#give another man a chance. it will be okay to cut someone out of your life if they suck | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

followyourfleart · 3 days ago

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To Be Warm Again

blurb - Joel knows you deserve better. A closed-off, stubborn, fifty-eight-year-old man is the last thing you need. But when you’re this close to slipping through his fingers for good, he can’t bring himself to let you go—not when holding on feels like the only thing he still knows how to do.

warnings - nsfw, mdni 18+, jealous, yearning, second chance romance, love birds, hurt, angst, relationship help, happy ending, insecure!JoelMiller, oldman!JoelMiller, Jackson!JoelMiller, implied age gap, some plot before the porn, emotional sex, dirty talk, pussy pronouns, SPITTING (hey we're the freaks tonight), face fucking, creampies (don't try this at home!).

One shot requested by: @ anyomous

wc: 10.1 k

Joel didn’t want to be here.

Didn’t want to sit at this goddamn table in this goddamn bar, pretending he gave half a shit about whatever livestock report Tommy was tryin’ to show him. Didn’t want to make small talk with Maria, who kept giving him those sideways glances like she was bracing for a storm.

And he sure as hell didn’t want to look across the room again.

But he did.

Every few seconds.

Like a fucking compulsion.

There you were. Sitting at the end of the bar. Back straight, drink in hand. Your laugh was softer than usual—he could only hear it in flashes—but it still hit him like a punch to the gut.

The man beside you? He was new. Joel had seen him around, helping out with the fencing crew. Young. Maybe thirty. No older than thirty-five. Sharp jaw, easy grin. The kind of guy who didn’t creak when he stood up. The kind of guy who could keep up with someone like you.

You were smiling.

Not the way you used to—not that quiet, tired smile you saved for Joel when you were curled up in bed, wearing one of his shirts and tracing old scars on his chest with your fingertip—but still. It was real.

You were smiling.

And it wasn’t for him.

Joel’s jaw flexed. He took another drink, fingers clenched so tight around the glass that the joints ached.

“Joel,” Tommy said cautiously. “You okay, man?”

He didn’t look at him.

Didn’t trust himself to.

Maria shifted in her seat beside Tommy, hands laced neatly on the table, watching Joel with those calm, sharp eyes that always saw more than they let on.

“We can go,” she offered gently. “You don’t have to sit here and torture yourself.”

“I ain’t torturin’ nobody,” Joel muttered, staring down into the amber swirl in his glass.

“Right,” Tommy said. “That’s why you’ve been starin’ holes through the side of her head since we walked in.”

Joel didn’t answer. Just rolled his shoulders, tried to act casual. Failed.

Because the truth was, he couldn’t stop looking at you.

Not since the moment he saw you walk in.

Hair brushed and curled, your favorite sweater hanging soft off one shoulder. Lip gloss catching the light. You didn’t look like someone trying to prove a point—you didn’t look like you were out to make anyone jealous.

You looked like you were trying to feel normal again.

And that cut deeper than anything.

Because Joel had spent years convincing himself he was the one who knew how to keep you safe. How to make you feel steady. Loved. Even if he never said it aloud, never gave you the words.

Even if he kept his past locked up behind his ribs and only ever let you peek at it in pieces.

He thought it’d be enough.

But it wasn’t.

You left.

And you didn’t slam the door. Didn’t scream. Didn’t throw a single fucking thing. You just… packed a bag, folded one of his shirts, and said I can’t keep giving you everything and getting silence in return.

He didn’t stop you.

Didn’t say what he should’ve said.

Didn’t say Don’t go.

Didn’t say I need you.

Didn’t say I love you.

Because he thought he had time. Thought you’d cool off. Thought you’d come back.

But here you were. With someone else.

And Joel had never felt older in his life.

His knuckles were swollen from last week’s patrol. His back ached from the cold front. There were lines on his face he hadn’t noticed before, deepening around his eyes and mouth like time had finally caught up.

What the hell did he have to offer you anymore?

What could he give you now, at fifty-fucking-eight, that you didn’t already deserve from someone younger? Someone untouched by twenty years of blood and grief and failure?

He rubbed a hand over his mouth, suddenly too warm in his coat, suddenly too loud in his head.

“I shoulda said somethin’,” he mumbled. Barely audible.

Tommy raised a brow. “What?”

“I shoulda—” Joel cut himself off. Exhaled hard through his nose. “Never mind.”

Maria leaned in, voice low. “It’s not too late, Joel.”

He shook his head.

“It is,” he said. “She’s movin’ on.”

Tommy sighed. “Maybe. Or maybe she’s just tryin’ to remember what it’s like to feel somethin’. After you spent months makin’ her feel invisible.”

That one landed.

Joel flinched. Visibly.

He deserved it.

He knew it.

But the truth was—he didn’t make you feel invisible because he stopped loving you.

He did it because he loved you too fucking much.

Because loving you meant dragging you into all the wreckage of his life. It meant you knowing how deep the damage went. How fucked up he really was underneath the surface. And he’d spent so long building walls, burying things—Sarah, Tess, everything in between—that letting you in felt like peeling his skin off.

But you’d already seen him, hadn’t you?

You saw every goddamn thing. And you stayed.

He had just forced your hands until you couldn’t stay.

And he let you go anyway.

Now here you were.

And that man beside you? He leaned in to say something. You smiled. Shook your head. Looked down at your drink, then back up at him with a softness that wasn’t flirtation, not yet, but it could be.

It could become something.

Joel swallowed hard.

He needed something stronger.

The bourbon wasn’t cutting it. Not tonight.

Not with that man’s hand still resting a little too close to yours. Not with your laughter trailing through the bar like a ghost he couldn’t catch. Not with every goddamn ache in his body echoing the one in his chest.

Joel pushed up from the table, muttering something half-formed to Tommy, who just gave him a look. One of those you sure you’re alright? looks that Joel didn’t want to deal with right now.

Maria said something too, something soft, but he didn’t catch it.

Didn’t care.

He moved through the crowd like a man with a mission. Eyes forward. Shoulders tight. His boots thudding against the floor louder than they needed to. He kept his jaw clenched the whole way to the bar, biting down the burn rising in his throat.

He wasn’t drunk. Not yet. But he wanted to be.

Not sloppy. Not out-of-control.

Just… numb.

He flagged down the bartender with a lift of two fingers.

“Something rough,” he said gruffly. “Whatever’s got the most bite.”

The man behind the bar nodded and poured something dark amber into a glass that looked too clean. Joel wrapped his hand around it, let the chill seep into his palm.

He didn’t drink it. Not yet.

Just stared at it, watching the way the light fractured through the liquor. The way the ice cracked against the sides. It reminded him of tension—of pressure building until it finally snapped.

He was so tired of pretending this didn’t hurt.

So damn tired of holding it all in.

And then—

A tap.

Faint.

Right on his shoulder.

He turned sharply, half-expecting some drunk asshole wanting to start something. Maybe the guy you were talking to—hell, maybe Tommy, coming to drag him home before he embarrassed himself.

He opened his mouth to growl something ugly—

He stopped cold.

You.

You were standing there, looking up at him like you hadn’t just shattered his entire evening. Like you hadn’t carved him open just by walking into the same room.

Your eyes were soft. Cautious.

Like you were bracing for the wreckage too.

Joel’s spine went stiff. His mouth opened, then closed. His first instinct—to glare, to cover the bleeding with anger—flickered and died the second you tilted your head.

“Hey,” you said gently, barely audible over the buzz of the bar. “Can we talk?”

He blinked.

His throat worked around a knot that hadn’t been there a second ago. Talk? Here? With him?

You gestured vaguely toward the back of the room, where a few couples were swaying in the open space cleared for dancing. The music was slower now—some old Willie Nelson track playing softly on the speakers. You looked like you weren’t sure what to do with your hands. One of them lifted. Reached for him.

Not quite touching.

Not until he nodded.

“…Sure.”

The word felt jagged in his throat. He downed his drink in one brutal motion—felt the liquor burn down to his ribs. It wasn’t courage. Not really. But it was something. Something to help hold back the goddamn shake in his hands when you stepped closer.

You reached for his hand.

And Joel, without thinking, gave it to you.

His fingers closed around yours instinctively, like they remembered this. Like they’d been aching for this. You turned, tugged gently, guiding him through the bar. He followed.

And it was so easy.

Too easy.

That’s what scared him.

Because this—your fingers threaded with his, the scent of your shampoo drifting back as you walked ahead of him, your thumb brushing once against the side of his hand—this felt like home.

And home wasn’t something Joel had let himself believe in for a long damn time.

Not until you.

The dance floor was dim. Sparse. Only a few couples moving in lazy circles under the fairy lights strung up overhead. Your steps slowed. You turned to face him, your expression unreadable. Something sad flickered in your eyes, but you didn’t speak right away.

Instead, you pulled him a little closer.

Joel stared at you.

Then at your hand.

Then back up.

“You wanna dance?” he asked quietly, unsure, half-hoping he’d misread this whole thing.

You didn’t answer his question with words.

You just stepped in close.

And slowly—tentatively—you lifted your arms and draped them over his shoulders, like you’d done a hundred times before, in moments far easier than this one. Joel’s hands hovered awkwardly in the space between you for a second too long before they found their way to your waist. The fit was still there. Muscle memory. His palms curved around you like they remembered every inch.

You started to sway.

No rhythm. No flourish.

Just… movement. Just closeness.

The kind that ached.

Joel exhaled, slow and quiet. His forehead didn’t quite touch yours, but you were close enough that your breath ghosted across his chin when you spoke.

“I need to get my stuff back.”

It wasn’t angry. Wasn’t even cold.

Just a fact.

Something real to ground all this softness.

Joel’s grip tensed, just slightly. A beat passed. Then another.

“Yeah,” he muttered, eyes unfocused. “’Course. Figured you’d ask.”

You didn’t say anything.

Joel tried to hide the way his throat worked around the words he wanted to say.

The way his chest tightened at the thought of your toothbrush still tucked in the bathroom drawer. Your sweater draped over the back of the chair by the window. That dumb mug with the cracked handle you always reached for first. Your handwriting on the notepad by the fridge, where you’d scribbled half a shopping list before storming out five weeks ago.

He’d left it there.

Still did.

Your stuff was everywhere.

It wasn’t just stuff. Not really.

It was the only proof he’d managed to build something with warmth.

And now you wanted it back.

Joel cleared his throat.

“I can drop it off,” he said. “If you want. Save you the walk.”

You pulled back just enough to look at him. Not all the way—just enough for your gaze to meet his. Joel hated the way his stomach dropped when he saw the flicker of sadness in your eyes.

“Or I can leave it on the porch,” he added quickly, like he didn’t care. “Whatever’s easier.”

You didn’t answer right away.

You just looked at him.

Like you saw through every defense he was scrambling to raise.

“Joel,” you said softly. “How are you?”

He blinked. Pulled his gaze away. Let it drift over your shoulder, toward the corner of the room where the shadows were quieter.

“I’m fine.”

He said it too fast.

Too clipped.

You didn’t buy it. He knew you wouldn’t.

You always had a way of getting him to drop the act.

You leaned in a little closer, your arms shifting slightly around his neck. “That’s not what I asked.”

He closed his eyes.

Just for a second.

Because he was so goddamn tired. Tired of pretending. Tired of swallowing everything that should’ve been said when it mattered.

His hands tightened gently on your waist. Not pulling. Not holding on. Just… needing.

“How am I?” he echoed quietly. “I wake up, and your shoes are still by the door. That sweater you always wear when you're cold—it’s still hangin’ on the back of the chair like you’re gonna come grab it in the mornin’. I make coffee and pour too much ‘cause I forget you ain’t there to drink it.”

You blinked hard.

Joel looked down at you again. There was no anger in his face. No heat.

Just exhaustion.

And grief.

He paused. His voice dropped to something near a whisper.

“I left your favorite vinyl on the turntable the other day. Just… forgot to change it.”

Your eyes shimmered in the low light. You didn’t interrupt. Didn’t say I’m sorry. You didn’t owe him that. You didn’t owe him anything anymore.

Joel swallowed hard.

“I’m not great,” he admitted, finally. “That’s how I am. I’m not great.”

The silence between you pressed in heavy. Not suffocating, but weighty. Like truth always was.

You shifted your arms, one hand rising to thread your fingers into the back of his hair. Joel closed his eyes at the contact. His grip stayed steady at your waist, but he swore he felt his legs go weak.

“I’m not great either,” you said softly. “Thought I would be.”

Joel gave a breathy laugh through his nose. “You seemed happy earlier.”

“I was trying,” you admitted. “I was pretending I didn’t still feel you in every room.”

Joel’s eyes opened slowly.

Met yours.

And there it was—that thing he thought he’d lost. That unspoken current. The pulse of something still alive between you, flickering just beneath the surface.

You swayed in silence again.

Neither of you said a word.

The music faded into the background, just soft enough not to matter. Just enough to give the illusion of rhythm while you swayed together in the quiet middle of a too-loud room.

Joel leaned in, forehead brushing against yours. Barely there. But it felt like too much and not enough all at once.

You smelled the same.

Like soap and skin and something faintly sweet—something that lived in your sweaters and in his sheets. Something he hadn’t been able to scrub out no matter how many nights he’d tried to sleep alone.

Five weeks.

Five fucking weeks.

It didn’t sound like much. Not in the grand scheme. He’d gone longer without food. Without rest. Without safety. But this?

This was something else entirely.

And for a second…

God.

For a second, he let himself pretend you were still his.

That you’d be there in the morning. That when he turned over in bed, he’d feel your bare thigh brushing his, your palm resting lightly on his chest, your breath rising and falling in that easy rhythm he used to memorize.

He missed waking up to you.

He missed the sound of your yawn when you stretched beside him. The way your hand always found his under the covers, cold and shameless, like you knew he’d warm them for you.

He missed the shuffle of your slippers down the hall. The smell of toast. That little click of your coffee mug against the counter.

He used to grumble, pretend he hated it when you cooked breakfast like he couldn’t do it himself.

But he fucking loved it.

You’d hand him a plate with that quiet smirk, always fussing—“Eat it before it gets cold, Miller”—and he’d do exactly that. Because it tasted like care. Like you loved him even when he didn’t ask for it.

He missed coming back from patrol and finding you stretched out on the couch in one of his flannels, legs bare, book cracked open on your chest, a throw blanket half-falling to the floor.

You’d look up when he walked in, and there’d be this softness in your eyes. This quiet little smile, like there you are, like the whole day had been waiting for him.

He missed that look.

Missed you tossing your book aside just to sit beside him, curl up under his arm, legs thrown over his lap like you belonged there.

You did belong there.

He missed passing the bathroom after a shower and catching the scent of your soap in the steam. That faint citrus smell. The one that lingered on his pillows. On his shirts. On his goddamn skin.

He hadn’t smelled it in days.

He left the bar of it sitting in the shower anyway. Stupid hope.

Like maybe if he didn’t move it, you’d walk in again. Humming. Smiling. Telling him to get out 'cause you needed the mirror.

Joel’s hands gripped your hips a little tighter.

He swallowed hard.

And then—God help him—his thoughts slipped lower.

Because it wasn’t just the comfort. Not just the routines. Not just the domestic quiet you brought into his chaos.

It was the heat of you.

The need.

He missed the feel of your hands on his chest, tugging his shirt off impatiently. The way your mouth dragged across his jaw with purpose. Like you knew exactly what he needed and weren’t shy about giving it.

You were never shy with him.

Not once.

He missed you pulling him in with a handful of his belt, whispering against his mouth, Come on, baby, take care of me, like you weren’t the one unraveling him.

He missed the way you straddled him on the couch, kissed him deep and slow while your fingers dragged down his stomach. How you’d rock your hips against his, lazy and teasing, like you had all the time in the world to ruin him.

He missed how you bit him when you came.

Soft, quick, right against his shoulder.

Like a secret you couldn’t keep.

Joel breathed out slowly through his nose, trying to steady himself.

But it didn’t work.

Because you shifted against him then. Innocent. Barely a move. But enough to bring your chest flush against his, enough for your fingers to tangle a little deeper into the hair at the nape of his neck.

You were warm.

So fucking warm.

And soft.

And his whole body was screaming for more.

He missed your thighs clenching around his hips as he buried himself inside you. The way your breath hitched when he pressed deeper. Slower. When he held your wrists above your head and whispered all the filthy things he’d never say anywhere else.

He missed the mess of it.

The sweat. The gritted teeth. The way you’d cry out his name like it meant something. Like you trusted him to break you apart and put you back together again.

He missed your skin. The taste of it. The scent of you in his sheets. The way you said Joel like a fucking prayer when he brought you over that edge again and again and again—

He missed being needed.

Physically. Completely.

He missed being yours.

Not just in the daylight. Not just in casual moments or shared coffee or post-patrol silence.

He missed being the man you reached for at night, when you were desperate and aching and honest in a way the sun never got to see.

Joel opened his eyes.

And you were right there.

You were still swaying with him.

Still close.

Still holding onto him like this moment mattered. Like it meant something. Joel could feel your breath against his throat, warm and even. You hadn’t spoken. Neither had he. And part of him wanted to stay in this silence forever.

But it wasn’t real.

It was borrowed time.

And he couldn’t keep pretending.

Not with you so close.

Not with the memory of your smile already fading from his house, from his mornings, from the quiet in the shower.

So he forced himself to speak. Quiet. Raw.

“I won’t stop you,” he murmured, barely louder than the hum of the song.

You blinked.

Pulled your head back just slightly, brows drawn.

“What?”

“If you wanna go.” He swallowed hard. “If you wanna be with that guy—”

“Joel—”

“—I get it,” he cut in. Not harsh. Just final. “You should. He’s younger. Smoother. Probably better at sayin’ all the right things. Probably ain’t spendin’ half a day tryin’ to get up from a chair.”

You stared up at him, clearly not amused by his joke. Your lips parted, but no sound came out.

Joel’s heart ached.

“And if that’s what you want,” he said softly, “I’ll wish you the best with it. With everythin’.”

You shook your head, once. Like you didn’t understand.

Joel held your gaze.

“I mean that. I’ll always be your biggest supporter. Even if I ain’t the one beside you anymore.”

Your breath hitched.

The tears came fast.

You let go of him like you’d been burned.

Took a full step back. Then another. Shook your head again, more violently now.

“Stop—” you choked, voice cracking. “Don’t say that. Don’t fucking say that.”

Joel’s throat closed. But he couldn’t take it back.

You looked down at the floor like it hurt to meet his eyes.

And then, just like that, you turned.

You pushed through the crowd with both hands, shoving someone out of the way, rushing for the back doors like you couldn’t breathe. Joel’s stomach twisted.

He stood frozen for half a second too long.

Then he moved.

The air outside hit him like a slap.

It was cold. Windy. Crisp.

You were standing a few feet away, arms wrapped around yourself, back to him, shoulders trembling.

He could hear the sharpness of your breathing—hiccuped, fractured, like you were trying not to fall apart again.

“Hey—” Joel called softly. “Wait.”

You didn’t turn.

Didn’t speak.

Joel stepped closer, slow.

“Just—let me say this,” he said. “Please.”

You finally turned. Tears were streaked down your face. Your eyes were red. You looked like you hated him and missed him all at once.

“You always do this,” you whispered. “Every time. When it gets hard, you freeze up. You disappear. You shut down and I’m left talking to a fucking brick wall.”

“I know,” Joel said. Quiet. Barely there.

“You don’t fight for me,” you said, voice cracking again. “You never fight for me. And now you’re telling me to go be with someone else—like that’s what I want? Like I left you because I didn’t love you?”

Joel shook his head. “That’s not what I meant—”

“Then what did you mean, Joel?” you snapped. “Because it sure sounded like you were giving me permission to leave like it doesn’t matter. Like we don’t matter.”

He was breathing hard now.

“I meant I want you to be happy,” he rasped. “Even if it kills me.”

You blinked.

Hard.

Joel took another step closer.

“I didn’t know how to love you right. I never got it right. But God—darlin’, I love you.”

You didn’t answer. Just stood there, trembling, tears tracking down your cheeks like you couldn’t stop them even if you wanted to.

Joel didn’t know what to do with his hands. His chest ached like a bruise, sharp and sore and tender all at once. He reached for you, slow, cautious—his arms wide like he was afraid you’d vanish if he touched you too fast.

But before he could pull you in—

You grabbed him.

Fisted your hands in the front of his jacket.

And kissed him.

Hard.

Messy.

Desperate.

Joel froze for half a second. Shocked. Breath stolen clean from his lungs.

And then—

Goddamn.

He kissed you back like a starving man.

Like he hadn’t tasted anything real in five whole weeks.

His hands flew to your face first, palms cradling your jaw with a tenderness that didn’t match the pace of his mouth—rough, hungry, grateful. Then they dropped, skimming your waist, your ribs, your back. Like he needed to touch every part of you to make sure you were real.

You gasped against him, lips slipping, teeth clashing just slightly. Joel groaned—deep—from his chest, like something inside him had just cracked under the weight of everything he’d been holding in.

The kiss broke for a second—barely.

You caught your breath.

Then grabbed him again.

You didn’t speak with your mouth. You poured it into him—every ounce of pain and love and fury and longing you’d been biting back since the night you left.

Joel didn’t care who saw.

Didn’t care who was still in the bar, or if Tommy looked out the window, or if Maria came after you.

None of it mattered.

Not when your mouth was on his like this. Not when your hands slid under his coat, under his shirt, gripping his waist like you never wanted to let go again.

He pressed you back against the side of the building, brick cold under your spine, his body flush against yours. His hands roamed like he’d earned it. Like he needed to feel you again, every inch, before it all disappeared.

You broke the kiss just long enough to whisper against his lips.

“Take me to our home.”

Joel’s chest clenched.

Not a home.

Not your home.

Just ours.

His.

Yours.

Ours.

Something hot twisted in his gut. He buried his face in your neck, breath shaky, lips brushing the skin just beneath your jaw.

“You sure?” he murmured, voice low and wrecked and so goddamn soft.

You nodded, nose brushing his. “Joel. Please.”

That was all he needed.

He didn’t wait.

Didn’t think.

He just took your hand, gripped it tight, and started walking.

The streets of Jackson were still.

Quiet. Cold. Empty.

Winter was still holding on by its teeth—frost clung to the edges of porch steps, old snow gathered in shadowed corners of roofs and fences. The moon was low and yellow, clouds creeping over it slow like they didn’t want to interrupt.

But Joel didn’t notice any of it.

All he could feel was your hand in his.

Still there.

Still warm.

Still real.

He didn’t look back at you—not directly.

Not yet.

He glanced, sideways, just enough to watch the shape of you in the corner of his vision, like if he turned too fully, the spell would break. Like if he looked too hard, you’d vanish all over again.

It felt like a dream.

No, not a dream.

A story.

Something ancient. Mythic.

Like he were Orpheus, and he was walking you out of the underworld. Back to him.

Except this time—he wouldn’t look back. Wouldn’t ruin it.

Your fingers stayed locked in his, tight but calm. You didn’t speak, and neither did he. The silence wasn’t heavy. It was sacred. Like everything unspoken was too delicate to be named just yet.

He was scared.

Not of you.

Not of the cold.

But of what came next.

Scared of what he might say when the door closed behind you.

Scared of what you might see when you stepped inside and realized—nothing had changed.

He hadn’t moved your book off the coffee table. Hadn’t folded the blanket you always used. Your mug was still beside the sink. He didn’t touch the turntable. Didn’t fix the curtain you always claimed was crooked in the bedroom.

He hadn’t let himself forget.

Not a single goddamn thing.

When you reached the porch, Joel fumbled for the key.

The lock stuck—like it always did—and his fingers were stiff from the cold, from nerves, from you.

And then he opened the door.

Let you step in first.

He followed, closing it gently behind him.

And then… you stood there.

In the soft dark of his home.

Your home.

Your eyes moved slowly.

He could feel it—your gaze drifting across the living room, catching on the blanket you left draped on the arm of the couch. The open book Joel had kept exactly where you left it. The throw pillow you always used, still shaped to your body like it remembered better than he did.

He stood behind you awkwardly.

Cleared his throat.

“I, uh…” His voice cracked. He tried again. “I can make you coffee. If you want. I know it’s late but—”

But you were already turning.

Already closing the space between you with three sharp steps.

And before he could finish the offer, you were on him.

You gripped his shirt in both hands and crashed your mouth to his like you were making up for all the time lost in the silence.

Joel reeled.

He gasped against your mouth, caught off guard—but only for a second.

Then instinct took over.

He kissed you back hard. Messy. Like he needed to taste every second of the last five weeks he’d spent alone.

Your hands were greedy, tugging his shirt free from his jeans, palms sliding underneath to find his skin. He groaned—loudly—into your mouth, arms locking around you, pressing you into him like he couldn’t stand even an inch of space.

Your coat hit the floor with a thump, and his followed soon after. You both knew what the other craved.

Your lips moved down his neck, open-mouthed and reckless.

Joel swore under his breath. “Shit, baby—”

Your teeth scraped his pulse point and he hissed.

He couldn’t think.

Couldn’t breathe.

The adrenaline, the grief, the relief—it all crashed together like a wave breaking in his chest.

“I missed you,” you breathed against his skin. “I missed you so much.”

Joel’s hands were everywhere—your back, your waist, the curve of your ass, your thighs, your jaw. He couldn’t decide what to touch first. Couldn’t hold enough of you, not all at once.

He wanted you in his arms. In his bed. In his house.

Where you fucking belonged.

You pulled back just enough to look at him—cheeks flushed, lips swollen, hair wild from his hands. And Joel?

He stared at you like you were the only goddamn thing in the world that ever made sense.

He didn’t let you walk.

He couldn’t.

You were back in his arms, and Joel Miller was not taking a single goddamn risk.

He carried you to the bedroom like something precious. Sacred. Like if he set you down too soon, the moment would vanish—just another dream he’d wake from, soaked in sweat and aching with loss.

Your arms were around his neck. Legs around his waist. Mouth on his jaw, his neck, the hinge of his throat. Joel groaned every time your lips brushed skin. He was hard already. Had been from the moment you kissed him outside the bar. But he ignored it. He could wait. He would wait.

He stepped into the room and kicked the door shut behind him with his boot.

You looked at him like he was everything.

Like home.

He couldn’t take his eyes off you.

He sat you down on the edge of the bed with careful hands, just for a second. You started to reach for his belt, desperate, and Joel caught your wrists again—not rough, not punishing. Just still.

“Slow,” he rasped. “Let me.”

Your eyes flicked up to his, wide and breathless. You nodded.

He exhaled, like he’d been holding his breath for five weeks.

Then he knelt in front of you. Not to tease. Not to play.

To worship.

His hands came to your ankles first, callused thumbs brushing just under the hem of your pants.

“You’re shakin’ already,” he murmured. “Missed me that much, huh?”

You gave him this broken smile. “Joel—”

He slid his hands up your calves, your thighs, slow and sure.

“I know,” he said. “I missed you too.”

He leaned forward and kissed your knee.

Then your inner thigh.

“You been thinkin’ about this?” he asked, voice low and rough. “’Bout me undressin’ you like this? Slow?”

You swallowed hard. “Every night.”

Joel smirked. “Yeah? Bet you touched yourself. Got all needy in that big ol’ empty bed.”

Your breath hitched.

“Thought about me,” he said, dragging your pants down inch by inch, pressing a kiss to every new strip of skin. “Thought about my hands on you. Mouth on you. My cock inside you—deep. Slow.”

You moaned—loud and broken—and Joel’s chest ached with it as he tossed your pants over his shoulders.

“God, I missed that sound,” he growled. “You sound like heaven when you want me.”

You took off your own shirt and bra. God, those breasts. He loved them. Beautiful and tight. Another classic example of you. He stood, hooked his thumbs in your waistband, and pulled your underwear down next. You lifted your hips willingly.

He didn’t look away—not once—as you were revealed to him again. And fuck—his knees almost gave out.

Pretty. Pink. Folds swollen and wet to the point that he knew you would be embarrassed about it. But never him. He loved how messy you got when you wanted something, like your body was speaking for you when your mouth clamped shut.

He stared up at you from below, chest heaving, eyes dark with something deeper than lust. Something older. More carved in. More earned.

“Goddamn,” he muttered, voice hoarse. “You’re so fuckin’ gorgeous like this. Laid out for me. All soft and warm and—mine.”

Your breath caught.

Your thighs trembled.

He kissed your inner knee, the inside of your thigh. His hands rubbed up and down your calves, your hips, his thumbs digging into the softness like he was grounding himself.

“I missed this more than I missed anythin’,” he rasped. “This right here—” he kissed the crease where thigh met hip, “—was all I thought about. Woke up some nights with your name in my mouth and nothin’ but air in my fuckin’ bed.”

You whimpered.

Joel leaned in, closer. He kissed lower.

And then—

He devoured.

There was no preamble. No soft, lingering kiss meant to ease you in.

No, this was hunger. This was over a month of tension, weeks of near-misses, days of unsaid things and glances that scorched.

His mouth met your cunt like it belonged there. Like he’d been born for this, for you. His tongue parted you, slow at first, just to taste. Just to sample the mess you’d already made for him. But then—

Then he groaned. Low and deep, the sound rumbling through his chest like thunder.

“Jesus Christ,” Joel muttered, voice rasped and reverent, breath hot against your folds. “You taste better than I remembered. Sweet fuckin’ heaven.”

Your thighs twitched at the sound, at the praise, at the pressure of his tongue licking a long, deliberate stripe right through your center.

You cried out—sharp and breathless—your hips jolting off the mattress. And he grinned against you. Like the bastard he was.

His hips jolted forward against nothing, instinctively, like his whole body couldn’t take being this close to you without burying himself inside.

“Fuck,” he growled, lips still brushing your soaked skin. “She’s drippin’ for me already. Look at her, baby. So fuckin’ wet.”

Your thighs twitched at the sound of it. The way he said it.

“You miss this?” he rasped, voice low and dangerous, eyes locked between your legs. “Missed my mouth on her? On this sweet little pussy?”

“Y-Yes,” you gasped, breathless. “God—Joel—yes—”

He chuckled darkly. “Thought so.”

Then he sucked your clit between his lips—slow at first. He knew exactly what to do, knew exactly what made your voice catch. Then harder. Focused.

Tongue flicking over you in tight, calculated strokes until your back arched and your hand flew to his hair, fisting tight.

You weren’t quiet.

You couldn’t be.

The noises—your moans, the wet suck of his mouth, the low sounds he kept making like he was drinking you in—filled the room like heat.

“Fuckin’ perfect,” Joel muttered. “She’s so goddamn soft. So sweet. You feel that?” His voice rumbled against your clit as he flattened his tongue and dragged it up through your folds. “That’s what I missed. The way she opens up for me. So greedy.”

You whined—broken and desperate—grinding your hips against his face.

He didn’t stop you.

He loved it.

“Go ahead,” he murmured, licking into your entrance, tongue fucking shallow and slow. “Use me, baby. Rub her all over my face. I can take it. I need it.”

“Joel—fuck—I’m gonna—”

“Nah.”

Joel’s voice came from low in his chest, ragged and breathless. He pulled back just an inch, his mouth flushed and glistening, his eyes wild.

“Not yet,” he said again. “Don’t come yet. She ain’t done with me, is she?”

You barely shook your head. Couldn’t even speak—

Not before he fucking spit.

It landed right on your clit—hot and thick—and he watched it hit like it was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen. You jolted, crying out, already grinding into the air—

And then he licked it up.

Groaning as he did, slow and deep, mouth dragging through every soaked inch.

“Jesus fuck,” he muttered, thumb spreading you open wider. “Look at her. So wet she’s fuckin’ shinin’ for me.”

He spit again. Lazily this time. Watching it trail through your folds, mix with everything else he’d already coaxed out of you.

“Joel— your mouth,” you gasped, trembling beneath him. “God— I can’t fucking think when your mouth’s on me.”

Joel looked up at you, pupils blown, face shining. “Then don’t. Let her do the thinkin’.”

You moaned loud and shameless. “She’s not the one begging. I am.”

Joel grinned, tongue flicking out to catch the mess before it could drip too far. “That right? Then tell me. What do you want?”

“I want more,” you said, voice wrecked. “I want every bit of you. Tongue, fingers, cock—all of it.”

He growled, face diving back in like you’d just set off a fire in his brain. His tongue swirled, mouth suctioning hard around your clit, then easing off just enough so he could spit again.

“Fuuuck,” he groaned, watching the new mess drip over your cunt. “She loves it. Fuckin’ sloppy for me.”

“She’ll take everything you give her,” you breathed, chest heaving. “You know that. You trained her. Broke her in.”

“Oh, I know.”

He sounded proud. Possessive. Obsessed.

“She knows who she belongs to.”

Your body shuddered.

“I love her, you know that?” he said, fingers spreading you open for his tongue again. “Love this pussy. Love how she feels, how she tastes. I could fuckin’ die between her.”

Your fingers twisted tighter in his hair, thighs squeezing around his head, desperate and overwhelmed. But he loved it—grunting low, letting you pull him in deeper, tighter, closer.

“She’s got me fuckin’ obsessed,” he muttered against you. “Get hard just thinkin’ about her. Wake up fuckin’ leakin’ ‘cause I dream about the way she clenches around my tongue—”

He slipped a finger inside you. Thick. Rough. Curling just right.

Your whole body snapped.

“Oh my god, Joel—!”

“That’s it,” he groaned, voice low and ruined. “Come on. Let her come. Give it to me, baby—I want it. Want to feel her pulse on my fuckin’ face.”

You shattered.

Your thighs locked up, your body bowed off the bed, and your pussy clenched hard around his finger as you came with a cry that echoed off the walls. You said his name like it was the only thing you knew. The only word that mattered.

Joel didn’t let up. Not even as you started to tremble.

Not even as your legs threatened to close.

He held you open—pinned—and kept licking, kept sucking, kept claiming.

He moaned into you, letting you ride it out on his face, licking up every drop you gave him like he needed it to survive.

Joel could still feel your pulse on his tongue.

He still had your slick all over his mouth and beard. The taste of you burned into him—sharp and sweet and sacred. It had knocked something loose in him. Something primal. Something that made him want to tear the rest of his clothes off, drag you into his arms, and finally sink into the place he’d been dreaming about for five long, lonely weeks.

He staggered up from the bed, breath ragged, belt undone with trembling fingers. His body was flushed, hair mussed, lips still wet from your taste.

“You don’t know what you just did to me,” he muttered, voice hoarse like it had been scraped from the inside out. “I can’t fuckin’ wait anymore—I gotta be inside you, baby, now, I—”

But you moved.

Slid off the mattress like smoke. Like fire under silk skin and bare thighs. A slow, molten kind of hunger.

And Joel froze the moment your knees hit the floor.

You looked up at him with heat in your eyes, mischief in your mouth, and a hunger that dared him to stop you.

“Wha—baby—what’re you—”

“Shh,” you said, voice like velvet dragged over flame. “Let me.”

His hands fisted at his sides. His chest rose and fell in hard, shallow pulls. He looked down at you like he wanted to stop you, like he should stop you—

But didn’t. Couldn’t.

You undid the rest of his belt slowly, methodically. Let the tension stretch between you like something alive. The button popped. The zipper dragged down with a slow hiss.

And through it all, your eyes never left his.

“You know how many nights I imagined this?” you murmured, kissing the strip of skin just above his waistband. “How many times I touched myself pretending it was your cock between my lips?”

Joel groaned, hips jolting forward, instinctive and needy.

Your fingers slid beneath his boxers, confident and sure. And you didn’t tease.

You freed him. Let him fall heavy into your palm.

Fuck.

So thick. So hard it looked painful.

You looked at him like he was a goddamn revelation. And the sound that spilled from your lips—low and reverent—nearly knocked Joel off his feet.

“Oh, baby,” you whispered, wrapping your fingers around the base. “You’re perfect.”

Joel shifted, self-conscious in the way only time could teach. He wasn’t young anymore. He was never young, even when he met you. But you fed him well, and with all the labor, he bulked up, bringing out his stomach.

You slapped his thigh. Not hard. It was like you knew where his thoughts were heading. Just enough to snap his gaze back to you.

“Don’t do that,” you said, low and sharp. “You don’t get to hide from me. Not here.”

Joel’s throat worked. “You don’t gotta say that—”

“I’m not sayin’ it to be nice, Joel,” you growled. “I’m sayin’ it ‘cause I’ve been fucking starving. And now I get to taste what I’ve been dreaming about since the second I walked out that door.”

Joel’s eyes darkened.

You leaned in and kissed the base of his cock, slow and reverent. His body shuddered.

“You taste like him,” you whispered against the skin. “Like the man who used to own me without even trying.”

And then you licked.

From root to tip.

Deliberate. Worshipful. Filthy.

Joel’s head dropped back. “Jesus Christ.”

You opened your mouth—wide—and took him in.

Hot. Wet. Deep.

Joel moaned, sharp and sudden, a sound dragged straight from his spine. His hips jerked, but your hands were already tight on his thighs, holding him in place.

You worked him slow. Rhythmic. Purposeful.

You weren’t just giving head—you were consuming him.

Joel didn’t know where to look. The way your lips wrapped around him, the hollow of your cheeks, the spit starting to drip down your chin? It was sickeningly gorgeous.

He looked down, saw your eyes staring back at him. Saw your jaw straining to take more.

“S’too good,” he rasped. “Too fuckin’ good. You’re gonna ruin me.”

You pulled off just far enough to speak, letting a string of spit fall from your lips to his cock.

“Maybe I want to ruin you,” you whispered. “Maybe I want you thinkin’ about my mouth every time you jerk off alone in the dark.”

Joel hissed through his teeth. “You got a mouth on you.”

Your tongue traced a slow circle around his tip.

“And you love it.”

“I do,” he growled. “Fuckin’ love everythin’ about that mouth. But you keep goin’ like that, baby, and I’m not gonna last.”

“Good,” you said, licking along a bulging vein. “I want it. All of it.”

And then?

You took him again.

Deeper this time. Throat tighter. Drool messier. Your spit sliding down his cock in obscene trails.

Joel’s hips stuttered. His hands fisted at his sides like it physically hurt not to touch you. Like he was barely hanging on to the dominance he always carried.

“You like that?” you said when you pulled off again, spit smeared on your lips, eyes glazed with hunger. “You like seein’ me like this?”

Joel groaned, barely coherent. “Look at you. Mouth full’a cock, beggin’ for more.”

“I am begging,” you whispered, licking the tip and smiling like the devil. “So don’t hold back, Miller.”

Something inside him snapped.

He gripped your hair—tight, firm, not rough but definite—and held you right there.

“You want me to use this mouth?” he asked, voice low and filthy. “That it?”

You moaned again, eyes fluttering closed as your throat worked.

Joel cursed. "Fuck."

And then he started to move.

Slow at first. Testing.

Your hands gripped his thighs harder, anchoring yourself now.

Joel watched the way you took him. Let him own your mouth. The way your lips stretched, the obscene squelch of your throat as he pushed in and out. He could hear every inch of it. Wet and raw and real.

You looked up again, and he nearly came on the spot.

“You’re so fuckin’ good at this,” he gasped. “Jesus, sweetheart—you take me like you need it.”

You blinked up at him, teary-eyed and eager, your throat fluttering around him again.

Joel growled.

“You like it when I fuck your mouth like this? Like a goddamn filthy man?”

You nodded, or tried to, and he felt the motion around his cock.

His knees nearly gave out.

He was panting now. Full-body trembling. His hands threaded deeper into your hair, tugging at your scalp in a rhythm that matched his hips—thrusting in, slow but hard, dragging against your tongue and hitting the back of your throat again and again.

You whimpered, gagged just a little—and Joel lost it.

“Oh, fuck, baby—don’t do that—don’t you do that unless you want me to come right fuckin’ now—”

You pulled off, gasping, spit connecting your mouth to him in a slick string. His cock was flushed, angry-red, twitching in the open air, gleaming with your spit.

You licked your swollen lips, then backed toward the bed slowly.

Kneeling there.

Waiting.

Like a fucking vision.

Hair messy, skin flushed, mouth parted, chest rising and falling like you were starving for him. Like you needed him to get over there and do what he was made to do.

Joel stared.

Didn’t speak.

He dropped his flannel to the floor—then his shirt, then his jeans, his boxers—and crossed the room without breaking eye contact. He was breathing like a man chasing down his last chance. His thighs ached from how tight they’d been clenched. His stomach wasn’t flat anymore, body worn down by age and time—but you looked at him like he was everything.

Like he was still the man who could ruin you with just one touch.

He crawled up onto the bed—slowly, knees sinking into the mattress, palms planted on either side of your hips.

And you?

You laid back, legs parted, eyes heavy-lidded, the picture of wrecked devotion.

Joel hovered over you, arms caging you in.

For a second, he just looked at you. Like maybe this was a dream. Like maybe if he moved too fast, it would disappear.

Then he kissed you.

Hard. Deep. Tongue sweeping into your mouth like he needed to taste every part of you again. Like he didn’t just want to fuck you—he wanted to live inside you. Breathe with you. Lose every broken part of himself in the warmth of your skin.

Your hands gripped his arms. His back. Anywhere you could reach. Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him in tight.

And then Joel reached down, slid the head of his cock through your folds.

Up. Down. Just to coat himself in you.

He pushed in slow.

The first inch had his breath catching. The second had his eyes closing. And by the time he was all the way in—seated deep, buried inside you—Joel’s soul had already left his body.

You were everything.

Everything.

Warm and soft and tight, like you’d been molded just for him. Five weeks apart, and still—you welcomed him like nothing had changed. Like he belonged there. Like he’d always belonged there.

You gasped, mouth falling open, fingers clutching his arms like they were the only steady thing in the world.

Joel couldn’t move.

Not yet.

Not when it felt like this. Not when it had been five goddamn weeks of aching and silence and empty rooms and dreams that ended in nothing but sweat and a hollow bed.

His eyes opened slowly. Just to see you.

Your brows drawn together, lips parted, a soft shine in your eyes that had nothing to do with pain.

You weren’t crying.

But it was close.

So was he.

Joel braced himself above you—one forearm pressed into the mattress, the other hand gently pushing your hair back—and kissed you.

It wasn’t messy. It wasn’t greedy.

It was reverent.

He kissed you like he needed you to understand. That he never wanted to be without you again. That no one—no person, no place, no damn argument—could ever replace what you were to him.

When he finally moved?

It was slow. Careful.

A pull, and a push.

He exhaled, voice breaking. “You feel so good, darlin’.”

You whimpered beneath him, nails pressing into his shoulder blades.

Joel didn’t rush it.

Every movement was like worship. Like penance. Like he was apologizing with his body—saying all the things he hadn’t known how to say before.

He rolled his hips again.

Your mouth fell open. “Joel—”

“I know,” he breathed. “I know, baby. I missed you. Missed this.”

Your eyes met his. And for a moment, everything went still.

Just heartbeats.

Breath.

Bodies pressed together like they’d never come apart again.

Joel kissed you again, deeper this time, hand slipping under your back to hold you closer. And then?

He moved faster.

Not rough. Not harsh.

Just urgent.

Like he couldn’t stand the space between your skin and his.

You moaned—high and sweet and wrecked—and that sound went straight to his chest.

Joel groaned low. “That’s it,” he rasped. “That’s the sound I been waitin’ to hear. Five weeks without it, and I thought I’d lose my damn mind.”

You clung to him harder. Wrapped your legs around his hips, anchoring him there.

“Don’t stop,” you whispered. “Please don’t stop.”

Joel’s rhythm shifted—deeper, harder, but still loving. Still present. His forehead dropped to yours, eyes half-lidded, breath hot on your lips.

“Never gonna stop again,” he muttered. “Never lettin’ you walk out that door.”

You arched beneath him.

His name left your lips again, this time softer. A plea. A promise. A prayer.

Joel held you tighter.

“You fit me,” he panted. “Like you were made for me. Like you always fuckin’ have.”

Your breath hitched. Your eyes fluttered shut.

And Joel watched every second of it.

Because that’s what he’d missed most.

You. Just like this. Not just the sex. Not just the body. But the way you looked at him like he was worth it. Like you saw him, even when he couldn’t stand to look at himself.

He fucked you like it mattered.

“That what you needed?” he asked, thrusting again, a little harder. “Needed me to fuck you like you belong to me?”

You nodded—whimpered—and he growled.

“Say it.”

“I belong to you.”

“Louder.”

“I fucking belong to you, Joel!”

That was all it took.

He grabbed your thigh, hitched it higher on his waist, and slammed into you. Again. Again.

The bed creaked. Your cries filled the room. Joel’s voice—low, hoarse, reverent—was in your ear.

“Missed this pussy so bad,” he panted. “Missed how tight you squeeze me. Missed how you fuckin’ moan when I hit that spot—right there—yeah, you feel that?”

You squealed—a sound so pure and broken it made Joel want to cry.

He couldn’t stop.

Didn’t want to stop.

Not when you were wrapped around him like this, clinging to him, crying out his name like it was the only word you remembered. Not when you were looking at him with that shattered kind of love in your eyes. Like you’d missed him just as much.

Your thigh was hooked high on his hip. Your hands were in his hair, on his back, gripping, clawing, grounding yourself. Joel could barely think—could barely breathe—with how tightly your body hugged his.

“Fuck, baby,” he panted, voice strained. “This feel good to you?”

You nodded fast, desperate. “So good—so good, Joel, I missed you—I missed this—I—”

He caught your mouth in another kiss. Swallowed the words. Gave you everything in return. His thrusts hit deep, perfect, the way only he knew how to give. And he listened for it—that cry you made when he angled just right. When he found that spot and pressed into it, unrelenting.

“There?” he murmured, dragging his hips again.

You sobbed. “There.”

Joel grinned against your cheek, even as sweat ran down his back, even as his muscles ached and trembled.

And then you were saying things—soft, half-broken, whispered against his ear like confessions.

“I love you,” you breathed. “I never stopped. I never stopped.”

His heart clenched.

He pulled back just enough to see your face, still moving inside you, still holding your gaze like it was holy.

“I love you,” he said, voice breaking. “Been lovin’ you since the start. Been waitin’ for you to come back so I could say it again.”

You kissed him—messy, desperate, teeth clicking.

“Don’t let me go again,” you whispered.

“Never,” Joel swore. “Not a fuckin’ chance.”

Then he slid a hand between your bodies. Found your clit. Pressed two fingers to it, circling slow, firm, just the way you needed.

You screamed.

Your whole body arched beneath him—taut, electric, unraveling. You came hard, pulsing around him, your voice sharp and open in his ear.

And Joel—fuck—Joel lost it.

You clenched down, and he was gone. Buried deep, his body locking up, breath stalling in his throat. He groaned loud, raw, like the release had been dragged from his bones. His forehead dropped to your shoulder as he came inside you, holding you as tight as his arms would allow.

Everything was you.

Your scent. Your breath. Your body. Your voice still saying I love you like a prayer.

Joel stayed there, wrapped around you, chest heaving against yours. The room was warm now—sweat-slick skin, tangled limbs, the sheets pushed down and forgotten. Your bodies were still joined, hearts thundering in time.

You didn’t speak.

You didn’t have to.

His breath slowed against your shoulder, nose tucked into the crook of your neck, and you ran your fingers through his hair—soft, slow strokes. He could feel your pulse beneath his lips, steady and alive. Like you were anchoring him there. Like if he let go, the world might slip again.

He didn’t want to move.

But eventually, he had to.

Joel exhaled slowly and began to pull away, his hands careful at your hips. He didn’t want to hurt you—didn’t want to lose that closeness, not even for a second.

Still buried deep, he paused.

Then he slid out of you, slow and reverent.

You whimpered softly, body shivering at the loss. Joel glanced down, and the sight of it—his cum, white and hot, spilling from you—had his throat going tight. His stomach clenched.

“Jesus,” he muttered. “Look at that.”

You shifted on the bed, stretching slightly, and the movement only made more of him leak out of you, trailing down your thighs.

Joel cursed again. His voice was raw with wonder and regret.

You looked at him, flushed and glowing. A lazy, content smile pulled at your lips.

“Gonna gawk, or you gonna hold me?” you teased gently.

He huffed a breath—half a laugh—and climbed back into bed, gathering you into his arms like you were something fragile. He tugged the blanket up over both of you, let your head rest on his chest, one hand smoothing over your back, the other tangled in your hair.

For a while, it was just that.

Breathing.

Touching.

The afterglow wrapped around you like another blanket, and Joel held you tighter, like maybe he could trap time. Keep it from moving forward and tearing this moment away.

But it did move.

And eventually, you spoke.

“Can we talk?” you asked quietly.

Joel stiffened—barely. He nodded. Cleared his throat. “Yeah. Yeah, of course.”

You lifted your head just enough to meet his eyes. “I didn’t leave because I stopped loving you.”

“I know,” he said softly. “I—fuck. I know.”

Your eyes searched his. “But I needed more, Joel. I needed you. Not just your body, not just your actions. I needed your voice. Your thoughts. I needed to know what was goin’ on in your head when you shut down like that.”

Joel looked away.

The guilt was sharp. Cutting.

He exhaled, rubbing at his face. “I’ve always been like that,” he admitted. “Since… since Sarah. Since everythin’ after. When shit gets too much, I just… just go quiet. I don’t know how not to.”

You laid your palm over his chest, right above his heart.

“It hurt,” you whispered. “When we fought, and you walked away from me with silence. It made me feel like I didn’t matter. Like I was yelling into a void.”

Joel’s eyes flicked back to yours. Pain settled behind them, low and heavy.

“I don’t want you feel that way,” he said hoarsely. “I just… I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t wanna make it worse. Didn’t wanna say the wrong thing and ruin everythin’.”

“You not saying anything was the wrong thing,” you said gently. “That’s what hurt us.”

He nodded slowly. Took your hand in his. Pressed his lips to your knuckles like they were sacred.

“I know. I see that now.” He swallowed hard. “I want to fix that.”

Your expression softened.

“I don’t expect you to change overnight,” you murmured. “I just want to feel like you’re in this with me. That when things get hard, you don’t disappear.”

Joel’s grip on your hand tightened.

“I won’t,” he said. “You have my word.”

Silence fell again—but it was warm now. Comfortable. Like a sigh through the sheets.

After a moment, you nestled closer.

“I missed this,” you whispered. “Not just the sex. Just… this. You. Me. Quiet.”

Joel pressed his lips to your forehead.

“I missed you every damn day,” he said. “House was too quiet. Coffee didn’t taste right. Nothin’ did.”

You smiled. “You make shitty coffee anyway.”

He chuckled. “Hey now. It’s improved. Slightly…”

You laughed softly and tucked yourself against his side, a perfect fit.

Joel stared at the ceiling for a while, then turned his gaze down to you.

“I’m gonna try. I want this—you. For long as you’ll have me.”

You looked up at him, eyes shining again.

“Forever sound okay?”

Joel kissed you, slow and soft, like it was the easiest vow he’d ever made.

“Forever sounds perfect.”

Guys, it feels really good to be writing something different, other than terms & conditions. I love t&C, I really do, but something new never hurt anyone once in a while!

2K notes · View notes

myricall · 4 months ago

Text

Bllk boyfriend headcanons<3

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚　˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Boyfriend! Isagi who would never miss out the chance of giving you one of his jersey's to wear. He would never admit it but the way he felt seeing his name on your back, his number. Truly made him feel like you were his (ofc you always saw the he blushed when you wore them tho<3)

...

"Yoichi..? Are you okay?" you smile softly whilst laying on your stomach on his bed. He'd make sure to always have time every day to hang out.

Your boyfriend stood there in the doorway in some sort of gaze. God he loved the way his name was splayed out across your back.

His cheeks heated up.

"y-yeah.. Just thinking about something" he mumbled back, shutting the door behind him.

"why don't you come think about it on the bed with me?"

He couldn't resist you...

>>>>>

Boyfriend! Bachira that constantly peppers your face with kisses and cannot keep his hands off of you! You're sitting alone on his bed? Cuddles! Walking with him? You bet he's holding your hand. Just be prepared to be bombarded with physical touch.

...

"Meg- that tickles" your sweet voice cuts through, trying to hide your neck as Bachira covers your shoulders with quick little kisses.

How could he resist!

You wore that strappy top that revealed your perfect skin. You tasted so sweet he could just eat you up for the rest of his life.

"just a few more!- peck, missed you today"

"-we only haven't seen each other for a few hours!"

"I know- too long. Now stay still"

>>>>>

Boyfriend! Rin that acts nonchalant when out in public but acts all soft when just with you. He may not act like it all the time but trust when I say this man is head over heels for you and he'll definitely show it when jealous... He makes sure to let everyone know you're his after<3

...

Today was one of the rare days that Rin was free from all the training that he did.

"Rin! Isn't this shirt so cute?" You pulled out another shirt from the rack, showing it to your boyfriend who already had a handful of bags stacking up on his arms.

"Don't you already have one like that?" He muttered, raising an eyebrow as he looked at you.

"you just don't get it" huffing as you check out the shirt more.

Rin sighed, looking around the store before his eyes caught onto something. More like.. Someone.

Was that employee looking at you?

Eurgh. Not on his watch.

At an instant, he linked your arm with his, taking the shirt from your hands.

"We're going"

"But the shirt-"

"We'll buy it- let's go"

You left the store with a new shirt and a much more clingy Rin on your hands.

>>>>>

Boyfriend! Nagi who acts needy and helpless whenever you are near him. Everything suddenly becomes a hassle that requires your help. He swears that without you sitting in his lap, he'd lose at every single videogame.

...

"Just one more game pretty" Nagi held you tighter in his grip making sure you were secure.

"You said that last match.. And the one before that.."

"Yeah but I'm on a win streak.. Please, you're my good luck charm" he huffed, keeping you in place as his thumbs tapped on his phone.

You shuffled in his lap, figuring you should at least get comfortable. You're gonna be here for a while...

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

~work of @myricall (help i need more ideas </3)

#blue lock #bllk #blue lock x reader #itoshi rin #itoshi rin x reader #bllk isagi #blue lock isagi #isagi x reader #bachira meguru x reader #bachira meguru #bachira x reader #rin itoshi x reader #nagi seishiro #nagi seishiro x reader #nagi x reader #yoichi isagi #headcanon

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obxsummer · 9 months ago

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leave me again ii // rafe cameron

pairing: rafe cameron x routledge!reader (she/her), ex!jj maybank x reader

summary: you left the cut with nowhere to go. it’s rafe cameron that finds you and shows you the life you deserved to live

warnings: sorry jj lovers, that man does not get our girl back so sad jj and probably ooc rafe but i love it when that man is soft

navigation || part one

Six months.

It had been six months since any of the Pogues had seen you. No social media, no sight of you around town, no letters. Nothing.

The past six months left you to do a lot of reevaluations. You’d walked aimlessly after the group had left for the dive with nothing but your backpack and phone, no destination in mind. Until you found one.

“Lost or something?”

“Fuck off, Rafe,” Your response was instant as you continued to walk without sparing him a look. The car shifted into a different gear, you guessed by the noise, before Rafe was hopping out to approach you.

“Are you okay?” When you didn’t answer, he moved in closer and grabbed your shoulder before turning you to face him. “Hey, hey. What’s wrong?”

You stared at him with the knowledge that you probably looked like a mess with the tear streaks across your cheeks. While Rafe had a lot of issues with your friends and brother, he usually stayed clear of you. Whether that was because you were close with Sarah, or what, you didn't know.

Twisting your fingers together, you dropped your gaze as tears started to build again. “You ever watch someone you love choose someone else over you, every single time?”

The question felt like a punch in the gut to Rafe. He had. His whole life he watched his dad choose Sarah. Watched his mom choose another family over him. Watched Wheezie choose another sibling over him.

“Get in, I’ve got somewhere to take you.”

Six months ago, you hopped in Rafe Cameron’s Range Rover and left The Cut behind. You didn’t question the decision, knowing you’d worry about everyone else before taking care of yourself, and that clearly didn’t work in the past. You felt horribly guilty about leaving John B with no indication whether you were okay or not, but you knew if one of them found out, JJ would be busting down the door to Rafe’s bedroom before you had a chance to say no.

While you weren’t sure what the original intentions had been, Rafe was so different with you after bringing you back to his new house. One he’d bought after selling Tannyhill, free from the haunting of his father and the screams that echoed off the walls, he had turned it into a safe space for himself and anyone he invited in.

Things blossomed quickly and you realized the Rafe in front of you was not the bully, coke-head addict you’d once known. He was such a gentle person, and so much more attentive to you than JJ had ever been. Whether it was making you breakfast in bed before you left for the day, or prepping a warm (actually warm, like hot water you’d hadn’t had in forever) candle lit bath, or popping an expensive bottle of wine just for you to taste, he was there in ways nobody had been. You were his girl, his only girl, and you never once had to question that.

Rafe had even invited you to sit in on his investment meetings and he was slowly pulling your name into his business so you’d have a professional background to grow into. You were steadily becoming an educated little couple in his home, something he was so proud and grateful for. He had someone to lean on for advice and give him fresh eyes on new projects with no judgment or fear of anger. The two of you soaked up your bubble of peace for as long as you could before shit hit the fan.

Little did you know, on the other side of the island with your brother, there had been absolutely no peace. John B and JJ barely spoke, everything ending in an argument when they did. Pope was sick of playing mediator, and Kie had more of less shut down out of guilt. Sarah was still searching for you, but you’d gone ghost. Cleo was treading lightly with the knowledge that everything would explode eventually.

So, they did what they could, and dove into treasure hunting. When JJ pulled the amulet out of his pocket in the back of the Twinkie, John B’s emotions were mixed. Sure, he was stoked that he’d found the object the group was looking for, but he wished you were here. It was your birthday, and John B was inches away from losing his shit without you.

“Dude, are you okay?” Pope asked as the group stood in the office area of the house, trying to find more information on the amulet’s inscription.

John B tossed the heavy object on the desk in frustration. “No, I’m not okay! We can find decades old treasure like it’s the easiest thing ever, but we can’t find jack shit about my sister? That’s bullshit, Pope. And you know it.”

Pope knew things would be sensitive today. Even JJ woke up grouchy, which John B told him was deserved since he caused your absence in the first place. The lack of your presence weighed heavy on the group, so Pope suggested going to visit one of your favorite beach spots.

Little did he know what he was getting himself into.

“Rafe!” The house was filled with your laughter as Rafe twirled you in the kitchen lighting, your favorite song playing from the interactive speaker on the counter. The two of you had spent the day together, visiting the country club for lunch before Rafe took you shopping for something to wear tonight.

“C’mon, sweetheart. Lemme love on you, it’s your birthday” He mumbled as he pressed soft kisses into your neck, hands squeezing your hips teasingly. The soft fabric of the dress he’d picked out covered your frame, the color matching your skin perfectly.

You hummed in content, fingers holding his biceps tightly as if your knees would give out any second. “You loved on me a lot this morning.”

“Can’t help it.” Rafe’s thumb traced your bottom lip before he kissed you softly. “You make it so easy.”

The two of you got lost in each other for a few more moments, soaking up the quiet as the orange sunset started casting through the windows. Today had been the best day you’d had in so long and you were so grateful of Rafe for giving you so much patience and love.

It had taken time for you to adjust to this kind of life. You walked in here with three outfits to your name, a busted cell phone, and a stuffed animal John B won you at the town festival as kids. And Rafe embraced every bit of it, let you keep your Pogue pieces while building you a life around it that was filled with items you needed but would never ask for, all while loving you so gently.

You climbed out of his car (technically the one he’d bought you but you refused to acknowledge that), and stepped down into the soft sand below. This was your spot, the spot you came to whenever you needed to clear your head or take a moment alone. You’d shared it with Rafe shortly after everything changed, and now, it was a shared spot that you both considered special.

Rafe moved around the car to grab your hand and guide you toward the area he had organized for the two of you. A small white table had been set up with your favorite snacks and two glasses of wine, surrounded by the fluffiest blanket and pillows you’d seen.

“Did you do this?” You squeezed his hand tighter, tears in your eyes at how sweet and thoughtful the gesture was. Your jaw dropped as the two of you walked closer; everything was thought out down to the tiny forks you loved so much being there to pick up the appetizers.

“Course I did, baby.” Rafe kissed your temple softly and grabbed one of the glasses to hand to you before taking hold of his own. You clinked your glass against his, leaning up on your tiptoes to kiss him deeply in appreciation.

And then everything went to shit.

“What the fuck?”

Rafe’s hand tightened against your lower back, both of you looking over to see the handful of figures standing a few feet away. Your heart went to your throat went you made eye contact with your brother, whose hand was wrapped in Sarah’s. JJ stood behind him along with Kiara, Pope, and Cleo, all of them looking at you expectantly.

“Shit,” You whispered and took a step back from Rafe, eyes meeting his in dread. His expression had hardened at the sight of JJ, all the anger rushing back when he thought about how you’d been treated in the relationship, how unfair everything had been. You clocked the frustration in his gaze and placed your fingers on his cheek to redirect his focus back to you. “Don’t. I’ll handle it.”

Rafe’s jaw ticked but he didn’t argue as you slipped your wine glass back into his hand and left his side to approach the group standing in front of you. You weren’t even worried about JJ or Kie, you were worried about John B more than anything.

“Hi,” The greeting was so quiet you almost didn’t hear yourself. How do you talk to people you disappeared on six months ago?

John B’s only response was to pull you into the tightest hug he had ever given. You stumbled with the force of his body colliding with you before regaining your balance and returning the embrace.

“You’re okay,” He repeated the words to himself as if convincing his mind that they were true before stepping back and holding your cheeks in his hands. The smile on his face was huge, and you were so so confused. “Holy shit.”

“Hi,” You laughed quietly, placing your hands on top of his. “I’m so sorry.”

John B shook his head, his thumb brushing the random tear from your cheek. “Don’t be sorry. I told you to take a break, yeah? And you did.”

You glanced back to where Rafe was surprisingly conversing with Sarah with no anger in sight. The pit in your stomach slowly disappeared as you took them in and turned your attention back to John B. “I um… there’s a lot to catch you up on, and I want to tell you. I wanna tell you all of it, JB, but-”

“And I wanna hear it,” He reassured softly. “But someone put a lot of effort into your night and I don’t wanna steal any of it.”

You were so goddamn grateful for your brother. Pulling John B into another hug, you spared the look over his shoulder to see Kiara stomping away from the beach. You tried to keep a smirk off your face but it definitely made its way through.

Stepping back from John B, you shared hugs with Cleo and Pope, promising that you would see them soon before you were face to face with the reason you made it here in the first place. JJ looked rough. His hair was chaotic, arms thinner than you remembered, and he just looked tired.

“I don’t want your apology,” You spoke as he opened his mouth. “And it looks like you have a girlfriend to go find anyway.”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” JJ replied quickly as he stared at you. “Not anymore.”

You pulled your lips in and shrugged. “Okay. I’ll see you around, JJ.”

He reached a hand out toward you when you moved to walk away. You paused just out of his reach and looked back. “For what it’s worth, I am sorry.”

You nodded. “I know. I should be thanking you actually, because if you had said it back to me that day, I wouldn’t have found something so much better.”

And with that, you walked away from JJ and the empty promises he had always given, walked away straight into the arms of someone who would give you the world and more, if you just so much as asked.

navigation

#outer banks x reader #outer banks #obx x reader #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #john b routledge #outer banks jj #rafe cameron x pogue!reader #john b routledge x sister!reader #routledge!reader #pogues x routledge!reader

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capuccinodoll · 9 months ago

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Honey love, dark eyes

♡ Chapter one ♡

Summary: It’s Joel’s birthday. As usual, you and Sarah are getting everything ready to celebrate, just like you have for years. However, while preparing dinner before Joel gets home from work, Sarah tells you that her dad has been seeing a mysterious woman for the past couple of weeks. This wouldn’t be an issue, except he’s been deliberately hiding it from you, even going out of his way to lie about it.

Though you try to keep your anger in check to avoid ruining his birthday, your emotions get the better of you later that night when it’s just the two of you. Joel doesn’t hold back either, sparking a heated argument that pushes you both further than ever before.

Word count: 9.4K

A/N: Okay, I was planning for the first chapter to be 4K words MAX, but my imagination went crazy with this lol I really hope you like it. I really enjoyed writing this <3 warning: ANGST! don't forget to leave feedback, tell me what you think!

If you want to be on the tag list, let me know too.

You met him on the night of your twenty-second birthday, at the small party Cassie had put together for you in her dimly lit apartment. You hadn’t wanted much of a celebration, nothing bigger than a few close friends, and certainly not a group of strangers. But when Brianna swept in, holding hands with a man you didn’t know, and introduced him as her boyfriend, you felt a vague flicker of annoyance, the kind that accompanies unmet expectations.

"I thought it was just going to be us," you mumbled to Cassie, catching her in the kitchen as she poured herself another glass of wine.

She looked at you, her cheeks already flushed, eyes bright. "They're a few of my friends, too; they’re nice—you’ll like them if you give it a chance." She smiled, urging you to relax, as though she could tease you out of your mood. "It’s your birthday; don’t be so sullen."

"I didn’t know Brianna was bringing her boyfriend," you said quietly, as Cassie started back to the living room.

She paused, giving you a half-smile over her shoulder. "Neither did I, actually," she admitted, lowering her voice. "Apparently, they've been together for about a month. She’s really into him."

And she was. Brianna clung to him all night, her laughter spilling out freely, unrestrained and buoyant from the wine. It wasn’t long before someone suggested karaoke, and as voices rang out in the next room, you slipped quietly back into the kitchen, craving a moment of solitude. You were surprised to find Brianna’s boyfriend there, leaning against the counter, scrolling absently through his phone with a glass of water in hand.

He looked up, straightened, and offered you a tentative smile. “Oh, hi. Happy birthday,” he said, his voice warm but reserved. “Sorry, I didn’t get a chance to say it earlier…”

“No worries,” you replied, your tone reassuring. “Thanks.”

He hesitated, as though weighing what to say next. “Are you having a good time?”

You gave a slight shrug. “It’s…” but before you could finish, he cut in with a knowing smile.

“It’s okay. I don’t love my birthday either.” His eyes glinted in the soft kitchen light, and you felt a small smile tugging at your own lips.

You looked at him then, really looked at him, allowing yourself the indulgence. “I didn’t want to admit it,” you said, feeling the faintest hint of heat rising to your cheeks. “What was your name again?”

“Joel,” he answered, his gaze drifting briefly back to his phone. “Sorry, I’m a little on edge tonight. Left my daughter with a new babysitter. I think she’s having a rough time.”

Your eyebrows rose in mild surprise; you hadn’t pegged him as a dad. You moved closer, pouring yourself a glass of orange juice and asked, “How old is she?”

“Four. Her name’s Sarah.” He ran a hand through his hair, and you could tell he was tense. “It’s only the second time she’s been with this sitter, and apparently, she’s been crying all evening.”

“Oh, poor thing,” you murmured sympathetically. “She’s little. Changes like that must be hard on her.”

He sighed, his gaze drifting to the side as he typed something quickly on his phone. “I should probably get going. Brianna won’t love that idea; we’d planned to stay out…” He paused, eyes flicking up to meet yours, worry etched across his face. “You think she’ll be too mad?”

“No,” you assured him, though you knew Brianna wouldn’t be pleased. “Go be with your daughter. She’s little; she needs you. Brianna will understand.”

A grateful smile spread across Joel’s face, and for the first time, you noticed the faint dimple on his cheek. For a fleeting second, you wanted to reach out, trace it with your thumb.

“Thanks,” he murmured, his eyes lingering on you in a way that felt unintentional, yet steady. “I hope your night gets better once karaoke is over,” he added with a quiet laugh. "Wish me luck."

You chuckled, meeting his gaze. “Good luck, Joel.”

He left with that same soft smile, and you watched him go, his warm brown eyes leaving an odd impression, like an unclaimed memory. And, as expected, Brianna didn’t understand. She spent the rest of the night sulking, casting sharp words at Joel through her bitterness.

“You knew he had a daughter when you got with him, this was bound to happen at some point,” Cassie told her, fed up with the other's complaints.

You didn't hear the answer, as you were distracted by watching the colorful pictures someone had put on the television.

You heard nothing more from Joel for a couple of weeks, until Cassie blurted out the gossip one morning while you were having lunch at her house.

“He broke up with her,” she began to tell you. “He told her she wasn't being empathetic and that he couldn't drop everything to party with her as if they had no responsibilities.”

It was no surprise. Brianna was a woman who lived at night; she was twenty-three years old and enjoyed it with the freedom that was rightfully hers. You couldn't blame her for wanting to have fun with her boyfriend. But Joel lived a very different reality than she did; at twenty-eight, he had a daughter to take care of, routines to follow, and a lot of work to do.

Although you thought it would take her longer to get over him, it wasn't long before she met a guy at her gym and got into it with him, outgrowing Joel in a matter of days. But for some reason, Joel’s warm, steady gaze stayed with you, like a whisper that hadn’t fully faded.

Years passed quietly, slipping through your fingers like sand until, suddenly, it was your twenty-sixth birthday. This time, the scene was different: you’d moved into your own place just two days earlier, and there was little thought of celebrating. Instead, the weekend found you alone, arranging your things and attempting to bring order to the chaos of a new home.

It was a crisp Saturday morning, and you stood in your front yard with a glass of fresh-squeezed orange juice in hand, humming along to some eighties tune drifting in from the living room. The song—one of those upbeat ones that made even housework feel light—had lifted your spirits, and you moved rhythmically as you pushed plastic flowers into the dirt along the front path, sending little puffs of air to make the petals flutter.

You were lost in your task when you heard soft footsteps behind you, instinctively making you turn.

“Oh, hello,” you said, quickly masking the slight surprise the girl’s sudden appearance had given you.

She looked at you with wide, curious eyes, seemingly unfazed by her solo adventure.

“Hi. What’s your name? Do you live here?” she asked, her gaze shifting from your face to the flowers in your hands.

Glancing around for any sign of her parents, you noted her relaxed stance, like she’d been coming here all her life. Smiling, you nodded and gave her your name. “Yep, I just moved in.”

She looked unimpressed. “This house was empty for a while. I didn’t like the kid who lived here before. He was a pain in the ass—”

“Sarah!” came a sharp voice from behind, making you jump slightly. Heavy footsteps approached, and you squinted against the sun to see a figure striding toward you, his features obscured by the bright morning light.

When he stepped closer, his face came into focus, and your breath caught. You knew him.

“Sarah, you can’t just leave the house like that,” he said sternly, a furrow in his brow, his tone more parental than reproachful.

He turned to you, and the scowl softened as recognition dawned.

“Joel,” you murmured, the name slipping out before you even meant to say it aloud.

His expression shifted into a surprised smile, and that was all it took to break the ice between you. You explained that you’d just moved in and were still settling. Joel offered to help with anything you needed, including taking a look around the house to ensure everything was in order. He formally introduced you to Sarah, now eight years old, who had nearly scared him to death by sneaking out. She had his same lively spark in her eyes, a brightness that seemed familiar.

That evening, Sarah invited you to dinner with them, leaving Joel with little choice but to agree. And one dinner became many, as evenings blurred into weekends, and you found Joel’s presence in your life weaving into something inseparable from your routine. He started popping by to help with small projects, fixing kitchen cabinets or adjusting the wobbly front steps, visits stretching into movie marathons or lazy conversations with cold beer in hand. Days flowed into evenings of chatting over the meals you cooked to share with Sarah, and sometimes her uncle Tommy. Though Joel claimed he was no cook, his barbecues were legendary, and you couldn’t deny you looked forward to them most of all. And soon enough, he was there for everything, from driving you to doctor’s appointments to accompanying you on those grocery runs he pretended to hate. He even started showing up early on days he knew you’d need a ride. Over time, he became the best friend you’d ever had, a safe place, someone who felt like family. With everyone else scattered—Cassie overseas, old friends moved away—Joel became your rock.

It wasn’t something you dared to admit to yourself often, but you couldn’t imagine your life without him. And maybe that’s why you never allowed yourself to voice those little fleeting thoughts, the ones that flitted through your mind every now and then: how safe you felt whenever he threw his arm around your shoulders, or how good he looked reclining on his couch after a long day. Or how perfect it felt when the three of you—Sarah dozing on his lap, you leaning into his shoulder—sat together in the warm silence of a Sunday afternoon. There was an ache, too, a quiet pang whenever he mentioned another woman. Thankfully, that was rare; Joel once told you, with a shrug, that he “wasn’t really looking for that sort of thing.”

Sometimes, you watched him carefully as you talked about your own dates, hoping to catch a glimmer of jealousy in his gaze, some subtle cue that maybe he felt the same way. But there was never anything you wanted to see, and you always felt silly for looking. So, you buried it all. The risk of ruining things with Joel wasn’t worth the confession.

One afternoon, however, your emotions almost escaped your eyes when, while preparing Joel's birthday cake, Sarah dropped a piece of news that caught you off guard. She told you, with her usual nonchalance, that Joel had gone out the night before with someone new.

“Yeah, it’s like… the third time they’ve gone out,” Sarah mentioned while spreading cream on the sponge cake. “I don’t know her name or anything, just that he met her in line at the bank,” a laugh choked in her throat, amused at imagining her father flirting with some woman in a public space.

You forced a smile, laughing along like it was funny.

"And who stayed with you last night?” you asked, trying to keep your tone casual.

Not that Sarah was necessarily a baby; she was already twelve and extremely independent. But Joel never left her alone if he went out for the night, he knew how much she loved spending time with you watching movies and eating junk food. Then, when he arrived, you would pester him with gossipy questions and he would pretend to get angry and then answer every one of them.

“Uncle Tommy," she said, eyeing her work with satisfaction. “We had fun, but I kinda wished you’d come too. Hey, what do you think?” she fingered the cream neatly arranged with the angled knife.

“It's perfect,” you smiled at her, not waiting too long to ask the question you wanted so badly. “Why didn't you call me then?”

Sarah started sprinkling colorful sprinkles on top of the cream and looked at you for a second when she noticed the tone in your voice at the last word. She didn't seem to think much of it.

“You were busy, weren't you? Dad said you had something to do.”

Her answer hit you like a small weight to the chest. Joel had purposefully left you out. He’d even made an excuse for Sarah’s benefit. So, there had been three dates—three times he’d kept this woman a secret. A small knot formed in your stomach as you forced yourself to smile, still watching Sarah as she concentrated on the last of the sprinkles.

In the kitchen, you were running your hand through the steam from the beef stew on the stove—Joel’s favorite—when the door opened. His footsteps grew louder, approaching, and you nervously adjusted the dress you’d chosen, one you knew he liked, though he’d never said it. It was your favorite too, a cream-colored sundress with delicate shoulder ties.

Sarah sprang forward, covering his eyes. “Don’t look, the table’s not ready.”

You hurried to set the glasses in their places, your hands a little shaky as you moved, hoping he wouldn’t notice the flush creeping up your cheeks.

“I don’t need to see it—I can smell it, and it smells incredible,” Joel grinned beneath Sarah’s tiny hands, which she’d plastered over his eyes, half to keep him from sneaking a glance, half just because she could.

“Too bad you don’t smell incredible,” Sarah retorted with a smirk, wrinkling her nose. "Go take a shower!"

You laughed, catching Joel’s raised brow at her.

“You’ve got five minutes,” you said, placing the lid on the simmering pot.

Joel snorted, brushing Sarah’s hands away from his face.

“That’s the smell of a hardworking man,” he replied, feigning offense as he turned for the stairs. “Y’all oughtta know.”

Later, the three of you sat around the table, and Joel took his first bite of the stew, eyes widening, a kind of bliss washing over his face. He tossed his head back and groaned.

“Sweet Glory,” he mumbled, closing his eyes. “Thank you for this.”

“Oh, come on,” you teased, though part of you couldn’t help but feel a pang of something between irritation and flattery. “You say that every time I cook for you.”

He shook his head, smiling as he chewed, then spoke softly, his gaze slipping downward.

“I’m not exaggerating—I love everything you do.” A pause, and then a quick, awkward clarification. “I mean, everything you cook.”

The clarification was like a line drawn in the sand, a boundary etched by his voice alone.

You smiled weakly and inwardly thankful when Sarah spoke, telling you about something that had happened at her school that week and distracting you from the question that was spellbinding your tongue. You were dying to ask it, to look him in the eye and ask: who did you go out with last night? Why didn't you tell me? Is it someone I know? Is that it?... But you didn't, you stayed quiet and participated in the pleasant conversation, celebrating his birthday as he deserved. After all, no matter how much it angered you that he kept things from you, it was still his special day.

After dinner, Sarah forced Joel to sit in front of his cake, two lit number candles glowing in front of him. You turned out the lights, watching as the light from the flames reflected beautifully in your best friend's dark pupils.

Joel was wearing a black T-shirt and dark jeans, his hair was still barely damp from the shower he'd taken before, and his sun-kissed tan face looked smooth, decorated by the beard and mustache you loved so much. Behind him, his shadow vibrated and spread across the wall with grandeur.

“Make a wish!” Sarah cheered, bouncing with excitement as she placed her small hands on his shoulders.

Joel smiled, closed his eyes, and blew out the candles. In the dimness, you leaned in and kissed his cheek softly.

“Happy birthday, old man,” you whispered, your hand resting gently on his neck.

He reached for your hand, pressing a warm, lingering kiss into your palm. “I’m not that old,” he muttered with a mock frown.

Sarah giggled, holding a knife to cut the cake and licking a dab of frosting from her thumb. “You’ll be forty in four years,” she teased, catching your amused expression.

Joel scoffed, scratching his stomach as he stood back up, turning to you with a smile that made you forget, just for a moment, all the questions you were holding back. There was only Joel, his rumbling laugh, Sarah’s delighted giggles. It felt like home.

Sarah gave him his gift first: a copy of Curtis and Viper 2 with the deleted scenes and a mystery box. When he opened it, a smile formed on his lips.

He pulled out a weathered wristwatch, broken for months, now polished and repaired.

“I took it in to be fixed. Do you like it?” Sarah asked, eyes wide with anticipation.

Joel nodded, eyes softening as he extended his wrist for her to put it on. “It’s perfect, baby.”

“Let's watch the movie later,” Sarah said. “You can't fall asleep.”

“Let's see which one of us falls asleep first,” you joked, and you were right. Joel had been working all afternoon and Sarah had been yawning for hours.

You turned and picked up the box resting beside your feet, handing it to him. When he opened it, Joel pulled out a black cloth garment and a paper envelope. He tugged at the cloth, revealing a thick, soft jacket. He read the label and a smile appeared on his lips.

“I saw it and thought of you,” you said, mimicking his gesture.

“How much did you pay for this?”

“Don't worry about it, it had to be yours,” you noted as you stood up and took it from his hand. “Here, stand up. Let's see how it fits you.”

“And what if it doesn't fit? Do we have to travel to Rome to exchange it?”

You laughed, then helped him slide it over his shoulders, a comfortable, familiar movement.

“I know you by heart, I couldn't be wrong.”

“So?” he asked, smiling coquettishly. Your stomach tingled and you decided to ignore it.

“Lookin’ good, Dad,” Sarah chimed in, her innocent smile lighting up the moment. “Bet someone special will love it, too.”

Joel smiled weakly, as if he was trying to tell her something with his eyes, and for a second you hated the thought of your gift being enjoyed by someone else. You imagined him getting ready to go out with her -whoever she was-, running his hand through his hair and perfuming his neck as he did from time to time whenever he went out with someone. You knew that perfume perfectly, you'd recognize it anywhere, though you were sure it wouldn't smell the same on anyone else. Joel added his own scent to it, and you loved it.

“Okay, now, open the envelope,” you urged, your voice unintentionally sharper than you meant.

Joel sat back down and opened the blue paper envelope. He read the note carefully and when he looked up, you and Sarah were looking at him excitedly.

“Sunshine, did you pay for this?” he asked you, a soft disbelief in his tone.

Inside were three plane tickets. Sarah had helped you pick the destination—somewhere none of you had been but would love.

When you nodded, he let out a soft sigh. “Let me cover part of it.”

You groaned, rolling your eyes. “It’s my birthday gift to you, Joel. It’s all settled. You need a vacation, and we certainly do too, don't we?”

“That's right,” Sarah confirmed, smiling complicitly.

He sighed, shaking his head. “You’re too good to me.”

But he smiled, tucking the tickets back into the envelope.

Time with Joel and Sarah was easy. When you were with them, hours slipped away, and the heaviness of everything else seemed to dissolve. You felt at home, and sometimes it left you wondering about Sarah’s mother, about how anyone could have left them. Didn’t she see how extraordinary they were? Didn’t she realize what she’d lost?

You thought about this as you relaxed on the couch beside Joel, Sarah curled up with her head on your shoulder. Her breathing had slowed, and you smiled, realizing she’d fallen asleep. Three glasses sat on the coffee table: the wine Joel had opened just before dinner—a bottle you’d brought back from your last trip to Italy—and Sarah’s lemon soda. Joel snorted softly, glancing at his daughter with a smirk, then leaned over and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“Fallen soldier,” he whispered, smiling.

You laughed, brushing a hand over Sarah’s hair. “She’s tired. She was up all afternoon making your cake, you know? Tried the cream three times before she got it right.”

Joel sighed, an apologetic note in his voice. “I know, sorry I was late. I know she wanted me here sooner.”

Curtis and Viper 2 was halfway through on the TV, forgotten in the background. Joel straightened, signaling he’d take Sarah to bed, and you shifted to make room as he lifted her, carrying her toward the stairs. You watched him disappear down the hallway, and as the house fell into a quiet lull, that familiar disappointment stirred in your chest. Now, without Sarah’s chatter, you’d have to keep pretending that nothing was wrong.

You took a long sip of your wine, finishing off the glass just as Joel returned. He sat down heavily beside you, causing the cushions to sink as he let out a sigh, rubbing a hand over his eyes before giving you a grateful look.

“Thanks for today, I had a great time. Sarah was very happy,” he said quietly, a warm smile appearing on his lips.

“I'm glad, hun. Although the credit goes to her, I just made dinner.”

“Doesn’t matter. You helped her, and I’m grateful. I mean that. For today, and for… all these years.” His voice softened, almost reverent.

“You don’t have to thank me,” you whispered, feeling your pulse pick up as he leaned closer, his brown eyes unreadable but soft. “You’re my family, both of you. Really, I’m the one who owes you thanks.”

He shook his head and leaned back, taking another sip of his wine.

“Not at all,” he replied, leaning back again.

You watched him for a moment, turning the weight of your question over in your mind. If you said something, he’d make an excuse. If you kept silent, the doubt would eat at you. You tried to fix your gaze on the TV, on anything other than his profile in the dim room. But the words slipped out of your mouth before you could stop yourself.

“So, what did you do last night?”

He tensed beside you, so subtly that only you could’ve noticed. “What?”

You tried to keep your tone even, hoping you didn’t sound like you’d spent all day thinking about it. “I just… didn’t see your truck out there, thought maybe you were gone or something.” It was a lie; you had fallen asleep on your couch last night, you hadn't even noticed Joel was gone.

Joel seemed to measure his words carefully. “Oh. Yeah… I just went out for a beer with Tommy,” he answered, his tone a little too casual.

Heat crept up your face, disbelief taking root. He really was holding out on you for some reason, wasn't he? The man was lying to you, and not very cleverly. Tommy had been with Sarah, what if you had seen him, hadn't he thought of that? Apparently not.

It took a moment before you could bring yourself to say anything, watching as he glanced at you with an uneasy smile, waiting for you to believe him.

“Joel,” you murmured, not quite able to keep the accusation out of your voice. “You’re lying to me.”

He gave a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck, but you didn’t let him off so easily. Before he could say anything, you spoke again.

“Tommy was with Sarah last night, here,” you pointed out, your voice firmer this time. His silence told you everything, his face drawn and uncertain as he realized you’d caught him.

After a long pause, he looked down, his voice unusually flat. “Alright, yeah. I know.”

The admission was so casual it took you by surprise, but you shook your head, feeling the ache of frustration and betrayal creep in.

“Why would you lie to me?” you pressed. “We’re friends. Why wouldn’t you tell me you’re seeing someone?”

Joel sighed, avoiding your gaze, his eyes instead locked somewhere in the distance. “It’s… it’s nothing serious,” he mumbled. “Just getting to know her. Don't make such a fuss out of it.”

“What? what you're saying doesn't make sense. You’ve kept it hidden, avoided every chance to be honest about it. Why?” you asked, trying not to let the hurt seep into your voice.

“It’s not like that,” he insisted, but his voice sounded unsure.

“So if I call Tommy right now, he’ll tell me the truth? Or did you ask him to keep this from me too?”

Finally, he met your gaze, his eyes scanning your face, reading the frustration and hurt you’d tried to keep buried. You could see it in his eyes, that familiar tug of defiance, a flash of something deeper than guilt or secrecy.

“What if I did?” His voice was almost philosophical, his gaze intense and challenging. “This is my private life. I don’t have to explain myself to anyone, not even you. Do I?”

You drew in a sharp breath. His words struck like a slap, but you steadied yourself. “You’re right, Joel. You don’t owe me explanations. But you don’t have to lie to me, either.” You looked down, feeling your voice start to waver. “You’ve never hidden your relationships from me before.”

He sighed, scrubbing his hands over his face and slumping back against the couch.

After a few seconds, he finally looked at you, a look of exasperation crossing his face.

“Because of this.” He gestured between you, his tone gentle but firm. “This reaction, right here, is exactly why I didn’t tell you.”

What Joel was saying didn’t make sense. Your frustration wasn’t over him seeing someone else; it was something else entirely, something more fundamental.

“Oh, just stop,” you snapped, voice sharp. “I’m not mad because you’re dating someone, Joel. I’m mad that you lied to me. They’re two completely different things.”

He took a breath, settling back on the couch, and turned to face you, a guarded expression crossing his face. “No, it’s always the same thing. Remember the last time I was seeing someone?”

And you did, briefly. A year ago, one of his friends had introduced him to his cousin—a woman who had just moved to town. She was polite enough, but her smiles had a brittle quality to them, and when she met Sarah, her warmth never extended beyond a single, dismissive greeting. The indifference was obvious, at least to you, and maybe you’d let that show a little too openly. Joel had caught on quickly, and after that, things with her fizzled out.

“That was different,” you argued, exasperated. “She wasn’t nice, Joel. She had zero interest in Sarah.”

He gave a bitter, half-smile. “Maybe, but it wasn’t your job to manage that. I can handle my own relationships. But you always—” he paused, thumping his chest with a finger, “you always step in. Always get defensive.”

“That’s not true!” Your voice rose as anger crept in, heating your face. “You’re just making excuses. Date whoever you want, Joel, I don’t care. But don’t lie to me, don’t insult me with these flimsy excuses. Or if you’re going to lie, at least make it convincing.”

He clenched his jaw, his gaze hardening, something fierce sparking in his eyes. “Are you sure about that?” he asked, his voice low and measured, the words hanging between you like a dare.

“Sure about what?” Your brow creased in confusion, the pulse in your chest picking up, a flurry of anger and… something else you couldn’t place, mingling with the haze of the wine.

His eyes narrowed, holding yours, unflinching. “That you don’t care. That’s what this is about, isn’t it? Because I know you, i know you to well to know you’re just jealous.”

Jealous. He thought you were jealous.

He had missed the point completely. Your feelings for him were complex, that much was true. But you had learned, or thought you had learned, to carry them quietly. Your friendship with him had come to feel like a sturdy house you could live inside without having to ask too much of it. Having him in your life was enough.

But now, you felt that house shift, cracks spreading through the walls. His inability to trust you hurt more deeply than you’d expected. The openness you’d once trusted was fracturing. You felt the sting of tears prick at your eyes, the words he’d thrown out so casually cutting to the quick.

“Fuck you, Joel,” you muttered, standing abruptly, storming to the door and slamming it shut behind you. You barely heard him call your name as you left, fury driving you down the front steps, the cool night air biting at your cheeks.

Honestly, he could go fuck himself.

Just as your hand reached your front door, his footsteps closed in behind you, his strides fast enough to catch up. You tried to close the door before he could reach you, but his hand caught it just in time, his voice heavy with irritation.

“Just go away, Joel,” you said, barely glancing at him. “I don’t want to see you again.”

“That’s not true, and you know it.” His voice was calm, almost pleading.

You stepped back, reluctantly letting him into the foyer. He’d have come in anyway.

“I mean it, God. Go home,” you insisted, your voice wavering, betraying the anger mixed with something else.

He shook his head, taking a few steps closer, his jaw tight. “Can we just talk?”

“Talk?” you repeated incredulously. “Talk about what? About how wrong you are?”

He didn’t flinch, but his eyes darkened. “Don’t act like what I said was crazy,” he said, voice steady but a little sharper now.

You scoffed, throwing your hands up. “Oh, so now I’m jealous, is that it? Then, by your logic, you must’ve been jealous too, right? Like last month, when Travis asked me out. Because if that’s the case, then we’re having the same conversation, aren’t we?”

Joel clicked his tongue, tilting his head with an exaggerated sigh. “No, Travis is just a jerk. And I don’t like him, plain and simple.”

Travis Dunn, your neighbor, had moved in a few months after you did. Handsome, tall, and friendly, everyone on the street adored him—everyone except Joel. He couldn’t seem to stand him, though Travis was always polite to him.

Last month, when Travis had asked you out, Joel had practically laughed in your face when you told him about it, muttering something dismissive as if the very idea was absurd. You’d told Travis you were busy, though deep down you knew the real reason you hadn’t accepted was because of Joel’s disapproval.

You shook your head, exasperated. “Travis isn’t a jerk, Joel, you just don’t like him. He’s nice, honestly, much nicer than some people, if we’re being honest here. Everyone loves him; you’re the only one who has a problem with him.”

“Then everyone’s as much of an idiot as he is, sunshine.”

“Oh, really? Or maybe… you’re jealous of him?” Your tone was teasing, but you felt the shift as soon as you said it.

Joel’s mouth twitched in a half-smile, but the humor didn’t reach his eyes. He ran his tongue over his lips, shaking his head slowly, twice.

“Don’t turn this on me,” he said. “This isn’t about Travis or me.”

“No?” you shot back, voice edged with challenge. “So if I go tomorrow and say yes to him, that wouldn’t bother you at all, right?”

He stepped closer to you, his eyes dark with something you’d never seen in him before. The air seemed to thicken, his presence so intense it felt as though it wrapped around you. He leaned in, his face close enough that his words brushed your skin.

“You can do whatever you want, baby. It’s your fucking life.”

“And you can do whatever you want too, Joel. That’s the fucking point!” you nearly shouted, hands pushing against his shoulders, shoving him away. “I don’t care what you do! It’s already clear you don’t get it, you don’t get anything, ANYTHING!”

Joel staggered back for a split second, but it wasn’t long before he closed the distance again, though he didn’t get as close this time.

His voice was lower, a thread of something hard in his tone. “If you’re so insulted by the idea of being jealous, maybe that’s something for you to think about. Ever thought of doing a little introspection?”

“Are you drunk, Joel?” you asked, eyes narrowed, softening your voice a fraction. The argument was exhausting you, and the anger left you feeling hollow.

He laughed, an odd, choked sound. “Oh, c'mon, you know one bottle of wine ain't enough to get me drunk.”

“Yeah, but you’re tired, and you’re not exactly young, Joel,” you said, brushing past him, his gaze glued to you the entire time. “Alcohol hits you differently now. Just go home, leave me alone.”

“Fine. I’ll leave you alone, and maybe then you can run across the street and fuck Travis Dunn, if you want it so badly,” he shot back, impatience tinging his voice as he turned toward the still-open door.

The words hit you like a slap. You froze for a moment, the anger washing over you in a wave. Before you could think twice, you rushed up to him, gripping his arm tightly to force him to turn and look at you.

“What the hell did you just say, Joel?” you hissed, grabbing his shirt, fingers bunching in the fabric as you backed him up until his shoulders hit the wall by the door. “Go on, say it again!”

Your breaths came fast, chest rising and falling as the rush of anger pushed tears to your eyes. You couldn’t believe he’d actually spoken to you like that, cutting right through to something raw and vulnerable. He’d never spoken to you like that before. Maybe he was a little drunk, or maybe he was losing his mind.

But there was no softness in his gaze, no hint of the Joel you knew. His stare was sharp, almost wild with something simmering underneath, something you didn’t understand. To you, this whole argument made no sense, at least not his reaction.

Joel’s grip on your wrist was firm, almost grounding, as he pulled you closer, pressing your palm against his chest. “I can’t stand that asshole, but go ahead and fuck him if you want,” he spat, voice laced with frustration. “Go fuck the whole neighborhood while you’re at it. I really don’t care anymore.”

His words were harsh, designed to cut, but they only drew a laugh from you—sharp and derisive. A tear slipped down your cheek, uninvited.

“What, did you ever care?” you asked, your voice trembling on the last syllable, thick with emotion.

But Joel didn’t respond, and the silence ignited a fire in you, something that swirled beneath the surface, ready to boil over.

“Do you know why we’re friends, Joel?” Your pulse quickened, each beat like a drum in your ears. “Because it just works between us. There are no ulterior motives. You know why? Because I don’t like you like that. You’re not even my type, and you never will be. And no, I’m not jealous that you’re dating some woman you’ll probably dump in less than a month, so get the fuck over it and leave me the fuck alone!”

You watched as his gaze flickered between your eyes, uncertainty warring with something darker. Suddenly, with an unexpected strength, Joel tightened his grip on your wrist and pushed you back hard against the wall. The impact knocked the breath from your lungs, leaving you gasping as your back hit the unforgiving surface.

His expression had transformed, those deep, dark eyes piercing you like arrows. His breath quickened, crashing against your face, and you could feel your lower lip tremble as he pressed even closer, pinning you against the wall.

“You don’t know how to lie,” he murmured, his lips almost brushing against your cheek.

The sensation was unbearable; his body pressed against yours, heat radiating off him and melting you inside. You could feel the edge of something primal, something that could tip either way. But suddenly, clarity surged through you. With a burst of strength, you pushed him away, breaking free from his grasp, forcing him to pull back just enough for you to gasp for air.

But the distance felt worse. In his eyes, you recognized something you’d never seen before—desire, raw and unfiltered. It clawed at you, igniting an inexplicable need. A sigh escaped your lips, and like a match struck in a dark room, it was enough to set off an explosion. In an instant, Joel lunged at you, and you found yourself wrapped around him, mouths colliding in a desperate kiss filled with moans and the urgency of your racing hearts.

With a loud thud, Joel kicked the front door shut, his hands moving feverishly down your body, fingers skimming your thighs, slipping beneath your dress. He caressed your skin before squeezing your ass hard, drawing a moan from your lips that echoed in the small space between you. You clung to him tighter, his hands fitting around you as if they were made for this very moment.

He pulled back for a breath, the sound wet and chaotic against the walls of your home, and then his lips descended down your neck, unraveling what little sanity you had left. A moan rumbled in his throat as your hands tangled in his hair, tugging gently to tilt your head back, giving him better access to the tender spot just below your ear, your blood pulsing beneath his hungry mouth.

Joel seemed to want to devour you whole; his hands roamed erratically, trembling as his mouth kissed and bit your jaw, pressing your bodies together in a way that felt impossibly intimate. When you lifted your right leg and wrapped it around his side, he was quick to respond, hands securing your thighs, lifting you effortlessly onto his hips, burying his face against your chest.

Another moan escaped you, and he pulled you down just enough to find your lips again. “Joel,” you whispered, breathless as you parted from him, pressing your forehead against his, eyes searching his.

“Tell me to stop and I will,” he said, his voice low, almost broken, each word laced with a vulnerability you’d never heard from him before. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No,” you replied in a small, desperate cry, feeling the heat radiating from him, the thin fabric of your underwear igniting a fire deep within you.

You were dying of thirst, and he had just asked you if you would refuse a sip of water. Was he mad? You wanted to drink it all.

No sooner had you answered than Joel pulled you off the wall, striding toward the stairs with a confident grace. You lowered your legs cautiously, meeting his lips again in a frantic, wet kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth with urgency.

You walked to your room with the agility of one who knows where to step, and once inside, you grabbed the shirt you had angrily grabbed earlier and lifted it up his body in a desperate attempt to rip it off. Joel raised his arms, letting the fabric pass over both of you and then fall to the floor, and as quickly as your hands returned to his chest, he kissed your neck again, desperate, pressing his fingers into the tender flesh of your waist, seeking a physically impossible closeness.

His hands found your thighs once more, fingers gripping and kneading with a measured intensity that sent electric shivers through you. As he moved lower, his fingertips brushed the thin fabric of your underwear, inching closer to where you ached for him, squeezing you tighter as if to draw you in.

In a single, decisive motion, he grasped the hem of your dress and pulled it upward, the fabric sliding along your skin as he lifted it away, tossing it aside with a casual disregard that only heightened the tension in the air. He took a step back, his gaze roaming over you, from the soft curve of your face down to the tips of your toes, a look of hunger that felt almost consuming.

You weren't wearing a bra (your dress didn't require it) and your breasts fell beautifully in front of him, hard nipples and soft skin. Your chest flushed with warmth, a rosy hue creeping into your cheeks as you swallowed hard, feeling vulnerable yet exhilarated when he stepped closer.

“I’ve always loved that dress,” he said, his voice trembling with an emotion that was both reverent and raw.

“I know,” you replied, a smile curling at the corners of your lips, the moment igniting an intimacy that made your heart race.

His eyes swept down your body again, glittering with an unmistakable lust, and when he closed the distance, standing right before you, your breath caught in your throat.

His hands slid around your waist, firm yet tender, pulling you into him with a deftness that sent a thrill coursing through you. In one seamless motion, he lifted you off the ground, your feet barely grazing the floor as you instinctively stood on your tiptoes, the world narrowing to just the two of you.

Joel’s eyes darkened with a hunger that left you breathless, and he leaned in, his lips finding one of your breasts with a soft kiss that felt both electrifying and reverent. The warmth of his mouth sent a rush of heat through your body, and before you could gather your thoughts, he nipped your nipple gently, a teasing bite that sent chills racing across your skin.

His teeth grazed you just enough to elicit a gasp, a shuddering reaction that echoed in the space between you. But he didn’t linger on the sharpness of that moment; he quickly replaced the sensation with the soothing warmth of his lips, enveloping you entirely.

He sank to one knee, lowering himself until his lips brushed your stomach, the warm sensation sending ripples of desire coursing through you. His face lingered dangerously close to where you needed him most.

Joel placed his hands on your hips, fingers gripping the elastic of your underwear, his gaze locking onto yours for a moment that stretched into eternity before he slowly began to lower it, the fabric sliding down your legs and pooling at your feet. You felt his breath hitch at the sight of your now bare center, the anticipation thickening the air between you as he inched closer, finally brushing his lips against your mons pubis.

“Precious,” he murmured, and the warmth of his breath washed over you like a caress, drawing a small, needy moan from your lips. His hands parted your legs slightly, his fingers digging into your thighs, holding you firmly in place.

You cupped his face gently, as if afraid you might break him, and then, without warning, Joel licked his lips and plunged forward, his mouth connecting with you in a surprise that made your eyes flutter shut. You tangled your fingers in his hair, tugging him closer as he devoured you, his tongue working its magic as he sucked and kissed you whole, with an urgency that left you breathless.

He growled into you, the sound reverberating through your body, and you felt weakness seep into your legs, trembling under the weight of his relentless attention. Joel was eating you like a hungry man, tasting you and soaking in your juices with a fervor that felt primal, kissing you as if his life depended on it.

“Fuck,” you gasped, feeling every muscle in your body tighten as a building pressure coiled inside you.

He pulled away for just a moment, his eyes darkened with lust, a playful smile creeping onto his lips before he returned to you, closing his mouth around your clit, sucking and licking with a skill that made your head spin.

“Ah—Joel, I’m going to—I’m going to—” You struggled to articulate the intensity of what was building within you, your words stumbling over the tide of pleasure washing over you.

His voice vibrated through you, trailing off into a soft, “Mhm.”

You pulled at his hair, tugging harder as a wrenching moan escaped your throat. The world around you faded as his movements grew more frantic, his tongue flicking at you with a desperate fervor. One of his hands released your thigh, and a low groan escaped his lips as his finger found your entrance, sliding inside with an ease that made you gasp.

“Fuck me, you’re so wet,” he murmured, pausing for a moment to take in the sight of you—your cheeks flushed, eyes sparkling with lust. A satisfied smile broke across his face, and you thought he had never looked so gorgeous.

From your point of view, he looked beautiful. His bright eyes worshipped you intently, his mouth and mustache glistened bathed in you, his hair tossed by your hands mingled in all directions. Joel Miller had never looked so good.

Another finger joined the first, and you closed your eyes, surrendering to the sensation as he curled them just right, hitting that sweet spot that made you gasp for air. You gripped his hair again, pulling him closer, and he let out a throaty laugh, clearly reveling in the sight of you completely undone.

You felt his mouth on you again, the warmth of his lips kissing and sucking with an insatiable hunger that left you breathless. The sound of it was utterly obscene, echoing around the room like a carnal symphony, and it drove you to the brink of madness, your mind spinning in a dizzying haze of pleasure.

His movements grew more intense, a rhythm building that sent waves of ecstasy rippling through your body. You felt yourself teetering on the edge, your hips moving in desperate undulations, surrendering to the climax that Joel savored with unrelenting focus. Your fingers clenched around him, digging in perhaps a bit too hard, but he welcomed it, desperate to drink in every last drop of what you were offering, to savor you whole.

With a low grunt, he squeezed your hips before pulling away, the wet sound of his departure from you hanging heavy in the air. You barely registered his rise from the floor, lost in the aftershocks of pleasure, your eyes still closed as the vibrations coursed through you. It wasn’t until his hands gripped your waist that you finally blinked awake, lifting your eyelids to find him gazing down at you, his face mere inches from yours.

He leaned in, capturing your mouth again, a kiss that was both desperate and tender, igniting a fire deep within you. You could taste yourself on his tongue.

Your hands found their way around his neck, pulling him closer as you melted into the kiss. As the intensity built, you let your fingers drift down his chest, trailing lightly until they found the leather of his belt, the sensation sending shivers through you as you tugged him closer.

Joel vibrated against you, a low growl escaping as he nipped at your lower lip while you fumbled with his steel buckle, the sound of it being released becoming your new favorite melody. You unzipped his pants, your heart racing as you slipped your hand inside, finally touching him for the first time.

Your pulse quickened as you wrapped your fingers around him, feeling the heat radiating from his velvet soft skin; big, hot and throbbing in your palm. A rush of desire flooded you, and you pulled away from his lips, dropping to your knees before him, your eyes wide as you took in his form.

There he stood, beautiful and swollen with need, and your mouth watered at the sight. You cupped him gently, drawing him closer to your lips, placing a soft kiss on the tip. Joel closed his eyes at the sensation, surrendering to the moment completely, and you traced your tongue over him, tasting the salty sweetness of his pre cum that made your insides tighten with longing.

With a hint of effort, you attempted to take him fully into your mouth, but he was too large, stretching you in ways you hadn’t expected. Joel lowered his gaze to you, his fingers caressing your jaw as you struggled to adjust.

“Slow, baby,” he urged, his voice silky yet strained, and it sent another rush of need through you. "I know you can do it."

You matched your hand to your mouth, stroking him where you couldn’t quite reach, while your other hand gently caressed his balls, moving in a synchronized rhythm. Joel tensed beneath your touch, his fingers shifting from your face to tangle in your hair, guiding you as he reveled in the pleasure you were giving him.

The sounds in the room became a symphony of pleasure, every moan and gasp echoing off the walls, and you watched as Joel's pleasure climbed. The image was enough to drive him over the edge; your pink, swollen lips covered him and his cock glistened with your saliva, dripping from your chin with every move you made. Your teary eyes looked up at him desirously, and he could take no more; his gaze was filled with a primal hunger that threatened to unravel him. He finally withdrew from your mouth with great reluctance when he felt his stomach tighten, a low complaint escaping your throat in protest.

His breathing was heavy, and a flush colored his cheeks as he lifted you effortlessly, holding you at the waist, his lips finding yours in a heated kiss. In one swift motion, he laid you back onto the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight as he moved closer; Joel kneeling and settling between your legs which you instinctively opened for him.

You needed him, you needed him to fill you whole. You had never needed anything as much as you needed him at that moment. And as if he was reading your thoughts - or maybe he needed you as much as you needed him - he leaned in, taking your mouth with his once more, his moans blending with yours as he lost himself in you.

Your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as he deepened the kiss, the taste of him igniting a fire in your veins. You felt him positioning himself at your entrance, his heat pulsing against you, and an intense sigh shot through your chest as Joel entered you in one thrust, burning and stretching you around him.

“Oh God,” he groaned, burying his face into the crook of your neck, the warmth of his breath sending shivers down your spine. His right hand traveled to your left leg, lifting it and resting it high on his shoulder, while without hesitation, his other hand mirrored the movement with your right leg, bringing you into a position that felt both intimate and vulnerable. You were completely folded under him.

A cry escaped your lips as Joel began to move on top of you, his face hovering just inches above yours, the heat between you palpable. No one had ever penetrated you so deeply; it felt as though he was everywhere, filling you completely, every inch of you alive with sensation.

Joel's right hand gently squeezed your neck, seeking your mouth for a kiss as his movements took on a more urgent pace. The rhythmic collision of his hips against your buttocks created a beautiful sound that echoed off the walls, each thrust punctuated by the soft, desperate gasps that slipped from his mouth. Your own cries mingled with his as your body tightened again, your hands moving frantically up and down his back, your nails digging into his flesh, leaving little marks that he would surely wear like badges of pleasure.

A broken sound escaped from Joel, raw and primal, as he sank his face into the crook of your neck once more, increasing his thrusts with a fervor that felt animalistic, as if the world outside had fallen away and this moment was all that mattered. He fucked you into the mattress with an intensity that left you breathless, as though he were trying to ground you both in this fleeting reality, where nothing else existed except for the two of you entwined together.

You melted around him, your juices mixing with his as you enveloped him completely, and just when you thought you couldn’t take any more, he lifted his head, your forehead resting against yours, his wide eyes locking into yours. You had never seen them so dark, so filled with intensity and strength.

And then it hit you: It was Joel, your Joel, the one who had been your best friend for four years, and here he was, fucking the life out of you like no one ever had before. What could possibly come after an experience like this?

“I thought you didn't like me,” he said, his voice choppy, strained with effort. A smirk played at the corners of his swollen lips. “Such a bad liar, baby, look at you.”

You growled in response, fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him towards you with a mix of force and anger. Your lips found his in a kiss that was anything but patient, igniting a spark between you. You felt him tense above you, one of his hands quickly moving to your center, exerting immense pressure as he leaned his weight on his other arm, holding you captive beneath him.

His fingers found your clit, tracing gentle circles that made your back arch involuntarily, another wave of pleasure building inside you. Your mouth was still on his, consuming him completely, when your second orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave. You felt your insides tighten around him, squeezing him with a ferocity that pulled him closer to his own climax.

Joel gasped into your mouth, and the intensity of it sent your vision spiraling into darkness for a brief moment, the sensation so strong it felt as if the world had collapsed around you. When your breathing finally steadied, you found his hot body pressed against yours, moving in tiny tremors, quickened breaths brushing against your jaw.

He stayed inside you for a few moments longer, savoring the closeness, your hands continuing to caress his back, each touch a silent promise. Then, slowly, he pulled out of you, leaving you feeling achingly empty, his cum trickling from your entrance.

He fell limply beside you, his body slick with sweat, and pulled you close to him, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. His breaths, still heaving, crashed against your damp skin, wrapping you in warmth. Unable to muster the energy to move, you let your eyes flutter closed, surrendering to a deep, exhausted sleep that you would not remember when you woke up...

No, you didn't remember any dream, Because when you opened your eyes the next morning, you stirred in place and your muscles ached pleasantly, reminding you of the night before. And as you stretched your arms across the bed, your fingers grazed the sheets, feeling an emptiness beside you.

When you looked to your sides, the realization hit you hard.

Joel was gone.

taglist: @orcasoul

#joel miller #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel miller fic #tlou fic #tlou hbo #tlou joel #capuccinodoll #joel miller is your best friend #joel x reader #joel tlou #joel the last of us #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal joel #dbf!joel

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juicykvnture · 1 month ago

Text

NINTENDHOE

Dick Grayson x fem!reader x Wally West

tags: AFAB reader, oral f!receiving, spit, hair pulling, they’re both down bad, Wally’s a loser, college AU

a/n: press the x(xx) button to continue..

wc: 2k | masterlist

“No no no, this is rigged! I should’ve won that round,” Wally all but whines, his head hitting the back of the couch with a small thump - only to be met with an eye roll from you and Dick.

“Maybe you’re just bad at combos, man.” Dick scoffs under his breath.

“Maybe you’re both awful,” you mumble, shifting around to get a little more comfortable in your makeshift mess of pillows.

Both of them whip their heads around, staring at you like you’ve kicked them in the balls or something.

“..I won that round, though.” Dick stares at you, glancing down at the controller in his lap and then at Wally.

“I’ve never seen a Mortal Kombat match take that long, you’re both.. awful.”

“Okay, but I’m better than him.. I still won.” he reminds you, almost petulant as he stares down at the controller.

“If either of you two were any good, you’d still have your shirts on.” you point out, giving the two of them a once-over - Wally’s cheeks heating up under your almost scrutinising gaze.

You’re technically right, the three of you made a dumb bet.

Each time someone loses a round, they lose a piece of clothing.

The fact you’re the only one still fully dressed just proves your point.

“Seriously?” Wally’s lips purse into a thin line, staring down at his shirt and hoodie on the floor in a heap, awkwardly running a hand through his tousled red hair, “Is your goal to get us naked?”

“Course it is,” Dick interjects, rolling his eyes up to the ceiling - “she’s just a prude and won’t do it herself.”

He’s spouting bullshit and all three of you know it.

See, it’s not like you’re not willing to take your shirt off - you just haven’t had a reason to.

You keep winning.

“If you’re just gonna sit there and laugh at us, then there’s like.. zero incentive to keep playing,” Wally complains, reaching out to give your shirt a little tug before you swat his hand away.

Pinching your temples, you glance between the two of them with a groan - then up at the fighter roster on screen.

“..I’ll kiss whoever wins.”

You’ve never seen them lunge for their controllers so urgently - you’re almost convinced one would pull a real-life fatality on the other, far worse than the ones on screen.

Naturally, Wally has the red controller, Dick went for the blue.

With another sigh, you lean back a little as you watch the two of them choose their fighters - spamming the x keys so hard you’re worried they’ll get jammed.

And then it kinda dawns on you.

You’ve bet your mouth on a game of Mortal Kombat.

“No no no, what the fuck!” Wally whines, more than half tempted to thundercunt the controller at the poor TV - “He keeps rigging this shit!"

“I know my way around a joystick, unlike you.”

Dick’s snide comment makes Wally tense, burying his face in his hands - with a reaction like, you’d swear he’d lost everything dear to him, not the chance of a kiss.

“You owe me.” Dick almost sing-songs, caging you against the cushions like an oversized lapdog, unable to wipe the smug grin off of his face.

“He literally fucking cheated!” Wally insists, batting his eyelashes up at you as if that would change anything.

“Don’t be a sore loser, Wally,” Dick mumbles into your shoulder, not breaking eye contact with Wally for a second as he mouths at your neck, his hand coming to rest on your knee.

“Be nice.” your grumble snaps him out of it, along with a small yank into his messy black hair, “you won one kiss, not the lottery.”

“Same thing.”

Before you can get a word in, his mouth is on yours - his hand on your knee tightening and spreading up over your thigh as he angles his head, the grin against your lips unwavering as he stares at Wally.

There's something in the way he's got his fingers on your leg, thumb swiping over the inner seam of your shorts and making your skin under his touch.

“Cut it out!” Wally frowns, tossing a pillow your way before folding his arms across his chest.

“Watch and learn, West.” Dick huffs out a laugh, sliding his hand up your thigh to try tug at your waistband.

His laugh soon turns into a muffled yelp when you tug at his hair once more, unimpressed as you stare at him.

“The deal was one kiss, you’re getting too cocky.”

“But-“ Dicks brows furrow, mouth opening and closing like a fish.

“No.”

That earns a small chuckle from beside you two, Wally hiding his smirk in his hand.

“Maybe you’re better with a joystick, but you lack in other departments.”

Dick grumbles once more, fingers involuntarily curling into the thin fabric of your shorts a little harder, not tearing his gaze away from Wally.

“Excuse you, I’m better at eating pussy than you could ever be.”

His defensiveness makes you snort, glancing at Wally who’s trying not to howl in laughter and then back at Dick.

“..he means a joystick on a controller, not a-“

“I knew that.” Dick blurts out, gnawing at the insides of his cheeks - too flustered to look at you or Wally for a moment.

“..I’m still better.”

“No the fuck you aren’t.” Wally’s brows arch, sitting upright, almost outraged.

No way in hell is Dick better at that. Wally hasn’t got a foot to stand on but his ego won’t allow it.

Sure, he may have the upper hand when it comes to a fighting game, but game when it comes to getting laid? No way in hell.

“Literally take a walk on campus and ask any girl.” Dick insists, his confidence in that department unwavering.

You’re just watching them at this point, watching their expressions shift as they throw jabs back and forth - far more interesting than some pixels beating the fuck out of eachother.

“The only thing these girls on campus will tell me is you’re a whore, Grayson.”

Okay, he can’t exactly deny that accusation but he doesn’t need Wally to signify it to him.

Dick’s face flushes for a moment, his hand still lingering on your thigh.

“You’re just an insufferable virgin! When’s the last time you talked to a woman?”

Now that catches your attention,

“I don’t mean to interrupt your little divorce here but are you fucking kidding me?” your sudden scoff shuts them up for a moment, the room silent.

Wally shifts in his seat, Dick clears his throat.

Neither of them says anything, their differences seemingly swept to the side for a moment before they both whip their heads around, staring at you.

“No.”

“Please?” Wally stares at you like he’s about to break down and sob, he’s got that sad puppy look down like it’s an art.

Dick isn’t far behind him.

“C’mon, just let us settle this.”

That’s all it took for them to coax you into this, your back now arching up off of the blankets.

You can’t exactly tell which mouth is which, not when they’re both desperate to prove something, Wally’s hands shaking as he holds your thighs open.

“Told you I’m better,” Dick pants against your pussy, his grin bordering on feral as he thumbs at your clit, your poor cunt already a mess.

“Nuh-uh,” Wally shakes his head, words muffled as he drags his tongue against you. He’s gripping your thighs tighter like someone’s trying to take your pussy away from him.

What he lacks in technique, he makes up for in enthusiasm.

He tries to, anyway.

His jaw is starting to hurt but he doesn’t care. Wally’s busy trying to prove himself to Dick - to you, desperately grinding his hips against one of the throw pillows.

“Uh-huh,” Dick mocks, nosing at his jaw as he slowly pushes a finger into you - just to hear you whine.

Wally shakes his head, his breath heaving - hands moving to paw at your hips to try and get you as close to his face as possible.

“I’ll make her cum faster.” he insists, barely sure who he’s trying to convince this point.

Dick huffs against your inner thigh, bumping the side of his head against Wally’s.

“That’s cute, I’ll make her cum harder.” he shrugs, dragging out that last word as he runs his tongue over your clit, “right?”

Dick probably expects you to back him up but you’re just too dazed to answer, staring down at them through glassy, half lidded eyes.

Wally just lets out a needy whine into your pussy, one hand moving from your thigh to try and shove his face away.

It’s hard enough that he’s trying to prove himself - Dick isn’t making it any easier.

“You’re doing it wrong.” He pants against Wally’s jaw, his free hand joining yours in his messy red hair to tug at it, forcing him to lift his head to look at you.

“You don’t wanna disappoint her, do you?” Dick almost coos, his grin only widening when Wally’s back arches.

“No,” Wally pants, grip on your thighs almost bruising as he stares down at your throbbing cunt, the embarrassing boner he’s got going on is almost too much to handle at this point.

“Didn’t think so.” Dick sighs, his lips ghosting across Wally’s flushed cheek as he guides his head down, the hand pulling at his hair guiding his face.

The shaky “fuck” you manage to slur out has him grinning, his grip on Wally’s hair tightening.

“See?” he murmurs, pulling Wally’s head away so he can drag his tongue along the inside of your thigh, his breathy moans muffled by your skin - “speed ain’t everything.”

Wally’s breath is coming in ragged pants, desperately trying to ignore the ache both in his jaw and in his cock as he desperately mouths at you - you doubt you’d be able pry him off of you if you tried.

“Shuddup,” he pants, the condescending tone of Dicks voice paired with your little whines making his head spin.

“Cmonn,” Dick mumbles, his lips brushing against Wally’s as he lets a small glob of spit land on your clit, pulling Wally’s hair back.

“You can just admit I’m better than you, it’s okay.” he sighs, voice full of fake sincerity - the sounds from both of their mouths against your sopping cunt beyond obscene.

It’s like you’re not even there, which is pretty fucked up considering they’re arguing over your pussy.

“Can you two shut the f-fuck up,” you manage to groan, one of your hands grabbing at Dick’s hair, the other at Wally’s.

You don’t care which one of them is better, as long as someone makes you cum.

Wally stares up at you, panting.

He wants it to be him so fucking badly, you have no idea.

“Sorry,” Dick glances up at you with a grin, strong hands quickly finding your hips as his fingers press into the sides of your ass - almost delirious as you desperately grind your cunt against his face.

Wally’s lips twitch into a shaky frown, barely able to from a coherent sentence as he cranes his neck up to try mouth at you again, only to be cut off by Dick’s mouth pressing against his - spitting your cum into his mouth as he stares up at you through his lashes.

Wally doesn’t even flinch, leaning his head back down to drag his tongue over a stray drop of slick down your thighs, chest heaving as he pulls back to look up at you.

“..no, no! I haven’t fucking lost,” he’s pleading, insisting.

“It’s best of three right?"

a/n: ..can I get a hell yeah?

thank u for reading!!! I’m very normal I promise

Dick Grayson m.list

#dc x reader #dick grayson #dc comics #dick grayson x y/n #dick grayson x female!reader #dick grayson x you #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson smut #wally west x reader #Wally west #wally west x dick grayson #dc smut #SoundCloud

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cutebat · 1 year ago

Text

Yandere Batfam x Neglected, but Defiant Reader

The First Page

Warning(s): Neglect, emotional abuse, physical abuse, mind break (There are no yandere themes yet, but will be in another chapter)

(This chapter is basically the first part of the prologue and some things fixed)

~~~~~

10 years old.

You were only 10 years old when the Gotham's billionaire, Bruce Wayne, entered through the doors of the orphanage that you lived under of.

You could remember the owner holding your hand as she lead you to the man who is going to be your father.

You remember when he placed his hand on your head as he introduced himself to you and promised that he'll give you a great life.

You remember when you came to the manor as he introduced you to your new family that consists of four new older brothers, one new older sister, and a butler.

You remember when everyone would talk to you and welcome you with loving embraces.

You also remember a few days foward when Bruce gave you a costume that resembled a white dress with pink details, which earned you the title of Batgirl.

And after all of that, it's like it never happened.

~~~~~

You are now being ignored by everyone.

Nobody gave you a glance, made excuses, and basically beat the shit out of you. Well, not exactly.

For example, there was one day when you came up to Bruce with a flyer in your hand.

"Um, hi, Bruce... I know you're busy right now, but... I'm going to have a school play and I got the main role. So... I hope you can stop by and watch."

You tell him in the nicest way possible.

However, Bruce was so focused on his paperwork that he didn't give you a glance. All he said was...

"Hm? Yeah, I'll go check it out if I finish all of this."

And suprise, suprise, he never showed up.

This resulted in you crying in the girl's restroom all alone in your costume.

~~~~~

There was also a time when you felt like you needed to train more, so you did it by going up to Dick who seems to be training with Damian.

"Um, guys? Can I join you two?"

You ask as you smile awkwardly as your two older brothers turned to you.

Which is why you became surprised when Dick smiles.

"Sure! But, do you mind if you wait until me and Damian are done with this sparring session? It won't take too long."

He said with a chuckle as Damian looked like he was glaring at his little sister.

You didn't want to be rude, which is why you just nodded before you went over to the corner and watched your brothers train.

As an hour passed, Dick and Damian stopped, which made you take the chance to finally train with them.

However, you seemed confused when you saw the two turning around and walking out of the batcave.

"He-Hey, Dick? I thought you and Damian were going to train with me."

You speak up in a timid tone, which the two clearly heard.

"Oh, about that. Sorry, (name), but we were already planning to go to the cafe for a break. Maybe tomorrow, okay?"

Dick said with an 'apologetic' expression before he leaves with Damian.

Because of this, you never asked him to train with you again.

~~~~~

These were all easily common, but there were some moments when it scarred you.

One time, Tim was basically forced to bring you to a mission along with his friends.

As the patrol went on, you seemed to get distracted a bit when you spotted Conner having some trouble.

Because of this, you left the scene and quickly dived in and fought alongside the teenage Kryptonian. Thanks to you, everything was handled.

Conner thanked you before someone yelled out your name. This made you jolt as you turned to see an angry Tim storming over to you.

Before you can say anything, he cuts you in.

"What on earth were you doing?! I told you to stay where you are, and you just had to ignore everything I say, don't you?!"

He yells as if someone murdered his close family member.

This made you so shocked as Conner was stunned. When Cassie and Bart came over to the spot, they were both shocked to see their friend, yelling at his little sister.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Calm down, Tim. (name) didn't do anything wrong. I was the one who called her over to help me."

Conner defends you, but of course, Tim doesn't listen.

"Don't even try to defend her! She knows what she did! Oh, I am SO going to report this to Batman, so don't even try to cover yourself up!"

Tim said in a frustrated and angry tone towards you before he used his grappling hook and swooped down, leaving you behind with his friends.

"Hey, what the hell, asshole!"

Conner shouts out at his friend as he was shocked to him this angry.

He lets out a sigh before he looks over to see Cassie and Bart, comforting you as you are crying in their arms.

~~~~~

Yelling wasn't the only thing that you had to endure.

You even went through moments when things got a little too... physical.

It all happened when you were just trying to help someone in need.

You were walking down the hallway during the night as you just wanted a cup of water. As you were wandering down the hallway, you noticed some voices from someone's bedroom.

Jason's bedroom.

This made you curious as you got close to the door to hear Jason talking amongst himself as he sat on the edge of his bed.

He kept muttering stuff out of his mouth, which made you worried.

That is when you made a mistake by going inside.

"Jason...? Are you okay?"

You ask in a timid voice.

At that moment, Jason snaps his head towards you before everything starts to go blur. All you remember is him grabbing something like a pole type object before it was brought down towards your head.

And then, you woke up in your own bedroom, except you have a bandage wrapped around your head.

When you sat up, all you saw was Alfred, the family's loyal butler. No sign of your other family around, concerning about you.

Luckily, you recovered, and the wound went away after a month.

And, of course, Jason never apologized for what he did to you.

~~~~~

A few months was in, and no improvement has been made. You were always ignored. They made excuses of not wanting to spend time with you, and some of them actually hit you a few times.

All of that happened to your ten year old self.

But, did you give up on that spot? Nope.

You discovered on the internet what you can do to please your family to gain their attention. There were a lot of results, but the one that kept popping up the most was trying to reach your best achievements, which would result in them showing you more support from them.

And that's what you did.

You started to join in many after-school activities and studied all your might. It was tiring, and you almost passed out from exhaustion, but you kept going because you wanted at least your family to notice you.

The problem is that they never did.

They never congratulated you, celebrated on your accomplishment, and most of all, they didn't even give you a glance when you showed off.

All of that for nothing. Damn.

~~~~~

The breaking point wasn't because of all that. It was when someone else entered the family.

Duke Thomas.

A metahuman teenager whose parents died from the Joker Venom.

You thought that they might treat him the same way that they had treated you.

But, nothing.

Duke was showered with love, attention, and even praise.

The things that you never got when you came here.

Whenever you pass by whatever event that they're holding, you will always see them together. Being all happy, chatting, and laughing with one another.

They never do that when they're around you. Even on your birthdays. Actually, when was the last time they all celebrated your birthday?

At that moment, something inside you just snapped. Like, a loud crack echoes through your head that makes a loud ringing sound, kind of like a wake-up call.

Then, it all clicked.

They never cared about you.

They never even liked you.

The only reason why Bruce adopted you is because nobody wanted to.

~~~~~

The thoughts kept running through your head as you walked into an alleyway with a trash bag in hand.

Earlier today at school, you dropped out the clubs that you absolutely hated and pretty much just purposely laid back in your classes.

You feel empty.

When you finally reach the dumpster, you got on top of some stacked boxes because of your height and open the large lid.

You could only stare inside that had a lot of black colored trash bags. Your eyes were blank as you stared down inside.

That's when you muttered out.

"Why even bother...?"

With that, you tossed the trash bag that you were holding on into the dumpster.

After what it felt like hours, you finally got off of the boxes that you were standing on top of before you walked out of the alleyway.

As you walked away, something fell out of the trash bag that you threw out.

It was a white bat eared helmet.

The accessory that once matched with your costume.

That's right.

You were no longer Batgirl.

You never were, anyway.

•

Taglist: @somebodyrandom-613 @delias-stuff @endism @ragdol-666 @snowy-violet @sleepydhanie @missikkj @k1ttys-w0rld @box-of-kinderjoy @thetreefairypersonalblog @thelibraryofdeez @animegoddess15

(If you want to be on the taglist, let me know!)

#yandere #yandere batfam #yandere batfamily #batfam #batfamily #yandere x reader #yandere platonic #neglected reader #platonic #yandere dc

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peanutalergy · 4 months ago

Text

stray cat ꨄ s.r. × reader

in which spencer reid sneaks into fem!reader's room at night

tags: high school au !! no explicit content duh ? tooth rotting fluff in a brain rottingly terrible written way, reader is a cheerleader and like a popular girl ? idk I'm a sucker for the popular × nerd trope; not canon accurate obviously because if it were spencer would be twelve and bullied by everyone; mentions of blood and cuts and weapons and getting hurt but not in the way you might think ..?; reader's dad is mentioned ? yeah anyway idk what else sorry

w/c: 2k (this was meant to be a blurb ?)

a/n: okay so I found this draft from last year (back when I was still in hs (r.i.p.)) and I decided to finish it because it seemed cute. turned out terrible I hate it whatever, it's very ooc idk sorry ALSO inspired by a situation I lowkey went through myself hence why there's things spencer would never say/do, sorry

you’re sitting in bed with your computer atop your thighs, stressing over the third essay you have to finish by the weekend, when you hear a noise coming from outside. you ignore it, at first, thinking it's just a raccoon or a stray cat, until you hear a very human grunt from right beneath the window. immediately, you jump to grab the small—and frankly, quite useless—knife that you always keep in your bedside drawer in case of an intrusion or something of the sort.

you pull out your phone, contemplating dialing 911, until you see spencer's head pop up at the window. putting down the "weapon", you run across the room to open it, laughing confusedly as your boyfriend stumbles in. you help him inside, taking his hand in yours, which he holds onto like he might fall right now from right here.

you open your mouth, but he starts mumbling breathlessly before you even get the chance to say anything.

“i don't know what i was thinking, i’m never doing that again. i don't think just reading the stealthy guide to climbing roofs was enough, i mean, the writer didn't even take into consideration everything that could've went wrong. do you know how many terrible things could have happened? i could have fallen and broken my neck, someone could've seen me and called the police, or– doesn't your dad have a shotgun? do you think he heard me? god, i'm all dirty, i’ve got leaves all over me, i don't–”

you press a quick kiss to his lips, the most effective way you've found to shut him up. when you pull away, he's frozen, trying to catch his breath, cheeks rosy from the physical exercise–something he doesn't usually engage in–and from your touch, as well.

“what are you doing here?”

“sorry…” he mumbles, staring down at his fingers as they fidget with the sleeves of his cardigan, “i wanted to see you. did i wake you up?”

“oh, baby” you giggle, patting away the dirt and leaves from his body gently, “don't apologize, i'm glad you're here. i wasn't asleep, don't worry. you scared me, though. i thought someone was breaking in.”

“oh, i'm sorry, i didn't want to scare you, i’m really sorry. i should've called you.”

“no, don't worry. it's okay. it’s a nice surprise.”

“yeah…?” he asks, glancing up at you hesitantly.

“mhm.” you nod before taking his face in your hands. he tilts his head, leaning into your touch, similar to an animal who wants to be pet, but doesn’t know how to ask for it. you chuckle and give him another kiss, your fingers moving up and tangling in his hair.

“why did you go through the window, though? you could've just knocked on the door, my dad doesn't have a shotgun. he's a sweet little old man, he would've let you in just fine.”

“i don't know, i was scared. i'm sorry.” he says shyly. he's blushing furiously, heart almost jumping out of his ribcage, and it doesn't have anything to do with the adrenaline from the climb anymore.

“no, it's okay. you're fine, it's fine. are you hurt, though?”

“i- uh, i hurt my hands a bit, but it's nothing major, i’ll be fine.”

“aw, you poor thing. lemme see.” he looks down at his palms, and you take them in your hands to see they're all scraped, red and raw, blood mixing with some of the dirt. “jesus, spence. we should get that cleaned up, no?”

“no, no, it's fine. we– it's okay, we don't need to, i'll be fine.” he tries to pull his hands away, but your grip on his wrists doesn't let him, and he lets out a shaky exhale.

“hm, no, c'mon, that's gonna get infected or something. then your hands will get necrosis and fall off. do you want your hands to fall off, baby?”

he shakes his head, and you can tell he's holding back a chuckle, “well, that– that's not really how necrosis works, but–”

“no, it is, shut up.” you cut him off and give him a playful nudge, “please, just a few band-aids?”

he looks at you reluctantly, and after a second, he sighs and finally nods, “sure. but just because you're worried. i wouldn't get necrosis either way.”

you giggle and press your lips to his again. as you pull away and walk to the closet, you point to your bed and mumble, “go sit down,” which he does immediately, settling awkwardly at the edge of it.

while you search for the first aid kit, you notice spencer looking around your room with a smile. he's been here a few times before, but never at night, and he finds awe in the way the moonlight reflects off a mirrorball that sits on your desk, and the way your posters look when the only other source of lighting comes from a few vanilla scented candles.

it’s actually quite ironic how much you two fit together. no one would have to look at you twice before guessing your interests, and they'd be right if they were to say things like pop music and cheesy 2010s romcoms; but there's a side of you, a side only spencer reid has ever met, that matches him perfectly.

after a while, you walk back to the bed, little box in hands, and you sit down on the ground in front of him, looking up at him with a smile.

“please, don't sit on the floor.” he murmurs as you settle between his legs.

“why not? it's clean.” you mumble as you start rummaging through the first aid kit.

“no, but, you're– this is– just… it'll hurt your back.”

“it won't, though, don't worry.” you give him a smile, and before he can protest again, you put out your hands, “gimme.”

he gives you his wrists once more, where you hold as you begin gently wiping his palms with antiseptic. he winces at first, and tries to hold back a noise so as to not worry you even more.

“what were you thinking about?” you ask. he answers with a hm?, that makes you say it again, “when i got back. you looked like you were thinking about something.”

“oh, just… your room.”

“what about it?”

“it's so… you. i mean, the space in which one lives does tend to be a reflection of themselves, but… it's like you took everything that makes you yourself, and you spread it all around the place. it's adorable... like you.” he mumbles awkwardly.

you chuckle, looking around the room, glancing at him, then turning your attention back to his hands. this time, when the wipe touches his raw skin again, he hisses. “ooh, sorry, that hurt? i’m sorry, baby. i’m trying to be gentle, i swear.”

he shakes his head. “no, you're being gentle–” very gentle, more than anyone had ever been to him before, “–it's just the alcohol. it- uh… alcohol molecules activate the same nerve receptors in your skin that let you know hot is hot, so it burns. it's chemical. you're being very gentle, don't worry, it's not you.”

you hum, smiling and nodding, before you both go quiet. he's staring down at you as you work, brows furrowed as you concentrate on his hands. “y'know, i could've done this myself,” he mumbles.

“mm, yeah, well, we could do it all by ourselves. we'd be miserable, though, no?”

he's quiet for a second, thinking about a way to deny that, but when he can't find one, he just mutters a soft yeah and goes silent again.

scared of the situation getting too awkward, he starts rambling on about his day, telling you all things he believes you’d find interesting as you listen and nod and hum along and laugh. it's like he doesn't notice the words coming out of his mouth when they do, “i missed you at school today.”

“oh, i’m sorry, honey. i, uh– i wanted to talk to you at lunch, but, i– i wasn't sure you'd want to see me. i don't know, i didn't know if you'd want to be around the girls, and they wouldn't leave me alone, so... i didn't want to make you uncomfortable.” you say, looking at him between placing band-aids.

“of course i would've wanted to see you. yeah, your friends are… a lot. i think they don't really like me. but i don't mind being around them, if it means being around you.”

“no, they like you. don't worry about that, they like you."

“they sure have a strange way of showing it”

“yeah, well, they're– they look a bit, like, uhm… mean girls, but they're not. they're nice. they're just a bit... vain and shallow.”

“vain and shallow usually means mean girls.” he whispers with a chuckle.

“nah, not really. just means boring. to be fair, you're much cooler than them.” you answer with another laugh, to which he shakes his head in disbelief, right as you finish bandaging his hands.

you place two gentle kisses to his palms, which you can notice makes his breath hitch a little, and you put the kit to the side. you shuffle closer to him and tilt your head, resting it on his knee and smiling up at him, “i missed you, too.”

he nods and tucks a strand of your hair behind an ear, his touch lingering at your jaw. there's another moment of quiet, in which you just stare at each other, grinning. he looks at you and touches you almost as if you're not real, almost as if he's convinced this isn't actually happening.

he can't help but be fascinated by the intimacy of this moment. a few months ago, he had never even been looked at for more than a few seconds, and now he's doing staring contests with the captain of the cheerleading team, in her room, at night.

sure, the people at school still see him as a loser, but that doesn't matter to him. all he cares about is you. you're here, holding and taking care of him, looking at him like he's worth something. that's all that matters right now.

“hi.” you break the silence, though barely, your voice a quiet whisper.

“hi.” he whispers back with a smile, “please, will you get up from the floor…?”

you chuckle and stand up again, him being sat allowing you to press a kiss on his forehead while your fingers run through his hair. when you do so, he wraps his arms around your legs and burrows his face into your stomach, letting out a noise, almost a purr as he nuzzles against you like a kitten.

after a while, he pulls his head away to look around the room again, and his gaze falls on the laptop that had been sitting in your bed this whole time, the essay abandoned. "when is that due?"

"history class on friday."

"i could help you with it, if you want."

"no, no, no, you don't have to. don't worry. i'll get it done... sometime." you say with a chuckle.

he nods–he woke up the next morning and finished it for you while you got ready–and hides his face back in your shirt.

“are you sleeping over?” you ask, and it makes him lift up his head to look at you once more.

“can i?” he mutters reluctantly, “i don't want your parents to wake up, and see– y'know… a boy in your bed. and we've got school tomorrow, so…”

“do you want to sleep over?”

“mhm” he hums with a nod, his fingers absentmindedly playing with the hem of your shirt.

“my parents won't mind, then.”

“are you sure? i mean, teenagers are–” he starts rambling again, and you shut him up with another kiss.

“my parents won't mind.” you repeat after pulling away, leaving another peck on his nose, “and we can just skip school tomorrow. it’s gonna be boring, anyway. we don't even have any classes together. we can spend the whole day here, yeah?”

“okay, yeah.” he mumbles under his breath, trying not to look too nervous.

you smile and lie down on the bed. he immediately follows suit and curls up next to you, face buried in your chest, arms around your waist, leaning into your touch and clinging to you like you'll be gone if he lets go. “i love you,” he whispers, his warm breath against your skin sending tingles down your spine.

“i love you” you whisper back, placing yet another kiss on the crown of his head. it's not long after you start running your hands through his hair that he falls asleep.

and in the end, you realize that, in a sense, it actually was a stray cat at your window.

#fanfic #spencer reid #spencer reid fic #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #fluff #high school au #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds fanfic #love u #🐁#my stuff

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calmcoldevening · 9 days ago

Note

Slashers reaction to reader being taken away from them by someone

Slashers x reader, who was taken away from them

Michael Myers

• His usually calm silence becomes ominous, and the tension in the air can literally be cut with a knife.

• He searches for you silently throughout the city, and no house goes unnoticed. His movements are precise and swift, his gaze is cold, and the demons in his head are finally silent. Their sole purpose is to find you.

• Michael finds you in an abandoned house. Apparently, some genius decided to use you to capture him.

• Michael kills him quickly, coldly, and without ceremony. It's a good thing this house is on the outskirts, otherwise the whole town would have heard his hellish screams.

• Michael finds you in one of the rooms, unties you, picks you up, and hugs you tightly. He won't let you down. He holds you close and carries you home.

Jason Voorhees

• Jason goes into a rage and destroys everything around him. He hopes that Mommy will help him find you.

• Eventually, he finds you in one of the offices where you were being held by a guy, and oh, Jason sees red.

• He has never been this cruel in his life. He beats the guy more than half to death, making sure that he is completely unable to walk or even move.

• Then, Jason picks you up and carries you back to your cabin. He will comfort you with purring sounds and try to give you the comfort you desire. He will wrap you in a blanket, sit you in front of the fireplace, and just rock you for a long time until you fall asleep.

• Then he will return to the guy, the still-living guy.

• Despite his dislike of water, Jason will take a very long time to drown him. He wants the victim to suffer as much as possible before he leaves. Let it be a lesson.

Thomas Hewitt

• The victim guy took you away in his car. You resisted, and Thomas saw it, but the guy was pretty strong, and his blood was full of adrenaline. Thomas grabbed a chainsaw and ran after you.

• The guy's mistake was driving to an old slaughterhouse. He thought there were a couple of other cars there, and he could switch them to make sure he got away.

• The guy pushed you out of the car, and you screamed, but he cursed at you and told you to shut up. He couldn't understand why you wanted to return to those monsters when he had given you a chance for freedom and a normal life. But for you, it had long been a normal life.

• It was when the guy led you through one of the workshops that Thomas came around the corner, piercing his body with a chainsaw. He didn't even have time to scream. Thomas quickly turned this man into a bloody mess.

• It was hard to call him a human, and he wasn't even fit for meat. But Thomas didn't care. His cute flower was about to be stolen. Thomas cut the victim's head especially hard, changing the face beyond recognition.

• You came closer to him and hugged his shoulders, nuzzling your face into his shoulder. "Baby, let's go home?"

• He calms down a bit, turns off the chainsaw, and hugs you tightly. Thomas inhales your scent, the scent of home. His personal home.

Brothers Sinclair

• Some quick-witted kid manages to steal you while the Sinclairs are distracted by another victim. He covers your mouth with a cloth and ties your hands, so you barely have a chance to escape.

• The brothers become enraged and quarrel at Bo's suggestion. They blame each other for their carelessness and inattention.

• Eventually, they decide to search for you. In one of the houses, apparently trying to confuse them, a guy was collecting knives, sticks, and anything else that might help him fight off the Sinclairs.

• But he didn't count on Lester's dog.

• The animal bites into his leg, causing the guy to scream, and Lester immediately hits him on the head with a bat, while Bo shoots him in the head.

• Meanwhile, Vincent gently releases you and checks to see if you're okay. His touch is gentle, as if he's touching fragile glass. They're just all so worried.

• When you get home, you all fall asleep in the same bed. They refuse to leave your side in case you get kidnapped again.

• In fact, they're all just scared that you voluntarily took the opportunity and ran away with the victim.

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fandomlit · 18 days ago

Text

the gentle-wrangler (spencer agnew x reader)

summary a new character enters the gentlemen universe - the "gentle-wrangler", an extremely sexy agent played by you whose goal is to prevent the gentlemen from getting too out of hand. it's an instant hit with the audience, and one of the gentleman players himself finds that this intense character doesn't help the feelings he already has for you.. and the audience sees it.

warning swearing, mentions of fake guns and weapons

a/n just a goofy lil drabble for this idea in my brain

it was unreasonably sexy, the way you looked down at spencer, the barrel of a water gun staring him in the face. your face was stone cold serious, and the dark, almost sultry, look in your eyes had his mind thinking thoughts he never had before in the smosh office. you were intimidating and sexy and way too damn good at acting.

after a beat that was maybe too long, he remembered he was on camera. he adjusted his classic gentleman’s hat and adjusted his posture from the haphazard way he had been laying on the floor to make it look as if your character had thrown him hard against it. “well, i’ll say-!”

“cut the shit,” you spoke plainly and he felt like he was choking himself to prevent from reacting physically. holy shit, you were so hot. “you know the deal. get it together, or the jaguar gets it.”

he blinked rapidly, trying to lock his gaze on the gun instead of your face. “my niece-in-law?!” he was suddenly more aware of the hysterics happening at the game table and behind the cameras—the “gentle-wrangler” bit was a getting a true kick out of everyone. but all he could think of how he would have to thank shayne later for both the idea of it and the detail of having you fully dressed in black leather.

“no more derailing the game,” you spoke slowly and seriously. then you lowered the gun, gave spencer one last glower and walked off of the game stage. spencer, still in character, shook his head as if to clear it from the fall and stood, returning to his hysterical cast mates.

“well, i’ll say,” he huffed, a little breathless for reasons that had nothing to do with being thrown from his seat. he ignored his hammering heart, praying his cheeks weren’t as red as they felt in the main lighting. “i haven’t been tossed like that since my second mistress found out about my mister. quite the ugly scene.” as the cast laughed again, a stream of water from off camera blasted at spencer, making him yell. “i haven’t been squirted on like that since-!” another, more intense stream hit him in the face and he just raised his hand, shutting his mouth as angela fell to the floor.

…

the “gentle-wrangler” was a hit. or more specifically, the clip of spencer staring up at you in awe as you stared down a gun at him was a hit. there were thirst traps and edits of it mere days later, the fan base loving the chance to see you in a role that presented more “serious”. the gentle wrangler was stealing hearts from more than just spencer.

user0690: 6:02 anyone else feeling some type of way after seeing y/n stare down a “gun” at someone??? i’m not sure i’ll ever be the same

smosluvr22: give y/n a real gun petition

t0berfan: 5:33 okay, we all knew y/n was hot, but THAT???? whoever wrote that needs a RAISE. and to write MORE OF IT

and of course, there were just as many people pointing out spencer’s reaction to your character.

bitcitybaby: 5:34 me too spencer . me too

-> lonnyluva: it’s the way the editors kept in the full three seconds of silence as he just stared at y/n for me 😭

fanboy2074: 17:38 okay but spencer’s look when y/n came onstage to warn shayne.. that man was SMITTEN holy-

"so, the gentle-wrangler has to come back," shayne said as he approached spencer's desk the day after the video went up. spencer nodded, looking up from his computer.

"yeah. y/n killed it, it's already a fan favorite." shayne gave him a look. "what?"

"i think the both of you are the fan favorite," shayne said, raising his eyebrows. "you can't pretend like you haven't seen the comments, man."

shayne held back his smirk as he watched spencer gulp, the slightest red rising to his cheeks. "i.. may have seen some."

shayne gave his friend a look. "and?"

spencer sighed, avoiding shayne's eyes by turning back to his computer. "the audience really liked y/n's character. they played it really well."

shayne rolled his eyes. "okay. workplace professionalism. i see it." spencer rolled his eyes right back. "but be honest.." spencer froze, looking up to see shayne leaning closer to him. shayne asked quietly, "how many times have you watched the clip?"

this time, spencer had no visible reaction to his words. but when his gaze flicked back to his screen, shayne could tell he wasn't actually focused on it. ".. way too many."

#smosh x reader #smosh cast x reader #smosh fanfic #smosh cast fanfic #smosh drabble #smosh cast drabble #spencer agnew x reader #spencer agnew fanfic #spencer agnew drabble #spencer agnew x cast!reader

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spidercatweb · 3 months ago

Text

Perfect Match ★ Spencer Reid x reader

Warnings: fem!bau!reader, a little bit of jealous!Spencer 😊, plenty of nervous!Spencer, fluff, a tiny bit of angst i guess, happy ending, r uses dating apps, Garcia and r are besties!!, umm nothing else!

Description: Garcia's wonderful idea of getting r to use dating apps to find her perfect match is not working very well. Spencer gets a little distant when r mentions her plans for a date. r confronts him about this, which leads to confessions, a cancelled date, and a date to take it's place. <3

Word Count: 1,843

Request: "for spencer x reader? early spencer is too shy to ask reader out but reader starts talking about dating and dating apps and Spencer gets really jealous and ends up telling reader he likes them but hes a stuttering mess the whole time?"

A/n: oh em gee 😈😈😈 i enjoyed writing this... i have no experience w dating apps so uhh idk 🤷‍♀️ but i hope this is what you asked for! <3

You weren’t desperate for a boyfriend, you were just getting tired of waiting for the right guy to miraculously appear. So, per Garcia’s suggestions, dating apps seemed to be the best choice. She had also suggested speed-dating at one point, but that was definitely not your thing. So, dating apps it was.

For the past few weeks, you’d spent around twenty minutes a day on these apps. So far, you haven’t had any luck.

Boring. Gross. Likely to become an unsub.

These were the types of men you’d been seeing on the several dating apps you had downloaded.

Maybe the problem was that you were looking for perfect.

On a slow day at the BAU, you sat in Garcia’s office. Her chair was pulled up close to yours as she peered over at your phone screen. It was fun to look at different men’s profiles with a friend.

“Come on, he’s cute!” Garcia swoons.

“No!” He looks like that enucleator we caught last week.” You laugh, swiping left.

Garcia sighs dramatically, “You’re no fun. If you keep up with that attitude you’ll never find a date!” She nudges you with her shoulder while catching a glimpse of the new profile that appeared on your screen.

“I just have standards! Unlike some people.” You tease.

Your attention flashes back to your phone screen. You swipe through the man’s several photos. Attractive. And none of him holding up a fish he caught, that’s a good start. “Hmm.” You go to read his profile information.

“Enjoys reading, quiet nights in, and… horror movies. Okay…” You nod slowly, “Average height, same age as me. Aww, he has a cat.”

“Perfect! I don’t need to know anything else! Swipe right, give him a chance!” Penelope urges you to swipe right.

“Okay,” you giggle, “But if he’s a creep it’s your fault!”

“Oh if he’s a creep, I’ll find out before you do. I am definitely going to background check every single one of your potential partners. Only the best for my girl.”

Your investigation of another man’s profile is interrupted by a knock at the door of Penelope's office.

“Come in!” She shouts loud enough for whoever’s on the other side of the door to hear.

Spencer enters the room with a slight look of confusion on his face, “Hi. What are you guys doing?” He closes the door behind him.

Garcia cheerily explains the situation, “Well, I’m helping Y/n find her dream man. She’s very picky though, maybe you could help find her perfect match with that genius brain of yours.”

“Oh, um-” he laughs nervously, “how exactly are you finding her perfect match? And, statistically speaking, it’s incredibly rare for someone to find their so-called perfect match. There are too many variables to consider. You’d need a very specific set of traits, and of course, nobody is perfect-”

Garcia cuts him off, something she doesn’t do often, “Ah ah ah! You will not make her feel like this is useless!” She points a finger in his face. “And we’ve got her on a few dating apps, of course. Also, not that I don’t enjoy your company, because I love it very much, but why are you in here?”

“JJ wanted you to see her in her office, something about a new case, I think. She texted you but you weren’t answering.”

“Oh I’m so sorry! I guess I was pretty distracted. I’ll go see her right away!” She hops up from her chair and heads towards the door, “You two lovelies have fun while I’m gone! Don’t touch my tech!”

You both giggle as she leaves the room.

An awkward silence washes over the two of you as you’re left alone. You swivel slightly in your chair, phone in hand, your bright screen shows a photo of a man you and Penelope were looking at before Spencer came in. You catch Spencer staring at it from across the room, so you shut your phone off and laugh nervously.

“I, um- Garcia wanted me to try some dating apps, she thinks I’m lonely.” You laugh slightly, “I really don’t know how people are okay with just dating absolute strangers who they know nothing about. That’s really scary to me, I’d much rather date someone I’m already friends with.” You hope Spencer doesn’t think too hard about that last part. Because it would certainly be embarrassing if he figured out you meant him. You’d much rather date him.

“Romantic relationships started online do tend to have a higher failure rate than relationships started in person. And romantic relationships started with someone you’re already close with have the highest rate of success. I really don’t see how people could form a meaningful connection with someone they’ve never met or even spoken to before. I think I would find it hard, not even hearing someone’s voice.” Spencer fidgets with the sleeve of his sweater.

You nod your head, agreeing with him. “I don’t know why I’m using dating apps. It’s not like I have time to date anyway. I spend all my time here.” You huff out a sad laugh.

“No- you- you deserve to have someone, you shouldn’t say that.” Spencer strides closer to you, leaning against Penelope’s desk. “I’m sure you’ll find someone eventually. I mean, you’re incredibly intelligent, you’re funny, kind, attractive-” He pauses, stopping himself, “It’s really only a matter of time.” A slight blush tints his cheeks, he gives you a kind smile.

You look up at him, mirroring his smile. “I guess so.”

“I’m guessing you haven’t had much luck then? With dating apps, I mean.”

“No, not really. But there is this one guy I’ve been talking to.”

“Oh.” he nods, you notice something in his eyes. Disappointment? He was never very good at hiding his feelings. “What's he like?”

“Well, his name is Nick. We’ve been talking for about… a week? I think? We might go on an actual date soon, I think I’m going to ask him.” You grin, thinking about the kind exchanges you’d been having with the man.

“That- That’s really nice. I hope it goes well.” No extra statistics, straight to the point. Odd.

***

A conversation later that day led to you actually asking Nick on a real, in-person date. You only have so much free time, why not spend it enjoying yourself? So, that was it. You officially had a date scheduled for Saturday night. Only three days away.

***

Nothing of note happened for the next three days,though you did see Spencer acting differently. Less rambles, less conversations in the break room, more silent glances he thought you didn’t notice.

At the end of the day on Friday, you catch him before he gets to the elevator. “Spence!”

He turns around to face you, clearly a little startled, “Yeah?” He clutches the strap of his satchel that goes across his chest.

“Are you- Did I do something? Why haven’t you been talking to me?” You attempt to keep a neutral tone, but sadness seeps through.

“I have been talking to you, what do you mean? We talked about the case today-”

“No. You know what I mean, Spencer. You haven’t- went on a fifteen minute ramble about like- sea urchins and their contributions to the ecosystem- or whatever. You’ve been avoiding me.” You can barely look him in the eyes. He’s been one of your closest friends for years and now he’s acting differently. It hurts.

He rushes to explain himself, “Y/n, no. I- You were um-” He pauses. Lying will only make it worse. “You told me about how you were going on dating apps, and how- how you’re going on a date this weekend and-” He takes a breath, “It just really- I was jealous.” He sighs, his face reddens immediately.

“What?” Did I just hear that correctly? Jealous?

“I was jealous I-” He runs his hands over his face, “I am jealous. I’m sorry.”

“So you… are jealous… that I’m going on a date?” You’re still confused.

He nods slowly, avoiding eye contact with you. His face gets more red by the second.

“Because… you want to go on a date with me?” You feel your cheeks warming up, your tone is soft, you ask the question carefully.

“I-” He clears his throat, “Yes. I really- Yeah.” He sighs like he was holding his breath. “I’m sorry, that’s so unprofessional, and I know I shouldn’t treat you differently because of how I feel. I should’ve been thinking about how it would affect the team-”

It takes you two tries to interrupt his nervous ramble, “Spencer.”

His mouth hangs slightly open, you stopped his train of thought completely.

“If you really feel that way, then I’d love to go on a date with you.” You give him a reassuring smile.

He stays silent for a few moments, processing. “Really?”

“Yes, really.” You nod.

His smile grows, “Yeah?” he huffs out a surprised laugh. “But what about your other date?”

You giggle, “He- I think he’ll understand. I’m also pretty sure Garcia found some weird stuff about him while she was snooping around so…”

“Ah. Okay.” He nods, “So when… When were you thinking? I mean you don’t have to decide right now of course.”

You can’t hold back a giddy smile. “How about tomorrow? Lunch at the cafe by the used book store?”

“That sounds really nice.” He nods again, eagerly.

“Okay, great. Um- does sometime around twelve work? I can text you when I’m on my way?” You fidget nervously with your necklace.

“Yeah, of course.”

You both stand silently for a few moments, both in disbelief that this is actually happening.

“Um- I should-” Spencer points behind him to the elevator doors.

“Oh, yeah, sorry.” Your face warms even more, you’d forgotten he was about to leave, “See you tomorrow.”

He echoes back, “See you tomorrow.” He grins as he walks into the elevator. As the doors shut in front of him, you both wave happily at each other.

***

Penelope comes running out from the glass doors of the BAU, “What was that!?” She rapidly waves a pointed finger between you and the elevator.

“Nothing! It was nothing! I was just saying goodnight!” You laugh nervously.

“Liar!! I know that face!” She gasps, “You asked him out!? Oh my gosh! Finally!!” She takes your wordless grin as a yes, and catches you in a tight hug. “You two are going to be so cute, I just know it!” she lets you out of her grasp, “And I won’t tell anyone, pinkie promise.”

***

The Tuesday after your’s and Spencer’s date –which went extremely well, ending with a promised second date after your next case– you notice the rest of the team snickering about the two of you not-so-subtly. The next time you see Penelope, you give her a knowing glare, but you don’t scold her. Really, it’s better the team finds out now rather than later, in some horribly embarrassing way. Unfortunately, this means you’ll have to be signing some paperwork soon.

Thank you for reading! <3

Feedback is very much appreciated!

My requests are open!

🪻

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x bau!reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid fanfic #dr spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #🪻📖#🪻🐝

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multi-fandom-imagine · 11 months ago

Note

Hi! First let me just say I love all of your writing, it’s so amazing and you capture the characters perfectly! I was wondering if I could rq a little headcanon/story/whatever about pre portal (and pre Bill) Ford and Reader who are exploring the mysteries of Gravity falls together. They come back after a rough encounter with a monster, cue patching up each others wounds that leads into love confession and first kiss! 🤭 Totally up to you whether to end it there or go further. Thank you!

A/n: 👏👏Ford is such a cutie and this would have been a whole lot better if tumblr didn't delete half of it.

It wasn't supposed to get this out of hand, some town's folk mentioned of seeing something in the woods. Curious you and Ford decided to look for said creature. You never in your life would have thought was a bunch of gnomes trying to find someone to marry, though it became worse when the leader picked you to be his bride.

Something that Ford wasn't to keen about, then one messy battle later you and the man limped back towards his little house.

Wincing, Ford gritted his teeth as you applied alcohol to his cheek to clean the cuts as he held one hand holding his side. "I am sorry for dragging you in on this...I should have realized it was a bunch of nomes harassing people."

Biting back a snort, you shook your head as you gave him a teasing grin. "It's fine Ford...I mean at least someone find's me desirable."

Parting his lips, Ford grasped your hand as he gave it a squeeze. A hiss escaping his lips, his extra finger giving you some comfort in this situation. "Don't say that!"

He did his best to not sutter out a protest, cheeks now a deep red. "Y-You're wonderful, smart." He paused giving you a shy smile. "And I like you." His voice weak as his free hand fixed his glasses.

Eye's going wide after Ford's confession, your body relaxed as you gave his hand a squeeze resting your head against his. You felt warmth creep up your neck as you tried to ignore your heart pounding in your chest. "I...I like you too Ford."

"You do?! I."

You never got the chance to answer Ford as his lips pressed against yours. It was far from perfect, nothing like in the book's you read about but you still enjoyed it because it was with Ford.

It was with the one you cared most about.

Breaking the kiss, Ford took a deep breath in as he rested his head against your own. "I would like to do more...once I recover because I think one of those Gnomes broke my ribs." He hissed in pain as you helped him stand.

Letting out a soft laugh, you placed a kiss to his sleep as you helped him to the couch. "I would like that, get some rest okay." Leaning in you placed a kiss to his then another one against his lips. "And thank you for saving me Ford."

"Anything for you."

#blurbs #blurb #ford #ford pines #ford pines x reader #ford pines x you #ford x reader #ford x you #stanford #stanford pines #stanford pines x reader #stanford pines x you #stanford x reader #gravity falls stanford #gravity falls #gravity falls x reader #gravity falls x you

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sirxlla · 6 months ago

Text

Better Late Than Never

----------------------------------------------------

Warnings: Fluff 🥰

Prompt: He's always late but you're understanding. (request: @nesting-dreams )

Notes: female reader, italics are actions and thoughts.

-With that said it's all under the cut-

If there was one thing that stressed Dick out, it was trying to balance his work, life, and sleep schedule in the limited time that was twenty-four hours. There wasn't even remotely any pressure from you, even if he felt there was; he's a goddamn superhero; The guy is busy, of course, he is. No matter how many times you tell Dick that it's okay, he just won't remove that weight from his shoulders.

Date night...Oh, you were so excited. You got cleaned up real spiffy, the dress, the heals, the makeup, and the lingerie you sneakily had under your dress on the off chance he actually had the time or made it cause, let's face it, Dick always makes time for that, your sex life is awesome even if it was quick some times. The things he often struggled with were the things that took longer, the talking and dates, and such.

Thirty minutes had passed by and the waiter asked if there was gonna be someone else to which you politely reminded him yes there is. The waiter was being rather annoying as he kept trying to make sly comments about not keeping you waiting and how he'd never do that. You rolled your eyes in your mind but smiled.

"Well, I appreciate it but I have a boyfriend." You said as politely as one could considering how rude and frustrating this man was being.

"What boyfriend? I don't see him and you could do so much better..." The waiter boasted he was unattractive in looks but even more so in his continuing attitude, so when even though Dick showed up out of breath and covered in sweat, it was a relief.

"Just on time." You smile as you looked at Dick even though he and you both knew he was damn sure not on time.

"Just on time, it's been forty mi-" He stops as you give him a look to help him become aware of the situation, to which he clears his throat.

"Yeah, you're right, Baby," Dick says with a smile as he slightly dead-eyes the waiter so he gets the message. Thankfully the waiter gets it even as he looks at Dick judgementally cause of his clothes.

"Hey, I'm so sorry; I- the bat bike broke down, and I ran the rest of the way here. I- I promise, I didn't forge-" Stopped by your hand, reaching across the table to gently fix his hair.

"You don't have to explain anything to me, Honey. You know that."

"But I- I should have been on time."

"Yeah, Shame on you. I nearly melted into a puddle like the Wicked Witch." You teased trying to distract him from his worries.

"I mean, that would be awful; that would not be how I picture that dress on the floor tonight." He quipped as he almost forgot his worry.

"Exactly, so it's good when you arrived at all." You smiled and grabbed his hand across the table to calm him.

"I just hate that I do this over and over." He looks into your eyes as he talks, worry in every single bit of his being, in his tone and shoulders, in his eyes and his fast heartbeat.

"Dick, No one is putting pressure on you in this relationship, just you. Okay? I get busy too, I get it. Okay?" You nod as you ask hoping he'll understand a bit or it'll at least curb his fears for the night. He nods and another sever approches, a woman.

"Sorry, your other server stepped out." She smiles as she speaks.

"Oh, thank god." You and Dick say that same time on accident before you both try to apologize.

"No, it's nothing Garrett's a complete asshole." She whispers before getting your drinks and leaves to give you a few minutes for the menu. A bit passes, and she comes back and hands over those drinks and gets your orders. She grabs the menus and she's on her way.

"You sure you're not ma-"

"Richard, if I hear about it one more time."

"I just-"

"No. Take a deep breath and look into my eyes. Does this look like someone who's upset?" You asked and forced him to look up at you with a bit by gently guiding his chin. His anxiety melted with that one look into the depths of your eyes, the layers of love, compassion, and care in them calming his worry.

"N- No."

"You're right. I'm not, so don't think I am okay. Don't ever think I am? I could never be upset with you for saving lives and kicking ass. I know what I got into when I got with you, and what I got is a badass boyfriend who I couldn't imagine was real like you've been plucked from my sweetest dreams."

"Cheesey...That was cheesy." He quips as he tries to tear up. "Like ten pounds of different flavors." He looks up trying to dry the tears by making it seem like he's looking at the light. He takes a breath and realizes his anxiety is just getting bad.

"If I ever lost you, I'd go mad." He states and kisses your knuckles, rubbing his pillowy lips across them to calm himself.

Your food arrives, and shortly after eating and on the way home, he also begins to realize he was just hungry as well, and that was contributing to it. He offered to drive your vehicle home since you had a bit of wine which, of course, you said yes. He kept his hand in yours reminding himself to add this to the list of moments in his brain to remind himself of when he gets anxious or worried.

You looked gorgeous, and he kept glancing at you, realizing you fell asleep at some point, and his heart swelled. He parks the car shortly after when he arrives at the manor. Dick can't bring himself to wake you, so he carries you inside. He gets you to the room; he knows he should wake you so you don't sleep in your makeup, but he just can't make himself.

Dick lays you down and undoes the buckle straps on your heels, gently setting them down. He unzips the dress and peels it off you only to be met with the lingerie, which causes him to let out a verbal but quiet "Damn it."

He smiles and undresses before heading to shower to rinse off the sweat residue. Dick wanted nothing more than to go to bed, but he wasn't tired, and this insomnia was kicking his ass, so he got on his laptop and scrolled around for a while looking at things from suit upgrades to engagement rings, before feeling tired enough to cuddle up against his sweet girl.

Masterlist

Send me prompts if youd like. 💙

#batboys #batboys x reader #dick grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #richard grayson #richard grayson x reader #batfamily #batfam

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jintaka-hane · 7 days ago

Text

Someone asked me if Id write 🌶️ for Beckman and this is pretty much the [sfw] scenario I have in mind :D

Blessed summer for giving me time…

Summary: Half vet, half communications expert, you’re the go-to person whenever the Red Hair Pirates’ Den Den Mushi gets sick, a chance their first mate never misses to hit on you. 500w

Bent over the exam table, you frown as you study the red-haired snail’s teary eyes through a magnifying glass. Even though it looks rough, this time it’s just a plain old cold.

Its owner leans in, mimicking your posture, black cape slipping off one shoulder as he watches with a worried face how the transponder spits out the pills you just gave it. You sigh, crouching a bit to grab another box of meds, and that’s when you feel it. Those hungry eyes, mentally devouring you in big greedy bites, from that big man propped up in your doorway.

“Shanks, tell that bull you call a first mate to stop staring at me,” you say while checking the snail’s temperature.

“Why?" he laughs "He’s got a thing for you. Let him enjoy the view a little.”

You drop the thermometer and straighten up, looking dead serious. “Shanks…”

“What?” He straightens too, and when he sees your glare, sighs. “Okay... Becks! Stop staring at the lady’s ass!”

Beckman doesn’t even bother denying it. He just chuckles around his cigarette and shifts his stance a bit.

It’s always the same.

Every time Shanks’s den den mushi gets sick, they come to your half vet, half comms engineer skills to fix it up. And every single time, that first mate acts exactly the same way: shamelessly staring at your curves, arms crossed, and wearing that stupid grin sailors get when they see a woman after too long at sea.

“Why don’t you give him a chance?” Shanks asks, all casual-like. “I think he’s already asked you out a couple times, hasn’t he?”

Now it’s your turn to chuckle as you pull out a handkerchief to wipe the snail’s runny nose. “Four.”

"Poor Becks, head over heels for the only one who keeps turning him down.”

“Shanks,” you plant both hands on the table and glare at him. “I’m trying to do my job. I’m a professional. If you really come here for my skills and not just because your first mate wants to get laid-”

“Hold this.” You hand him the snotty tissue without so much as a smile. He takes it without question.

“Seriously though, if you gave him a chance you’d be surprised how much you two have in common. You’re both-”

“Hey, we come here for your skills, make no mistake about that,” the redhead shoots back, holding your gaze. You nod, and as you focus again on giving the stubborn snail some new pills, the meddling captain keeps going. “I just want you to know Becks only wants to dock at this island. He’s always worried about the snail’s health. It’s been a long time since we’ve seen him unwind with a woman and-”

“And that’s supposed to reassure me?” you cut in, just as you hear the click of a lighter flicking on and off at the door.

You don’t let Shanks answer. You grab the snail’s prescription and slap it right against his chest.

“This is everything you need to buy. Leave the snail with me for 24 hours so the cold passes, and pick him up tomorrow.” Shanks grins and you raise a warning finger. “And Shanks, I know you. You come pick him up yourself. Don’t you dare send your first mate as an errand boy.”

“Of course, sweetheart,” he grins even wider, “of course.”

#one piece #x reader #jintaka stuff #benn beckman fiction #benn beckman x female reader #benn beckman wives army #benn beckman x reader #benn beckman #red haired pirates #benn beckman x you #beckman x reader

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creepsterasdreams · 6 months ago

Note

Hey, I've been thinking of mc having 5 pet snakes. I want to know how ts LI's reaction to it. (not the small kind of snake)

I can say as someone who absolutely loves snakes this would be so funny to watch them react to this

TOUCHSTARVED LI’s HC's: MC having five pet snakes (5 burmese pythons)

Summary: After paying a visit to your new home, that you were finally able to get after living in the Wet Wick for some time, the LI’s are extremely caught off guard when they find five massive pythons resting there.

CW: snakes, mentions of violence and death, Leander being himself, Ocudeus mention, could be read as platonic or romantic

LEANDER

This fucking guy

Upon walking in he just stands there as if you suddenly grew another head

"Hey um...where did you get these?"

You tell them you found them in the market somewhere and the merchant was just giving them away because they couldn't afford to care for them. That's why you were so hooked on moving out of the wet wick so quickly

Hey at least he can stop telling himself it's because you wanted to get away from him-

He just nods and brings his attention back to the snakes

I have a feeling he's one of those guys that pretends he's not afraid of them but is lowkey terrified

You have to convince him that their completely chill and okay as long as you don't give them a chance to suffocate you

As in don't let them wrap around his neck

And for the love of the allmother do not let him convince himself he can tame them or get them to be his bestie, it will not go well

So for a while I just recommend watching whatever interaction he has with them

If you don't have names for them, he will give them names

But it'll be the most random yet cute ones ever

"Good morning, Pesto! ^_^"

"You ready for your lunch Missy?"

"Please get off of my coat Polly I need that-"

And so on

He can take care of them whenever he has the time, and you need to go somewhere

Just don't be surprised when you come back and they all have verryyyy expensive things that you aren't even sure where they came from

Somehow gets his hands on five personalized styled enclosures for all of them?? Where did he even get the money?

"Only the best for my little buddies!! ^_^" he says

You swear he's trying to make them like him more than you

Even though they are snakes and probably don't care that much

"Hey there, I wasn't expecting you to get home so early." You hear Leander say as you walk in through the door.

You hum and put your cloak on a nearby hook, still not turning around to look at the man. "Yeah that gig took less time than I thought, I'm just happy I was able to get the money and go." As you continued on, you eventually look towards Leander, but your words are cut off as you catch sight of what looks to be...him putting tiny hats on your snakes?

"Leander, what are you doing?"

After setting the thing down, he comes towards you, grabbing your hand so he can lead you towards them. "I just..wanted to see which one suited who the best."

Nodding as he says that your gaze drifts back toward the scaly creature, analyzing its new appearance. But once you notice the hat, you can't help but laugh. "Is that a tiny wizard hat?"

"Don't look at me like, it complements the silver in his skin."

AIS

Just walks in and kinda acts as if it's normal?

"Huh, didn't know you were one for pets sparrow."

Goes up to one of the snakes and just...pats it on the head?

Kinda wholesome honestly

"Your owner been treating you right? Blink if you need help."

Okay back to wishing on his downfall

The kind of guy that walks in and greets them as if they're your roommates or something

Has entire conversations with them while you aren't looking, and it's kind of cute to watch

"Yeah, and then the guy just walked away. I know if you're gonna pick a fight with me at least make it interesting."

He knows that they are not the poisonous kinds of snakes, but 100% lies and tells other people they are just to mess with them

He's an asshole we all know this

Ocudeus has a love-hate relationship with them

On one hand, he's impressed you're so comfortable living with five pythons

On the other hand, he doesn't like that they take up most of your time

He's possessive, okay?

Ais one day brings Princess over don't ask how he manage to get her through the city to play with your danger noodles

It goes well, for the most part

Princess and you are a little confused on how it's supposed to work but eventually she gets the hang of it :3

Kinda just....runs around them while they whip around trying to keep their eyes on her

For you and Ais it's like watching your kids have a play date

If he's ever doing anything important, he has at least one of them nearby so they can look over his shoulder so they can watch

You ask him why because there's a good chance of them, not caring

But he just smiles and says "Wouldn't want 'em to not feel included."

Fair point

The best soulless AND snake dad

After waking up from a much-needed nap, you walk towards the room where you kept the enclosers for your snakes, you know that Ais will be visiting, so you won't have to worry too much about them being neglected, as at some points it felt like they were more of his pets than yours.

But you didn't expect to see Ais sitting on the floor, all five of your precious pets surrounding them as they held their heads up in curiosity. Him using one of his fingers to slowly caress the tops of them.

"Having fun there?" You said while leaning against the doorframe.

He turns around, looking up at you with an almost smug gaze. "Thought they could use the company."

You send an equally playful smile and walk up next to him. "How long have you been here, by the way?"

"Long enough that I snatched some of your leftovers."

"...You ate my food?-"

KURAS

Fascinated

That's the best way to describe his reaction to everything

Although he's mostly curious about how you're managing to take care of five giant pythons, given their diets in all

Definitely asked if can study them a bit, even though he's idk how many centuries old and most likely knows a lot about animals

But they are your pets so I guess it feels different

Offers to watch them whenever you can't, so he can observe them a little more

Whenever you come back home you just see him quietly writing things down while glancing at the snakes every few seconds

Once he finally looks up and spots you, he smiles and asks how the journey was

Although he is a doctor, he will do his best to keep up with the health of the precious ones

For you, of course <3

But that also means if there's ever a problem he's the one you turn too

So imagine having a carry a 100-200 pound reptile all the way to the clinic

Not only that but if you had a coin for every odd stare you got you could probably but another snake

Once you do eventually reach Kuras, he does take your concern seriously but if ends up just being a minor issue, don’t judge him if he chuckles a bit

“MC, he isn’t sick, I’m afraid he was just trying to mess with you.”

Oopsie

At least once a week he would bring one of them with him to chill at the clinic, it’s very cute to watch

He’ll be taking care of a patient while the little thing is resting in the background on a branch he bought from somewhere

And as time goes on, it becomes less of my pets and more of our pets

Walking in, your greeted with the sight of what looked to be Kuras sitting on the couch, reading, but what really caught you off guard was one of your pythons leaning over his shoulder, as if they were following along with whatever he was looking at.

The sight alone was enough to warm your heart.

Kuras eventually notices you, looking up from his book and softly smiling. “I was wondering where you had been.”

You nod, taking a seat next to him and gently rubbing the top of your pets head. “I suppose you were entertaining them in my stead?”

He laughs. “They all were well behaved enough, nothing out of the ordinary.”

Humming in response, you lean over to peak at the book, wondering what was so interesting about it that it caught a snakes attention. But before you could even start reading, Kuras spoke up again.

“Although, you might want to worry about finding more enclosures. I caught two of them mating in the tree.”

VERE

You know those cartoon villains that always have some kind of animal companion by their side? Yeah that’s Vere

Upon walking in, Vere's attention is automatically drawn towards them

Walking over and crouching down so he can have a better look

"Oh my, dangerous little darlings, aren't you?"

The only one out of the group to call dangerous animals cute in any way

I, unfortunately, can relate but that's not what we're talking about here

You just stand there and watch as he gently scratches underneath the chins of the reptiles, cooing at them as he does

Honestly it could be one of the few times you see him genuinely smile

Yes, you keep staring because you want to make sure you never forget this moment, why wouldn't you?

Will absolutely take care of them whenever you can't

In fact, he's the first one to volunteer

Except this time when you come home, he's laying down on his back, all five of them surrounding him in what only could be described as an odd cuddle pile

How he got them into that position without risking himself being suffocated, no one will ever know

But that's pretty much what you expect now whenever he's over

Even whenever you're not there, he still finds a way into your house

He keeps getting in because he stole the key

"Oh I wasn't expecting you to get home so early. ^_^" He says as he's currently putting different scarfs on the python

Please try to talk him out of this but he WILL attempt to teach them to suffocate and only harm the ones he dislikes

Yes that includes Leander-

If you try to stop him he'll smirk and tell you to let him have his fun

All in all an okay snake dad

You watched as Vere held one of your snakes in his hands, its head resting on his palm as he leans in close, cooing as he always did.

"Such a beautiful one you are, the perfect mix of viciousness and elegance." He continues as he caresses the tops of their head.

At a certain point, you think he cares more about them than you. And honestly, you wouldn't be surprised if he did. This was Vere we're talking about.

Looking back up at you, his grin widens, as he gently sets them down and stands up from his seat.

"Oh, come now, don't tell me your getting jealous."

You huff and walk past him, picking up your pet to move them back into their enclosure. "You wouldn't know."

Vere lets out a halfhearted laugh, before sitting back down and watching you take care of the little ones he's grow oh so fond of.

MHIN

In all honesty, wouldn't react as much as you think they would

I mean, they would be surprised, but not enough to raise any bells

They would mostly be questioning if you are actually able to care for all of them properly, given that Burmese pythons can have a fairly big appetite

Although most of their knowledge is in anatomy, they're willing to learn more about reptiles if it means giving you advice about caring for them

Definitely not also because it will be an excuse to talk to you

They toss you a kind of food for them and say, "I saw this somewhere in one of those books, thought you could learn from it."

Meany

Not the type to jump at the chance to volunteer to care for them, or really want to for that matter

No hard feelings just with everything else going on in their life they don't really think they'll have time for it

But that doesn't mean they abandon the idea altogether

If your gone for a long period, then they stop by every once in a while, to check on them, and feed them if needed

One time you came back unexpectedly early and you watched them move around with one of the snakes as if they were mimicking each other

Once they realized you had come back, they pretend as if nothing just happened, but they know, and you know that you saw the whole thing

Will still deny it to this day though

On the occasion whenever they pass by, they would hang out near the enclosures, never asking you to take them out but I guess just, preferring to stay close by

They'll never admit they enjoy them as much as they enjoyed cats

Watching closely, you look as Mhin softly drags one of their hands down the scaly body of your yellow-white python. Even if they didn't know it themselves, you were beginning to think that they had a favorite.

Although they were silent, you could see the calmness in their expression, how their eyes were softened instead of glaring, how their lips shaped into an almost invisible smile. It was rare seeing Mhin happy, even if it was barely noticeable. But it was enough for you to be as silent as possible, not wanting to ruin the moment for them.

But unfortunately, you were dealing with a hunter, so the truth was they had sensed you long before you even walked in.

"Are you going to just keep standing there or what?" You look unsettling."

You jump, not realizing their eyes had been set on you despite not even facing the same direction.

"Sorry, I didn't want to interrupt."

Their content gaze quickly fell to their usual scowl. "Their your damn pet, you wouldn't be interrupting anything."

Guess they did have a nice side.

#Touchtarved #Touchstarved x reader #Touchstarvedgame #Touchstarved headcanon #Touchstarved fanfiction #leander x reader #ais x reader #kuras x reader #vere x reader #mhin x reader #leander #ais #kuras #vere #mhin

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