#i love this kiddo so much <33< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

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1 (lucas) tastes goooood! 2 (lucas) who's dad's brightest star? 3 (florence) foooower! 4 -

[ratatatastic]

[joelsdagger]

‘tis the season || one shot

joel miller x f!reader

nothing new. nothing exciting. just some pwp. major shout out to my very freaky girl @dinandwhiskey, this fic was born due to our 4am conversations about fucking Our Old Man on viagra. and to my fellow ocean unicorn @joeloverture, for the encouragement, always. and to @pedrospatch, for being my eyes, and my biggest cheerleader, you have my heart. anyway – merry christmas eve eve & happy holidays ya filthy animals. may 2025 be ever so kind to you <33

pairing: dbf!joel x reader summary: you’re back in town for christmas, and it’s been months since you’ve seen your boyfriend, joel miller. and he decides to make the most of the brief window of time you have together.  or,  joel fucks you after taking viagra. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ warnings: [no-outbreak au], implied age gap [no mention of ages but reader is in college], secret established long distance relationship [that’s a mouth full] [that’s what she said], drug use, joel miller on viagra is a beast, pet names [baby, darlin’, sweetheart, kiddo], sexualization of the terms kiddo & old man, [mocking] dirty talk, size kink, praise kink, daddy kink, brief mentions of smut that occurs off page [i.e: face-sitting, fingering, anal play, ass eating/rimming, a reach around handjob, f! & m! receiving oral], softdom!joel, unprotected piv, missionary, mating press, overstimulation [rip our girl she’s fighting for her life], dacryphilia, finger sucking, biting, smidge of a pain kink, creampie, squirting, joel fucks you while you’re on the phone with your father, mentions of christmas, (2) christmas puns [author apologizes in advance for said puns], probably [most likely] inaccurate and unrealistic descriptions to the effects of viagra [remember, this is fiction!!], omitting a few tags as to avoid spoilers!!, aaaaand lastly, they’re in love BYE! word count: 3.5k

masterlist || ao3 || follow @joelsdaggerupdates for notifs on when i post my writing!

“Just one more time, sweetheart.”

You don’t respond, tongue-tied. The agonizingly slow drag of his cock inside you is too much, your mind is a blur. 

Joel’s been fucking you for hours. He’s made you come six times since you practically pranced through his front door. Twice on his face, once on his fingers, and three times on his cock. And now you’re overstimulated — cunt swollen and almost begging for relief — but Joel, driven by your high-pitched moans and strained whimpers, is unable to stop himself, working to make you come just one more fucking time.

It’s thanks to that stupid little blue pill his buddy slipped him that he’d been able to fuck you for this long. 

In truth, he doesn’t need it. He never needs it. He fucks you perfectly fine without it. But you’re home for the holidays, and you haven’t seen him or come successfully on your own since the beginning of the fall term, and Joel wanted to take advantage of that.

Send you back fucked so full o’me you’ll feel me in here for weeks, he’d groaned. 

Your drippy hole stretched out and clamped tight around the thick girth of him. It had been so long, your face contorted at the sharp sting, and a pained hiss escaped through his gritted teeth when he pushed the delicious fat tip of his cock past your puffy folds, splitting you in two. 

The warm walls of your cunt pulse around his shaft, your clit throbs against the wet thatch of thick hairs stippled gray at his base. You’re too sensitive, too tender, cunt stinging with every long stroke, but not in the way it makes you want to use your safe word. 

It’s just that Joel hasn’t let up. Two hours spent making you come and he hasn’t let up once. The only time he had given you some semblance of a break was when he got up, turned around, and sat on your face at your plea — your desire to show him how good he had made you feel all those times before. 

His cock in your hand, weak fist tugging away at his length while you lathed away at the tight little hole in the crease between his ass cheeks. Even then, Joel couldn't help himself; shoved three thick fingers into your puffy pussy — timing the thrust of them to the desperate pumps of your joint fists — jacking his cock in unison while you writhed beneath him, pulling another climax from you. 

Only when his sweaty thighs quivered around your body, chin tilted towards the ceiling and a stream of profanities poured from his lips, his body curling over yours as hot spurts of his cum painted your soft tummy when he felt your finger slipping past his puckered rim to the knuckle, had he given you a break. 

“Attagirl, just like that. Pretty little pussy’s gonna cum all over me. C’mon, baby, give it to me,” Joel’s voice is thick with arousal as he rambles above you, his hips expertly rolling into yours, head of his cock nudging that place incompetent college boys have failed to reach. 

“Joel—fuck—I don’t think I can—” You gasp frantically, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes, arms wound tight around him.

He smirks with another deliberate roll of his hips. “Thought you said you could keep up. Isn’t that what you said? “Naw, I reckon you said, Try keeping up, old man, wasn’t that it?”  He mocks, imitating your words from earlier. Fucking bastard. 

A whimpering mess, your eyes pinch shut in response. 

“I can’t—” you croak, fingernails digging into his shoulders. 

Deft hands brush your hair back from your face. “You can. I know you can, baby.”  His voice softer, barely audible through the wet smack of his balls, smeared in the evidence of your earlier release, firmly slapping against the curve of your ass. The sounds obscenely echoing through the quiet of his bedroom. 

You whimper and try fruitlessly to nod. He knows you can, and he’s right. Your hips wouldn’t be grinding up off the mattress to meet his thrusts. You wouldn’t be feeling something roiling low in your belly.

“One more time, baby. Give me one more n’ I’ll let this sore little pussy rest,” he whispers, lips kissing away your salty tears. 

You nod eagerly. His hand reaches up to the headboard, fingers curling around it and locking into place, his other removes one of yours from his shoulder, pins it to the pillow above your head. And with his hand clasping your damp palm, fingers squeezing then interlocking with yours, he fucks you harder. 

The change in pace has tears spilling from your eyes and pooling into the shells of your ears. The wave swells, swells, swells —

Your phone screen lights up the dark room, buzzing on Joel’s nightstand. 

You freeze, neck craning in the direction of the vibration, eyes squinting and damp lashes fluttering at the bright screen, Dad, it reads. 

Shit. 

You gaze back up at Joel, wide-eyed, panic surging in your chest. Joel growls. “Don’t answer.” 

You don’t listen. You know your father, he’ll keep calling until you answer. Without saying another word, your hand comes up to the wooden surface in search of your phone. You take a few deep breaths, trying to quell the anxious heat swirling inside you, unplug your phone from the charger, slide a shaky thumb across the screen, and press the phone to the shell of your ear.

“Hey—” You clear your throat awkwardly, “Hey, Dad,” your voice breathy, tired.

You unstick your body from Joel’s, your free hand presses to his strong chest, a silent effort to halt his movements.

“Kid! I’m sorry to call you this late, but before you left for Eve’s, I forgot to let you know to be home in time for breakfast.” 

Jesus. That could’ve been a text. 

You sit up, scoot back into the pillows, while Joel sits back on his knees, wincing in unison as his cum-drenched cock slips out of your overflowing slit. Almost instantly, you feel a steady stream of his spend trickle out of your opening. He’d already managed to fill you to the brim three times tonight.

You fiddle with your bottom lip. “Breakfast? I thought we were just doing dinner.”

“Well, I thought since you’re only in town for a few days, we could go the whole nine yards. I missed our breakfasts together. I enjoy them, kid,” he says softly. 

Your bleary eyes flick back to Joel. The smug grin that graces his lips and the gleam of something darker in his eyes don’t put you at ease. He’s up to something, as always. 

You grumble, massaging your forehead. “Yeah, sure, Dad. I’ll be home by nine. Listen, I gotta—” 

“Oh! Speakin’ of dinner, I was thinking of inviting Joel over,” your dad says, plainly.  

Your heart stutters. “Joel? W-Why?”

The corner of Joel’s mouth twitches, dark eyes glimmer with mischief. Two heavy hands find your waist, and he’s sliding you back down towards him. Slow and suspicious, one of his hands finds your knee, and presses it flush to the mattress. You both watch as his other hand cups the back of your other knee, pushing it back down to match the other, exposing you to the sex-tainted air. With his eyes transfixed on the slow trickle of his spend, his hand then wraps around the base of his cock, tip lining up with your aching hole. 

There it is. 

“Poor guy has been asking about you, kid.” And Joel glides the head of his cock up and down your puffy seam, collecting your mixed juices on his tip then taps the heavy weight of it on your perked clit twice in quick succession; Joel smirks at the wet smack. You jolt, thighs attempting to clamp shut, his firm grip on your knee tightens, keeping you open for him. 

You pinch your eyes closed and curse under your breath. 

“What was that, honey?” 

Your eyes snap open, and you scramble to recover, “N-nothing, I just–” You clear your throat again. “Sorry. What were you saying, Dad?”

Joel chuckles lowly as he leans forward on top of you, pressing his broad frame in on you, your legs instinctively wrap around his waist. Chest to chest, belly to belly, pelvis to pelvis, tacky skin against tacky skin, once again as before. He tucks his face into the crook of your neck, and with his mouth at your other ear, his tongue darts out to lick at the salty droplet there before suckling ever so slightly on your flesh, you bite back a moan. 

Your dad, oblivious to your current state, continues, “Oh— Joel’s been asking after you. Think he’s getting sick of your old man if I’m honest. He keeps telling me he misses having you around, always goin’ on about how you’ve grown up right before his eyes…”

He can hear him. You know he can by the feel of the corner of his mouth curling up into a grin, teeth grazing your carotid now. He lifts his head, dark gaze meeting yours while his massive hands cup your tits, caressing, squeezing, kneading, while muttering, Goddamn have you grown up. 

Your cunt flutters around nothing, and you sigh into the phone; your dad doesn’t hear it through his rambling. You don’t register what he’s chatting away about because then, Joel’s nose nuzzles into your neck, traces a line up, up, up until his tongue snakes out and meets the curve of your earlobe. Licks the meat of it into his mouth and takes it between his teeth, your whimper cuts off into a moan when the bite turns sharp.  

His fingers fiddle with your nipples. “Naughty little thing,” Joel taunts, warmth of his breath fanning across the hinge of your jaw, “You liked that?” 

You keen and nod, his hand dips south between your bodies, wrapping around the base of his length, notches the too-wide cockhead at your too-small hole. You turn your head, pressing your mouth to the scruff of his beard, muffling the whine he elicits from you. 

Joel pushes inside, takes a moment, and just to mess with you — he fucks his tip in and out of your drooling hole in small pulses — once, twice, thrice — teasing you, making you moan. He tilts his head, nosing your cheek, breath hot and voice deep, “Listen,” he commands.

Absentmindedly, you tilt your phone away from your ear, away from your dad’s mumblings. You strain your ears to obey him. In and out, in and out. The squelch of your sticky wet reverberates  against the four walls of his bedroom as the blunt head of his cock moves in and out. 

In. And out.  

“Fuck,” you mutter, eyes flitting down to watch his cock impale you. 

Your dad’s voice cuts in through the fog, redrawing your attention.

“Sweetie? You okay? What’s wrong?” 

Your eyes widen. Shit. “I’m–I’m–fine, I– I j-just stubbed my toe. Dad, I really can’t t–” You stammer, and Joel chuckles lowly. 

Your stuttering emboldens him, taking it as an invitation to torture you further, and with his lips against your ear, a breathy moan escapes from his lips as Joel feeds you his cock, slowly working himself back into your spent cunt. So painfully slow that he ensures you feel every ridge and every vein, and in turn, he feels every inch of your warm, velvet walls sucking him in as he eases himself into you. Used cunt clamped tight around him as you welcome him back in — inch by torturous inch. 

He stills once he reaches resistance, and you bite your bottom lip hard enough that you taste copper, suppressing the moan climbing up your chest as his tip knocks your cervix, heavy balls pressed flush to your ass — finally bottoming out inside you.

He ruts into you once, tip bumps your cervix again — goading you, and you gasp in return, fingernails indenting his shoulder, half–moon crescents marking his skin. Beads of sweat roll off his forehead and onto your face, mixing with the warm tears now cascading down your face, and your tongue darts out to taste it. The flavor of him — his sweat, his musk — only feeds the dizzying blur that is your mind. But through the foggy haze and the lewd, wet slap of flesh against flesh, you think you can hear your dad saying, You really need to quit the habit of walking around in the dark, kiddo.

And you think you’re nodding, an endless litany of, yes, yeah–yeah slipping past your lips, as you rush your way through the phone call with your father, uncaring. Only interested in the shifts of Joel’s hips, slowly fucking into you in measured thrusts.

Joel tuts. “Such a dirty fuckin’ girl, gettin’ off while speakin’ to her daddy.” And your grip in his hair tightens, walls tensing in response. “Attagirl, keep squeezin’ me like that. You gonna show me just how naughty you are for me, hm? Gonna let me have it with him on the phone? Gonna cream all over my cock, naughty girl?”

You nod your head numbly, mouth dry and unable to speak with the tip of his cock prodding at the soft spot inside you on every languid stroke, hips swaying back and forth.

The wave begins to crest, and despite your eager nodding at Joel only a second prior, there’s no way in hell you’re really going to come on your boyfriend’s cock — your dad’s best friend — while on the phone with your father. 

Your voice claws its way up your throat, “D-dad, I’m — mmm — sorry I really have to g–”​ You think your thumb presses the red button, but your phone slips from your hand, dropping to the carpet with a muffled thump, and it’s too late to check if you’ve fully hung up on him, and frankly, you’re too consumed by your lover to care. 

Grinning with pride, Joel pulls back, cock halfway out of your pussy and your hands grasp at his shoulders. 

“Joel— f-fuck–please,” you beg, your resolve melting. 

He clicks his tongue. “Na-uh, try again.” 

“D-d-daddy–please,” you whine. 

“D-d-daddy,” he mocks above you. “Say it, pretty girl.” He knows, but he wants to hear you say it. 

“Harder. Please, daddy–I–I wanna come, please, I wanna come,” you mewl, voice all whiny and petulant.

He says nothing. Without pulling out of you, his long fingers wrap around to grip the backs of your knees, pinning your thighs to your chest, knees to your shoulders, feet dangling in the air beside his beautiful head, folding you in half. Then, he moves to plant his feet flat on the mattress, propping himself up, hands on your thighs to steady himself. 

You’re already a mewling, writhing mess underneath him as he fucks in and out of your wasted cunt — it doesn’t take much longer for you to get there. The air fills with sounds of the headboard hammering against the wall and filthy, sloppy sounds of where you two are connected as he bashes into you with arrant primal vigor.

The new angle has him hitting a point inside you, deeper than you ever thought to exist. And still — the wave doesn’t break. With his eyes locked on yours, you know he can tell. He can always tell. He’s made you scream his name enough times since the beginning of your many clandestine meetings last summer to know when you’re teetering on the edge. In need of more. 

And for a moment, you think you can see it in him. Hazel eyes practically glint against the pale moonlight that spills into his bedroom. Joel bares his teeth in a cocky grin, his hand releases one of your thighs to cup your face, thumb parting your plush lips when he says, give it to me, kiddo, soak your old man’s cock. 

Oh fuck. 

Your eyelids flutter shut, your head falling back onto the pillows, hands clutching and pulling at tufts of his grizzled curls. Lips closing around his thumb wedged in your mouth; licking, sucking, biting into his flesh, as the crest finally breaks and washes over you, taking you under the rogue waves.  

But Joel still doesn’t let up. One more time, my ass. 

He’s insatiable. And he shows you just how insatiable he is when his thumb slips from your spit-smeared lips and reaches between your bodies, the pads of his fingers expertly thrum at your sensitive clit.

Your face twinges up at the intense, almost painful pressure as he pinches your clit between his index and middle fingers, hard. The swing of his hips speeds up, cock relentlessly beating your sore cunt. The sight of his girth, disappearing and reappearing as he pounds your pussy at a punishing pace, and his fingers twisting your swollen clit has your belly pulling taut and snapping within the same beat. With a broken shout of his name, you gush around the root of his cock, dripping down his balls. It’s warm and sticky when it seeps down, past your tight ring of muscle, soaking his blue sheets and turning them the shade of charcoal gray. 

Joel coaxes you through your seventh–eighth toe-curling orgasm of the night. An endless stream of sweet nothings spills from him — good girl, that’s it, kiddo. I know, I know, it’s so much, I know – fuck– such a good fuckin’ girl, as he fucks you through it. 

Your sloppy cunt clenches around him, and with his cock choked tight, deep within your bruised walls, he follows soon after. Growls raggedly as he unravels, and his own orgasm rolls through him, decking the hall of your weeping cunt with warm, milky ropes of cum for the fourth time tonight. 

Joel collapses onto your sticky chest, placing open-mouthed kisses to your dampened face — your cheek, your nose, your forehead, while he pumps you full of his seed, abiding by his promise. And when he’s done, his sweaty forehead drops to yours for a moment. The waves now a steady ripple through your body as you come down.

After a moment, he lifts his head, and in retaliation for giving you what was possibly the best fuck of your life while on the phone with your father and nearly exposing your tryst, you bring one of his hands to your face, hollow your cheeks, and suck his thumb while looking up at him with wide and falsely innocent eyes. 

He licks his lips but manages to pry his post-coital eyes away. Instead, his cum-soaked cock slips out of your tired, leaking cunt. When he leans back, you swallow a moan, catching sight of the aftermath of your many arousals in his pubic hair. Graying curls swimming in a pool of your combined releases that drips down his thighs. A thin strand of your shared pearlescent spend shines in the soft moonlight, stretching from his balls to your folds, still connecting the two of you as he pulls away. 

Joel misses it, something else pulls his attention. His gaze shifts to the clock beside your head. A hint of a smirk passes over his lips. 

“You’re lucky it’s Christmas, darlin’,” voice low, dangerous. 

Your head snaps in the same direction. It’s past midnight. You smirk in turn and pull the comforter up to hide it.

You feel him shift over you, elbow popping loudly as he reaches for what he’s looking for before he moves to sit up beside you, back against the headboard. His hand pulls the comforter back down from your face, and you roll over and sit up on your knees to face him. 

His other palm opens, wordlessly presenting you with a single twig of some plant. One with moss green, teardrop–shaped leaves and plump, round berries, waxy and opaque in color.  

Mistletoe.

You take the meat of your bottom lip between your teeth, stifling a laugh that threatens to bubble through you. Because of fucking course he would. 

Though, the soft laugh is short-lived. His broad hand waves the mistletoe over him, but not where it should be. Your gaze follows the movement of his hand, and your mouth falls agape. Your eyes snap back up to Joel’s, and his wicked smirk broadens.

Joel Miller — naked as the day he was born and splayed on top of his messy sheets — dangles the mistletoe over his length, still hard as a rock and stirring in his other hand.

But it doesn’t stop there. 

Beneath the mistletoe rests a lump of bright red and velvety felt; a fluffy white cuff rounds the brim, and a matching fuzzy white bobble hangs at the end of it. 

A Santa hat perched jauntily on his cock.

You shut your mouth and swallow thickly, already feeling that familiar ache at the apex of your thighs, and you clench around emptiness, a stream of his seed dribbling out of your overstuffed cunt and further soiling his bedding. 

“But it ain’t a Merry one till you give Santa's big sack a few kisses.”

[pedrospatch]

a safe haven l ten

Jackson! Joel Miller x Female Reader

series masterlist

summary: After a long night, Joel and Ellie take you home.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. (TW) THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS MENTIONS OF DOMESTIC VIOLENCE, MENTIONS OF AN INJURY SUSTAINED FROM AN ACT OF DOMESTIC VIOLENCE, PREGNANCY, CONVERSATIONS SURROUNDING PREGNANCY LOSS . PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS. Ellie and reader are very close to each other, Joel deals with feelings of guilt, Joel and Maria make nice, Joel gives reader a bath and washes her hair, food consumption (i am just gonna apologize to my lactose intolerant folks right now, trust me i must pretend with you), both reader and Joel have some big feelings, reader mentions her deceased father, angst, soft and domestic Joel, fluff.

word count: 5k

a/n: i have not updated this series since october. :l i feel a a mixed bag of emotions updating after all this time, but most of all, i am grateful to know there are a couple of people out there who are still invested in this story. to anyone who has been waiting: truly, it means the world that you have shown me patience, support, and kindness. believe me, i am going to be seeing this story to the end, and it is all thanks to those who continue to show this lil story of mine a whole lotta love. special shoutout to the loveliest human @mrsmando who made me this beautiful mooodboard every single time i got stuck during this chapter, i looked at it and it gave me the boost of inspiration i needed. thank you mimi <33 this chapter is fairly tame, the next chapter is already in the works, and there are a couple of time jumps coming. overall, we are down to the last handful of chapters. let’s finish this story and give these two the ending they deserve, shall we?

“What the hell is taking Tommy so fucking long?” Ellie whines. She’s sprawled out on the couch with her head in your lap, and her arm draped over her eyes. Her feet are hanging, dangling over the edge of the couch at an odd angle after you’d warned her not to get muck from her sneakers on the linen fabric. Despite Joel insisting over and over that she head on back to the house, she had stubbornly refused, not wanting to leave your side. “It’s been over two hours! He’s taking fucking forever, man. What’s the fucking hold up?”

Joel bites back a sigh, masking his own impatience. Or at least, he tries. He’s grown just as restless as the kid, if not more. Much like Ellie, he’s desperate. He’s itching to take you home already, almost too anxious to watch you take that first step over his threshold, and into your new life with him and with Ellie. He aches, aches, to get you settled into the place where you would be spending the remainder of your days with one another, where you would be safe, and loved in the way you deserved to be loved—the place where he would cherish and adore you until his final breath.

“Don’t know,” he answers, his voice sounding rougher, more gruff than usual. Reaching up, he scrubs his hand down the side of his face, adding tiredly, “He might be a while longer, kiddo. It could be another hour, could be more. Like I already told you, s’probably best if you just go on and head back to the house without us, alright?”

“No. I’m not walking out that fucking door unless she’s with me.” She pauses and pulls her arm away from her face for a moment, just long enough to throw a teeny glare his way. “Unless you’re both with me. The three of us go home together, or it’s no fucking deal. Got it?”

He shakes his head in utter exasperation.

“Ellie, we’ll be right here down the fuckin’ road—”

Her hand shoots out and she flips him off.

Just when he’s about to chastise her, he stops himself, clamping his mouth shut. It’s pointless.

Kid’s too goddamn hard headed for her own good, and Joel knows he’s just wasting his breath with her.

“I’m sure he’ll be back soon,” you reassure them both, weaving your fingers through her hair to scratch at her scalp in an effort to soothe her. “Right, Joel?”

He meets your exhausted, worn down gaze from where he’s standing across the room, and his heart lurches in his chest. As the guilt begins creeping in, he’s forced to look away. He can’t imagine the living hell you had been through over the last twenty four hours alone. And the worst part about it was the realization that last night, while he was fast asleep in bed just a couple of houses up the road, that fucking bastard had his belt wrapped around your throat.

Joel feels sick to his fucking stomach all over again.

Horrifying, vividly real images of you helplessly trapped underneath Luke scratching and clawing at the leather around your neck with trembling fingers, struggling to breathe oxygen into your burning lungs as he tugged it tighter and tighter through the buckle flash in his mind, a gruesome nightmare turned into reality.

Exactly how far had Luke taken it?

Until you had grown too weak to keep fighting?

Until you almost lost complete consciousness?

Until he noticed the life threatening to leave your eyes?

Is that when he had finally stopped pulling on the belt?

Joel shudders, a bitter taste climbing up his throat as it sinks in. He could have lost you—and his unborn child.

This shouldn’t have happened.

He shouldn’t have let you walk away that night.

This wouldn’t have happened if he hadn’t let you walk away from him that night.

“Joel,” you say his name, quiet and weary.

His head snaps back in your direction and he glances at you, almost missing the subtle shake of your head. It is a silent warning telling him not to go there, though you know by the tight clench of his jaw it’s too late for that.

Joel makes the futile attempt to hide it, but he sees it written all over your face—you know what he’s thinking because you know him like the back of your own hand, and you just know he’s placing all of the blame for what happened to you on his own shoulders.

But can you honestly fault him for that?

How can you expect him not to feel like he is somehow responsible for this? Just how the hell is he supposed to make himself believe he hadn’t failed you?

Joel promised—he had fucking promised you—that he wouldn’t let anything bad happen to you. He had sworn to keep you safe, made a vow to protect you from Luke, but here you are, your soft, delicate flesh marred with the painful evidence of yet another one of his failures.

And it was all because he had let you walk away on that fucking night.

He should have done something.

Even if it meant running the risk of you never speaking to him again—even if you never forgave him, spent the rest of your life angry and hating him for going against your wishes. He should have something.

“Joel—”

“Be right back,” he mutters, lightly shaking his head.

Shoving away from the doorframe he’s leaning against, Joel pivots on the heel of his boot and starts down the hallway. He walks into the kitchen where he finds Maria standing at the counter, tapping her fingers against the smooth, laminated oakwood as she waits for the coffee she’d offered him a few minutes ago to finish brewing. She’d offered to whip up a quick supper, but food was the last thing on everyone’s mind.

“Tommy’s been gone for a couple hours now. Girls are startin’ to get real tired of just sittin’ around waitin’ for him to come back,” he tells her, exhaling the sigh he’d held back in the living room. “What do you think could be keepin’ him so long?”

With her back still to him, Maria reminds him, “Well, he did mention he was going to round up the council and get them together for an emergency meeting.” She lets out a sigh that matches his own—it’s been a long night for her, too. When the last drop of dark roast drips into the glass pot, she carefully takes the pot by the plastic handle and pours the steaming coffee into a speckled, white and blue ceramic mug. “Do you take it with milk and sugar?”

“No thanks, that’s alright,” he declines as politely as he can.

“I also have cinnamon if you’d like?”

“Plain black’s just fine.” He gives her a nod of gratitude when she hands it to him. “Thank you. And I don’t just mean the coffee, but for, uh—for bandagin’ up my hand for me, too.” He clocks the brief look of surprise on her face and almost laughs. He doesn’t blame her for being taken aback, because truth be told, so is he. Since he’d met Maria, he had known she didn’t trust him as far as she could throw him. There was something of a mutual understanding between them, a silent agreement they had made to keep each other at arm’s length, to only interact when it was absolutely necessary.

Never did he think he would be standing in her kitchen, thanking her for patching up his hand, and for making him a cup of coffee out of the kindness of her heart.

His brother wouldn’t believe it.

“Don’t mention it.” Crossing her arms over her chest, she leans back against the counter. “How’s it feel, by the way?”

“S’fine,” he replies, shrugging. “Nothin’ I can’t handle.”

There’s a momentary silence. A taste of tension lingers over their heads, and he knows at one point or another, he’s going to have to address the affair, the very reason everything had unfolded in such a terrible manner.

Guess now’s as good a time as fuckin’ any, he thinks to himself with an inward sigh.

Joel lightly clears his throat. “Listen, since we’ve got a minute alone, just the two of us, I was wonderin’ if, uh—if we could talk ‘bout somethin’? If that’s alright?”

“Of course.” Maria gives him the floor.

“I know that she—” Pausing, he shuffles from the heel of one boot to the other, his ears burning hot. He had known it wouldn’t be an easy conversation to have, but he underestimated just how uncomfortable it would be, regardless of what she already knew. “I know she told you and Tommy all ‘bout us, and ‘bout our relationship. See, the thing is, the first time I saw her—”

Again, Joel stops, the burning sensation now radiating, spreading from his ears to his face and down his neck, flushing his skin a deep, deep shade of pink. Unable to meet his sister in law’s gaze, he glances down into his mug, as if he will somehow find the right words to say somewhere in the depths of his coffee.

“It was never my intention, y’know,” he finally says after a minute. “Goin’ after a married woman. I swear, I never meant to fall for her. I just fuckin’ did. I think I might’ve fallen for her long before I even met her,” he confesses. He feels himself darken to a shade of maroon under her curious stare. “And somehow, for reasons I ain’t all too sure I’ll ever understand, she fell for me too.”

Maria raises an eyebrow at him. “Look, I’m not judging you, Joel,” she assures him, shaking her head. “If that’s what you’re thinking. I’m not judging her, either.”

He looks up at her, blurting out, “You’re not?”

She moves her hands to cradle her swollen middle. “Do I wish you two had handled everything differently?” she answers her own query with a nod of her head. “Oh, I’m sure we all do. But I’ve known her for a long time now. I know the kind of woman she is. And I’m starting to see the kind of man you are.”

“And what kinda man is that, Maria?”

He waits without the slightest clue as to what she could possibly say.

“Since you came back to Jackson, I’ve chosen to keep my distance from you—but make no mistake, I’ve been watching you like a hawk since day one. Waiting for any signs of trouble. Waiting for you to fuck up. Waiting for you to give me a good reason to throw your ass out of this community because I didn’t trust you. Not after all the things I was told about you.”

He snorts. “You goin’ somewhere with this?”

“You are not who I thought you were,” Maria admits, smiling wryly. “I’ve gotten to see a different side of you. You pull your weight around here by doing your job and doing it well. You stay out of trouble—for the most part. And more importantly, I have seen the way that you’ve stepped up to be a father figure to Ellie. It takes a good man to do that, Joel.”

“Think that’s the nicest fuckin’ thing you’ve ever said to me,” he muses, setting his mug down on the counter. “I stepped up because I love her. I love them both. Those two, they’re the best parts of me. They’re the reasons I keep goin’ and now I’ve got another reason on the way.”

Maria smiles, but it vanishes as quickly as it appears.

Catching her hesitance, Joel asks, “What? What is it?”

“What comes next is not going to be easy,” she warns him, lowering her voice. Even with the living room a fair distance from the kitchen, she doesn’t want to run the risk of you overhearing her. “For as hard as we’re going to try to contain the fire, it will spread, and everyone in this town will find out about everything—including the affair. People are going to talk, and believe me, they’re going to have a whole lot to say about it, Joel.”

He can’t help but roll his eyes at her.

“Think I can handle some fuckin’ gossip, Maria.”

“I know you can. But I’m not sure if she can,” Maria tells him, quietly. “It worries me. She’s been through a lot in just one night alone. I don’t want her stressing anymore than she already has. She is in a very delicate stage of her pregnancy right now, Joel. If she’s not careful, she could have a miscarriage. She had one about two years ago when her father became sick—” Observing his lack of a reaction, she realizes, “You knew that already.”

“Yeah,” he sighs. He knows where she’s going with this. “I did. She told me ‘bout it.”

“It makes her chances of having another one higher—”

Joel doesn’t even allow himself to think of it happening to you again. “I get it,” he interjects, trying not to sound too curt. “I’ll make sure she takes it real easy, alright?”

Lifting a hand off her belly, she reaches out and takes a hold of his forearm, gripping it tightly.

“Promise me something, Joel. Promise me that you’ll look after her,” Maria pleads him, gently. “Please. After everything she’s been through—I need you to promise me that she’s going to be in good hands with you.”

He nods. Without thinking, he places his hand over hers in an unexpected token of affection and reassurance. “You have my word, Maria. I’ll take good care of her.”

She gives his arm a grateful squeeze, then glances over his shoulder at the clock on the wall. “It’s getting pretty late. We don’t know how much longer Tommy’s going to be with the council. Why don’t we just go ahead and call it a night?” she suggests. “We can all get together first thing in the morning at your place to talk about it.”

“Yeah, good idea,” he agrees. “She really needs to rest.”

Maria gives his arm another squeeze. 

“Go on then, Joel. Take your girls home.”

“Finally!” Ellie exclaims with a dramatic flail of her arms as she shoves through the front door.

“Alright, kiddo. Get your behind upstairs and into the shower,” Joel instructs her, flipping on the lights in the foyer. “Y’smell like fuckin’ horse shit.”

She lifts the collar of her shirt to her nose, takes a whiff, and makes a face. “Yeah, I won’t argue with you there,” she mutters. She toes off her dirty sneakers and leaves them beside the door before dashing up the staircase, taking two steps at a time.

He shouts after her, “And don’t use up all the hot—”

“Yeah, yeah, I fucking know the rules, dude!”

Moments later, you both hear the shower going.

“Little shit,” he grumbles.

You exhale an amused huff through your nose.

Joel withdraws his arm from around your shoulders and reaches for your hand, lacing your fingers together. “C’mon, darlin’.” He guides you up the stairs and down the hallway into his bedroom where he switches on the light before proceeding to lead you over to his dresser. “I’ve got a bunch of shirts in this top drawer here,” he says. Dropping your hand, he pulls it open for you and gestures to it with a jut of his chin as he takes a step backwards, moving out of the way. “Go ahead and pick one to sleep in tonight. Want you to be comfortable, so help yourself to whichever one you want, sweet girl.”

Nodding, you begin to rummage through the drawer, unaware of the moment he slips away. You reach for a t-shirt, but then a plaid green flannel catches your eye. You pluck it from the drawer, running your fingers over the soft, warm fabric. “Is it alright if I wear—?” You turn around, stopping mid sentence when you realize he’s no longer standing behind you. Puzzled, you follow the sound of running water into the bathroom where you find him kneeling beside the tub. “Joel? What are you doing?”

“Runnin’ you a bath.”

You notice the bloodied bandage beside him on the tile floor. “Joel, are you serious?” you scold him. “Maria just patched your hand up for you.”

“S’okay, peach. I can rewrap it when we’re done.” Joel sticks his injured hand under the faucet to check the temperature, the cold water soothing his cuts. Once it turns warm, then hot, he pulls out his hand, waiting for the tub to fill halfway before shutting the faucet off and rising to his feet. “C’mere, sweetheart.” He rolls the sleeves of his shirt up to his forearms, then beckons for you with both of his hands. “Let’s get you washed up.”

You remain standing by the door. “Joel, you don’t have to do this for me.”

“I know.”

“I’m capable of washing myself—”

“Yeah, I know that too,” he says, chuckling. “S’only fair, darlin’. Don’t you think?”

That’s when it hits you—how this moment is mirroring that night you had cleaned Joel up after you and Ellie had brought him home from the clinic with an injured shoulder. He allowed you to take care of him, and now, he was looking to do the same for you. And all you had to do was let him.

“But your hand—”

“Will be just fine,” Joel persists, stubbornly. “It’s nothin’ but a few cuts and scrapes. C’mon—or else I’m gonna march right over there and get you myself, peach.”

Knowing Joel, you certainly wouldn’t put it past him to throw you over his should and carry you to the bathtub.

“Fine,” you relent with a small sigh of defeat.

Setting his shirt down on the sink, you slowly walk over towards him and whirl around, letting him help you out of your knitted cardigan. You finish undressing yourself, inhaling a deep breath as you muster up the courage to turn back around and face him—when you finally do, it feels like a punch to the gut to see the heartbreak in his dark brown eyes, the subtle tremble of his bottom lip. You don’t have to look at yourself in the mirror to know it looks about a hundred times worse when you’re not wearing clothes.

Keeping your arms down at your sides, you fight every urge to cover yourself up. You’ve never felt so fucking vulnerable.

Clearing his throat, Joel holds out his hand. “C’mere.”

You accept it, and he helps you into the tub.

“How’s the water? S���not too hot, is it?”

You shake your head and he leans forward, kissing your temple so sweetly, your eyes flutter closed.

He washes your hair first, then takes a clean washcloth, lathering it up with a bar of milk and honey soap—the same soap he would smell on your skin all those nights. Admittedly, Joel preferred castile soap, but switched it when he found himself missing you during those weeks you were apart from him, when he needed the comfort of your scent. He is gentle with you, so gentle, as if he’s afraid you’ll shatter into pieces in his hands.

As he lightly drags the washcloth up your back and around your neck, you stiffen, prompting him to freeze too. “Fuck. Baby, did I hurt you?” he asks, and you hear the slight panic in his tone.

“No,” you say quickly, desperately trying to swallow the lump rising in your throat. “No, you didn’t hurt me. It’s just—” Every overwhelming emotion slams into you all at once, and you can’t seem to figure out which one to feel first. Humiliation? Fear? Relief?

The water sloshes around you as you pull your legs up to your chest and wrap your arms around your knees, giving yourself permission to feel them all. Bowing your head, you begin to sob quietly, hoping that Ellie, who is just down the hallway, won’t hear you crying again.

Joel says nothing. Washcloth still clutched in his hand, he leans forward over the edge of the tub and wraps his arms around you, pulling you close, or at least, as close as the barrier between the two of you will allow him.

“Joel,” you choke, trying to push him off. “Stop it. Your clothes, they’re getting all wet.”

“Hush. Don’t fuckin’ care ‘bout my clothes,” he croaks, and for a second, you swear he’s about to cry too. But he doesn’t. He holds himself strong. Tugging you closer against his chest, he buries his nose into your soaking wet hair, whispering his reassurance. “You’re okay, baby. You’re safe, my sweet girl. I’ve got you, alright?”

He pulls back slightly, dipping his hand into the water, placing it on your lower belly.

You look down, your eyes glazing over his bruised and battered knuckles. Proof that Joel Miller really would do anything for you.

“I know you do,” you say, softly. “I know you’ve got me, Joel.”

A while later, you’re dried, dressed, and composed. You follow Joel out of the bathroom and back into his room, where he has you take a seat on the bed. Noticing you had missed a button on his flannel shirt, he does it for you. He plants a kiss on the top of your head and says, “Give me a minute while I change.”

He peels off his wet clothes, being careful so as not to further agitate his sore, injured hand. After changing into a pair of gray sweatpants and an old, faded black t-shirt, he turns around only to find you’re sitting in bed underneath the covers.

“Sorry,” you apologize with a nervous chuckle as you rest your back against the headboard. “It just looked so warm and cozy—and it smells like you. I couldn’t resist making myself comfortable.”

Joel pads over to the side of the bed. He leans over, planting one hand on either side of you as he dips his head and brushes his lips against yours. “Ain’t got no reason to apologize, baby,” he assures you in a gentle murmur. “This is your bed now too, peach. This is your room. This is your home. Alright?”

Home.

You’re home.

He touches the tip of his nose to yours, and then draws himself back up to full height. “There’s somethin’ that I’ve gotta take care of downstairs, peach. I won’t be too long,” he promises.

It’s almost midnight. Joel goes about the kitchen and he prepares you the quickest meal that he can think of. He plates the sandwich he’d thrown together and pours a glass of cow’s milk—he’s always sure to keep a pint of it in the refrigerator to make the kid her oatmeal in the mornings.

He heads back upstairs, only to find that while he had been gone, Ellie had joined you, making herself a little too comfortable on his side of the bed. He stands there at the door, watching the two of you.

“Hey, so is it true babies can hear stuff while they’re in there?” Ellie questions you, curiously.

“Mhm,” you reply with a nod. “They can hear music, for example. Voices—”

“Voices?” She smushes her face into your stomach and he hears a muffled, “Hey, dude!”

You giggle. “Ellie, I think it’s still a little too early.”

“When do you think it’ll be able to hear me?”

“I’m not too sure. In a few months, maybe?”

Ellie lifts her head, humming. “You know, I bet there’s baby books in the library,” she tells you as she sits up. “I’ll have Dina help me look for one tommor—oh shit.” She stares at you with wide eyes. “Dina! How are you going to tell her and Talia about Luke?”

Joel grimaces. He hadn’t thought of that, either.

“I—I’m not too sure.”

“You have to fucking tell them. Dina has to know about him. She has to know what a piece of shit he is, and so does Talia.”

Sensing your discomfort, Joel steps into the bedroom and intervenes before she can say another word. “Ellie, get to bed. S’late.”

“But—”

“Don’t make me tell you again,” he warns her, sternly.

She huffs, rolling her eyes. “Fine.” She climbs off the bed and on her way out, she eyes the plate in his hand. “That chicken?”

“Turkey. And it ain’t for you, it’s for her. So scram, kid.”

“Couldn’t have made me one while you were at it, old man?”

“Ellie, if you don’t get outta here right now—”

“Alright!” Ellie holds her hands up. “I’m leaving. Jesus.”

She disappears, closing the door behind her.

“Pain in my ass,” Joel mumbles, shaking his head as he walks over and carefully perches himself beside you. He hands you the plate. “Here, darlin’.”

“Joel, I appreciate this, but I’m really not very hungry.”

“Maybe not, but y’gotta eat,” he insists. “Baby needs it.”

Thankfully, you accept it without further protest.

“I’ll have Ellie get your things tomorrow,” Joel states as you’re eating. “Maria can go along with her since she knows the house. They’ll get your clothes and whatever else you might need outta there.”

“My father’s belongings.” You accidentally talk through a mouthful of turkey and bread. Swallowing, you tell him, “I have some boxes of his stuff in the basement. But they’re way too heavy for either of them to carry.”

“I’ll take care of that for you.” He reaches up, wiping a breadcrumb from the corner of your mouth with his thumb. “I can ask Tommy to give me a hand. Don’t you worry, peach. We won’t leave your dad’s things behind, I swear it.”

Relieved, you shoot him a grateful look, then polish off the last few bites of your sandwich.

“Here,” he says, offering you the glass of milk. “Figured it’s good for you, and good for the baby. Y’know, since it’s got calcium and…stuff.” He shrugs sheepishly, no clue as to what he’s talking about. “Vitamins, right?”

Nodding, you grab the glass and take a reluctant sip.

“You hate milk,” Joel realizes, raising an eyebrow.

“I do,” you admit with a laugh. “But you’re right. It’s good for both me and the baby, so cheers.” And with that, you somehow force the entire glass down.

He sets the dishes aside on the nightstand, figuring he can take them downstairs first thing in the morning.

Without bothering to rebandage his hand like he’d told you he would, Joel turns off the lights and climbs into bed with you. “All those nights wishin’ I could bring you home,” he muses as you curl into his side. “Wantin’ nothin’ more than to hold you in my arms in this bed. In our bed.” His arm slips around your shoulders, a laugh rumbling through his chest. “Almost doesn’t feel real, darlin’.”

Tilting your head, you nuzzle your nose into the scruff of his beard, prompting him to laugh again. Then, he remembers his conversation with Maria, and his smile fades from his face, his lips pursing together.

You catch the sudden shift in his demeanor.

“Joel? What’s the matter?”

“M’fine, baby. It’s just—” He hesitates. “From this point forward, I need you to let me handle things.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t want you gettin’ all stressed out, alright? I don’t want to run the risk of you—” He’s unsure of how to say it.

“Of me losing the baby,” you finish for him, quietly.

Joel winces, knowing he was wandering into sensitive territory. “Yeah. I—I really don’t want that to happen.” He pauses. “Maria mentioned to me you’re in a delicate stage. When do you reckon you’ll stop—how long until you don’t gotta worry ‘bout it?”

“After twelve weeks, my risk isn’t as high. If I make it to the second trimester in six weeks, then my chances of having another miscarriage are lower.”

Though you speak calmly, he clocks your anxiousness.

You’re worried, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t fucking worried out of his mind too.

Being a father at his age wasn’t ideal, but he wanted this child. It was part of him, and more importantly, it was a part of you.

Joel squeezes your shoulders. “I only ask ‘cause I was thinkin’ that, y’know, once we get to that point, maybe I can go ahead and start buildin’ the baby’s crib.”

“You’re going to build the crib?”

He nods. “And the highchair too. I can even make you a diaper changin’ table if y’want one.”

“Joel.” You can’t help but chuckle. “Our worlds were just turned completely upside down. You just found out that I’m pregnant, and you’re already thinking about building furniture? Aren’t we getting a little ahead of ourselves?”

“Hey, those things take a whole ‘lotta time,” he says in defense of himself. “Besides, winter’s right around the corner and I don’t wanna be out in the garage freezin’ my fuckin’ ass off. If I can get a head start now, I can have them all done in the spring by the time the baby comes.”

You fall silent.

“What’s on your mind?”

“I’m really scared of losing it,” you confess. “When I first took that pregnancy test, I wanted nothing more for it to be negative. Now, I’m terrified I won’t make it past my first trimester again. I really don’t want to lose it. I want this baby, Joel.”

He turns his head, meeting your eyes in the silver light shining through the lace curtains over his window. “S’why you’ve gotta let me handle things, darlin’. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“C’mere, my sweet girl.” Joel presses his lips to yours, murmuring against them, “I love you.”

His declaration comes with natural ease.

And so does yours.

“I love you too, Joel.”

[gallaghersgal]

DAY SIX → carving pumpkins, dad!richie

TAGS & WARNINGS → all fluff! pregnant!reader, domestic blended family content <33

WC → 694

eva comes running up to her father with a pumpkin almost as large as her little torso. “‘eyy,” richie says with a smile. “that’s a pretty big pumpkin, pumpkin! did’ya have fun?”

“so much fun!” eva squeals.

she hands the pumpkin off to richie, who’s eyes lift up to look at you. a low whistle leaves his lips at the brown sweater and elastic waist jeans you’re wearing. the fall colors bring out your eyes, and your red scarf matches the color on your lips. “hey mama,” he purrs, hand landing on your growing baby bump before taking one of the two additional pumpkins you’re carrying. “how was girls day?”

“went great,” you murmur against his lips. you give your fiancee a chaste kiss, then hurry inside. 

his kitchen table is laid with newspaper, his own sharp knife resting next to eva’s duller set, allowing her the option to carve the pumpkin herself. 

you let richie and eva scoop out the pumpkin guts while you bake a batch of pizza poppers in the oven. you’re pouring ranch and marinera into two little sauce cups when eva comes bounding over. 

“come onnn!” she pleads, tugging at your sweater. “daddy says we can’t start carving until you come back. hurry uppp!” eva presses her back to yours, trying to push you back into the dining room. 

“okay, okay!” you laugh, ruffling her hair with your free hand. you lean down to hand her the sauce cups, “i’ll be there in just a minute, can you take these for me?”

eva nods, taking the sauce cups and running back into the dining room. you plate up the pizza poppers and grab a roll of paper towels before following her. 

richie grins, his greedy hands landing on your hips. you feel him slip the bow at the back of your apron off, fingers brushing the nape of your neck when he pulls the strap over your head. 

“thanks for takin’ eva today,” he mumbles against your ear. his warm palm rests on your bump protectively, then he continues, “love seein’ my girls havin’ fun t’gether.”

you turn to smile at him, covering his hand with your own. “‘f’course honey. you’ll have your own little buddy soon enough,” you mumble.

richie raises his eyebrows, mumbling, “ye’h, gonna teach ‘im how t’swear.” he grins through a flinch when you smack his chest, no real force behind the action.

“daaaddd,” eva whines, needing her father’s help designing the pumpkin face. “should i give my pumpkin heart eyes or star eyes?”

large hands lift you gently off his lap as richie leans over to help his daughter. “i dunno kid, how ‘bout’ya do one of each?”

eva grins, lifting her arms until richie places her on the the tabletop. her tongue sticks through her lips while she carefully draws a face on her pumpkin. it’s a trait she picked up from her dad. 

with a careful hand you trace out crescent moon eyes, a wide grin, and pointed fangs to accompany it. a slow hand allows you to cut smooth, clean lines. you finish the eyes and notice eva over your shoulder. 

“can you cut my pumpkin for me?” she asks sweetly.

your heart swells at the seemingly small question. “of course!” you reply quickly, standing and moving to the other side of richie. when you sit down, eva lifts her arms up, asking you to pull her into your lap. 

you glance up at richie as you bring the young girl into your lap. his eyes shine with unshed tears, which he quickly tries to hide. you don’t know why he still strives to maintain his tough guy persona with you. you see right through his bullshit anyway, no need to pretend.

you praise eva’s design, fingers tickling her tummy until she shrieks with giggles. “okay, o-okay!!” she squeals, legs kicking against the chair legs. you let go to pick out a knife to carve with, holding it to the side when eva decides to climb from your lap onto the table. “do the smile first!” she chirps. 

you slide the knife in, following her scribbled lines. “you got it kiddo.”

© gallaghersgal, 2024. inbox. masterlist. divider © saradika

[joelalorian]

Fall Into Me - Chapter Eight: We'll Dance in the Street like Nobody's Watching

dbf!Joel x f!reader

Summary: Joel is hanging on by a thread as a single father to a tenacious 10-year-old Sarah. Feeling like he's drowning, like the world is about to spit him out, he needs some help before he breaks in half. At your dad's insistence, you show up in his life and change everything.

Story is inspired by the song Fall Into Me by Forest Blakk. Chapter titles will be lyrics from the song.

Word Count: 3.8k

Chapter Warnings: Explicit, under 18 take a hike. No outbreak AU. Lots of feelings, unprotected p in v, flirting, dads being dads. Two idiots falling in love and finally fucking admitting it. Joel is his own warning. Age gap of about 9 years (Reader 24/25, Joel 33/34). No use of y/n. Reader has a nickname used only by her dad and Joel uses various terms of endearment (darlin', sweetheart, etc.).

This chapter includes the scene that sparked the entire story idea. I've been patiently waiting for it to see the light of day. hope you enjoy!

Thank you so much to everyone who reads this self-indulgent story and extra thanks to those who comment and/or reblog - you all make me feel like a rock star!

Dividers by the wonderful @saradika-graphics

Chapter Seven | Main Masterlist

“So, how was it?” Grilling you for the past twenty minutes, Emily was relentless in her pursuit to find out just how good Joel was in bed, after congratulating you on the new job, of course. “Come on! I need to know!”

“Alright, alright! I had no idea you were such a needy bitch. Is your hubby not dicking you down enough or what?” you laughed before regaling her with tales of Joel’s prowess.

“I fuckin’ knew he’d be big and know how to use it! He just gives off that BDE, ya know what I mean? Just how big are we talkin’, anyway?”

Rolling your eyes, you laughed again. “Well, I didn’t fucking measure it, but it’s a definite handful. Besides, you’ve never even met him, Em! How could you possibly get that vibe?”

“I’ve seen photos and heard stories, that’s more than enough to pick up on that sorta thing,” Emily replied with the confidence of someone who damn well knows what she’s talking about. “I need to know more. Gimme all the details!”

“Yeah, yeah. Speaking of BDE, I gotta finish getting ready. Joel said he had something special planned for tonight to celebrate me getting the teaching job.”

“I bet he does. You’re gonna get another deep dicking from that huge—”

“Bye Em!” you cut her off and hit end call before she could carry on anymore.

Tossing the phone on your bed, you finished putting a light layer of makeup on, putting in a little more effort to look good tonight. Ten minutes later, dressed in a pair of dark, fitted jeans and a dark blue, long-sleeve, vee neck shirt that showed just a touch of cleavage, you wandered out to the living room.

“Alright Dad, I’m off. I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” Leaning over the back of his recliner, you press a kiss to his balding head.

“Have fun on your date and be careful, Spud. Call me if you need a ride home or anything,” he replied, patting your hand. You turned to leave, grabbing a light jacket from the hook by the door just in case, when your dad’s voice carried from the living room. “It’s funny, Joel told me he has a date tonight, too.”

Freezing for a moment, you squeak, “Oh, yeah?”

“Uh huh. Quite a coincidence me thinks.” He paused again, but you were at a loss for words and grateful that he couldn’t see your expression. “Enjoy your night, kiddo.”

Knowing a dismissal when you heard one, you take off through the door. Your mind raced on the short drive to Joel’s. He knows. Your dad so knows. You start to panic for a moment wondering if he’s upset before the realization hits that he didn’t seem remotely mad about it. More like he got a kick out of the idea and enjoyed teasing you. You and Joel had to fess up very soon, but that was a tomorrow problem. Tonight was meant to be all about you and Joel.

Walking through the front door, you expected to find Joel in the living room or kitchen, but the downstairs was empty. Lugging your overnight bag up the stairs, you thought maybe he’d be in his room or the bathroom still getting ready, but again, no sign of him. Where the hell was he?

Making your way down the stairs, you peeked out the window to make sure you didn’t imagine his truck in the driveway when you parked – it was there, right next to your car. He had to be around here somewhere. The sound of soft music hit your ears suddenly. Following the sound, you slipped out the back door and gasped.

A soft glow spread across the yard from lights strung from tree to tree, a plaid tablecloth covered the patio table on which sat a vase of brightly colored tulips, an open bottle of pinot noir, two stemless wine glasses, and two covered plates. Just beyond the patio, a hammock hung between two large live oaks with another set of string lights dangling above it. As your eyes took it all in, Joel stood off to the side watching you with a warm smile.

“Joel,” you whispered, afraid to disturb the dream-like quality of the moment, his name a drawn-out breath in the air when you finally turned to him. His dark eyes glinted from the string lights as he stepped forward out of the shadows, one hand stretched out towards you. There was no hesitation in reaching for him and you clung to each other for a few minutes before he stepped back to pull out a chair for you.

“Thank you,” you whispered, settling into the seat. When Joel took his place across the table from you, you added, “This is so lovely, Joel.”

A bashful smile graced his lips as he removed the covers from the plates and filled the wine glasses. Your gaze soaked in every little movement he made, in awe of the gorgeous man before you and all he’d done to make this evening special. Holding his glass up, he toasted to you. “Here’s to your new job and the start of a very rewarding career. Congrats darlin’.”

Clinking your glass against his lightly, you beamed at him. He looked so handsome, thick curls pushed back away from his face, tanned skin glowing in the soft lighting. “Thank you, Joel.” Already buzzing from the way he made you feel, you sipped lightly at the wine before digging into the meal before you.

Bursts of flavor hit your palette at the first bite, the chicken cooked to perfection and the sun-dried tomatoes adding just the right tang to the red pesto coating the rigatoni. A soft moan escaped before you caught it, cheeks heating up with the way Joel looked at you with hooded eyes.

“I reckon you like it?” he asked, a teasing lilt to his gravelly voice.

“This may be the most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted, Joel. Did you make this?” You took another bite, savoring the flavors that exploded in your mouth.

“Mmhmm. It’s my mama’s recipe, she made it a lot when we were younger, and it’s always been my favorite. I’m glad you like it.” He watched you enjoy another forkful, obviously proud.

“I don’t just like it, Joel. This is fuckin’ delicious. I didn’t know you could cook like this!”

His cheeks turned pink as he cleared his throat. “I can’t, usually. I practiced a lot with this one.” That melted your heart further.

You ate your fill, making small conversation between bites, until your wine glass was empty, and your belly satisfied. Joel poured you another glass, which you sipped leisurely as he cleared the table and placed the dirty dishes in the dishwasher for later. He wouldn’t let you lift a finger.

“Dance with me?” he said upon his return outside, voice deep and gravelly as he plucked the glass from your hand and placed it on the table.

“I’d love to,” you replied softly, lips tilted upwards in a sweet smile. Holding his left hand out, Joel helped you to your feet and let you off the patio.

A new song began, volume a little louder now, and you stepped closer to him. A warm buzz spread through your veins when Joel pulled you against his broad chest, one arm wrapping around your waist and the other bent to hold your hand over his heart. You could feel the thump of his heartbeat beneath the green flannel he wore as he swayed you slowly around the grassy yard, careful to not stray too close to the pool.

Nothing ever felt as right as being there in Joel’s arms, dancing in the yard like the world beyond the fence didn’t exist. Your feelings for this man were overwhelming, growing deeper each and every day – hell, each and every second was more like it – and that four-letter word bubbled in your throat. You swallowed it down, settling your head against Joel’s shoulder, eyes closed and focused on the moment.

Joel’s chin tilted downward, nudging against the side of your face, his lips near your ear, and his breath sent delightful chills down your spine when he began to sing softly.

“Fall into me and I’ll catch you, darlin’. We’ll dance in the street like nobody’s watching. It’s just you and me and the song on repeat in my head, playing over and over…”

My god, how could you not fall in love with this incredible man?

The intimacy of it all brought tears to your eyes as your fingers threaded through the hair at the back of his head. Stomach alight with the flutter of too many butterflies, the urge to speak from your heart became too much, you could hold back no longer.

“I love you, Joel.”

You loved him.

What did he ever do to deserve something like that?

Heart clenching deep in his chest, Joel guided you to the hammock, music still carrying softly through the air. With amazing finesse, he settled you both on the hanging fabric, bodies snuggled together until you nearly became one.

He ached to say the words back to you, but they kept getting stuck in his throat. Instead, he settled for showing you how he felt, just like he did with dancing and singing in your ear – he could have written that song for how relatable it was to the feelings you brought out in him. Dark eyes stared into yours as his hands moved over your body, pulling you impossibly closer.

I love you, his lips said as they pressed heatedly against yours.

I love you, his tongue said as it licked softly into your mouth to tangle delicously with yours.

I love you, his hands said as they touched you with utter reverence.

I love you, his body said as he pressed it tightly against yours, trying in vain to crawl beneath your skin.

Joel kissed you with singular focus until you were both breathless and overwrought with need.

“Take me to bed, Joel,” you whispered when he finally tore his lips from yours. “I need to feel every bit of you.”

Your angelic voice music to his ears, he scrambled from the hammock, scooping you up in his muscled arms to carry you inside and up to his bedroom. His mind occupied by one thing and one thing only – making love to you until you knew every part of him and he knew every part of you – the string lights and last bit of wine were left forgotten in the yard.

Loving the way you clung to him, Joel swept through the house and up the stairs with an urgency he’d not felt before.

His lips moved to brush down your neck, nipping at the tender skin as he went. Once in his room, he closed the door even though you were the only two there. Joel kissed each new patch of skin bared as he removed your clothes until you were completely naked. Easing you back onto his unmade bed, a low growl rumbled from deep in his chest when your fingers slid along his scalp and tugged on his hair. Fucking lord did he love how you touched him.

“Fuck, I need to taste you, pretty girl.”

He’d never seen anyone or anything more beautiful in his life as your naked body writhed on his bed, eager and yearning for his touch, and Joel knelt to worship at the altar of you.

Starting at your delicate feet, Joel’s fingertips traced every inch of you until he reached the apex of your thighs. Leaning forward, he let the scruff of his facial hair tickle along the flesh of your inner thighs, pressing open-mouth kisses along the soft skin as he went. Grinning as you trembled, he met your wide gaze as he leant forward, tongue exploring your folds.

The first taste of you set his soul on fire. Sweet like honey yet more addicting and thrice as satisfying, Joel licked at your clit, tongue occasionally dipping down into you, slurping greedily at the very essence of you.

He couldn’t have thought of a more delicious dessert.

His movements elicited sensuous moans that shot straight to his cock, his jeans quickly becoming too tight and uncomfortable. Seeking a little relief, his hips began grinding against the mattress as he brought you closer and closer to the edge, fingers soon assisting his tongue in driving you mad. Just when he thought he might blow his load in his jeans, again, you came, crying his name out, the syllables drawing out in a beautiful, lyrical drawl. Working you through it, Joel drank down every bit of your release like a thirsty man in the desert.

“Fuck, darlin’. You taste fuckin’ delicious. I could live here, between your legs, for the rest of my life, surviving on just you.” Joel stood as he spoke, gazing down at your blissed out form on his bed as he tore off his clothes, one large hand palming his cock before he practically dove into bed with you.

“You’re too good at that, Joel Miller,” you said, the words falling lazily from your lips as you recovered from the singularly intense orgasm. Swooping down, Joel kissed you passionately, offering you a taste of yourself lingering on his tongue.

Letting his body continue to do the communicating for him, Joel shifted his hips, grinding gently against you while his mouth devoured yours. Groaning as your nails scratched down his back, he reached a hand down to guide his cock toward its home in your pussy. Dark eyes opened wide, Joel watched your face as he entered you, delighting in the scrunch of your nose and the way your eyes squeezed shut before popping open again at the sensation of him splitting you open.

With long, slow, oh so deep, strokes, Joel made love to you, telegraphing the depth of his feelings in the only way he knew how, until you were writhing in pleasure beneath him. Afterwards, he cleaned the mess between your thighs and held you close until you fell asleep with your head resting on his chest. Only then, did he finally whisper the words he longed to say all night. “I love you, too.”

Joel stayed awake for a while, listening to your gentle snores and the soft sighs you made in your sleep. He loved that you let your guard down with him, that he was the man who got to hold you while you slept. In the darkness of night, Joel made himself a promise that he would not fuck this up before falling into a deep sleep of his own.

His dreams were particularly vivid, the sensation of your mouth around his cock so strong he’d swear it was real. He’d never experienced your mouth around him like that before, though, so it couldn’t be real. Joel let his dream-self enjoy every moment, your lips around his shaft and tongue teasing the throbbing vein along the underside of his cock a divinity he’d never known before. At one point you took him so deep that a loud, guttural moan escaped his lips, hands clenching in your hair.

Eyes popping open, the moan carried on, rumbling from deep within Joel’s chest as he glanced down to find you feasting on his hardened length. It wasn’t a dream after all.

“Fuuuccckkk,” his voice, still rough with sleep, drew out the word as he watched you go down on him. Your mouth a form of heaven he suffered too long without, the cheeky, mischievous look in your eye making the pleasure more intense. You clearly enjoyed the act nearly as much as he did.

It didn’t take long before your wanton rhythm and sinful mouth had him coming down your throat, your name a prayer recited over and over in that gravelly voice. “Jesus fucking Christ, darlin’. Where’d you learn to suck cock like that, hmm? Your mouth is like God damn heaven.”

Joel’s chest heaved as you gulped down every drop of his spend, tongue darting out to lick the last bit from the little slit on his cockhead before sliding over your lips. You visibly swallowed, savoring the taste of him; his eyes glued to your mouth the whole time. His hand came up, caressing your face with the love he couldn’t yet voice shining brightly in his eyes, and his thumb traced along your plump bottom lip.

“My little gummy worm,” he murmured, delirious from coming so hard. “Felt so good wrapped around my fat cock.”

Crawling up his body, you settled your weight atop him and pressed your lips to his, letting him taste a hint of himself on your tongue as licked into his mouth, returning the favor from the night before. The kiss was languid and sloppy, perfect for a lazy morning waking up together.

“You tasted good, all salty and musky,” you said once you broke away, voice raspy from having his dick halfway down your throat.

“You can wake me up like that any time you’d like, darlin’.”

The two of you cuddled for a while, neither of you too eager to start the day knowing you didn’t have anything pressing to do. Those unspoken words bubbled in Joel’s chest the whole time, begging to come to the surface, to be spoken aloud and given credence. Still, he hesitated without quite knowing why. Finally rolling out of bed around 10, you jumped into the shower while Joel threw on some clothes and ran out to grab some breakfast.

He just pulled back into his driveway, a bag with a few bagel breakfast sandwiches in one hand – he got an extra in case you wanted pork roll instead of bacon – a coffee and orange juice clutched in the other, when JB’s truck pulled up in front of his house.

Settled on the couch after your refreshing shower, legs tucked under you while scrolling through your phone, you heard Joel’s truck pull up. Waiting for him to come in with breakfast for you both, you were caught off guard by the deep voices rumbling in the front yard. You sat up, peeking through the blinds to find your dad out front, hands on his hips as he spoke to Joel.

Oh shit.

You couldn’t discern their facial expressions from that angle and moved to the front door, quietly easing the heavy wood open to peek out and eavesdrop. They had to be talking about you, right? There was no hiding or pretending you weren’t here, especially with your car parked in the driveway right next to Joel’s. After your dad’s comments last night, you wondered if he planned this ambush then.

“I knew she’d be here,” you heard your dad say, but you couldn’t read his body language clearly. His hands were on his hips still, but there was a smile on his face. “You sweet on my baby girl, Joel?”

You couldn’t hear Joel’s response, his gravelly voice pitched too low for your ears to catch across the distance, but you could see him smile hesitantly even as his broad shoulders hunched slightly. Whatever it was caused your dad to chuckle and punch Joel playfully.

“I knew it!” your dad exclaimed, the sudden loudness startling you. “I knew you two would hit it off, I just wasn’t sure how long it’d take.”

You caught Joel’s response this time, his surprised voice pitching upwards. “You’re not upset?”

Walking toward the house without invitation, your dad paused. “Why the hell would I be upset? You’re a good man, Joel, and I know you’ll treat her well. And she’ll be good for you, too, I have no doubt. Now, you got enough in that there bag for breakfast for three?”

Your shoulders sagged with relief as you eased the door open. “I thought I heard voices! Hi Dad,” you greeted. “What are you doing here?”

“Hey Spud. I could ask you the same thing, but I knew I’d find you here.” Pulling you in for a hug, he ushered you inside. “I got tired of waiting for you two to come clean and thought I’d put you both on the spot.”

Eyebrows shooting up, you glanced at Joel before meeting your dad’s gaze again. “How did you know?”

Giving you a shrug, he said, “You two weren’t exactly subtle and a father always knows.” Nudging your shoulder, JB turned to Joel. “You’ll find that out soon enough, my friend. I can’t wait for the trouble that Sarah will give you.”

The three of you sat at the small dining table, digging into the breakfast sandwiches, your dad insisting you tell him how long you and Joel had been seeing each other and how it all started. Relieved to finally have the truth out there, you told him the story and JB chuckled.

“That about tracks. That’s right around when I started to notice something different between the two of you. And it sure explains why you hardly gave Annica the time of day on your date.” JB gave Joel grief about that failed date for weeks knowing that there was something – or someone – else drawing the man’s attention. JB had the feeling back then that it was you, his baby girl, his grown-up Spud, who captured the single father’s attention.

“You sure you’re okay with this, Dad? I mean…” your words fell off, not really knowing what to say. You’d be heartbroken if your dad wasn’t okay with a relationship between you and Joel, especially now that you verbally admitted to being in love with him.

“Are you kidding? I’m happy as a pig in shit that the two people I care about most like each other.” Your dad was all smiles, beady eyes sparkling with mischief. “In fact, I was planning on setting the two of you up if you didn’t figure things out for yourselves first. Tommy was in on the plan, too, and was the one who suggested we give it a little time. Little shit never told me it became official, though.”

Sitting back in your seat, you giggled with relief. All that time spent fretting over what your dad might think, feeling guilty for dating his best friend and hiding it from him for so long. It was all for naught. You should have known he’d love the idea of you two together.

“So, when’s the wedding?” JB asked, a shit-eating grin spread across his lips as you and Joel froze, eyes darting to each other in wide-eyed panic. Your dad practically guffawed at his own humor while you two were practically having a panic attack. “I’m just kidding – there’s no rush. Just make sure you treat her right, Joel.”

Recovering from the initial panic – not that he didn’t want to marry you, eventually, just not quite this soon – Joel laughed a little nervously. “Of course, JB. I’ll always treat her right. I, uh… I love her.” His gaze shifted to you, heart showing firmly in those dark chocolate orbs. “I love you, darlin'.”

tbc

Taglist: @mellymbee @untamedheart81 @anoverwhelmingdin @runningmom94 @leilanixx

@pedropascalfan221 @lovelyjess69 @sarahhxx03 @sofiparallel @tammythr

@lulawantmula @islacharlotte @allyourfavesinoneblog @lover-of-books-and-tea @pedropascalsbbg

@ashleyfilm @brittmb115 @lilmizmoz @loveisacowboyyy @shotgun-shelby

@deninoe @casssiopeia @caitlynsixxx @skysmiller @missladym1981

@marirxse @lizzie-cakes @tynakub

[ln4author]

𝖳𝖧𝖤𝖸 𝖣𝖮𝖭'𝖳 𝖪𝖭𝖮𝖶 𝖠𝖡𝖮𝖴𝖳 𝖴𝖲 — Charlie Bushnell fanfic (parts of instagram and chat au)

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THE STORY SPOILERS HAS ARRIVED!!!

@ellarue

liked by iamcharliebushnell, walker.scobell, tomsturridgeofficial, and others

ellarue Is it a LONG way to where our brother is?@tomsturridgeofficial (thank me, I made him create an account here)

↳ See comments

_____

tomsturridgeofficial No. Not fair. Are you happy now kiddo?

↳ ellarue Yes, I'm big bro <33

↳ tomsturridgeofficial <33 (I learned how to do it)

dior.n.goodjohn NO FUCKING WAY YOU'RE GOING TO BE DELIRIUM???? O H M Y G O D, I'M IN LOVE W U!

↳ ellarue I'M THE ONE WHO'S IN LOVE WITH YOU, TRUST ME!!!! CABIN 5 IS ONE OF MY FAVSS <33

↳ dior.n.goodjohn You already have the last name, when will our wedding be??------

walker.scobell So this is the profile of the much talked, Miss LaRue?

↳ ellarue It's a pleasure to meet you too, Mister Jackson

iamcharliebushnell I love sandman.

↳ dior.n.goodjohn Said the guy who watched an entire season in a day after a CERTAIN news came out...

↳ iamcharliebushnell I said I LOVE the series <33

↳ aryansimhadri I swore I heard that he had never seen the series before this CERTAIN news @dior.n.goodjohn

↳ leahsavajeffries "Please, be discreet" he asked

↳ iamcharliebushnell THANKS LEAH!!!!!!!!

user1 WHY IS THE ENTIRE PERCY JACKSON CAST HERE????

↳ user2 GIRLLL!!!!!! I think the news about her being Selena is true!!!!!!

↳ user1 AAAAAAAAAAA PLEASE NO! I need Ella as Thalia.

↳ user3 YES, RIGHT? SHE IS MY ONLY FANCAST FOR THALIA

user4 A DELÍRIO PERFEITA JURO. Não posso esperar a hora para te ver como ela (THE PERFECT DELIRIUM I SWEAR. I can't wait to see you like her)

↳ ellarue Muito obrigada meu bem <33 FALTA SÓ UMA SEMANA, NEM EU AGUENTO MAIS (Thank you so much my dear <33 ONLY ONE WEEK LEFT, EVEN I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE)

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@ellarue

liked by iamcharliebushnell, dior.n.goodjohn, leahsavajeffries, and others

ellarue LANÇOU!!!!!!! ASSISTAM AGORA A SEGUNDA TEMPORADA DE SANDMAN!!!!!!! LAUNCHED!!!!!!! WATCH NOW THE SECOND SEASON OF SANDMAN!!!!!!!

↳ See comments

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_xochitl.gomez DELIRIUM HAS ARRIVED MYYY BESSTTTIIEEESSSS

↳ ellarue YESSSSSS BESSTTTTIIIIIIEEEEEE

↳ momonatamada Calling her a bestie, but I'm the one who will go to premier...

↳ _xochitl.gomez OH NO MOMONA YOU DON'T SAID THAT

↳ momonatamada YES I SAID

↳ _xochitl.gomez YOU KNOW WHY I CAN'T GO

↳ ellarue CAUSE U DON'T LOVE ME ANYMORE.

↳ _xochitl.gomez NOT THIS AGAIN PLEASSSEEEEE

iamcharliebushnell OPENING NETFLIX NOW.

↳ ellarue aaaaaa this is so cute, tysm <33

↳ aryansimhadri @dior.n.goodjohn @walker.scobell @leahsavajeffries @lin_manuel @rickriordan SHE ANSWERED HIM!!!! RED ALERT!!!! SHE ANSWERED HIM!!!

↳ walker.scobell NO WAY, BROOOOOO WHAAAATTTTTTT

↳ leahsavajeffries Okay, even I'm surprised by this

↳ dior.n.goodjohn I CAN'T BELIEVE IT, CHARLIE JUST PASSED OUT!!!!!!!

↳ lin_manuel THIS IS MY SON, GET THAT GIRL!!!

↳ rickriordan DON'T BELIEVE HIM ANTONELLA, HE'S A NATURAL LIAR

↳ ellarue WTF HAPPENED???? (I trust you, Tio Rick)

↳ iamcharliebushnell I'll kill myself... ☠️☠️☠️

tomsturridgeofficial I love how chaotic your friends are

↳ ellarue Me toooooo, that's why I'm friends with these freaks

↳ tomsturridgeofficial how adorable <33

user1 Bro... Is it just me or does our crush have a crush in our ANOTHER crush?

↳ user2 Yesssssssss, our crush literally has a crush on our crush LMAO

↳ user3 Wait, so our crush is having a crush on our other crush?

↳ user4 This makes sense, since we have crushes on both of our crushes

↳ user5 Does our crush also have a crush on our crush, back?

↳ user1 Why did I start with this????

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@dior.n.goodjohn

liked by ellarue, leahsavajeffries, iamcharliebushnell, and others

dior.n.goodjohn WE FINALLY MEET, MY GIRLS!! @ellarue (my bride) and @leahsavajeffries (our daughter) 💞💞

↳ See comments

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ellarue Bride??? We need to get married immediately.

↳ leahsavajeffries You guys wanting to adopt me, even though you're not even married yet

↳ dior.n.goodjohn HOW ABOUT WE GET MARRIED AT TOMORROW’S MEETING???

↳ ellarue PERFECT, WHY NOT?

iamcharliebushnell your bride is our bride *insert that communist rabbit*

↳ dior.n.goodjohn Really, Bushnell? REALLY?

↳ walker.scobell He's unstoppable bro, unstoppable.

↳ aryansimhadri @lin_manuel Look at the things your son says

↳ iamcharliebushnell Aryan, please stop tagging him every time, he is THE gossip girl, he will tell everyone

↳ lin_manuel AM I THE GOSSIP GIRL, SON?????? THE GOSSIP GIRL?????

↳ dior.n.goodjohn TALARICO RASPA A CANELA BUSHNELL KKKKKKKKKKK

↳ iamcharliebushnell WHAT A HELL??????

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@iamcharliebushnell

liked by walker.scobell, dior.n.goodjohn, ellarue, and others

iamcharliebushnell NO, I'M NOT A LOST SON OF POSEIDON

↳ See comments

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ellarue Luke Castellan = bonitinho, mas ordinário kkkkkkk

↳ iamcharliebushnell Is the translation correct?? Did you really say "cute"? AGAIN???

↳ ellarue In fact, it's more "beautiful" or "pretty boy"

↳ iamcharliebushnell WAIT, YOU CALLED ME PRETTY BOY????SIOXJIZKSJDISODJPOJIODJHDJBN

↳ ellarue I'm not lying, am I?

↳ dior.n.goodjohn Yeah, now he's dead, great Ella

↳ walker.scobell AEEEEEEE SHE KILLED LUKE FOR ME

↳ lin_manuel Being called "pretty boy" is one thing, now being called "BONITINHO", congratulations, son, you won.

↳ aryansimhadri MANUEL IS RIGHT, BONITINHO IT'S OTHER LEVEL

↳ leahsavajeffries Take note of today, gossip sites, because today was the day he died.

user1 MANO KSKSKSKSKSKSKKSKSK A ANTONELLA CHAMANDO ELE DE BONITINHO E ELE QUASE MORRENDO KSKSKSKSKKSKSKSKSKKSKSK (BRO LMAO ANTONELLA CALLING HIM PRETTY AND HE ALMOST DIE LOL )

↳ user2 QUE FOFURA MEU DEUS (HOW CUTE MY GOD)

↳ user3 Eu não acredito que tô shippando eles, sério, não tem como não shippar (I can't believe I'm shipping them, seriously, there's no way not to ship them)

↳ user4 REALLY!!! THEY'RE THE CUTEST

↳ user5 I don't ship them, but I think their friendship is cute

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Hey darlingss, these were just some spoilers of what's to come in this story and I took it very lightly... I didn't even mention the fights... wait, did someone say something? <33

THE FIRST EPISODE HAS BEEN RELEASED!!

[asentraa]

new anon who is lowkey obsessed with @dahliascophin's older josh and thought i should bring it to you... 😳

Older josh is much more mellow and calm and when you have little emotional momments he kinda gets hard because you're so much younger.. and fragile...

and now he's fucking all those little worries and weeps away with you shoved into mating press🥴

- 🥥

You came to the right place since I've been talking abt this with @dahliascophin A LOT in the dm's TEEHEE

Older!Josh who would deffo call you ,,kid'' ,,kiddo'' or something along the lines of ,,little thing'' to tease you about the age gap

Older!Josh who would whine under you as you ride him, him already coming once, but he lets you use him for your pleasure cause hes just so good for you, he just wants to please his little, younger sub<33

,,Such a good girl for me...shit, you're gonna wear me out, huh?''

Older!Josh who looks after you like you would break any moment:( He just loves you so much and whines when you don't want to cuddle with him right when he wants it, cause youre doing something on your laptop. Next thing you know you're being bent and bred in a mating press, your head dizzy as you moan sweet nothings to him about how good he makes you feel<33

[xo-cod]

You know what I think would be cute? If one of the 141 were watching Beauty and the Beast with his child and during the scenes where they're bonding and dancing, the child gasps and says, "That's you and Mommy!" And they're all excited because it shows that their parents are truly in love and they just find it adorable 🥰

141 men being all soft and cute dads makes my heart melt omg <33 this is so cute babe :(( 🤍

price: "is that right, honey?" he chuckles softly, an eyebrow raised in amusement. he actually hadn't given much thought to it, he didn't really think children were even for him. but then there you came, tilting his world on its axis. how you managed to fall in love with him, he hadn't the faintest clue. he couldn't ever fathom why you'd choose him but he's so incredibly grateful nonetheless. he didn't know what good thing he had done to receive either one but he counted his blessings every day for it. he holds his little girl in the crook of his arm as they both cuddle close on the sofa, his deep chuckle echoing in the room everytime his little kiddo eagerly pointed out the scene on the tv. his heart was practically swimming in his chest as he cuddles her close pressing gentle kisses all over her cheeks to make her giggle <3

simon: "me an' mama, huh?" he chuckles fondly, his heart fluttering inside his chest. he didn't much care for disney movies but since having his daughter, he'd been forced to watch them all back to back with her. not that he minded so much, he would've done anything to keep that grin on her little face. it makes his heart ache with so much joy when his little girl had said that, after all he grew up in a world of pain. some days, he was so scared of ever accidentally inflicting the same scars his father had left behind on his baby and you. and so it almost makes him teary eyed when his child points out the tenderness between belle and beast to you and him. he was the best dad anyone could ever ask for, it was just taking him a little longer in believing that <3

gaz: "shall we dance then, my love?" he humours them, raising his hand out for them to take. his heart was practically bursting at the seams when his baby pointed it out, he didn't think he could ever have this privilege in his life. and he cherished every single moment with you and his bundle of joy, both of you meaning more to him than life itself. and as the dancing scene takes place with belle and the beast, gaz and his baby also dance along to the music, with the exaggerated hum from gaz just to hear his little one giggle madly. his small girl dancing happily in his arms and gaz wrapping a strong arm around her, keeping her safe and close was a sight he could never tire from <3

soap: "and you're our little teacup, aren't you sunshine?" the scot laughs heartily as he scoops his baby in his warm arm, blowing soft raspberries on their stomach. johnny really didn't think he would ever be in this beautiful position of finally being a dad to his baby, a baby that you had gifted him. everyday he makes sure to let you know how thankful he is to have you and his child in his life, he would never be able to find the words to express it. so he chooses actions instead. as he tickles his little baby their shrieks of delight and giggles makes him all warm inside, he truly was the luckiest person ever. <3

[awhoreintheory]

(different anon) another angst idea :D Peter seeing his uncle using a gun, a weapon he despises because it so easily took away his uncle's life and destroyed his world

It will probably cause conflicted feelings for Peter

Also welcome!! Thank you for the ask :) I hope I did it justice <33

Peter won't lie. He may have gotten... attached.

Ok, ok, it sounds like a recipe for disaster. Spending time with his not-uncle from another universe? Definitely not what Mr. Falcon would've recommended, but it was actually really... nice.

He— Jason, not Benjamin here— was so like his Uncle Ben. The way he spoke, the way he laughed, even down to his reading taste. But he was so different, too. He carried himself with caution, he had more scars, his mannerisms were just slightly off, and doesn't talk about family. Ever.

Uncle Ben had loved his family so much.

His uncle had been a firefighter, then when he retired he became a police officer. He was a good man who wanted to give back to his community.

Jason wasn't a firefighter or a police officer. He said he handled real estate, and that's why he had so many apartment buildings. But, unfortunately for Jason, Peter wasn't born yesterday.

Jason was still a good man, and he did good, just... not in the same way as Uncle Ben. Peter assumed he was running with that crime lord, Red Hood. In Peter's opinion, he sounded a little scary. Who wouldn't think that when he first appeared with the flourish of eight severed heads?

But the Red Hood guy (crime lord? Anti hero? Vigilante?) Also actively tried to help Crime Alley— where Peter was currently squatting, so he consequently cared for.

Peter trailed behind Uncle— Jason, just Jason. His spidey sense adored the guy, and he knew all the cheapest places to get groceries. Also, everyone steers clear of him. No one's ever so much as attempted to mug him, which is a genuine accomplishment in this place.

"So, how long are you plannin' to follow me, kiddo?" Jason asked around a smirk, turning around just as Peter lost his cover.

Seriously, how does this guy do that??

Peter gave an exaggerated frown, running to catch up with Jason's long strides. "Seriously, how do you do that?? Are you sure you're a normal guy?" Peter gave a skeptical look, but fell into step with with his not-uncle.

"You follow me every Saturday. Are you sure you're a normal kid?" Jason gave him a skeptical look back, but otherwise slowed down for Peter.

"Hey! You always find the best prices for groceries, I need your tutelage." Peter gave a small, teasing grin. It really was like arguing with his uncle.

Jason reached out, ruffling Peter's hair. Peter batted him away, sticking his tongue out. "Ok, but in return, I need some help with my computer. It ain't workin' again. I'll pay ya'."

Peter raised an eyebrow. "You're seriosuly terrible with tech." Just like his uncle.

Jason swatted at him playfully.

Peter wasn't sure if, or how, Jason knew he was homeless, but he always helped him buy non perishables that didn't need a refrigerator or to be cooked. He was thoughtful like his uncle, in that regard.

It was... nice. Being able to shop with his Uncle. Or, well, Jason. (He really needed to start enforcing that distinction before it backfired on him.) Aunt May had been a terrible cook, so Uncle Ben did most of the cooking. He taught Peter most of everything he knew, too.

Peter thanked his uncle Jason for the help shyly, promising to make it up to him by fixing his computer for free. (Jason never let him do it for free.)

Jason watched the new Alley kid, Peter Parker, walk away. From what he'd heard, he was a skittish teen who knew his way around the shadows. A little naive, but otherwise he held his own. And, for some ungodly reason, he'd taken a shine to Jason. Not Red Hood, not Jason Todd-Wayne, just Jason the apartment guy who knew where all the good sales were.

Peter looked at him sometimes like he hung the moon, and other times with bitter nostalgia. He was about 94% sure Peter was an orphan, so maybe Jadon reminded him of a parent? Or at least someone who wasn't around anymore. It was hard to tell, with how the kids had no records, and getting him to talk about his past was like pulling teeth out of a Super.

Jason let Peter turn the corner before he started to follow. Ducking into alleys and staying a healthy distance away, Jason just wanted to make sure the Kid got back to his squat ok.

Except, just a couple minutes from where Peter was staying, he was suddenly dragged into an alley. No one looked or noticed, but Jason did.

Jason did, and he was fucking pissed.

Grabbing his spare gun, Jason rushed to help his kid Peter.

—

Peter was getting mugged for his groceries. Which wasn't desirable, as his stomach was an endless pit the consumed enough for a family of six, so he was ready to knock a guy out then head back to his place.

Except... then his uncle came rushing in, telling the man to "get the fuck away before you get hurt".

His Uncle always came rushing in like this in his nightmares. Unarmed and with that limp he got from a burning beam falling on him with he was younger and a firefighter. He would rush in, yelling and unarmed, trying to save his dumbass nephew from getting shot.

He would always get shot, he'd fall, the mugger would run away, and he'd bleed out in Peter's arms.

It was his nightmare that repeated every so often, typically joined with a nightmare about May and Tony's death, too.

Except this time... his uncle had the gun.

Jason had the gun.

"I said, back the fuck away before I blow your brains out." Jason snarled, his finger flexing over the trigger in warning.

Peter stared, his mouth filling with cotton and everything going mute.

His uncle was pointing a gun at someone, ready to shoot.

His uncle was holding the thing that killed him.

Peter felt ready to throw up.

The would-be-robber dropped his knife, running away. But Peter's eyes never left his uncles hands, in the smooth and familiar way he operated the gun. How ready he was to shoot someone with it.

Its not... Peter knows, second amendment and all. It's a person's right to own a gun. It should be for protection, but it could just as easily end someone's life.

It ended his uncles.

As a police officer, sure he owned a gun, but it was always kept firmly locked up. He'd never even seen his uncle in the same room as a gun, much less holding one.

It was wrong.

"Pete, hey hey, you're ok, Peter?" His uncle kneeled in front of Peter. When had he ended up on the ground?

He continued to stare at the gun. His uncle took the hint and tucked it away with a practiced motion.

Peter's eyes watered, and he leaned over, expelling the hot dog his uncle bought him earlier. His uncle rubbed his back as he threw up, comforting him, albeit a little awkwardly.

When Peter looked back up, he saw his uncles blue— green eyes, his white and black hair, and the unfamiliar 'J' shaped scar marring his cheek, and remembered.

'This isn't my uncle.'

'This isn't my home.'

And the worst part? He felt sadder about his uncle than his home.

He had nothing to go back to, after all.

[noemilivv]

Hi Hi Hiii!!

I just came across your blog for the first time and OMG YOUR CONTENT IS SO SILLY I LOVE IT AHENEGSNWVDBEGDEE (the aesthetic is <33)

That 300 thingy was so cute,too bad i missed it 😭😭

Anyways,

May I ask for some platonic! Alastor,Rosie,Zestial,Carmilla,Vox,Adam and Husk (don't be afraid to shorten the list if it's too many 😭 I usually give a lot so you can write those you have more inspiration for) with a child!reader that is stereotypically childish and just very energetic and happy? Like,they love bright colors,plushies,running around,climb on stuff,always are happy but overall is a very nice and polite kid and will behave if kept occupied? Maybe one day the kid isn't all happy like always and the character worried? (Idk you do you,I just want a silly little chaotic kid!reader 😭😭)

I love platonic stuff so yeah :3

Anyways,I hope you can and enjoy writing this!!

I hope you have a really nice day! Don't forget to drink water and have rest!!

Stay proud!

-Nina <3

AWEEE TYSM !! i’m glad you enjoy my content (as well the aesthetic of my blog hehe), dw tho!! i’ll def have more events similar to my 300 celly in the future ~

as of now, i do not write for zestial or carmilla, but other than that i can do the rest ! enjoy !

Adam, Alastor, Husk, and Rosie + Chaotic!Child!Reader

Adam

He literally loves you to pieces bro, it makes him consider kids later on in his afterlife

Wrestling is constant with the the two of you, he’ll let ya beat him up for fun, he’ll swing ya around, anything ya want!!

Although, if you start swearing at a young age, now it’s thinks to him!

If he sees that the chaotic and fun kid he knows just isn’t feeling it today, he’ll plop down next to ya, try to make you laugh or smile, but if he gets no response? Crushed bro.

He’ll just be like “What’s wrong little bro?” with a 🥺 look on his :’)

Alastor

Alastor wasn’t much of a kid person, well.. until he met you.

You were fun to be around - energetic, but also still polite, as well as entertaining

He would have you do some tasks, giving him less work, and it kept you occupied

Although one day, his charming little kiddo wasn’t their normal happy self.

Al would bend to your level, a soft smile on his face, “Young one, you’re never fully dressed without a smile!”

Husk

To be honest, kids weren’t really Husk’s thing, teenagers? Sure. But young children, eh…

Well, until he met you, you were polite, but still had a lot of energy and were fun to be around — but also knew when to shush.

He would especially love it when you would say the most out of pocket shit, and just not know, cause you’re just a kid!

But when he sees his little stinker without their usual smile, he’s concerned.

When you come to the bar with your little soft frown, Husk will lean over the counter to face you, whispering a small ‘Keep pushing tiger, ya got this.’

Rosie

Rosie adores children of all ages, she’s a very motherly person, so it’s safe to say when you first stumbled into her emporium, clueless, she was more than delighted to help you!!

Once she got to know you, she was in awe about how a child could be more perfect, you were so grown yet so innocent, it was cute, really.

So when she sees you stumble back to her parlor, looking like you had just cried, her heart broke for you.

She’ll take your hand, and lead you off to your usual talking spot, giving you a cup a tea, “C’mon now, sweetie, what’s got ya in a funk? What can I do?”

[bookshelf-dust]

good night, bloodsucker

eddie munson x fem!reader

word count: 2,114

warnings: swearing, a little anxiety, fluff (let me know if i forgot something)

a/n: hi! this is a little short and sweet fic for you. i hope maybe someone will be into it. i’m starting to feel a little better about writing, and this one made me happy, so that’s something. also, this is dedicated to the one and only @clovermunson (the crowd goes wild!!) for having such a lovely brain and trusting me to handle this. i love you all to the moon and back. keep kicking ass. <33

————

Wayne is unable to see the television screen but for a few seconds at a time. It’s making what was meant to be a relaxing night off…anything but relaxing. 

He huffs and sets his drink down. 

“Boy, would you quit your pacin’?” 

The boy in question scoffs, continuing to move back and forth across the room, occasionally pausing to peek out the window or fuss with something on the kitchen counter. It’s like somehow he thinks an idea will swoop in through the panes and seep into his brain. Like it will materialize before him and all will be resolved.

It’s been another five minutes of this when the elder Munson can’t take it anymore.

“Eddie!”

“WAYNE!”

He rubs his temple, chuckling at his nephew’s panic. He pauses the tv. 

“You gotta calm down, kid.”

Eddie slams his hands up against his face so hard that the slap resonates throughout the room. He peeks out from between his fingers.

“I know! I know. I just—this is our first date ever, and I have a tendency to be a royal fuck up, and I don’t want to ruin this.”

Wayne pats the cushion beside him, encouraging the boy to take a seat. 

“You won’t ruin it. She said yes to going on with you, didn’t she? Now all you gotta do is be yourself.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, preparing to argue, but Wayne holds up a hand. 

“There’s nothing to worry about, Ed. You’re already friends, aren’t you?”

“Well, yeah—”

“And you want to go out with her?” 

“Yeah, I mean—”

“Then I don’t see the problem.”

They both stop speaking, and Eddie looks at Wayne, eyes wide with nerves. 

“I don’t know how first dates work, Wayne! Can’t you just tell me what to do?”

Eddie slides down off the couch until he’s flat on the floor. 

Wayne scoots forward, looking down at his nephew. He’s much too big to be moping on the carpet. His hair is splayed out around him, and Wayne can’t help but think about how this has been Eddie’s default reaction to anxiety since he got dropped off on his doorstep. Some things never change. 

Eddie thinks his uncle looks incredibly wise, looming over him like this. “What plans have you got for tonight?” Wayne asks.

Eddie puts his hands under his head, feigning collectedness. “We’re seeing a movie.”

“Okay. A movie. What else?”

The boy gulps. “I thought I’d take her for ice cream. And that way we could sit and talk or whatever. Shit, is that a bad idea?”

Wayne reaches down and smacks Eddie’s knee, though the gesture is free of malicious intent. 

“No. You have a lot of bad ideas, but that isn’t one of them. I’m sure it’ll be fine, kiddo.”

Eddie sits up, mumbling under his breath. “I’m sure it’ll be fine, yeah, yeah.” He almost smacks his head on the coffee table when he stands.

He’s determined not to pace again, so he calmly, unnecessarily slowly, sits back down on the couch. He laces and unlaces his fingers. 

“Should I get her flowers?”

“Eddie.” Wayne downs the last of the beer he’d been nursing in one go.

Eddie looks at his watch. He doesn’t even have time for flowers. He’s been panicking for so long that he actually needs to head out so that he can pick you up and you won’t think he forgot about you—

He stands just as quickly as he’d sat down. “I gotta go, Wayne.”

He follows Eddie to the door and meets his eyes. The very same doe eyes that have always gotten him what he wanted. Because Eddie is a suck-up, and Wayne always gives in. 

“Just be yourself, alright? You're gonna be fine. Treat her nice, watch out for her. Make sure she’s comfortable. And have a good time.” 

Wayne presses a rough kiss to Eddie’s forehead, though it’s over his messy bangs. Wayne Munson is a surprisingly affectionate person, especially towards people he loves, no matter how brooding his demeanor is. 

“Okay. Yeah, I got this. I’m a gentleman. It’s gonna be fine.” 

Eddie’s halfway to the van when he realizes he was lost in hyping himself up and forgot his keys. Wayne notices though, and tosses them to him from the front steps. It’s pure dumb luck that Eddie catches them. 

“Good luck, Ed.”

“You too!”

Wayne sees Eddie smack his head against the steering wheel in anguish. He laughs it off, stepping back inside the now quiet trailer.

“Get a grip, goddammit,” Eddie fusses to himself, pulling out of the park. “Get a damn grip.”

————

“You really have a type, don’t you?”

Eddie’s looking at you, eyes wide with glee, cheeks all rosy from laughing. 

“Maybe. But I guess it works in your favor, doesn’t it, Munson?”

He tosses your shared empty popcorn bucket in the trash. You’re still sipping on your Icee, the blue raspberry flavoring having turned your tongue blue. 

“That it does.”

Eddie realized after the movie had started that you seemed to have the hots for every damn vampire on the screen. And he couldn’t help but notice the subtle similarities between the looks and interests of those characters and himself. 

“It’s not my fault you’re all so pretty.”

He holds the door open for you. It’s one of the many sweet gestures he’s provided you with over the course of the night. He’s opened every door. He ordered your popcorn, helped you up the stairs in the theater, and now he’s waiting while you finish your drink—albeit a little obnoxiously just to tease him. 

“Is that a compliment?”

You pull on the chain attached to his belt loop. “Yep. You’re very pretty. And I’m glad I waited to see this with you.”

Eddie’s blushing. He’d try to hide it if he weren’t so intrigued by your words. 

“Waited?”

“Yeah, I had a friend ask me to see The Lost Boys with them on opening night, but I really wanted to see it with you. Figured you’d like it, too.” 

He leans in and sweetly presses his forehead against yours, just for a moment. 

“Well that’s cute. And I did like it. I’m honored you wanted to see it with little ‘ol me.”

“I think I’d like to see all the movies with you.” The words are leaving your mouth before you can second guess yourself, and the look on his face is completely worth it. 

“Shit, you really are just making me feel special tonight, huh?” 

You’re still messing with the chain on his jeans, but your fingers move upward, finding purchase on a patch sewn onto his vest. The messy stitching feels comforting against the pad of your finger. 

“You are very special, Eddie.”

He won’t argue with you. Not when he can tell that you’re being earnest. When it’s practically emanating from you. You think you could dedicate your heart and soul to him, worship him like he’s some ancient deity, and you’d never grow tired of him. 

“Right back at you, sweetheart.” You grin at his words, and suddenly he’s feeling loads more confident knowing he can make you so giddy. He can’t believe he landed a date with such a fucking gem. 

“You want a milkshake?” he asks, raising a brow. 

“‘Course I do. I’m not a psycho.”

Eddie snorts. It’s a cute sound. One you’re very pleased that you got him to make. 

“There’s a place up here, on the corner. We can walk, but we have to cross the street a couple times, so I think you’re gonna have to hold my hand.”

You’re sure you’ve never smiled so brightly. So stupidly, head over heels for the boy in front of you. He bends at the waist and extends his hand. 

“I think you’re right. That seems like the very best option.”

“Glad we’re on the same page.”

You slide your palm against his, and you’d be embarrassed at the sheer amount of butterflies in your tummy if you weren’t so happy to be holding Eddie’s hand. 

His rings collide with your own, and his thumb starts rubbing over yours almost automatically, as if this is something he’s been doing with you forever.

He swings your entwined hands during the short walk, and you don’t know it, but secretly he’s trying to memorize each line, each dry patch or scratch that covers your skin. He could hold your hand forever. 

When you’re in line, waiting on the milkshakes he ordered for you, again, you slide your other hand up his arm until it rests on his bicep, and Eddie thinks he might melt right there on the shop floor.

You resting your head on his shoulder just about ruins his life. He catches you looking at his hand, and before he knows it you’re bringing it upward, pressing your lips to the back of it and adjusting the bracelet on his wrist.

“You should let me paint your nails.” 

Eddie meets your eyes. He doesn’t look freaked by the idea, rather like he’s contemplating letting you do so. 

“Okay. You wanna go next door and find some polish after this?”

You lift your head, and there’s a little mark on your cheek from a crease in his jacket. Eddie presses his thumb against the mark and smiles. 

“Really?” you ask. 

“Yeah.”

“Okay,” you grin. You squeeze his arm a little tighter, and the look on your face makes Eddie realize Wayne was right. There was nothing to worry about. 

————

Eddie’s hand rests on the center console in his van. It’s still parked outside the theater. 

You had your cup resting there too, but with each sip you took, chin against the lid, Eddie was still worried you’d spill it. Not because of the mess it’d make, no—he’s made tons of messes in his car. But because he couldn’t bear to see you cry over spilled milkshake. You let him taste it, and it is pretty damn good. 

So now, Eddie holds it in the hand that’s supposed to be drying. You lift your head up, and he tilts the straw towards you, allowing you to take a sip. The excitement on your face every time he does it makes him feel like he could sit here and feed you for the rest of his life. 

He thinks he may be in deeper than he realized. Hell, he’s allowing you to paint his nails in the van, the window cracked and music turned down lower than it has ever been. 

Every once in a while you catch glimpses of conversations coming from the passing moviegoers, and you’ll both giggle simultaneously. This evening has felt like some fever dream, something Eddie never would’ve imagined he’d experience, let alone deserve. 

You stick your tongue out and pull up Eddie’s hand, appraising your work. Once satisfied, you start putting on a layer of clear polish. Eddie tries to read the teeny words on the bottle over the lid of his own cup. 

“What’s that for?”

“Seals it all in and keeps it on longer. Figured this might give it a chance at outlasting your daily escapades.”

He laughs. It’s a slow, sweet sound, and you wish you could bottle it up and take it home with you. 

Eddie holds his nails up to the air vents. You grin at him, tucking the bottles of nail polish into his jacket pocket so he can keep them. 

He leans his head towards yours, but he can’t quite reach. “C’mere, pretty please.”

You incline your own, and he presses his lips to your forehead. You feel yourself flush. 

“Thank you, sweetheart. I really like them. Very metal.”

You let out a breath of a laugh. “I’m glad you like them, Eddie. I had a really good time tonight.”

“I did too. Maybe next time you’ll let me paint your nails?”

You swipe your thumb over the very prominent dimple that’s appeared on his cheek with the way he’s smiling at you. 

“Of course I will. Next time you can pick the movie.”

“Deal.”

When Eddie drives you home shortly after, you get another kiss on the forehead. He can’t help but think, watching you go up your front steps, that you really do deserve some nice flowers. What he doesn’t know is that you think the same thing about him.

You unlock the door and turn to face him one last time for the evening. 

“Good night, bloodsucker!” you shout, grinning and hoping he’ll laugh.

He does. Success. 

He really is gonna have to stay away from Chinese for awhile. But it was worth it. Just like he thought, he’s head over heels. Maybe you’re the vampire. 

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

[tamryisk]

BroZone + Poppy & Viva headcanons!

I feel like infodumping about my headcanons for the crew so here they are!!!

Poppy:

Age: 23

Pronouns: she/her

Pansexual

Has ADHD (mainly attention deficit and hyperactivity)

She's Latina (Salvadorian, Mexican and Black)

More of a King Peppy hc but he's Salvadorian and Mexican, their mom is probably black and Mexican

Has Synesthesia (mainly being seeing color when others speak or when she hears noises)

Was a premature baby

Branch

Age: 25

Pronouns: He/him

Bisexual

Has autism

He's Black and Filipino

His common stims are flapping his hands and biting his lip

Has BPD (borderline personality disorder) due to his trauma from a young age

Had extensive singing training as a kiddo

Was nicknamed Twig cuz he was small as a baby

Quite fond of kids and finds them cute

Viva

Age: 28

Pronouns: She/they

Pansexual

Autistic and ADHD

She loves playing with people's hair, mainly Clay's

Calls Clay "Clayton" to mess with him/piss him off

Has a form of adjustment disorder and severe attachment issues (in the sense that she is constantly trying to keep those she loves in a place where she thinks is safe)

Has been singing since she could talk

Her first word was probably "music"

John Dory

Age: 45

Pronouns: He/him

Aromantic & asexual

Neurotypical

He feels forced to make sure he and his brother's are perfect just because he's the oldest

He doesn't like it when he's called bossy

Tends to speak a little too honestly (he's vv blunt)

Cares a lot for his brothers, especially Branch since he's the youngest

Not fond of kids, but loves his niece and nephews

Supports his gay brothers (Floyd and Branch) the best he can as an ace-aro (he's not interested in love but tries to for all of his brothers sake 😭 but they don't mind his disinterest)

Enjoys rap and pop music, maybe even hip-hop

Bruce

Age: 40

Pronouns: he/him

Demisexual

Neurotypical

He could rant about Brandi for ages, he loves her so much

Knows sign language because one of his kids are deaf (all the brothers know sign language mainly cuz branch was nonverbal for a while and spoke with sign)

Plays bass guitar

Clay

Age: 35

Pronouns: he/they

Asexual & demiromantic

QPP's with Viva

Doesn't understand why Floyd is emo 💀

Has OCD

He LOVES *NSYNC's music and had no idea Branch was the lead singer

Loves to crochet things for Viva and now he can make things for all of his brothers

AND FINALLY MY SECOND FAVORITE BROTHER!!!!

Floyd

Age: 30

Pronouns: he/him

HE IS GAY. PERIOD. he's also demisexual!

Nearly cried when Branch came out to him, didn't stop hugging him and telling him how proud he was of his little brother

Isn't too fond that Branch had vocal training at such a young age

Autistic

He's emo, he likes emo shit and he's an emo FREAK‼️‼️‼️ (he's silly tho)

Good friends with Veneer and visits him sometimes (he's kinda scared of Velvet)

Doesn't like being stereotyped as a typical gay man

Taught Branch how to walk and speak sign language before he taught the rest of his brothers how to speak ASL (American Sign Language)

That's all I got :33 fell free to share ur headcanons in the tags if you wanna!!!!!!

[leviathans-watching]

Haluuuu I was waiting for this day!! I was about to request something from you but it was close😭 so now that it's open please hear me outt🥰🥰

Can I request a Headcanon fluff with the obey me boys or side characters reaction to their MC and kid having a sweet moment?

You can do it whenever you want I'm willing to wait!💜 Honestly your one of ny fav writers in this app! Your so good I hope you continue this with Passion 💜💜💜

you and your kid

includes: the brother x gn!reader (no pronouns mentioned)

wc: .7k | rated g | m.list

a/n: omggg i have such bad baby fever rn and this made it worse,,, and it was so hard giving some of them sons they're all such girl dads imo

please rb <33

➳ lucifer watches you hold the spoon near your daughter’s mouth, cooing at her as she takes a bite of the human-world mashed goop. disgusting as the food looks, you and your daughter look quite the opposite, and he can’t help but smile as you gently wipe at her mouth. a fruitless endeavor, to be sure, as your guys’ daughter is one messy eater, but the care and love in your actions warms him all the same. how did he get so lucky to enjoy these moments? surely mundane seeming to some, but to him, they mean the world.

➳ mammon shuts the car door, stretching. man, it is good to be home! but seeing you open the front door, welcoming him in with his daughter on your hip is much better. you wave with a smile, and upon seeing him, your daughter starts to squirm, masking grabby hands in his direction. booking it up to you, mammon takes your daughter, pressing a big kiss on her forehead, then leans in to kiss you. “i missed you,” he says. “both of you.” your daughter squeals happily, tugging on his hair, and mammon lets her, basking in both of your presences.

➳ levi steps outside, on the hunt for you and your son. you’d both disappeared and once checking the house he knew you must be in the yard. the sound of a plastic bat hitting a ball tells him he’s right, and he makes his way around the corner. “how goes it?” he calls, and you look up. you’ve been teaching your son how to play whiffle ball, as he’d expressed interest in joining the neighborhood t-ball team, something levi was content to leave in your hands. as he speaks, your son winds up for another swing, sending the ball bouncing across the grass. you cheer and clap and levi can’t help but cheer too.

➳ satan wakes up the the baby crying, rolling over and out of bed. you’re already up, trying to comfort her, and as he joins you, he hears you singing softly, a nonsense piece that you’ve no doubt made up on the spot. “how long have you been up?” he asks, taking your guys’ daughter from you and holding her close. “i can take it from here, love. go back to bed.” you ignore his words, wrapping your arms around his waist, and he huffs out a laugh. “fine, fine, i’ll take care of you both.”

➳ asmo blinks as he meets your eyes, not expecting to see some very, uh, artistic makeup covering your face. lipstick is smeared across your chin and bright blue glitter is across your cheeks, but as you grin up at him he can’t help but think you’re as attractive as always. “oh, is it makeover time?” he asks mildly. “she takes after me, i guess. an eye for beauty and all.” you laugh, and your daughter runs into the room, beaming proudly. “this was your work?” he asks, scooping her up into his arms. “amazing!” he says as you giggle, and continues to shower her with compliments.

➳ beel wakes up to his bed shaking and looks up to see his son crawling across it. you’re in the doorway, a tray in hands, and beel can smell that it’s breakfast. “good morning, kiddo,” he says sleepily, lifting the blanket so your son can snuggle in next to him. “breakfast in bed? i’m spoiled.” you smile, setting the tray down on the bedside table, and beel can see the misshapen pancake hearts that are no doubt the product of hard work. before you can leave, beel moves the covers again, and you sigh warmly, climbing back into bed as well, your son squished in the middle.

➳ belphie feels a small hand slip into his and looks down. it’s, of course, his daughter, who always insists on holding both of your hands whenever you walk somewhere. you laugh at the familiar action, and he gives you a quelling look. “are you excited to go the park?” he asks your daughter, and she nods excitedly, full of energy. he resigns himself to hours of swing-pushing and tag-playing but consoles himself with the fact that you’ll be there too, even if it is only to take videos while he’s forced to run around and play.

leviathans-watching's work - please do not copy, repost, or claim as your own

[butchreg]

daddy's boy ( ~ 1k words )

for a fic trade with @lottiesboy !! here ya go buddy i had a lot of fun doing this ! :33 i love daddy ! nat so much waaah. yellowjackets masterlist here , upcoming list here

summary : a morning with daddy ! nat. you wake up extra small but daddy is always happy to take care of his baby boy !

tags / warnings : sfw agere , babyre , boyre , daddy ! nat , he him tmasc nat , yellowjackets x reader , padded agere , fluff , little ! masc reader , changing scene ( not detailed ) , bottle feeding

The light in your room flicks on, followed by your daddy walking into your room, gently shaking you awake. You roll over, blinking open bleary eyes, whining a little. “Mornin’, little man,” Nat says, chucking your chin. You make an incoherent noise, rubbing your sleepy eyes. “Someone’s sleepy, huh.” He chuckles a bit. You nod, yawning without moving to get up. He yawns too which makes you giggle.

“See what you did, bubba? Making Daddy yawn.” He chuckles again and you giggle. “You ready to get up?” You babble in response, reaching your arms out toward him, making grabby hands. He scoops you up, placing you on his hip.“Oh, what’s that? Does Daddy have a little baby today? Just a tiny boy?”

You blush, burying your face in his neck. “Abab,” you reply. Nat bounces you on his hip. 

“Let’s get you changed then, okay buddy? We don’t want any accidents today.” You whine but otherwise don’t protest, too little and sleepy to feel embarrassed at his comment. “Here, Daddy’s gonna put you down for a minute,” he starts, causing you to whimper. “Shh, only for a minute while I go get some supplies.” You mewl as he sets you gently back on your bed. 

“Oh I know, buddy. Your life is so hard,” he jokes. “Here, I’ll set a timer. You wanna hold Daddy’s phone?” You nod; that sounds fair. He tousles your hair, already messy from sleep, before he steps out into the hallway to get the changing mat and one of your diapers. 

True to his word he comes back only a minute later, just as the timer begins to go off. A smile engulfs your face when you see him and you clap your hands. “Da!” you call. Nat gasps, pretending to be shocked to see you. 

“There’s my little guy!” You giggle, stimming by flapping your fists. He lays out the changing mat, patting it for you to come lay down. You try to stand up but wobble. “Oh silly Daddy, I should’ve known you’re too tiny to walk by yourself today.” You whine, clumsily plopping back down on the bed. He gently picks you up, carefully laying you on the mat. 

He picks up the diaper, and you babble and coo at the colorful animal designs on it. “Oh yeah? You like that?” He points at a blue lion. “What does he say, buddy?” 

“Raaawr!” You growl, trying to sound ferocious. He laughs. 

“That’s right! What a smart little guy.” You smile proudly at your daddy who smiles back. “Are you ready, bud?” You nod shyly, mewling as the cool air hits your lower area. Nat coos sympathetically, making quick work of getting you changed into the colorful diaper. When he finishes he boops your nose. 

“All done. Good boy,” he praises you. You squeal, wiggling your padded bum. He scoops you up, along with the changing mat, awkwardly folding it with his free hand. Leaving it atop your dresser, he turns his full attention back to you. “You hungry, kiddo?” You bob your fist up and down, signing “Yes” in sign language. He plants a kiss on your head. “Why don’t I make you a bottle and we can watch some ‘toons, huh? Does that sound good?” 

Excitedly you wriggle in his arms. “Da! Da!” 

“Okay buddy.” He carries you into the living room, flipping on the TV and setting you gently on the floor.

“Gababa,” you babble, pointing at the colorful characters. Nat nods like he understands what you’ve just said. He crouches down, blocking your view of the television making you whine. He looks into your eyes and you quiet down under his gaze. 

“Daddy’s gonna go to the kitchen and make your bottle. Can you be a big boy and watch by yourself for a few minutes?” You frown at first but ponder his question. “I promise I’ll be back reeeal soon with some nice warm milk.” He smiles at you which makes you smile in turn. “Is that okay?” 

“Mmmm,” you hum, thinking a few seconds more before nodding. 

He takes a few steps away, waiting until your focus is back on the TV before retreating into the kitchen. Clattering can be heard, and a muttered curse or two as he fumbles around in there for a minute. He begins whistling to himself, fixing your bottle and running it under warm water. Once he’s satisfied with the temperature he comes back into the living room where your eyes are glued to the screen. 

“There’s my big brave boy!” he greets you warmly and you babble a reply.

“Baba, baba!” You make grabby hands at your daddy, show momentarily forgotten as you reach for the bottle in his hand. He sets the bottle down on the couch, scooping you up and putting you in his lap. He cradles you in his arms, picking up the bottle and holding the nipple up to your mouth. You hungrily latch onto it, making a noise of contentment as you drink up your milk. 

“Someone’s hungry,” he comments, holding the bottle for you so you can focus on suckling. You drink quickly and he urges you to slow down, not wanting you to get a tummy ache. Soon enough you’re finished and he pats your full belly, taking the bottle and placing it on a small table next to the couch. 

“All done?” You burp in response, making him laugh. You nod and hum contentedly, rolling over so that you two are stomach to stomach. He scoots to lean against one arm of the couch so that you can see the TV without having to change positions. He rubs your back gently, turning his head to watch the show too. “We gonna have a good day, kiddo?” he asks you. You nod, returning to babbling to him about your cartoon.

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

Dad tan?

Either like headcanons or a full little prompt. Anything of the sorts

hii!! yes yes and yes, I love dad tan. some of these are probs mentioned in other hc’s. but hope you like it💌

DAD TAN HC’s

wc. 721

— I think it's been established that tan is a girl dad. he suits a son too though a daughter fits him so much better

— he is a great dad, the kind of one who didn't have a solid father figure growing up but wants to be what he couldn't have. just bc he didn't have a good dad, doesn't mean his kids have to have the same

— he wants to give them everything he didn’t have

— he was very anxious about being a dad, constantly worrying about messing up and being shit or them turning out like him, but with your reassurance, he got more comfortable with the idea of having kids

— he also worries a lot bc of work - something bad happening to him and leaving you on your own with the kids

— I feel like maybe he wants lots of kids, like a big house full of your children, though he is a man and he has no say in how many kids you have (had to be said lmao, can't stand when guys say they want 6+ kids) but realistically that's not possible or suitable for his lifestyle/ occupation, so you have 2 kids, one boy, one girl (but both under 7)

— he has small pictures of all of you (you and the kids) tucked in his wallet so he can have you close at all times. his lock screen is a picture of all 4 of you from a recent family holiday. and then you're his home screen <33 

— you've both taught your kids very well; good manners, polite, not too spoilt (even though they get LOADS of gifts from dad tan) they have things in moderation, so they're well-rounded and behaved kids. they have their moments, but overall, they're good. I think he hates snotty, shitty and bratty kids, so he's made sure that his are nowhere like that

— the boy looks like tan and has more aspects of your personality, but the girl looks like you and has more aspects of tan's personality. they're a perfect mix of you both, AND IT'S REALLY FUCKING CUTE !!

— one of the kids (or both) definitely copied a swear that tan said, so now you put a ban on curses around the house. no swearing when the kids are awake

— you have sunday dinners at your shared house with the kids and uncle lemon comes over. he accidentally gets them all hyper and wound up before dinner, then tan curses him out, saying how they're going to be a nightmare to get sorted. he apologies then turns to the kids and laughs, basically mocking tan and then helps get them cleaned up for dinner

— you both have a system, one of you is in charge of one kid getting ready for bed, and the other is in charge of the other kid. you swap over halfway to share time between both kids. you do things together and it works, sharing the responsibilities to lighten the load

— after the kids are in bed, you and tan have some time together. as much as he loves his kids, you still come above. either you want some time apart to recuperate, like you have a bath, tan watches football or you both snuggle on the sofa watching shitty tv and having a couple drinks

— loves his kids, loves his family💔

— when he gets the chance, he'd plan dad days, where he does something special with the kids or one of them at a time. either taking you all out for the day, going to a kiddy theme park, or taking the son to a westham football game or the daughter on a shopping day around harrod's

— he minimises time away from work to spend as much time at home with you and the kids

— he takes the kiddos out to places he and lemon liked as kids. taking them to cafes they used to regularly visit 

— has afternoon naps on the sofa when the kids wear him out. he dad snores too. sometimes you find all 3 of them on the couch, each kid tucked into the sides of tan

— in conclusion, something 'tangerine' something, is the bestest husband and dad ever

— — — — — — — — — — ☆ — — — — — — — — — —

no tan taglist for this one as don’t want to spam you