even begin to think about Carlos and me, Lucy appeared in front of me.

Her blonde hair lay dishevelled on her face, her cheeks shimmered red and she put her hands on her hips, out of breath.

" Lucy are you okay? " I asked cautiously and all I got in reply was a squeezed " Water. "

After I handed Lucy my water, which she drank within a few seconds and then just stood there for a few more seconds, I got nervous.

I could sense that something wasn't right and the fact that Lucy just wouldn't come out with it made me even more nervous.

" Lucy... " I almost urged as you began to shift restlessly on the chair.

" Carlos is here! " she almost shouted so loudly that one or two Ferrari employees turned to us both and looked at me in confusion.

"Sorry, I meant Carlos is here," she repeated more quietly as she dropped into the chair opposite me and rested her elbows on the table.

" What? Why is he here? He just had an operation yesterday! " I looked at the person opposite me with wide eyes as I almost jumped up.

" I have no idea! I saw a story on Instagram where he's walking through the paddock. Or should I say crawling? He can barely walk, he looks absolutely pale and like he's in pain! " she continued, making strange hand movements that I couldn't interpret at all.

" What?! " I repeated again, almost stunned, while my heart began to beat faster.

Why was he here and not resting? He couldn't be serious.

I immediately began to worry so much that I jumped up and ran off without waiting for an answer from Lucy.

" Thanks for breakfast! " she called after me, but I hardly noticed because I only had one thing on my mind. Carlos.

I kept dodging various members of other teams as I ran, keeping my eyes peeled for Carlos.

It wasn't long before I found him and a few other Ferrari employees in the pits, where he was greeted warmly with hugs and a few words.

I stayed in the background and watched Carlos from a distance. And indeed, he looked anything but well.

His posture was more hunched than upright and his face was rather pale, which occasionally even showed that he must clearly be in pain.

Why the hell wasn't he lying in bed and resting?

It took a few minutes for the Spaniard to catch sight of me. Within a few seconds, his face brightened and he literally crept over to me.

"Mariquita," he greeted me with a smile on his lips and pulled me into a warm hug shortly afterwards.

I carefully wrapped my arms around him, hoping not to cause him any more pain.

" Carlos, what are you doing here? " was the first thing I said to him.

" How about a "Oh, hello Carlos. I'm glad you're doing well and that you've come through everything okay?" " he asked as he let go of me and then leant against the wall next to me.

He seemed to find it difficult to even stand up straight. He was even still wearing his hospital bracelet. It was as if he'd literally fled from the hospital and gone straight to the track.

" Are you crazy? You had appendicitis, had to have an operation and haven't even rested for a day? You can barely walk, you look incredibly shitty and you still seem to be in pain! " I spoke in an angry voice and didn't care if anyone was listening. Because apparently I was the first person to say these words to him.

And probably the only one who was thinking straight.

"I'm fine," he tried to reassure me, but he seemed to realise himself that this wasn't the case.

" No, you're not! " I looked at him seriously for a few seconds before turning on my heel and leaving.

Carlos' warm hand grabbed my arm and caused a slight electric shock to run through my body.

"I'm sorry, Mariquita. Let's talk in peace," his voice sounded soft and calm.

He carefully led me into a kind of storeroom that I had never been in before.

A few things were stored here, such as drinks and spare items for the mechanics, like a sofa that stood in the middle of the room.

Carlos slowly lowered himself onto the sofa, grimacing slightly, and then carefully pulled me next to him.

The sofa was so narrow that we sat there more or less pressed against each other and the touch of our knees and arms made my heart start beating faster again and I became slightly restless.

" You have every right to be angry with me and to worry. That's really sweet of you, but it was entirely my decision to come here. In hospital, the ceiling would have literally fallen on my head and I wanted everyone to know that I was okay."

"But you should take it easy, Carlos..." I almost mumbled and looked at the Spaniard, whose eyes were on me.

"I will, I promise," he assured me as he came a little closer to me and I felt his breath on my cheek.

Shortly afterwards, I felt his warm lips lightly on my cheek, which made the area start to tingle warmly and the heat shot up my cheek.

" I've heard from some people how worried you were about me. That was really incredibly sweet of you, Mariquita," Carlos began and gently stroked a strand of my hair behind my ear before continuing.

"We both know that there's more between us. And that's why I want to ask you if you'd like to go on a date with me? " His brown eyes rested calmly on me while a soft smile formed on his lips.

His words caused chaos to awaken in my stomach, as all the butterflies that had just been lying there quietly for a long time began to awaken and turn my feelings completely upside down.

" Yes, but only if you take it easy. Otherwise you can forget the date," I replied with a partly serious and partly worried look.

It was important to me that Carlos recovered fully from the operation and regained his strength so that he would soon be fit again and able to get back into the car.

"I promise, Mariquita."

#carlos sainz #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz x y/n #f1 x reader #f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 fic #scuderia ferrari

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kissitbttr · 8 months ago

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frat!miggy headcannons !!

frat!miguel masterlist

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sfw !!

frat!miguel is the type to giggle and kick his feet up in the air when you tell him simple things like ‘i am so proud of you, baby’ or ‘look at how handsome you are, my big boy!’

frat!miguel gets jealous of small things. your fictional crushes. your girlfriends. your pet. your back spotter in the cheerleading team. gloria.

frat!miguel is also protective. very. to an extent where even you’re only standing five feet away from him at a party, his eyes will be locked in on you. arms crossed, nodding along to whatever his friend is saying in front of him. smiling like a lovesick puppy when he sees you laugh.

frat!miguel who would in seconds, kneel to tie your shoes when they see them undone. you don’t even have to ask.

frat!miguel plugs into his laptop, spending hours on his free time to look up cheerleading sports when both of you started dating. learning about the rules, routines, physical training, winning teams, tumblings, pyramids, etc. why, you ask? no idea.

frat!miguel is your own personal scary dog privilege. there is nothing about this man a golden retriever. especially at the gym. since you love wearing tight shorts and sports bra on leg days, he would stand a few feet apart behind. glaring to those who stares at his girlfriend’s juicy butt.

frat!miguel brings you flowers every weekend and send ones for your mother too. every once a week he goes out to play ball with your dad too. the man is surprised at how well your dad could throw.

frat!miguel who keeps stashes of condoms in his ‘special’ drawer since you stay over almost every day at the frat house. he figures that it’s better to be prepared than nothing. when really, he’s just one horny motherfucker.

frat!miguel who is so damn clingy that you have no clue on how to deal with it anymore. you could send this man a text of ‘bye, talk to you later, baby’ because you’re leaving for practice and he would spam you with

my miggy<3 : what? no!

my miggy<3 : wdym bye?!

my miggy<3 : princesa please don’t leave me!!!

my miggy<3 : i’d die💔💔💔

my miggy<3 : omg pleasepleaseplease come back

my miggy<3 : so you’re just going to let me die:(

frat!miguel who spends almost his entire junior and senior being fawned and gushed by other girls that he didn’t even think for a second to actually try. but for you? ask him to get you the moon, and he gives you saturn

frat!miguel asks you one day if he could be your boyfriend. not the other way around. not ‘can you be my girlfriend?’ because he’s threading lightly and he needs your permission

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nsfw !!

frat!miguel is a large, large, man. he’s jacked bro. 6’9 and built like a damn linebacker. he’s big down there too, so it did take some time for you to get used to his size

frat!miguel loves fucking you. to no end. his stamina could go on for hours and he’s lucky enough to have you as his perfect match. ‘always fuck like damn rabbits’ is a review from glen

frat!miguel doesn’t care about whereabouts. if he’s horny and needed you, then you better get to it! (but of course, only if you’re comfortable)

frat!miguel prefers taking you from behind, he loooves seeing your ass bounce against him. it makes him lose his mind. guaranteed that it would be hard enough for him to last

frat!miguel is a sucker for eating your pussy. day and night, this man could have it for his five course meal. he loves it when you’re sitting on a chair, legs spread and tucked upwards while he’s just on his knees lapping at your cunt

frat!miguel loves having control but even more when you’re in charge. bouncing on his dick, not allowing him to touch you while rather just let him watch your tight pussy swallowing his cock.

frat!miguel gets off to your moans. they’re like music to his ears. how could one be so angelic and pornographic at the same time, shits crazy.

frat!miguel who has a breeding kink. he would go on about how he’s willing to knock you up during fucking, whispering in your ear that he’s going to put a baby in you.

frat!miguel is obsessed with your mouth. the head you give is top notch. you could do so much shit with your tongue around his cock than half of the girls he had before with their hands.

frat!miguel who’s lock-screen wallpaper is a selfie of you in the shower. hair wet, one arm covering your tits, puckered lips and doe eyes at the camera. head tilting to the side. it’s one you sent when he had texted you ‘what’s my girl doing today?’ during football practice. you look so damn cute and sexy, he just had to do it.

#frat!miguel #miguel o’hara blurbs #miguel o’hara x reader

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weepingtalecowboy · 3 months ago

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Hero tips from Legend

For Wild,Hyrule and Wind

Lesson No.1 how to get free rooms

Legend : “I can get us an Inn with three meals a day reasonably well maintained rooms and a bathroom all free of charge just follow my example all you need is to say you are my accomplices when talking to a guard”

Warriors: “Legend that is a FUCKING PRISON CELL?!?!?!”

Legend : “Only if you let it.”

“Prison’s just another option, really. You can always say no to it. If they don’t catch you, you’re good. It’s their problem, not yours.”

The young members of the chain(thoughtfully): “So, prison is only for those who get caught. I like that. It makes sense.”

The rest(horrified): “No, it does NOT make sense! If you break the law, they WILL come after you!”

Lesson 1.5 how to leave the hostel :

Legend: “If you get caught, don’t worry. Breaking out is half the fun. It’s like a puzzle in a dungeon . You just need to be smarter than the guards.”

Young Heroes (taking notes): “Right. Prison break—step one: outthink the guards.”

Seniors (in disbelief): “That’s not supposed to be part of your life! You’re supposed to avoid prison entirely!”

Legend(casually): “And if you get locked up, just stay calm. Bars can’t hold you forever. There’s always a weak point. Find it.”

Wind(confidently): “Every prison has a weak point. Got it.”

Warriors(sighing): “I can’t believe I have to say this, but…don’t go to prison in the first place!”

Lesson No.2 how to deal with the fame:

Legend(smirking): “You know, if they start putting your face on wanted posters, that means you’ve earned their respect. They want you that badly. They’re paying attention to you now.”

Youngest (genuinely listening along ): “I knew it! If you’re wanted, it’s basically like they’re giving you an award for being a problem!”

Senior links(exasperated): “That’s not respect—that’s desperation to catch you!”

Legend(pointing to his wanted poster): “Look at that. They took the time to draw me! That’s how you know you’ve made an impression.”

Juniors(awed): “How do we get one of those?”

Senior Links (panicking): “You don’t want one of those! That means they’re after you!”

Lesson no.3 How to get “treasures” :

Legend being a helpful role model : “Stealing’s only a problem if you get caught. If they don’t notice, it’s basically a free trade.”

Juniors : “So it’s like finding treasure? I like it!”

Warriors(horrified): “That’s stealing! It’s not ‘treasure’ if it belongs to someone else!”

Legend (mock whispering) : “Then make it yours...”

Until next time with the hero of Legend's personal life tips about heroism

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wileys-russo · 1 year ago

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house wife II l.willamson x reader

for our charming LW6, yet another fixation of my blondie obsession.

house wife II l.williamson x reader

if they said the way to someone's heart was through their stomach, one woman who would never disagree, was leah williamson.

with no cooking ability of her own, life since living out of home had consisted of jumping from one team mates table to another when wanting a hot meal, or seemingly endless takeaway containers and microwave meals filling her yellow bins.

little did she know that was all to change, the day that leah met you.

for you, life growing up with three older brothers meant a childhood and early adolescence of rough housing, relentless teasing, and playing football with only boys. and as much as you were more than able to stand up for yourself physically when pushed around, all thanks to having three older brothers, you had always been a lover and not a fighter.

choosing your words diplomatically and carefully even from a young age your brothers often teased that you were adopted or dropped off on the doorstep by the postman one morning, all of them preferring to settle things with fists than words. but as they soon found out just because you preferred to speak things out, you weren't above a swift kick to the groin or firm punch to the stomach at their teasings.

growing up around boys, playing football with boys, befriending boys, meant you craved feminine company and attention in other aspects of life. this lead to most of your free time on a weekend spent tucked away in the kitchen with your aunts, grandmother and mother, attentively watching and eagerly learning all of the little tips, tricks and secrets of cherished family recipes.

the older you got and the more serious your football career became, the more your passion for being in the kitchen grew, cooking becoming a somewhat therapeutic escape from the pressures of the pitch.

hosting dinner parties for loved ones, dropping off baked goods and flowers to friends on birthdays, your heart swelled to see people appreciate your laboured work.

your favorite part about cooking being doing it for other people, your own little love language.

having grown up in the young lionesses playing alongside the likes of georgia stanway, alessia russo, ellie roebuck and ella toone, you had heard of leah in passing from your friends and team mates long before you actually met her.

you should have met her during your senior call up for prep camp pre olympics, but unfortunately suffering a bad tackle in your early seasons playing for man city you'd missed out on your chance due to a knee reconstruction surgery. though an also injured alessia and yourself still made sure to watch every game together on the couch at home, screaming encouragement to your friends through the tv as if they could hear you.

your confidence in your football ability took its first serious knock when you completed your post reconstruction rehab with flying colours and returned from injury, only to learn your man city contract was in fact not being renewed.

you admittedly shut down at the news, withdrawing into your shell and pushing away friends and family who attempted to console or support you .

you fell out of love with being in the kitchen, preferring instead to sit on the lounge and feel sorry for yourself as you spent time encompassed in all of the creature comforts you’d often forgo in order to be match fit and game day ready.

but all of this came to a screeching halt the day you got a call from your agent, well the day you answered a call from your agent. the older woman finishing telling you off for the days spent ignoring her, your stomach flipped as she then announced multiple clubs had been reaching out and showing interest in securing you before your man city contract was up within the week.

some of the figures and sums put forth to you that day had been more money than you ever knew.

you grew up mostly comfortable in a middle class family, but with four kids being raised by a single mum, times could be tight and often were full of over sized hand me downs and second hand boots.

there was one club offer however that peaked your interest far more than the others, which had absolutely nothing to do with money. it was the team you spent years secretly supporting behind closed doors, hiding jerseys and flags in a battered and beaten shoe box underneath your bed, lying about your whereabouts to sneak off to games.

your brothers all chelsea supporters you were sure you'd be disowned and thrown out on the streets had they discovered the arsenal merchandise squirreled away expertly all throughout your childhood bedroom.

but now all adults and very proud of you (and forever telling people they taught you all you know), you couldn't help but tease as all three of them proudly showed you the bright red shirts with your last name and number plastered across the back the day your signing with the club had been finally announced.

the sheer euphoria felt at this new opportunity meant you quickly readjusted back into life, calling and messaging friends and team mates you'd been icing out, offering sincere apologies and making plans to catch up. you returned to the kitchen, sending off cupcakes, cookies and brownies to your loved ones, cooking cosy home cooked meals for friends as they came over for dinner parties once again.

having been given a proper tour of the arsenal grounds and emirates stadium, and days spent full of media and interviews during the last of the off season, you didn't get a chance to meet your team mates until around a week and a half after news of your signing had gone public. though never being a particularly shy or outspoken individual, it didn't take long for you to get to know the team, and in turn for them to warm up to you.

leah having been given a very stern warning from georgia to look after you, it was following a particularly brutal training session that the older girl properly sought you out, asking if you wanted to join her in the recovery pool.

only having encountered the defender briefly during your first few days you were quick to agree, relishing in the opportunity to get to know her a little better.

having been taken under the equally watchful as they were dangerous wings of katie mccabe, the irish woman had been whom you partnered up with for most drills and spent your off time hanging out with.

but needless to say after only a short twenty minutes speaking with you leah found herself absolutely enamored with your cheeky smile and quick wit, unknowingly setting into course the actions which would eventually flip her world upside down.

fast forward a few years and here you stood now as her girlfriend staring her down from the end of the lounge, having happily lived together in your shared flat for the past eighteen months.

"lee please!" you begged, stepping to the side to again block the tv with your body as the england captain tried to crane her neck to see past you, attention fixated on the arsenal mens match on the screen.

"babe they just scored and i missed it!" leah moaned in frustration as the crowd erupted behind you, the blonde dragging her hands slowly down her face. "they lost 4-2. you promised me you would do this while i'm recovering!" you now glared at her sternly as the blondes mouth formed a small o in shock.

"and you said you didn't watch it without me!" leah huffed at the betrayal, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring right back at you, once again completely ignoring the rest of your sentence which had been your reason for interrupting her in the first place.

"leah." you warned as you continued to stare her down, free arm reaching to point away from the living room and into the kitchen, also known as your girlfriends least favorite room of the house. the blonde simply moaned louder at the silent request, throwing her head back and soppily sliding her body down the lounge like that of a toddler throwing a tantrum.

"or we could just order dinner?" she tried with a charming smile, holding up her phone and wiggling her eyebrows. "okay fine you win lee. i'll just continue to cook for us as always. but of course let me first just take my arm out of this sling and-" you began with a shrug, reaching out to undo the velcro strap hooked under your elbow, having dislocated your shoulder at last weeks game, nothing too serious but it meant needing to take a further 2 weeks off for rehab.

"don't you dare!" leahs eyes widened and she scrambled to grab at you, carefully tugging your free hand away from the sling and holding it firmly in her grip. "sling stays on." the defender commanded, determined both as your girlfriend and team mate for your recovery to be a smooth one so you could return to the pitch again as quickly as possible.

"then you cook dinner tonight." you retorted back in the same tone, staring her down stubbornly as the two of you stood locked eye to eye, neither wanting to be the first to back down. "kitchen, go!" you ordered firmly, pointing again in its direction as leah simply scoffed. "you know that sounded a bit sexist." the girl retorted as you raised your eyebrows in challenge.

"the other morning you quite literally woke up and the first words you said to me were 'well where's my breakfast then woman?'" you mocked your girlfriends MK accent, her unimpressed glare melting into an amused smile. "yeah that was a good one." she chuckled fondly to herself with a shake of her head, smile quickly dropping from her face when you continued to blankly stare her down.

"oh for fuck sakes fine!" leah gave in with a loud groan, dropping your hand as you smiled victoriously, leaning in to quickly press your lips to her own. "yeah yeah, just get on with it!" the blonde rolled her eyes moodily, pulling herself to her feet and trudging after you as you practically skipped off towards the kitchen.

for years you had happily cooked for and fed the english captain without any complaints, after all it was one of the main ways you showed your love.

but as time passed on you began to try to attempt to teach your girlfriend to fend for herself in the kitchen, but the defender would always insist she didn't need to know, and you were honestly worried that if anything should happen she would have no choice but to live her life off of 5p tesco ham sandwiches, with no mayo of course.

so as the weeks and months ticked on, determined no longer to let her be completely useless you began to request her help more and more frequently. knowing that with a bat of your eyelashes and a few sweet words you could get her chopping or prepping things for you, which though seemingly small was still a huge win in the long run.

now, with your arm needing to be in the sling for almost the entirety of your days, and very minimal things you could actually cook and prepare with only one good functioning arm, was your red hot chance to commence phase two of your master plan; teaching leah to actually cook something.

this of course was all heading up to the final hurdle. it was long overdue yours and leah's turn to host team game night, and with the hosting duties came the responsibility of feeding everyone. due to commitment clashes, family events, game days, early training's or just rotten luck, it had been rescheduled about 5 or 6 times now.

but it was locked in for the upcoming weekend, and as much as leah had begged you both reschedule and blame your injury, you were determined to avoid this at all costs. the backup option was of course to just order in some food, but following beth and vivs elaborate 3 course meal of the last game night, you figured the least you could do was teach leah to whip up an easy pasta and some garlic bread.

though this a seemingly simple task to you, it loomed over leah like her own personal everest.

having talked her through the steps twice, and now supporting her to locate all necessary ingredients, you sat on a bar stool happily instructing from the island in the middle of the kitchen.

with your ongoing encouragement and praise at even the simplest of tasks, leahs competitive drive had kicked in and she found herself believing there was maybe a slim to slight chance she could pull this off.

"you know i don't like the look of this. i thought this was a pesto pasta!" things began to click for leah as she grabbed out the last of the things she needed from the freezer, peas. "i fink you'll find it is the same pasta i cook for you frequently babe, which you love." you replied, purposely mocking your girlfriends common tendency to replace her th's with f's.

"we agreed you would no longer mock my speech impediment." leah deadpanned at the comment, hands on hips as she glared toward you unimpressed. "you do not have a speech impediment, you're just from milton keynes." you continued to tease with a cheeky grin, loving nothing more than winding the older girl up when you had the chance, the shoe often on the other foot with her own relentlessly teasing of your habits and quirks.

"well the secret is now out. it is not a pesto pasta, the green sauce is made from blending peas, mint, olive oil, garlic and lemon juice. delicious!" you kissed the tips of your fingers before flicking them into the air, a look of bewilderment and disgust forming on leahs face as she registered the information.

"but i hate peas." leah grimaced, glancing to the bag on the counter with utter contempt. "no, you think you hate peas. realistically, you've been enjoying them all along!" you smiled smugly, popping a strawberry segment into your mouth from the bowl on the counter, already having had leah cut them up for you as a refresher of her knife skills.

"right. so then our entire relationship is built on a foundation of lies!" leah yelled dramatically, throwing her hands into the air before smacking them back down on the counter and pointing a finger toward you threateningly. "what else have you been secretly feeding me then woman?" the girl asked, eyes narrowing in suspicion as your own practically rolled into the back of your head at her childish antics.

"those are secrets i will take to the grave williamson, you'll never know." you replied cryptically, popping another strawberry segment into your mouth before clapping and ordering her back to the task at hand. "so bossy." leah mumbled to herself, now her turn to roll her eyes as she busied herself prepping things, you ignoring her little comments about how she would never get over this pea related betrayal.

"ah! we're doing that from scratch." you tutted at her as she opened the freezer, reaching for a pack of pre made garlic bread. "what! need i reminder you i am a beginner." leah protested, crossing her arms over her chest with a pout.

"oh i know, i don't think i've ever put anything as bland or unseasoned into my body as that sandwich you made me for lunch yesterday." you shook your head sadly, shuddering at the memory. "oi! how's that for gratitude then, should have just let you starve." leah huffed, shifting her concentration to dicing up the bacon she had just finished frying off.

"need i remind you again of the 'well where's my breakfast then woman?'" you cocked an eyebrow in her direction as her face again broke into a grin, the blonde once more chuckling to herself at the memory, never being someone afraid to laugh at her own jokes, especially if she was the only one laughing.

"i obviously meant to say where is my breakfast then my gorgeous, wonderful, lovely, lovely girl." the taller girl smiled charmingly, making her way around the island and slotting her body in between your legs as you spun around on your chair to face her. arms wrapping around you your back pressed against the edge of the cool granite countertop. "nice try." you hummed against her lips, pushing her away from you as her tongue ventured into your mouth.

"mmm not yet, littlee bit more." leah was careful of your injured arm and shoulder as she pressed you harder against the counter top and reconnecting your lips. quick to take advantage of a hitch in your breath as her cold hands wandered up the inside of your hoodie, which was technically her hoodie, easily dominating control of the kiss.

"no, you're cooking. focus!" you pulled your head from the cloud of pleasure it forever drifted to when consumed by leahs affections, once more shoving the taller girl away and smacking lightly at her chest as you panted, now slightly out of breath. "cock blocked by a bloody kitchen, typical." leah rolled her eyes, pushing herself off of the counter she had you trapped against and padding back towards the stove.

"i can't believe you won't just let me order pizza for the girls, they won't care!" leah whined as she stirred the sauce, glancing at you over her shoulder, bottom lip jutted out in a pout. "it's the principal of it baby. if only life was like ratatouille and i could sit on your shoulders, tugging on your hair and doing all the hard work for you." you pouted back at her, eyes twinkling as she shook her head, shoving her hair to the other side of her head with her spare hand, still stirring the rapidly thickening 'pesto'.

"well now my girl you know i would never say no to you practically sitting on my fac-" you cut off the girls cheeky remark before she could finish, calling out that her pasta water was over boiling, leah turning quickly and letting out a yelp of panic at the sight, looking to you with wide eyes for help.

talking her through what she needed to do to settle it again you watched on in amusement as she zoomed around the kitchen, focus heightened, multi tasking between watching the pasta and sauce both cooking on the stove and making sure not to burn the home made garlic bread baking away in the oven.

and sure enough her focus paid off as a little while later she finished off the meal with a small sprinkle of grated parmesan into your serving, refusing to add the same into hers despite you pointing out you'd always done that for her anyway, another thing she hadn't picked up on.

"i'm so proud of you lee." you beamed, jaw almost hurting from the face splitting grin you sported as the two of you sat tucked up together on the lounge, bowls of pasta resting on your knees as leah browsed through the tv trying to find something to watch.

"yeah yeah, no biggie." the girl muttered dismissively, but you didn't miss the small smile of pride that flickered across her face at the praise, craning your head back to sweetly kiss her jaw. "oh no come on, leah!" you protested loudly as your girlfriend clicked in to watch a golf tournament repeat, full well knowing you absolutely detested the sport.

"ah ah ah. i cooked, i choose, isn't that right?" leah smirked down at you as she held the remote out of your reach, echoing back your own regular words as you huffed moodily, protests falling silent as you shoveled a mouthful of pasta into your mouth instead.

"good girl." leah whispered into your ear, kissing your cheek which had flushed bright red at her words, settling back into the lounge as the two of you fell into a comfortable silence, the only sound the clinking of your forks against your bowls and the droning on of the golf commentary on the tv.

"where you going?" leah asked a couple of hours later with a confused frown as you unwrapped her arms from around your mid section, carefully sliding your body out from where it laid between her legs.

“upstairs. it’s shower and movie time." you stretched your good arm, glaring down in annoyance at the one strapped to your chest, feeling pins and needles crawling around but unable to really do anything about it.

"where do you think you're going? you cooked, you clean. isn't that right?" you mocked her words from earlier as she stood to follow you, nodding to the small mountain of dirty cookware laying in the kitchen sink. "what!" leah spluttered out in shock, protesting that it wasn't fair.

"1, i can't help you clean even if i wanted to." you started, gesturing to your slinged up arm. "and 2, you never help me clean up after i cook unless your mums here to nag you about it!" you reminded with a shrug, turning back around and heading for the stairs, leah collapsing back onto the lounge with a loud and frustrated moan.

"better hurry babe, i think you forget i require your help to shower." you called downstairs, grinning as you heard leahs feet pound off into the kitchen, the obvious clanging of pots and pans signaling her frantic efforts to finish the task as quickly as possible.

game night.

"well, i personally think a big congratulations are in order!" katie announced, standing to her feet and clapping to gain everyone's attention. the rest of your team mates sprawled around your living room quietened down, bowls of pasta in their laps and a large board of garlic bread sitting on the coffee table in the middle of the room.

"this should be good." leah quietly murmured in your ear, a smirk crossing her features as she readied herself for the praise coming her way from the irish woman for the meal she had cooked, mostly on her own.

your arm now out of its sling you had assisted her with prep but refused to do much more than that, blaming your shoulder was paining you with a pout as leah had rolled her eyes and playfully swatted at your bum as you left her alone in the kitchen.

"to y/n - for making none other that leah williamson into the little domestic house wife none of us thought was possible!" katie shouted proudly, raising a glass of wine into the air in a silent cheers as you suddenly burst into a fit of laughter at the unexpected toast, leah yelling out shocked protests toward your team mates cheers of agreements to katies statement.

"nah that's a violation!" leah huffed angrily, head shaking firmly and eyebrows knitted into a deep frown as she stabbed aggressively at her pasta, lia reminding her to lighten up with a laugh and a light shove from beside her.

some more light teasing and a few heated rounds of mario kart later, leah had downed a few drinks and indeed lightened up. "you all laugh now but once her shoulder heals up she'll be right back into her old position. attending to my every need like the well practiced little house wife she is." leah grinned, right arm wrapped around your neck as you laid against her chest, most of your team having slowly filtered into ubers, only the two of you and a few select others left.

"i'd love to deny it but this was truly a one off fluke, without me she's useless!" you slurred drunkenly, katie reaching over to swipe your glass of wine as you reached for it, pouting up at her as the older woman shook her head, downing it herself and handing you back the now empty glass with a wink.

"mccabe!" you gasped, flipping her off as she returned the gesture, glancing at her phone and announcing the final uber of the night had arrived to take the last of your team mates home.

wishing them all goodbye and making brief drunken plans for brunch tomorrow which none of you would likely remember, they headed off down the driveway and leah closed your front door.

just before making quick work to press your smaller frame against it as soon as she had.

"hi." "well hello."

you grinned as your lips met and the usual fireworks exploded in your stomach at the sensation. fueled by red wine and a few too many rum and cokes, the kiss quickly turned sloppy as leahs hands groped at you anywhere they could, a quiet moan leaving your mouth as her attention quickly turned to your neck, knowing exactly how you to send your body into overdrive.

"no we can't, i'm still a cripple!" you cried out both dramatically and drunkenly, pushing her away and stumbling at the sudden action, leah quick to dart in and catch you before you fell over entirely.

“okay bed time it is." the older girl chuckled, though drunk she was not quite as bad as you, the taller girl tossing you over her shoulder and heading for the stairs.

"it feels demeaning you can do this so easily." you slurred out, smacking at her bum as the two of you ascended towards your shared bedroom. "you look after me, i look after you. that's how this whole relationship thing works." leah gently placed you down onto the bed, stealing a kiss and making quick work of changing into something more comfortable as you did the same, though with a little more struggle.

flicking off the lights and climbing into bed beside you, leah clicking into netflix the two of you were quick to intertwine your bodies, your girlfriend selecting the first thing she saw knowing it was more so going to be white noise than something either of you paid attention to, already fast fading toward a good nights sleep.

"you did really good tonight baby, my house wife in training." you mumbled quietly, blindly reaching up and patting at leahs cheek, feeling her body gently vibrate with laughter underneath you. "don't get used to it, you deserve far better than a mediocre pasta every now and then." leah smiled, running a hand through your hair and placing a soft kiss to your warm forehead.

"now i know you're capable of washing dishes best believe i'm never doing them again." you muttered into her elbow, burying your head into the crook of the defenders arm. "you're lucky you're cute." leah smiled tiredly, eyes fluttering closed as both your breathing evened out, drifting off into a dreamless sleep as the office played quietly in the background.

no longer one but now two happily domesticated house wives.

#leah williamson x reader #leah williamson #woso #woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #arsenal women #arsenal wfc #arsenal

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