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dilf-docs · 4 months ago

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Saturday But in Your Sunday Best

bfd!joel miller x younger fem!reader

summary: joel has a co-worker's wedding in las vegas. everything that can go wrong, does.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap, smut, p. in v., creampie, oral (f. and m. receiving), breast play, fingering, dacryphilia, degradation kink, ANGST (as in i've suffered so will my characters. this wasn't at all what i had envisioned at first for this part), hurt/comfort, a bit of fluff (that's new), pls be nice this writer's block shot me in the foot

word count: 11,121 words

side note: sorry this took so long. between movie watching for the oscars, my other works, midterms, pedro pascal horny hours, my wattpad fic, the max fic you citizens let flop (ĉüřşę ÿoụ āĺļ), the brat taming fic that made numbers among my oomfs on twitter, a very shitty date (the situational irony of letting a man ruin my women's day) a ptwt fic gc in twitter (love u frens), and uni again, i let the ttdik series collect dust, my bad. as compensation, take this girthy chapter altho it makes me kinda insecure IDK. this is why i don't do series okay!! i'm my worst enemy and i fear procrastination is a chronical disease of mine atp

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What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas

His foot taps anxiously against the marble floor, sound drowned by the bustling crowd.

People come and go. Some hug, others cry. And Joel? Well, he's just waiting for you to come.

He checks his watch, the one Sarah gifted him, and sighs. Should've known better.

It's been two months since the pregnancy scare, and ever since then, you have put a bit of a distance between yourselves.

It was slow, gradual: first the excuses then nights were you wouldn't stay or ask him to. And, even if your affair was that, just an affair, he missed sleeping in the warmth of your embrace. He also missed the way your nose would crinkle when you laughed. You didn't laugh that often anymore, and if you did, it sounded like you were holding in: as if you were afraid to let loose and let him see through you. And to be honest, it was killing him.

So when he reached out to you for this, he should've expected for you to say no. That you wouldn't show up after that I'll see if I'm free text: no, Joel Miller simply shouldn't have harbored that much hope for his daughter's bestfriend he happened to be banging.

If he hadn't confirmed his invitation, he'd probably gone home and layed down. Watch some garbage TV with Sarah and some beer in hand, but here he was, like a lonely loser, luggage in hand.

(Sarah helped him pack. He didn't even know what to wear to a wedding, and then she showed up with his old suit-- that still fit, somehow, albeit a bit more tight, from the dry cleaning. Joel would be lost without her)

The speaker announces his flight is about to leave. Joel gets up, trying not to be dissappointed about the whole thing. He's got no right to, after all.

"Joel?"

He'd end up breaking his neck by how fast he turned.

There you are, and it's like the weight he wasn't aware of, settling on his chest, had been removed.

"You made it" is the first thing that makes it out of his lips.

You softly laugh, "Hello, Joel"

He gets closer to you, slowly, like if he where to do it faster, he'd scare you off. Or you'd be gone, as if a dream.

(It'd be a nightmare, though, because you wouldn't be here)

"Sorry. I-" he cuts off, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. There's some tension lingering in the air, the same when you left his house a week ago. Joel had been too much of a coward to invite you then, rather hiding behind a screen.

But now you were here.

"I didn't think you'd come" he says after a beat of silence.

You tilt your head to the side, eyebrow up as if you hadn't been acting weird at all.

"Why wouldn't I?"

(Because it seems like being in the same room as me tires you. That your eyes don't shine anymore, and the starry sky looks like a storm when you dare search my gaze as we fuck. Every time you breath, its like breathing the same air as me burns)

He rather not press, so instead, he says:

"I'm jus' glad ya' came. 'S all"

You nod, not adding anything at all. Then, both you walk to your gate, side by side in silence, the same that had seemed to seep inside your romance for the past weeks.

Well, romance was definitely a stretch. An affair seemed more like it.

Of course, you're aware the change it's on you. It would've been dumb of you to think Joel wouldn't notice your withdrawal, or how more often than not you'd be stuck in your head. But still, he didn't comment on it, and like you, danced around the subject, afraid for different reasons as yours. Or the same. Yet, you'll never know. No, you're aware you both are too stubborn, and that whatever it started on that day, had settled in between like a burning flame.

(Had you been engulfed by the fire yet?)

You try not to think about it. After all, you had the option not to come. But a weekend away in Las Vegas after midterms? Too tempting to let go.

(And it's not like images of a stood up Joel in the airport, looking miserable, had made you restless the last couple of days after his text)

"Ya' can take the window" he says, even if it's his seat.

He knows you're nervous about flying, a little detail that came up during a post-sex small talk.

(What're you're dreams? Joel asked. You had answered that you'd love to travel the world after graduating, but that you had a fear for flying, despite having only done it once. It may have been because the first time you did, it was to fly for your grandma's funeral. Perhaps it was by association then, that the bad feelings about boarding a plane could be related to that)

"Thanks" you mumble, sitting down. You're avoiding his gaze, but know he's looking at you.

"What?" a little harsher than intended.

He looks taken back, looking at his lap as he let's out a soft whisper, sheepishly:

"Nothin'. Jus' thinkin' you look pretty today"

A light blush creeps up your cheeks as you huff out a Whatever.

Joel let's a breath of relief out his tight chest and allows himself to smile.

(At least, he's still got an effect on you)

The wedding Joel was supposed to attend is in the Ángel De La Guarda cathedral. You'd be staying nearby, at a hotel room Joel's coworker had paid for, the same where the reception would take place.

Being in the same room as Joel one night should be the least of your worries, but then the space is even smaller than it was supposed to (given by Joel's cursing as he paced around, anxiously), and the strain of your relationship settles in the air, physically so, tight around your throat.

Then, it's the bed issue: there's only one. It's not like you haven't slept in the same bed before, obviously, but there's a certain dread deep in your stomach about sharing the enclosed space when you're at your most vulnerable. He moves around a lot during night, and something tells you you'd wake up to his strong arms and hot breath fanning over your neck, hairs rising at the proximity, making it harded to calm your heart.

"You okay?" he's asking, dropping the bags in a corner.

"At what time is the wedding?" you ask.

He checks his watch. "In about seven hours"

The glass bounces a ray right into your face, and you have to close your eyes at yet nother reminder of why this is all so wrong.

Sarah.

"We should rest..." he says, plopping on the bed. His plaid t-shirt rises up at the same time the color of your cheeks does, when the glimpse of soft tanned skin reveals itself. He looks up to your stiff standing figure, bulk arms behind his neck as he rests his head on his biceps. "Don't 'cha think?"

Lay with me. Not outloud.

"No" you say, hastily so, not missing the way a flicker of dull akin to the pain of rejection finds its way to his brown eyes. "I..." your voice softens. "I'd rather take a tour of the place, you know? It's not like I'll come every weekend here"

He's about to raise up. I'm coming with you, again not out loud, in case you'd reject his offering again.

Which you do.

"I'm fine" you say, grabbing your purse. "Just... I need a moment"

Away from you.

"Suit yourself" but there's a sharp edge on his apparent kindness.

Closing the door behind you, it takes all of you to not turn around and see his face one last time.

You wander off through the bright lights and noisy hallways, walking until the sun of the outdoors filters a ray over the carpet through the glass doors. Strides take you to the pool area, kids giggling, parents sunbathing and youngsters chilling.

You sigh, dipping your feet in the pool, chlorine up your nose and water baterly grazing your sundress.

But you're drowning.

Drowning on his presence, every room he's in now smaller. Walls of the room collapsing, as the ones of your lungs, every breath tight if your nose catches a whiff of his scent lingering in the air. You'd wash the sheets almost immediately, crying when your head hit the pillow and it smelled like lavender and not Joel.

It was the only right choice: to erase him out of your life, because with every new kiss and thrust, he'd take another part of you with him, and you don't know how much more you can give of yourself without dying. A part of you dies every time he walks out the door, anxious heart pondering when will he walk out for good. When he'll realize the thrill is gone, that your escapades were all but a product of his crisis, and what started as a mutual use of bodies, ends in the waste of your heart.

Joel has become a drug for you: knowing it's destructive, but the high so addictive, you don't mind the crash. It's unevitable, and a small treacherous voice in the back of your head says you're just postponing a foretold death.

Yet Joel Miller makes you feel alive. Alive as a spring, grassbed full of blooming flowers. As sun carressing your skin: if you stay too long, the warm becoming burning.

A kid walks up to your sad lonely pensive corner, splashing water onto you.

"Hey!" but he's gone, and it's Vegas, so his parents are three mojitos down from the open bar, asleep under the sun. You curse, getting up and back to your room to change.

When you get to your room, is eerily quiet. And dark, the curtains closed.

You rumage through your suitcase, pulling out a change. The dress slips off, falling to the carpet with a pathetic drowned sound. You're about to change into the t-shirt when the lights flicker.

"You back?"

You scream, trying to cover yourself.

"Woah!" Joel covers his eyes, both your reactions ironically funny. Your cheeks burn as you finish dressing yourself up, and if he takes a small peak between his fingers, well, you'll never know. "Jesus, doll. If ya' wanted it so bad, could've asked"

Something akin to anger and deception morph into a burning flame in the pit of your stomach. Even after all this months, after this imminent fight, Joel can't bring himself to ask, dancing around the fragile line that barely holds on with the clap of skin against skin and sweat, as to replace the tears that will never see the light of the day.

"Right, because that's all I want"

He raises an eyebrow at your tone. "S' a joke"

"Jokes are supposed to make people laugh"

He shoots you a look, before standing from the bed.

"What's gotten into ya'?"

He walks closer, yet you give him your back, tossing the sundress with too much force in your bag.

"Don't know what you're talking about" as nonchalant as you can muster.

"Look at me" you keep the harsh packing going on. Joel grows impatient at your confusing demeanor, not just from today, but days ago. He's had enough. He spins you around, losing his cool as he shouts. "Damn it, y/n, stop actin' like a brat!"

"Don't touch me!" you yell back, pulling away.

"So that's how's it now?" Joel lets out a scoff. "Y' get on ma' bed but the moment I put a finger in ya', y'act all coy and angry?"

"Right, 'cause I'm a slut. That's what sluts do: we get on lonely men's bed and fuck them"

He grabs the bridge of his nose, breathing heavily. His voice is laced with frustration, and you know it's your fault.

"Never said that"

Why not talk it like adults? No. Too much of a coward to do that.

"Jus' tell me, doll. What's goin' on?"

I think I love you, and I'm fucking scared.

His voice is soft, pleading. In your lifetime, you never thought you'd see Joel Miller beg. You did once, but it wasn't like this. Please, he'd say. Now, here he is, standing before you like the smallest man who ever lived and not the unstoppable force you made him out to be.

It should be easy. But words never come easy. Not to you. Neither love, so foreign it makes you shiver with fear. So natural, one day you opened your eyes to him laying next to you, Sarah staying in another city for a soccer tournament, and decided that was what you wanted. All his mornings. His bed voice, thick from sleep. His droopy eyes and tired smile, facil hair tickling your face as he says Good mornin', Southern drawl never more prominent, kisses in between. Let's get sum coffee after, because he always had to drink the bitter liquid out of his owl mug or wouldn't be able to make it through the day.

You want him to be the first thing you see when you open your eyes.

You want Joel Miller. Want. Want. Want.

"I hate you"

You have ruined me.

He probably expected anything but that, given his crestfallen face. Joel wishes for time to go back, at the beach. He'd say no, push you away. Fought a little harder. Never gotten into your bed.

The worst part is, he's a fucking liar: he'd probably still choose the same, even if the end is near.

"You ain't mean that" not knowing if he's trying to convince you or himself. "Jus' wanna hurt me"

You don't humor him with an answer.

"I shouldn't have come" is what you say instead, the bitter taste of defeat and hurt etched in your voice.

Would've been easier to stop when we should've.

His words run through the tense air like a bullet.

"I agree"

Weddings had always made you cry.

You weren't even a romantic, but the whole thing-- the promise of forever, it seemed to move your heart a bit.

So, if your eyes shimmer when the bride makes her entrance and the groom, Joel's co-worker, tears up, you feel your chest tight and stomach drop. It clenches with something akin to dread and want, as if suddenly, all that mattered to you was love. A year ago, if you told yourself-- the one who got on her knees to suck Joel's dick at the beach that night, that you'd be here?

You would've laughed.

Falling for the grumpy old man who also happens to be your bestfriend's dad?

Right. Imagine that.

Except there is nothing to imagine. All of it is real.

From his quiet laughter, the sound foreign and not frequent by the way it rasps against his throat. But now the wrinkles around his eyes are more prominent, forbidden laughs marking his blushing face. as he looks away, embarrassed. You can laugh, you had said, I won't tell anyone, yet he made you swore like the sight of Joel Miller laughing was the worst thing in the world. So had become the grey strands on his hair, more sprouting each time, as his damp curls twisted in your fingers.

It is also in the way his sweat that drops over your body as he tries hard to last longer, to his grunts that fill the room as he fills you to the brim with his warm cum. How his rough seems to meet every inch of your soft skin, like pieces of a puzzle.

Something clicks when you're with Joel, and you can't help but feel it's your fault this rift has been created, aggressively peeling the white off your nails as some form of anxious torture. But, he too, aside from his initial Just glad you came, hadn't said a word about it again. Even if he had noticed it all, before Vegas too. Nothing. And then Joel told you it was best if you didn't come. Fucking great.

You feel him tense next to you, body stiff when your arm accidentally brushes his when you stand up from the bench, making you roll your eyes.

The fallout had been awkward. The elevator ride took forever, and then the space on the cab felt too small. He took you to the back, on the benches near the exit, like he didn't want to be seen with you. It got you fuming: why bother to invite you at all?

In all truth, you could've picked up your bags and left after the fight, yet you stayed. You wonder who's more of a coward. In this weird dancing around you've got going on, walking in circles over the words Stay and Leave, like both are too delicate to say out loud. Even as the couple speak their vows, amid the claps and tears, your mind keeps drifting back to one question: Which would hurt less?

It's not until it ricochets on your arm that you realize the tears are also your own. You brush it fast, but by the corner of your eye, you know Joel notices. Still, he doesn't say anything, which contributes to your spite.

The ceremony is over, and just as you can feel the anticipation of the reception's drinks to buzz your nerves down, someone blocks you the exit. A couple, more like it.

Before fully registering their faces, Joel's hand flies to your back, pressed in a firm manner that oozes protectiveness. It makes your heart flutter, no matter how much you try to suffocate the treacherous butterflies in your stomach. You try not to think too much about it as you take them in: a man, looking in his middle forties, probably around the same age as Joel, so as the woman next to him, who smiles warmly. Not like the man, who seems unwelcoming.

"Joel" he pronounces his name, manners coming out cold. "It's nice to see you made it"

His grip on your back becomes more firm.

"Mark" he uses the same tone. "Well, when ya' confirm, y'gotta come"

"And who may this be?" Mark's wife asks, not thinking there's harm in her words. You swear you can hear him snicker next to her.

"She's-"

Joel stops midtrack. How is he supposed to even call you?

"I'm his girlfriend"

You don't know why you did that but you did. You also don't know why it causes you such satisfaction to see their wide eyes and Mark's disdain.

"Oh, I didn't know you had a girlfriend. How lovely!"

His cheeks go pink. "Thanks, Laura"

"Yes, Joel. Didn't think you'd move on" but his tone isn't like his wife's. "I just assumed that being with someone wasn't on your list anymore, you know, at your age. Especially one so... young"

Laura shots him a look.

Maybe it wasn't your place to get angry, not after how you've subjected Joel to your silent treatment this past months. Not after the fight you've just had hours ago. But he is also the same man who held your hand after you thought you were pregnant. He was the one who stayed. It is too how his shoulders slump, like he believes it to be true. You can't bear to see him sad, as contradictory as that may sound.

"Mark, right?"

The man nods, still sickly smiling.

"To me it sounds like you're jealous. Which is awful, because you've got a lovely wife" she looks away embarrassed while Mark fumes. "Also, when I turn around, try not to stare at my ass. I saw you when we arrived"

There's nothing left to say, so you walk past them.

"I think that was funny. Don't you?"

He avoids looking at you.

"I called a cab. Should take us back to the hotel"

No thanks. Nothing.

"Alright" your tone is dry. "Do as you please"

He opens the door for you, but his movements seem stiff and unnatural. Like he's second guessing every breath and step.

The car begins to move. You lean against the window, seeing the hues of neon through the glass. Joel's eyes burn holes on your head, a glimpse of brown in the reflection.

"I liked the wedding"

Joel looks at you properly for the first time since the fight. Your hair falls gracefully in cascades, hinting at an effort that tries to pass as a nonexistent one. Your makeup is soft, but your lips are in a shade he can't quite name, yet manage to make them even more fuller than usual. God, he thinks of it smeared on his clothes and mouth, feeling dumb all of the sudden. Then there's the dress. He doesn't have a favorite color, but as of now, it may be red: specially if its the red that hugs your curves, pushes your tits up and gives a little peak of your leg with its open cut, dangerously close to the start of your inner thigh. Not appropriate to wear at a church, maybe not a wedding either, but fuck didn't he care. He'd even rip it off, if it was such a problem.

"It was beautiful" he agrees, softly. "Never been to one. Maybe's why I think so"

You remove yourself from the window, now holding his gaze.

"What?" your mouth drops in surprise. "What about yours? Weren't you married?"

He smiles, but it appears to be sad. "Never got time for a wedding thought"

Joel has told you things. Things he'd never say outloud to anyone else. So whenever he opens up, letting you in, you let him, feeling that familiar pleasing ache in your chest at the thought of being enough: enough to be trusted with a piece of him. Of Joel Miller's heart.

The rest of the ride is silent, your mind still on Joel's hand on your back, on his words, and how the sting never goes.

In every thought of yours, he is.

"What'appened to your nails?"

The question catches you off guard. You're surprised he even noticed at all. But your hand lays in the space between his and your dish, stiff, as if waiting for him to hold it.

"Oh" you remove it from the table, placing it in your lap. "I chipped the polish off"

"Why?"

You turn to look at him, brown eyes examining you curiously, as if he didn't know you. Like he hadn't almost whisper those three words you had been tettering around as well.

"Why what Joel?" tone brash.

He scoffs at the change again, shoulders slumping a bit. Probably in annoyance, perhaps in defeat.

"Dunno" he goes back to his dish, cutting the steak with a bit too much force. I thought we were okay again. "S'rry I asked"

Your chest tightens, as it had been doing lately.

Was this the only thing you knew how to do now? Hurting Joel?

"No, I'm sorry"

It's his turn to get back at you. "Sorry for what?"

You swallow the lump that's formed in your throat, avoiding his gaze.

"I-"

Your eyes nervously dart across the room, trying to ignore the churn of your stomach and knot on your throat. You then catch the perfect distraction.

"I think Mark is staring at us again"

"What?" Joel asks in disbelief at your change of topic.

"Mark is staring" you sigh, getting up and dusting your dress off. "Wanna put on a show?"

"I didn't come to a wedding and wore this dress to be seated all night" you extend your hand. A quiet truce settles in between. "Let's dance"

At some point he gets up and takes your hand. It feels good. For a moment, be it childish or foolish, your mind thinks this is how it is: with no one around to know you, you're his and he's yours. It's just the two of you, dancing and laughing under the lights. He'd know the song that's playing, and when you'd ask, unfamiliar, Joel would joke: how could ya' know it, if you ain't even born yet?

For just a moment, it feels like it could be.

The music is soft. It's some sort of rendition of Lady, Lady, Lady by the band Jim hired to play at his wedding.

Joel's clammy hands slip against your cold palms as you walk to the dance floor.

"Nervous?" you ask, biting back a smile.

He squints his eyes at you. "I'm just outta practice, 's all"

You laugh. "I would've never guessed"

He shakes his head, but the ghost of a smirk hides in his lips.

"Cheeky baby. Now you actin' funny?"

Joel's hand finds its place in your waist, holding firmly as the first verses go by.

Dancing behind masks, just sort of pantomime.

But images reveal whatever lonely hearts can hide.

"Maybe I'm just tired" you reply, placing your head against his chest. His heart starts drumming faster, and you hear him gulp.

"It ain't even midnight yet"

You close your eyes, feeling every breath of his chest against your cheek.

"You know that's not what I'm talking about"

Lady, lady, lady, lady

I know it's in your heart to stay

"Y/n-"

Lady, lady, lady, lady

"I'm sorry" this time clearer.

His body rocks yours slowly to the tempo of the music, and for a brief moment, amongst the sea of guests and the voice of the singer, time stops, and it's just him and you.

"Don't"

He can't bear it. Not tonight.

When will I ever hear you say

I love you

Not when your body feels so well against his, your head resting on his chest like all those nights ago, where Joel held you close, the silent promise of never letting you go on his warm strong embrace. Not when just the thought of losing you is too unbearable to even think of. Not when today, he can let his mind drift away and heart beat, dreaming of things that'll make him the butt of the joke. For a moment, you're not wearing this red dress that's making him insane. You're all in white and there's a ring in your hand, just as there's one in his. You'd dance and say I'm yours, forever. A giggle. You can't get rid of me. And he'd smile and reply a Good, wasn't plannin' to.

But now he feels like he's going to lose you forever.

"I missed you" it's your way of trying, again.

His head is a whirlwind of emotions.

"Yeah?"

You lean closer, until his cologne burns in your nostrils.

"Yeah"

Time like silent stares, with no apology

"Joel"

Move towards the stars, and be my only one

This time, he finds it impossible to shut you up. Not when you've raised your head until your eyes meet his, and the constellations he very much loves are ever present in your stare.

Reach into the light, and feel love's gravity

"Yeah?"

You pull in closer, and he can feel the whiff of champagne coming out of your mouth. Your lips are parted, and a shaky whisper is all it takes for his head to spin, drunk in love.

"Please"

That pulls you to my side, where you should always be

Your lips are so inviting. All he has to do is cut the centimeters separating your mouths.

But it's a wall. One filled with doubts, fear and the quiet rage of rejection.

His voice wavers when he starts speaking.

"I think-"

He hasn't even finished his sentence, but your heart is already broken.

No wonder why you've always treated it like a burden: nothing is worst than a heavy heart.

Maybe he'd come to realize just how absurd this all was. Him, much older than you and Sarah's dad. How could he let his daughter's bestfriend go this far. That he was a forty something guy, dancing with a twenty two year old girl. That love comes in all shapes and sizes, but there's no name for this you have going on since last summer. Perhaps, there'll never be.

"Please" you hear yourself repeat.

It started as a plea for a kiss. You don't know what you're begging for anymore.

"No, baby-"

And Joel is the first to step back.

Lady, lady, lady, lady, I know it's in your heart to stay

The cold water of rejection hits you in the face, far from his warm embrace, the contour of his face, centimeters away, now meters.

"We can't"

An ocean away.

"Joel-" your throat tightens, panic bubbling in your chest.

"I think we should stop"

The whole world around you does as soon as those words leave his mouth.

Sorrow is quick to turn into anger, and all those months of guilt, rush, thrill, labored breaths, broken rules and promises you held to your heart as an oath, sweet whispered cons in your pillow that smelled like him. It all comes crashing down with force.

A dry laugh escapes past your lips. Joel winces at the sound.

"A bit too late for that, isn't it?"

"Baby-"

"Don't call me baby" you hiss, feeling your vision blurry. "Don't call me like you meant it"

"I do" the music has reduced to a buzz in the back of your head. His firm voice borders between desperate and pathetic. "Which is why am making 'tis"

"Fucking coward" you spit, feeling your skin on fire.

Don't give up. Please.

Fight for me. Fight for this.

For us.

"Coward?" it's Joel's turn to laugh. His dark chuckle sends shivers through your skin. "Y' shouldn't be talkin' 'bout that"

"Don't put all of this on me" you raise your shaky finger, accusing. "Don't you fucking dare"

"Thought Mark was watchin'. Or 's that 'nother one of y'r lies?" Joel seethes. "Or maybe ya' don't give a shit 'bout it. Jus' like you ain't give a shit 'bout us!"

"You think this is easy?" your voice raises. "You think I wanted this?"

You think I don't care? That I'm doing well? That I wanted to pull away from you? That I knew things would got as bad as they are?

You think I wanted to fall for you?

His eyes darken. "You started this"

Your heart stops beating. People laugh, the band is still playing and chatter bubbles like the champagne flutes waiters carry by.

But all you can hear is the moment your palm meets his face.

"I wish I never met you, Joel Miller"

And then you rush out the door, your heels burning as much as your eyes and chest. Far from the party, far from the world.

Far from him.

"We ain't done yet!"

You hear him bark behind you, yet your legs don't stop, despite the buzz in your ears and the slight stumble in your walk.

Your voice sounds like it doesn't belong to you when you hear yourself speak, without turning around.

"I think we are"

But Joel doesn't give up, making you feel trapped between wanting to hit him again and let yourself be held.

"Y/n!" he calls out just like he used to when you were a kid. Like you knew no better. Reckless. Berating. But now the taste of bitter mingles with his punishing demeanor.

You spin your heel, walking menacingly towards him.

"Don't call me that" you seethe, jabbing a finger to his chest.

"That's your fucken name!" he shouts.

Tears spring in the corner of your eyes. "You know what I mean"

"Enlighten me, doll" the nickname feels like a slap to your face, and for a moment, you wish he called you by your name again, instead of tainting the always sweet calling with his vitriol, as if the four letters meant something sacred he had profaned. "S'a matter of fact, why don't y'enlight me 'bout everythin' that's goin' on. 'Cause guess what? I'ont know what the fuck is happenin'!"

And it terrifies me.

His shout probably ran across the empty hallway. The music coming from inside sounds like a muffled heartbeat, mirroring your own.

To lose you. I might as well have.

"I don't know why you seem'a hate me now" quiet this time, like every word coming from his mouth take his voice little by little. "Why ya' get all sweet on me after weeks of leavin' me, pushin' me to the side... I'm old, doll. I ain't capable of takin' this anymore"

I'm not capable of surviving a broken heart.

The possibility of losing Joel, foever, had never crossed your mind, not even as you closed off, ignoring the way his brown sad eyes would search yours to try and find answers, maybe scraps of the... whatever it was you shared.

Now, it was real, and it shook you to the bone.

"Was fun while it lasted" closing off, trying to shut the doors he let you in, clawing back to that Joel Miller who couldn't be bent. The one Sarah deemed unbreakable. But it's the same that didn't know when to back down, now praying the price of his foolishness.

I don't regret it, but Joel doesn't have it in him to give you more of his heart for you to take. If he cuts it now, from the root, he'll spare his brain from saving more seconds of the image of you he'd have to get rid off: you, taking your coffee with two bags of sugar because you hated uneven numbers, and three seemed too much for your latte. You, standing on his room like you belonged there. You, on his car, the leather having absorbed some of the floral scent you seemed to carry with you. In your clothes, your skin, your hair. He'd have to go to bed knowing he'd never get to feel your strands in his fingers, tickling the remmanents of desolation he'd been carrying like a second skin ever since Sarah's mother walked away.

Your blood runs cold.

"Fun?" the words spill in a bitter incredulous tone, all the while you're trying to hold to him without raising your hand for him to take it, like just the thought of it would be enough to choose you. Words seem to fail you, and grasping at him feels like holding sand: it keeps falling from your fingers, a cruel reminder of your borrowed time. "Joel"

"Fun" he repeats the word, feeling sick. "As in, you'd marry someone who's worth for ya'. Probably choose Texas, maybe you'll stay away. 'Cause you're smart, and know what's good. But if ya' came back, livin' at the same neighbour, in the house across mine, you'd glance up and see my porch, thinkin' 'bout us, and this will become a joke with y'r husband, 'bout your rebel days. To your kids, summ cautionary tale. To you? An'scape of summ sorts of y'r other wise boring life"

Your shaking at this point, not knowing if it's anger, humilliation or sorrow.

I'm sorry. Please, don't give up on me. Stay.

"I'd be an experience. But to me? Doll" Joel chuckles, humorlessly. "You were everythin'"

A choked up sob bubbles from your chest.

"So that's what you think of me?" you laugh, a sound so hollow it makes his skin shiver. "That this is for the thrill? For the fucking anecdote?!"

"Trust me. I've lived long 'nough, kid. You'll understand later"

It's like all those months next to him meant nothing. Like pulling away from your lips was the easiest thing to do.

"Don't you fucking dare call me a kid!" you push him. "I'm not a kid"

"I know you ain't!" he roars back. "But you don't know shit!"

"Neither do you!" your quick to counter. "You think you've got me all figured out, huh? Bet you think that I'm some helpless naive idiot who doesn't know what I want. I don't know what I'm doing, that you're right. But I do know what I signed up for, the price I would pay" losing you or Sarah. Both. "I wanted it, and newsflash: so did you" you breath, running your hands through your hair, trying to comb some sense of normalcy to ground yourself while you try to recover your composture. His arms lay weakly by his sides, restraining himself from running to you and craddle you on his arms. "You chose this. You chose me, Joel Miller" each word pronounced with contempt. "I'm not a victim. Neither are you"

A dry chuckle escapes past his chapped lips. "What are we, then?"

(Two lonely souls who seek warmth. People who fell into the same bed. Shared time they shouldn't have. Selfish. Living on borrowed time. Always tettering around the edge, so easy to fall. History repeating itself. The dancing around. Dirty, like the Texan roads: and they all lead back to his bed)

"So do it" you shove him again, as if by doing so, you could push him away forever. From your mind, from your heart. From your life. "Say it"

He shakes his head, as if you'd insulted him.

"Sweetheart-"

"Say. It" you bark, tasting the venom on your tongue. "Say it!"

"I can't" looking so small, your resolve almost crumbles. Almost.

"Coward" you spit, repeatedly punching him feebly on the chest as tears stream down your cheeks. He tries to grab your hands, to stop you. "Don't touch me! Let me go"

"I can't" this time louder.

Tears sprout with more intensity at the desperate weight on his tone.

A single drop runs down when you say, defeated: "Quit me"

"I can't!" he shouts in your face, voice breaking slightly.

"Why?!"

"'Cause I fucking can't!" Joel breaks. He crumbles in your arms, body shaking as he buries himself in your reluctant embrace. He speaks again, this time softer, "I can't lose 'cha, baby. If that makes me sum goddamn coward, then so be it"

Something in you stirs. Like a lost boat, finding a lighthouse during a storm. Arriving to shore with gentle waves. Home, where it belongs.

"Joel-"

"I'm sorry for bein' selfish" between agitated and terrified, afraid of the silence and what you may say. "For noticin' your quiet and still carryin' on"

"Joel"

"Believe me, doll. I tried to stop. To leave ya'" he swallows, "but then I got invited and my mind went to ya'. Fast. You were the first person in my mind. Always are. I think that's when I knew. S'okay if you don't-"

"Joel!" you shout this time.

He raises his view from his little spot on your chest.

"It isn't just you" in a whisper that could easily pass as the wind that sweeps inside from the main door. Voice so fragile it hurts like glass. "I feel this too"

Just like that, he's both gone and back. His heart beats on his throat, voice raw when he searches for your eyes and asks:

"You do?"

The big unbreakable Joel Miller, looking at you not like a force to be reckoned with, but as a man, worn down by years of solitude and the weight of a secret.

You smile through the tears. "I've been many things, but a liar never"

He chuckles, softly. "Always was a bad one"

"See?" softly teasing, "you can attest to that"

"Twenty one years seem 'nough"

"Soon to be twenty two" pause. "And I would love it if you were there to see it"

A breath hitches somewhere in the middle of the new aphonia that's settled.

"You don't mean all'at. Think 'bout it-"

"I do" you interrupt him, firmly. You hold his gaze while cupping his face, the fright on his face mirroring your own. "You asked before, remember? There's your answer"

Joel is at loss for words. Was never good with them, less when it came to you: like your presence unsettled him in the same way tornadoes made him quiver when he was a child, rattling him to the bone. But there was a morbid fascination to them, in their destructive nature. Like beauty could be horror too, and he had learnt it thanks to your unforgiving winds that had swept him away from his feet.

He was flying. Fucking flying. Never quite landing. Afraid of the fall.

"I'm scared"

Joel leans in, forehead touching yours. His skin is warm, something about it soothing your nerves down.

"Me too"

You bite back a smile. "Big broody Miller, scared?"

"Y' know how'da disarm a man. I'll give ya' that"

You laugh, eyes crinkling while you swat his chest playfully. It's the same sound he missed so dearly. Joel can feel himself breath with relief.

"Now that's the story I'll tell my kids" could be our own. "The one where I won over Joel Miller"

A deep, rich rumble erupts from his chest as he pulls you even closer, this time, your head the one on his chest.

"I'll do you one better" he slowly moves his leg closer to the inner part of your thighs. "Wanna hear how it ends?"

"Jesus, Joel" laugh tense. Your heart pulses like his cock. Hard. "You sure are a mood killer"

He presses further. "But ya' want it, don't 'cha?"

You whimper, weakly. Truth is, you've been wet since you saw him dress on his rather tight suit. Now, after what you just confessed, you're not sure you can hold back any longer.

"Use y'r words, baby"

"Our room" the possesive adjective making his stomach rumble with need. "Now"

Stumbling feet. Whispered breaths oozing with drunk desire. Giggles. Buttons of an elevator pressed forcefully. A crammed space that felt even smaller. More giggles in a hallway full of doors that looked the same. Some mumbling, trying to remember the room. Grabbing the card from his pocket. You somehow make it to your room. Fumbling fingers. One swipe. Two. Try slower, but his voice is as urgent as strained. The door gives in. Finally, couldn't wait any longer. And he's chastising you, for being so impatient. Yet his eyes are all dark and sweet when looking it at you.

"We're here" and then the door closes with a loud thud. And Joel is yours again, just like he was that night, and forever was since.

You wrap your arms around his neck, kissing him back fervently. You open your mouth and let his tongue get inside as you moan his name.

"Please" you whine.

"Please what?" Joel chuckles, enamoured at your hanging mouth and heaving chest. Fucking tease. "Use y'r words, doll"

"Please, Joel" and hearing your name fall out of your lips like it's the most sacred prayer brings him weak to his knees. "I need you"

(I need you, as in I need you here. With me. Now. To never let go and hold my hand, not only when we fuck, but also when we walk, side by side, hands brushing like a touch it's too much to bear. Because if we held hands, I'd never be able to pull back. I need you to look at me as you undress me, because I'm bearing all of me for you, scars, body and secrets, trembling like a scared child, because no one's ever had me. Not like you. Not like you)

"'S right, sweet thing" he drawls out in a husky whisper, like his slick tongue was coated in honey. He pulls your head back, nipping and sucking on your skin. "Say ma' name like 's the only thing you know"

And in a way, it is. Because you'd always call Joel, fingers itching at a number you've memorized until it's burned in your eyelids, like when you close your eyes, you can see him standing in front of you, Texan accent and heavy boots in your doorstep, later to be discarded and hidden beneath your bed.

He pulls back, making you involuntary whine at the loss of his lips and tongue on you.

"Tell me you want this" he's saying, and for a moment, past the fire and the need, you see Joel as not the man who can bring you to come two times in a row, but your bestfriend's dad, who's slept in a bed alone for the past two decades, who can't meet you in the eyes when he undresses himself, looking like the one who's got the more to lose when his lips press aginst yours in a soft manner, not out of tenderness but out of fear.

"I do" without hesitation, as if you would tattoo your promise and wear it like your heart on your sleeve. "I want you, Joel"

You want all of him: from his boring Sundays sprawled on the couch watching a rerun of some old sitcom to his greying hair, aching joints and creaking bones, that despite so, would still kneel and eat your pussy like a man starved, tongue sliding through your folds with a learned ache, pouring the same yearn, longing and hunger that he wears on his eyes when they land on you, no matter if his brown are miles away, because they'd always find your own, like a boat lost in translation and a sea of sorrow coming back home, as if you're the only important thing in the world. His anchor. The lighthouse of his vast ocean of forlorness.

"That's my girl" but no smirk adorns his face, rather a small smile that warms your chest, right as he pulls you back in. There's a shift in the aire as he kisses you know, as if not only his tongue is in your insides but his soul, without holding back this time, like all limits have blurred and melted into a pool of desire and affection.

Joel pushes you down onto the wide bed, climbing on top of you as he kisses your jawline, leaving wet kisses along your warm skin. You moan as every contact of his mouth sends shudders to your body, him taking his time as he works over your jaw, down to your chest.

"Such'a pretty doll. And's mine" his calloused fingers fiddle with your bra, unclasping the lingerie until it falls messily discarded next to the bed. "Got summ nice tits on you, baby" and Joel's eyes sparkle with excitement, lighting up like the neon lights of the Vegas sign, "don't 'cha think?"

Your back arches with his touches, mouth ghosting over your nipple, already pebbled at just Joel's breath.

"Fuck, Joel" you mewl his name, dragged with difficulty as he laps his tongue over your breasts greedily. You can feel Joel's cock pulse and throbb in your thigh as his body hovers over yours, lips still wrapped around your nipple as he suckles and nibbles at the tender flesh.

"'S sorry, doll" he's apologizing in a mocking manner as you whimper at the contact of him against you, suckling hard, tongue swirling and flicking over the sensitive bud as he drew it deeper into the wet heat of his mouth. "Ain't know you'd be so fucken responsive with just a lil' lick at y'r pretty tits"

As your body trembles and quakes, he speaks again.

"Open y'r mouth" you do so, because honestly, you'd never deny him a thing. "Want 'cha to suck on 'tis fingers, like the slut ya're. Get them wet so they feel good against 'tis greedy pussy"

You take the fingers as you'd take his cock, sucking on the skin that tastes like salt and gasoline, a slight bitter taste but you take them as deep as you can, until your lips brush his rough knuckles.

"Good greedy whore" he praises. "Now let me help ya' with that"

Joel gestures your damp panties, taking them off and putting them up his nose, inhaling like he did the first time you ever fucked, back at the beach house that summer that feels a life ago, seawaves crashing onto the shore as they drowned out your moans.

"Sweet" as if your arousal was his favorite dessert, gripping the sticky lingerine until his knuckles turn white. "Fucken wet and drippin', and s'all for me"

He feels your greedy hands fumble with his pants and belt, pulling him closer as the feeling of unfairness at his clothed figure dawns upon you.

"I like how you look in a suit, but right now-"

He laughs, a deep rich sound bubbling up from his chest.

"Ma' baby wants it that bad, huh?" you nod your head feverishly, a beg threatening past your lips.

"Please, Joel. I want to suck your cock" the dirty words come out as quick as a breath. "I missed it so so bad" not caring at all about how desperate you come across or the pitiful begging that's a plea away from drooling out of your mouth with an aching hunger.

"'S that what you want? Draggin' me out'a reception 'cause y'r greedy dirty mouth couldn't keep still? Bet you'd crawl on da' floor just to get a taste of this dick" every word makes you mewl. "Might have to see ya' beggin' for it"

"I'll do it" you beg, voice a wanton plea. "I'll do whatever, I just need to-"

"I see ya' really do"

He removes your hands from his body, chuckling as you pout and whine like a baby.

"Love hearin' ya' so eager fo'me" Joel says, tugging the pants finally down. Through the cloth of his underwear, it's impossible not to see the silhoutte of his hard throbbing dick.

The sight of him, hair disheveled, pupils blown wide, white button shirt now wrinkled and sticky with sweat, tie loose and that faint smell of champagne that clung to his mouth and scent like a second layer of his skin.

"Get on the floor. Now" he commands, and you're quick to obey. "Gonna fuck that dirty mouth of yours until my cum dribbles outta your cheek. S' now? Be obedient if ya' want a taste, slut"

You let out a small whimper as Joel frees his cock from his underwear.

"That's right, baby. Like what ya' see?" his cock is straddling your face in your current kneeling form. "Need that mouth to open wider"

You obey in an instant.

"Good girl"

Joel shoves his cock inside your mouth, giving you a few seconds to adjust before pushing a little further. You bob your head forward but the task proved to be hard when he was thrusting at the same time. His big hard dick hits the back of your throat, a gag dying past your busy lips.

"'S it bad if I tell ya' I like watchin' you squirm and struggle with my cock? 'S fuckin' hot"

You narrow your eyes, struggling to keep your throat relaxed as he thrusts forward, fucking your mouth and throat. Your thighs clasp together, the slick pooling down your legs in the absence of underwear.

Joel's groans become raspier as his body begins to tense.

"'M gonna fuck y'r throat raw, doll. And then, I'm gonna cum. Down y'r greedy throat. 'S my girl okay with that" he can see the plea in your eyes as you choke on his cock once more. "S'alright then. Ya' know I love to spoil ma' girl"

As his body starts to edge closer, his tongue runs loose.

"Love watching you suck ma' dick" he looks down on you, eyes glossy, probably because he was drunk in alcohol and you. "Love how it feels. Love how you feel. Love- I love you"

(There's an involuntary gag somewhere)

Joel's body tenses and it doesn't take that much for you to feel the warmth of his cum go down your throat.

You choke again and he brings his dick out of your throat and let you swallow the rest.

There's a beat of silence, as dense as his fluids down your throat. You avoid his gaze, heart drumming on your chest.

"Doll..." he whispers, the last bits of climax sweating off his skin; all that's left is shame. "C'mere"

(Say it back, he should plead. I know your eyes don't lie, but if I heard those three silly words out of your mouth, I could die happy tonight. A bigger man would beg, but he's never been good, even if he tried)

He helps you get up, wobbly legs not being of help when it comes to the shock of his confession.

I love you.

As much as a tender touch as a knife slitting your chest open in a clean cut.

(You're bleeding love)

Love.

Such a foreign word, one you've never felt before. Yet, what's scary is recognizing that latent warmth on every stolen glance; brush of a hand. The tingles provoked by getting the largest serving, even if his daughter sat at the same table. The flutter of your chest when he tried to be there for you when you thought you were pregnant, even if he was as scared as you. In every little thing he had done since you first started playing with fire, how you wore his heartbeat as an echo and his skin like a second layer to your own.

His lips are swollen when they take yours.

"'S fine" some kind of tiredness seeping through the cracks of his gruff exterior and composed rejected posture. "Ya' don't have to-"

"I love you" you croack out.

His voice comes out impossibly small as he whispers. "What...?"

A fireworks show explodes out somewhere in the background.

"I love you" you repeat, words dripping with an adoration only known to captain's going down with their sinking ships.

You're drowning, but the water doesn't burn your lungs anymore.

"Lemme help with that sore throat of yours" he's tugging down your bottom lip, fingers playing with your mouth to open it. He gazes at you with a look that tugs at your heartstrings. "Open, baby"

Your dry throat and warm mouth welcomes the spit he lands inside.

"There ya' go" and you swallow it, making him curse. "Fuck. 'S so hot seein' you do that, my lil' sweet slut"

"Joel" you whine, hands curled up in white fists as you grab him by the collar of his button shirt.

"Whoa, baby. What's goin' on?" he chuckles softly. "Use y'r words"

"Y-You made a mess-" you blabber, the wet slick between your thigh sticky. "I-It hurts, Joel"

"Hurt?" he cocks an eyebrow. "Care to show me where?"

You sit in the bed, parting your legs, finger pointing out the moist zone.

"Here"

His adam's apple bobs, and the gulp reverberates against the walls of the room.

"Fuck... I see" each word strained. "Don't worry, doll. I can help ya' with'at"

It's his turn to kneel, knees burying on the carpet.

He places one of his big hands on your knee, his calloused fingers tracing absent patterns over the skin. His other hand drums slighty against your trembling leg, so close yet so far. You're so impossibly eager, and a part of him, that fragile ego, is boosted to the roof at your (actual and very real) want for him.

All that glistening pussy was his work. Joel really disarmed you like that.

"If I do this, maybe it won't hurt anymore" his mustache and recently trimmed beard tickle against your sensitive folds as he presses a kiss to your core. You writhe, throwing your head back as your hands fly to his hair, gripping the greying loose curls tightly at the contact. "Will ya' let me eat out this pretty pussy, doll?"

"Please" you let out, breathlessly.

"Love hearin' ya' beg" and he dives in, strong hands holding your thighs on place as he sucks your clit lightly. Your hips buck, his face burying into your cunt to the point his nose touches the warm folds. You moan at the feeling, his tongue now circling against your center.

"J-Joel"

"Feels s'good, right? As good as I feel feastin' on this tight little cunt" and his deep voice sends jolts when it echoes against your walls. You squirm at the sensation, stomach tight with his sucking and licking, misntrations sending you to the edge.

"Joel?"

Barely above a whisper, voice tight.

He looks up to you, pupils blown wide. "Yes?"

"C-Can you finger me, please?"

"Fuck, baby" he whistles. "You really know how'da bring a man to his knees"

And you chuckle at his lame attempt of a joke, not laughing at him but with him.

Joel slides one of his thick, calloused fingers through your soaked folds, feeling the velvet softness of your inner walls clench down on the invading digit, a demonstration of how impatient they were to take his cock. He circles your clit with the pad of his thumb, rubbing the sensitive bundle of nerves in tight, slow circles.

"Wanna hear you, y/n" just your name alone on his mouth makes you writhe, and Joel's encouragement as his finger dips lower to tease at your entrance. He slides a second finger into your cunt, pumping in and out of your tight walls in a steady, driving rhythm. You roll against his hand as he curls his fingers. "Fuck yourself on my fingers, baby. Wanna see you ride 'em 'til you come undone. Wanna taste your cum on my tongue as you scream ma' name"

He can feel your body start to tremble, pussy clenching down on his fingers as he fucks you with a relentless pace.

"Shit" he groans, tongue lapping firmly at your clit, "s' fucking tight"

"I-I can't help it" you feel the burning sensation in the corner of your eyes, "I-I feel every inch of you in me"

(Up to your body, head and heart)

"And you ain't even had my cock yet" he's quick to tease. "But I know you'll feel s'good, baby. Takin' my cock like da' good girl y'are"

Tears begin to stream down your face freely, the salty drops hot against your warm skin.

You sniffle, and Joel's movements stop for a bit.

"You cryin'?" but you know damn well he's aroused, by the way he licks his lips absentmindedly as his brown orbs stare back at you, dilatated. You still remember the last time you cried during sex, and how his reaction was practically the same, except this time, it's received with a grateful welcome home. "Fuck, baby- I love when you cry like a lil' cocksleeve over ma' dick"

Despite the lewd words, he's wiping your tears away with his thumb in a soft gentle touch.

"S'okay, baby" he coos, kissing up your throat and onto your chin. Then, you feel a wet sensation on your cheek: but it isn't the tears, yet his tongue, licking the hot stream. "I'll give ya' ma' cock if you want it so much. Now quit your cryin', yeah?"

But you keep sniffling, impossible to close the dam once it's broken.

"My sweet crybaby" Joel mumbles, "I love ya', doll"

"I love you too" each time you said it, a new flower blooming in your heart. It could be. "I do, Joel"

He smiles, the kind of smile that is painful to watch. The kind that says: Is this real? Do I deserve this?

"Y'know I'm bad with words, so lemme show you instead"

He's climbing on top of you as you push yourself into the middle of the bed, lips tangled into a demanding kiss, his tongue dominating your mouth like he wants to tame it. He drops his underwear again, but he's still wearing the goddamn shirt. You whine, and for a second, while over you, he stops.

"What is it, baby?" Joel pants.

"T-take it off" you huff, worked up. You let the tie loose first, starting to unbutton his shirt after. "I want to see you, Joel"

His hand is quick to fly and stop you from taking it off. Even in the dim lit room, you can see the faintest of a blush covering his cheeks.

"Sweetheart..." he mumbles, "I dunno-"

"Please" trying to remove his hand.

"You really wanna?" but behind his teasing smile there's both a hopeful and vulnerable glint to his voice.

You extend your hand, cupping his cheek. He leans into the touch, and for a moment, the world outside ceases to exist, and it's just you, your ragged breaths and the light tickle of his growing beard on your palm.

It could be.

"Because I love you" holding his gaze firmly. "All of you"

"Fuck, baby" Joel starts to get off the shirt, "ya' really made those fuckers downstairs drop their damn mouths when ya' walked in with me. Couldn't believe it, such'a pretty girl could be mine" he snarls, grabbing your face by the chin. "Hell, I'ont believe it either. That you could wanna be with me"

But then you're touching his now naked form before you, fingers slowly tracing through his face to his tense jawline. Then across his broad shoulders to his tummy, feeling the soft swell against your stomach as he leans over your eager form. It's the way you look at him, as if he's the most beautiful man in the world, that makes his breath catch on his throat, staggering.

Your sweet broken voice rings in his head.

It isn't just you. I feel this too.

(Scared. Confused. Happy. Grieving. Loving)

It should be his ego boosted and cock stroked, but when his eyes find yours, it's his heart that feels the fullest.

Fuck, he was too old for this shit.

"Look at 'cha, making lame ol' me a sappy motherfucker" he laughs, the same blush from earlier now more prominent. He leans down to kiss you, his moustache brushing your lips. "If ya' don't stop, I'll take ya' right now and we're gettin' married tonight by summ random Elvis guy"

"What If I wanted that?" you challenge as your mouth presses fluttering kisses to his caging arm, lips stopping on each spot and mole peppered through his thick bicep.

"Then get dressed" you feel him squirm under your insistent lips, "'cause I ain't gettin' married again while naked"

"Where you married, Joel?" you can feel the salt air up your nose of the first night again, asking the same questions. The fact that he's opening to you warms your chest in a pleasant way.

He looks at you absentmindedly, humming as to confirm.

"We were too damn young. Had to, for the baby on the way" he tells. You remember Sarah's aversion to the topic, and given his next words, it makes sense. "Then she left"

I would never leave.

"I'm sorry" you offer instead.

"Don't" the atmosphere is quick to change again as thise words leave his mouth. "Now, where were we?"

You're quick to spread your legs to him, gilstening cunt on full view.

"Good girl" he smirks, lining himself with your warm entrance. "If ya' keep behavin', I might give ya' my cum"

His tip against your clit for a few seconds before pushing down against your hole. Joel groans as his length sinks in your gummy walls, feeling the tightness from before.

"You feel s'good" grunting as he slowly pushes in, letting you adjust to his girth. "Always do"

He presses a gentle kiss to your sweaty hairline.

"Tell me how it feels"

"Good" you mewl. "Big"

"Ain't that right" he chuckles.

"Need it all. Please" and you grip his neck tightly, arms around it. His nose brushes against yours as he grunts out a You little minx. "Want it, Joel. I can take it"

He bottoms out. "Then do"

"Fuck" you curse, cunt stretched to adapt to his girth. You breath in painfully, and Joel's eyes lace with concern. "I-It's fine"

"Sure? I can wait"

"I’m okay" you assure him, moved by his care for you. You buck your hips. "You can move"

He starts by setting a slow pace, taking all the space insade your clutching heat. Joel groans at the sensation, your walls gripping him like a vice as he continues to move in a slow motion, pounding into you with deep, powerful strokes. Yet, as his arms cage you by your sides and you look at him with certainty, he picks up a brutal pace, just as you like it, slamming into you over and over again, the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin filling the small bathroom.

"K-keep going" you grip his left arm. Joel lets out a hiss as your nails dig on his skin. "Feels so good"

"Good'nough for you to cum on m'dick?" he groans huskily in your ear, breath ghosting on your skin like a hot kiss. "Gonna fill you up, doll. I'll mark you as mine, now and for da' rest of y'r life"

The way his voice drips with dominance as he commands you, filled with a rough rich baritone tinted with a possesive hunger, his hips moving faster as he drives into you with force, pistoning harder is enough to set you on edge.

He leans forward, capturing your lips in a kiss.

"Cum f'me, baby. Let me hear ya' cryin' over my cock"

Tears. Stars. Grunts. Moans. Cum.

Your cry for his name against his lips is how you announce your orgasm, washing over you. Your walls flutter as Joel lets you ride slowly through your climax.

"There ya' go, baby. Go on, ride it" then, he pauses. His face strains. "Hold on tight. I'm gonna- I'm gonna cum. Right there, baby. Stay"

Somewhere along the moans and the writhes of your soft skin against his hard planes and soft belly, Joel asks where you want it. Inside, you hear yourself say, eager to feel all of him again, filling your insides, invading every inch of your body until a part of himself leaks into your heart. He's then blabbering as your walls and heart flutter, about kids and other things you both want but can't have. Tonight, though, as he Joel buries himself deep inside you, his cock throbbing and pulsing as he starts to come, grinding against you, making sure you feel every last spurt, every last bit of his release, you allow yourself to believe.

He pumps some shallows thrusts inside of your slick dripping cunt, emptying himself, before pulling out and looking down at you with a tired smile.

"I love you" he says again in fervent whisper, as if by repeating it, he could materialize it. "I love you so fucking much, y/n. And if ya' can't accept that, can't believe in that, then... then I'ont know what the fuck I'm gonna do. 'Cause I can't lose ya', baby. I can't"

"You won't" you don't know why it comes so easy, or why the promise slips as natural as a breath. "I'm here, Joel Miller. You won't lose me"

credits: divider @kodaswrld / gif @loregifs

#dilfistwrites #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #joel miller #joel miller tlou #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller angst #bfd!joel miller #bfd!joel #tlou #tlou fanfiction #to the devil i know series

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potatoplace · 4 months ago

Text

Forever

The Afterthought: Chapter 7 | series masterlist

Azriel x Archeron!Reader

chapter 6 | chapter 8 | ACOTAR x Reader Masterlist

Summary: The day after your first date is spent gossiping with Mor, being gently harassed by your coworkers over your new relationship, and with the male you want to spend your future with.

Warnings: slightly shitty Rhys mention, I honestly don't think there's anything else!

Words: ~5.5k

Author's Note: god DAMN did it take me forever to get this one out 😭 I'm glad I can finally deliver some good fackin food! (Not that I haven't loved working on all my other fics lol) Loooots of cute fluffiness in this chapter, I hope you guys like it!! 🫶 Title from the Chelsea Cutler song

18+ only pls

🤍💙💘💙🤍

You’d just taken off you makeup and cleansed your skin when a letter from Mor showed up with a soft pop on your kitchen table.

You managed to decipher it after a minute on your own, something that you were immensely proud of. Her perfect handwriting read:

How did the date go?? Where did you go for dinner? What did you talk about? Did he kiss you?? Tell me everything, write back on this paper and once you fold it, it will send itself back to me! - Love, Mor

Your nose wrinkled as you thought about writing her back, your own penmanship far more clumsy, even with how much you had been practicing. But you did anyways, not wanting to disappoint your friend.

It was perfect, we went to an Illyrian restaurant for dinner. HE KISSED ME!! Can you come over at 7 to talk? - Love you, Y/N

Your fingers carefully folded the paper along the crease once more, and watched with amazement as it vanished from your hands immediately.

Less than a minute later the paper returned, Mor having written: YES! I’ll bring breakfast and YOU can tell me everything!

You giggled to yourself, so unbelievably happy to have not only a friend who cared about your romantic life, but also having a romantic life! With Azriel no less!

At the sound of your laughter, M’aiq ran over and brushed against your leg, meowing loudly for food. You’d fed her dinner before you left for your date, but here she was, screaming at you like she was starved. “Silly girly, you have to wait until morning,” you said as you bent down to pick her up, her tiny claws catching slightly on your nightgown. She meowed at you with all her might as you cradled her in your arms, her tiny paws resting on your hand as you pet her tummy. “You’re very cute and very mighty, and I’m tempted to feed you more because of that. But you’ll be fine, I promise.” You nuzzled your nose against her cheek, listening to her purr. “Or are you asking me how the date was?” She purred louder at that suggestions, and you giggled again. “Okay, I’ll tell you about it,” You said as you sat in your armchair, letting the roaring fire keep you warm as you gushed to M’aiq about the date, petting her tiny head and tummy all the while.

Eventually, though, you forced yourself from the chair and into your bed, carefully setting a sleeping M’aiq onto the pillow next to yours that had become quickly become hers.

You fell asleep snuggled into the blankets, one hand still placed on M’aiq.

🤍❤️🤍💙🤍

“Wake UP!”

That was your only warning before Mor flung herself on top of you, forcing the air from your lungs in one go.

“Oh my gods, Mor!”

Mor’s maniacal giggling was the answer you got as Mor flopped to the other side of the bed and off of you, your eyes flying open in panic.

“Did you squish M’aiq?!” You asked frantically as you turned to see Mor inspecting her nails.

“No, I didn’t squish M’aiq,” she reassured you. “She bolted straight under the bed the moment I winnowed in, otherwise I wouldn’t have squished you like that.”

You shook your head, even as a smile crept onto your face. “Oh, you won’t squish M’aiq but you’ll squish me?” You asked, letting fake offence seep into your tone.

“Uh, yes, you would cry if I squished M’aiq, but you? You have information that I want! Tell me all about the date while we do our skincare, yeah?” Mor asked as she stood up from your bed, looking expectantly at you.

You nodded and flung the covers back, scrunching your nose at the cold air. Your slippers and dressing gown fixed that easily, and you followed Mor into your bathroom.

“So, how was it?” Mor asked excitedly as she patted her face dry.

“It was…” You sighed dreamily. “It was everything I could have hoped for, honestly. We went to this small Illyrian restaurant in the Palace of Thread and Jewels, the food was amazing, We talked a lot about when we were younger, he told me a few funny stories about Cassian and Rhysand,” you giggled. “And we realized that we both thought we had been extremely obvious with our affections, but neither of us noticed.”

“Well, I noticed,” Mor laughed. “I swear, when Azriel can’t see you at least once a week, he becomes the crankiest little Spymaster. And you get so blushy and shy around him, it’s so cute!”

Color dusted your cheeks at her words. “…Does he really get upset?”

Mor burst into laughter. “He does! He went off on Keir so many times, it was amazing! How was the rest of the date? Did you do anything else?” She asked as the two of you moved from the bathroom to the dining table, settling down in front of the pastries and tea that Mor had brought.

You couldn’t help but smile as you thought of how the date ended. “Well, he walked me home along the Sidra, but while we were I heard this lovely music, and in the dim lights and with the snow it was…” You let out a breath. “It was perfect. We danced to the music-”

“Azriel danced?” Mor asked incredulously, and you blinked at her, confused.

“Yes? Is that… Does he not normally dance?”

Mor shook her head. “He knows how to, he’s just… Always avoided it, whenever he could. I’m not sure exactly why, I think he might just be shy. Or… Maybe he just didn’t have the right partner!” Mor squealed, and you blushed again.

“Well either way, we danced for a bit, and then when we got to my door he kissed me,” You whispered. “It was… I’ve never been kissed before but I can’t imagine any other kiss ever measuring up.”

Mor was holding her hands to her cheeks, a huge grin splitting her face. “Oh mother, you are in love!” You smacked her lightly, your cheeks cherry red now.

“Shut up!”

“No, I can’t! My best friend is in love with my other best friend! Do you know how cute the two of you are together?”

You rolled your eyes at her and took a sip of your tea. “You haven’t even seen us together since we’ve been dating, Mor.”

“I don’t need to see you two together to know that you’re the cutest couple in Velaris! That is, until I finally get a chance to ask out the adorable Illyrian that Nesta is friends with,” Mor sighed. “Any other details about the night that you want to share with me?” She asked, waggling her brows at you suggestively.

"Mor. We kissed, and that’s all!” You insisted, placing the back of your hands on your cheeks in an attempt to cool them. “And that’s all that will happen, unless we get married.”

“See! You’re in looove, already thinking about getting married to Azriel,” Mor giggled.

You shot her a glare, but the smile that forced its way onto your face ruined the effect. “Mor,” you groaned.

Mor snickered at you, but relented. “Fine, fine. Do you know when you’re seeing him next?”

You nodded, your smile growing. “He’s picking me up after I get off work tonight.”

“Cute! I have a feeling it’s going to be tough keeping Azriel in the Hewn City through the elections.” Mor glanced to the clock, sighing when she saw the time. “I have to get going, I’ve got a meeting with Rhys in ten minutes and he’ll be pissed if I show up late again.”

“How many times have you been late?” You asked as you walked her to the door, Mor waving excitedly at M’aiq, whose head poking out from under the bed.

“I’ve lost track,” Mor laughed. “Especially recently, if he’s going to keep me in the Hewn City most of the time, I’m entitled to being late, I think.”

“I think you’re right, Mor. Will I be seeing you tomorrow?”

“Yes, I should be in town a bit after you usually get off of work. But…” Mor fished something out of her pockets: two blank pieces of paper. “I wanted you to have these! They’re both spelled to be sent after being folded like the letter I sent to you yesterday, and all messages are erased ten minutes after being opened. One of them is spelled to go to me, and the other is spelled to go to Azriel. I thought it would be nice for you to have a way to communicate with us, without needing magic.”

You grinned at the blonde standing in your doorway. “Thank you, Mor, this is amazing! And I’m sure you have no ulterior motives, like getting information on my and Azriel’s dates?”

“Oh, of course not, I just thought you might like to have someone to gush about him to,” Mor said with a wink. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/N!”

“I’ll see you then, Mor. Have a good day!”

“You as well!” Mor called out from halfway down the staircase.

You shut your front door and giggled when M’aiq came trotting over, meowing insistently at you. “Yeah, you could have been fed earlier if you’d been a little braver, Eeky. Let’s get your breakfast started,” you said after setting the papers down on your kitchen table, trading them for your soft, fluffy child. “Do you want to watch me cook it today?”

Her loud meow was enough of an answer for you, so you set her on the counter next to the stove while you pulled a bit of beef out of the cold box. The rest of your morning passed by quickly, between cutting the meat and making sure M’aiq stayed out of the heating pan, and later keeping her from eating straight out of it. Soon enough, she was munching away after you’d set her and her food bowl on the ground.

You went about the rest of your routine, applying a light layer of pink eyeshadow and a bit of blush before getting dressed, choosing a pale purple dress, its sleeves reaching just past your elbow and the hem reaching your ankles. The matching sash around your waist was tied into a bow at your lower back, showing more of your figure than you usually did, especially at work.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t chose it knowing that Azriel would be picking you up from work later that day, your mind already stuck on how he might react to it. The whole walk to work you thought about it, nearly slipping on two separate patches of ice, you were so distracted. Somehow, you managed to safely make it to Sevenda’s on time, your outerwear hung up in the tiny breakroom just as the clock hit nine.

“Oh, someone looks nice today,” Josi remarked as you slid on your apron, her hands already chopping onions.

“Thank you, Josi,” you said with a smile, tying off your apron and moving to the sink to clean your hands.

“You have a hot date later, Y/N?” Torma asked, making heat rush to your cheeks. “Oh! You do! Who is it, tell us who it is!”

You laughed nervously as you finished drying your hands, facing your coworkers with your flushed cheeks. “It’s no one, really,” you said quietly, readying your workstation for the day. You would be handling the preparation of the meats today, a task you’d only just recently earned enough trust to do on your own.

“It’s not no one, just tell us who it is,” Josi begged from your left. “Please?”

You shook your head, pulling out a large piece of beef that you’d be carving up. “I don’t want to talk about it yet, we’ve only been on one date.”

“Ah, new love,” Torma sighed. “Whoever it is, they better treat you right, Y/N.”

You couldn’t fight the smile that slid onto your face. “He treats me perfectly,” you said softly.

Josi and Torma continued to ask questions about your mystery suitor, determined to guess who it is through your answers by the end of the day. The two of them never failed to make your day fly by, their cheery attitudes and kind words always making your day better.

As your shift drew to a close, though, your eyes kept flicking up to the clock, wishing for once that the minutes would pass by more quickly.

If Josi or Torma noticed, neither of them mentioned it. Either way, you were glad no one had pointed out how antsy you were, waiting to leave.

Five minutes before five o’clock, Sevenda popped her head into the kitchen, locking eyes with you. “Y/N, you have a guest out front when you’re done,” she said with a knowing smile and a wink before disappearing back into the front of house.

“Oh, would that guest happen to be your male?” Josi giggled, her and Torma’s eyes following you as you cleaned up your space and washed up quickly.

“I think it is, look at how fast she’s moving! Normally you never want to leave us, Y/N, is that going to change?” Torma asked with a pout.

“No, that won’t change,” you laughed as you dried your hands. “I just happen to be meeting him right after work today.” You went into the breakroom and put on your cloak and scarf, sliding your mittens on as you walked into the front of house, your eyes instantly drawn to the Illyrian lingering near the doorway.

He noticed you in the same moment, his hazel eyes softening when they landed on you. A few of his shadows slunk over to you, wrapping themselves around your legs and ankles, and judging by his expression he hadn’t asked them to do so. You walked up to him, your eyes finally registering that he was holding a lovely bouquet of red camellias and azaleas.

He had picked such romantic flowers for you, both today and last night, it was making your head spin.

“Good afternoon, Y/N,” he greeted, pressing a soft kiss to each of your cheeks, your face flaming when he pulled away. Azriel pressed the bouquet into your hands gently. “I brought you these, I thought you might like them.”

“I love them, thank you Az,” you said, a grin on your face as you smelled them. “Should we go?”

“Yes, I was think-”

“No way!” Josi squealed from behind you. “Torma, you owe me twenty marks!”

“Nice, Y/N, you got the Shadowsinger!” Torma cheered from the back of the restaurant. “You two are so cute together!”

You smiled apologetically up at Azriel, your cheeks now red from embarrassment. “Goodbye,” you said loudly to the two of them, noticing that even Wren was peeking out from the kitchen, shaking your head at their antics.

The two of you left the restaurant, the chill of winter sinking into your skin a bit. “You were saying something before my coworkers interrupted you?”

“Ah.” Azriel rubbed the back of his head, and in the remaining sunlight you could see his cheeks were lightly dusted with pink. “I thought that we could go to the markets to get ingredients for dinner, and I could cook for you at your apartment.”

You couldn’t help the smile that formed at his suggestion, and you quickly nodded in agreement. “That sounds lovely, Az. Though I’d like to insist on helping you cook.”

“And I would like to insist that you allow me to cook for you myself, just this once,” he requested softly. Azriel smiled down at you as he grabbed your hand, a few of his shadows floating over to your other and disappearing with your bouquet, presumably taking it to your apartment. He slowly led you to the Palace of Bone and Salt, his grip being the only thing keeping you upright on more than one occasion.

Shopping went by quickly with Azriel at your side, your heart racing and cheeks flushed at all times from his presence. When the streets grew crowded, Azriel guided you through the groups of people with a considerate hand on your lower back, his other arm managing to carry everything he’d purchased for dinner.

He still had yet to tell you what he was making, or agree that you could help.

By the time you returned to your apartment, the sun had thrown lovely oranges and pinks into the sky, matching the lovestruck mood you were in from Azriel’s mere presence. You led Azriel up to your apartment, opening your front door slowly to be certain that M’aiq was unable to make an escape - not that you expected her to, with how frightened she seemed to be of anything and anyone new.

“M’aiq, we’re home!” You called out into the room, spying her green eyes glinting in the light from under your bed, a smile gracing your lips. “You know him, cutie pie,” you giggled as you watched her eyes lock onto Azriel’s form, her body slinking just a bit further into the shadows. You rolled your eyes and turned your gaze to Azriel, who had taken off his boots and was already entering the kitchen with the groceries.

Your own winter gear came off quickly, shoes replaced with fuzzy slippers. It took you mere seconds to be by his side, curiously taking note of everything he’d bought - you could hardly remember what you’d stopped for, with your head and heart buzzing from getting to spend so much time with Azriel, even if it was only grocery shopping.

“So, what are we making?” You asked, letting your right hand brush against his left ever so slightly.

“I am making a chicken stir-fry for us,” Azriel responded, a gentle kiss placed to the crown of your head right after. “And you, my dear, will be sitting either at the table or on the couch.”

Your lips slid into a pout - that just wouldn’t do.

“But I want to help,” you whined, laying your head against his shoulder. “Please?”

Azriel sighed. “You can help next time, Y/N. But I would love if you would give me the chance to make you a meal, all on my own.”

Your heart soared at his offer - he would love to cook for you - and you couldn’t help but smile, especially when you saw his lips tilted a the corners, his eyes hopeful as he looked down at you.

“Fine,” you gave in. “Do you need help finding anything?”

“No, love, I’ve got it covered. You just go take a seat, and I’ll bring you a pot of tea in a moment.”

You took a seat, a playful pout on your lips. You appreciated the gesture, but you really would enjoy cooking with him again.

You’ll have as many times as you want to cook with him after this, you reminded yourself, a smile coming to your lips at the thought.

You could cook with him whenever youwantednow that you were dating, so long as he was in the city.

That train of thought had you so entangled that you only realized Azriel had brought you a pot of tea when he pressed a kiss to your forehead, a soft look in his eyes when he pulled away. “What are you thinking about, love?”

Your cheeks flamed from the nickname - how could something so simple be so perfect? “Just… How we can do this all the time, now,” you admitted shyly.

Azriel nodded. “Yes we can, Y/N. And we will, whenever we have the time,” he promised before bending down to kiss you gently, leaving you breathless.

“Good,” you managed to say, grinning up at him before watching him turn back to the stove. “How was your day?”

“Oh, not too bad,” Azriel replied as he began cutting the chicken, having already prepared all of the vegetables while you had been fantasizing about your future with him. “Most of my day will happen when I go back to the Hewn City, so I’m incredibly grateful to spend the beginning of it with you. You are much preferred company to any of the citizens I have to interact with there, love.”

Would your cheeks always be pink around him?

“I’m glad you get to spend it with me too,” you said as you took a sip of your tea, which his shadows had kindly poured out for you - one of your favorites, a pink rose green tea. “Do you know when you’ll stop having to be there as much?”

Azriel hummed thoughtfully as he transferred the chicken to the pan. “I believe in three weeks things will be a bit more settled, and I won’t have to spend every night there.”

Three weeks. You could handle that.

You stood from your chair and made your way over to him, watching as he moved the chicken around the pan. “Three weeks? That isn’t too bad.”

Azriel turned to look at you, a wing curling slightly around your back to touch your arm. “Three weeks will be torture, knowing that I could have been spending every day with you,” he admitted quietly, your heart fluttering at the sincerity of his tone, the truth in his hazel eyes. “You have no idea how many times I’ve almost caused a problem with Keir when he was holding me up from leaving,” Azriel sighed.

“I think only Keir would mind if he got hit in the face,” you giggled, knowing how awful he was, even to his own daughter. One of your hands was slowly creeping over to the spoon he was using to stir.

Azriel let out a soft snort. “That may be true, but I’d prefer to spend time with you over teaching him a lesson.” Hazel eyes darted down, catching you in the act and using a scarred hand to pick yours up and bring the back of it to his lips, pressing a sweet kiss there. “Now, go sit down and enjoy your tea love.”

You stuck your lips out into a pout. “But I want to help,” you whined.

“And you agreed that you wouldn’t help this time. So, will you sit down? Or do my shadows need to help you?” Azriel asked, and your cheeks flushed bright red.

“I can sit down,” you sighed before turning back to the table and reluctantly taking a seat. You took a deep sip of tea, aware of the shadows that had stretched away from Azriel slightly. You almost felt like they were staring at you, making sure you didn’t leave your seat.

It was likely, you supposed, since Azriel was able to spy on people with them. Then again, you weren’t really sure.

“How do the shadows work?” you blurted out, hoping it wasn’t a rude question.

Azriel turned around, a surprised look on his face. “You… You want to know about them?” he asked neutrally.

"I... Yes. They’re a part of you, right?”

His lips tilted up, just a tiny bit, at the corners. “Yes, and no. They’ve been with me so long that we feel like one, but they have minds of their own. That’s why one has been following you around secretly without my permission for over a year.” His eyes locked onto a place by your feet, where a small shadow slunk out from underneath the hem of your dress.

“I- What?” you asked, worried about what that meant.

Azriel shook his head quickly, and his words dispelled any notions your brain had been creating. “I have received absolutely no information from them, when they follow you, I swear. They just… Wanted to keep an eye on you,” he said sheepishly as he rubbed the back of his neck, turning quickly to the pan to keep the chicken from burning. “I hope that you aren’t offended by it, I truly did attempt to make them stop.”

You pursed your lips together, trying to keep a giggle in. “They can… They can disobey you?”

“I don’t normally let people know that, but yes,” Azriel sighed. “They’re very stubborn, when they think I’m wrong.” He began stirring in the vegetables he’d cut, pouring a delicious smelling sauce over them as he did.

“They thought you were wrong? About what?” You asked with a furrowed brow.

You just barely noticed the way Azriel’s wings stiffened at the question, barely heard the quiet answer he gave to your question.

“About me… Giving you space.”

Giving me space? Space from what?

“Rhys…” Azriel groaned, stepping away from the stove. “Mother, it’s so stupid! Rhys told me not to approach you romantically, after he told me off for having feelings for Elain-” he seemed to have noticed his mistake the moment he said it, turning to look at you with horror in his eyes. “Oh gods, Y/N, I never had feelings for your sister, Rhys just had it in his head that I did because I was helping her recover as he and Feyre had asked of me,” he rushed out quickly, your brain struggling to make sense of the sudden onslaught of information. “Truly, since I’ve met you, I’ve had no interest in anyone else romantically, Y/N, you have to believe me,” Azriel begged when you were silent for a moment, getting on his knees in front of you, his wings folded behind him.

You had never felt that Azriel cared for Elain, beyond that of a friend. But, knowing that someone else had thought he had…

“I believe you, Az. I do,” you said quietly. “But… What changed your mind? About giving me space, I mean.”

Azriel let out a relieved sigh, giving you a gentle, reassuring hug before returning to the stove reluctantly. “Well… You. I had thought you were adjusting well to life in Velaris, but on Bounty Day… I realized that your support system wasn’t giving you the proper support, and I could have been contributing all along.” The shadow that was still at the hem of your dress rushed up to his face, poking him on the ear, almost scoldingly before he let out an amused huff. “Yes, also you, little one,” he said with an affectionate eyeroll, smiling when the shadow brushed against his cheek before returning to you, this time settling around your wrist.

“Well… I’m glad that you had someone to talk some sense into you,” you giggled before standing from your chair and going behind him, placing your face between his wings and wrapping your arms as far around him as you could, almost getting your fingers to touch. He stiffened in your hold for a brief moment before relaxing, a hand coming to rest over yours.

“Me too,” he whispered.

He let you stand behind him, arms wrapped around him tightly the rest of the time he was cooking, his shadows happily encircling the two of you.

The meal he made you was perfect, made with just the right amount of spice for you and oh so filling. Az even insisted on washing up while you sat on the couch in front of a blazing fire, attempting to lure M’aiq out from under your bed.

“Will you come out for food?” you begged, grinning when her ears perked up, eyes locking onto yours instead of where Azriel was standing in the kitchen. “Please, little noodle?” She let out a tiny meow and took a few brave steps towards you, and you took the opportunity to stand and scoop her up. “Thank you, now let’s get you some food!”

A few of Azriel’s shadows darted over to you and M’aiq, hovering curiously around her before backing away after she hissed, making her displeasure very known. You set her on the counter before pulling some steak from the fridge for her - her newest favorite.

You set to preparing her dinner, hyper-aware of Azriel standing near you at the sink, the very edges of his wing brushing you every now and then, his shadows lazily floating between the two of you. You’d just gotten the meat in a pan when Azriel finished at the sink, stepping aside a bit to let you wash your hands. He still had your hand towel when you finished, wrapping your hands in it softly and drying them for you.

In a moment of bravery you stood on your tip-toes, pressing your lips to his briefly before pulling away, only for Az to pull you back, his mouth covering yours sweetly until you heard metal rattling.

You turned to see M’aiq, one paw on the steak in the pan as she tried, and failed, to grab a slice from the pan. “M’aiq!” you yelped, moving out of Azriel’s hold to pull her away from possible danger. “You impatient little girl! You can wait five more minutes,” you said as you held her up to your face, shaking your head at her behavior. She was set on the counter to your left, away from the hot pan and thankfully staying put, now that your eyes were on her again.

You had just started to stir the meat when Azriel came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your torso and pressing a kiss to the crown of your head before resting his chin on it. For the next four minutes, you were sure that you looked an idiot, smiling so widely at a mere hug.

But you didn’t care.

Because it was Azriel.

And if you could spend every moment with him? You were sure that you would.

For now, though, you could settle for any amount of time with the perfect, caring male behind you.

Once M’aiq was fed, you couldn’t help but feel your time with him drawing to a close for the night, your heart aching already at the prospect. But you let him lead you back over to the couch, sitting down first and pulling you down and into his side, a warm throw blanket pulled over you in the next moment. His wings draped over the side of the couch, an arm wrapped over your shoulders and his free hand holding one of yours. He swiped his thumb over the back of it rhythmically as you basked in each other’s presence.

“So,” Azriel started a while later, after M’aiq had joined you. “I won’t be able to come to town until Friday night next week, and I was wondering if you would be free for another date?”

You tilted your head to look up at him, meeting his softened hazel eyes. “I most definitely am,” you confirmed with a smile, it broadening when he placed a tender kiss to your lips. “Do I get a hint on what it is?”

Azriel grinned at you, his face looking so boyish and free that your heart skipped a beat. “Wear something you can move comfortably in.”

You furrowed your brow. “That’s not much of a hint…” you half-heartedly grumbled.

“The hint was meant to be vague, love,” Az chuckled. He leaned down to kiss you once more, still soft and tender, but you could sense the hunger lying deep underneath the calm façade he was wearing. “I should be going, as much as I would rather stay with you,” he groaned, pressing another kiss to your lips.

“Then stay…” you whispered against his lips, drawing another long kiss from him.

He sighed when he pulled away this time, a finality in his expression. “I wish I could,” he murmured before carefully moving the blanket on his lap in an effort to not disturb M’aiq. Once he was standing, he bent down for another kiss, your eyes fluttering closed until he pulled away, your cheeks pink. “I’ll see you on Friday?”

“On Friday,” you nodded. “Oh, wait! Mor gave me these papers that will let us write to each other,” you said. “So… Expect a letter from me, probably tomorrow,” you giggled.

Azriel beamed at you, a dimple showing on his left cheek when he did so, your heart absolutely melting at the sight. “I’ll look forward to it, Y/N. Have a good rest of your night,” he said before pressing one last, lingering kiss to your lips.

“You too, Az,” you said, watching as he left through your front, door, the shadow that apparently stays with you locking the door behind him before lazily floating back over to you.

What a night, you thought to yourself.

There had been a brief moment of panic, with the reveal of Rhysand not wanting Azriel to approach you, but… You knew that Azriel was telling you the truth, that he had never harbored feelings for your second eldest sister.

And that was all the reassurance that you needed.

🤍💙💘💙🤍

General Taglist: @daughterofthemoons-stuff @lilah-asteria @meritxellao @twismare @wrenisrad @icey--stars

The Afterthought Taglist: @darkbloodsly @angelbunny222 @uniquedreamsblog @romantasyreader28 @that-one-bibliophole @idkmyoldonewasembarassing @deathtopistachios @saltedcoffeescotch @sleepylunarwolf @babypeapoddd @kingshitonly @bravo-delta-eccho @bluebries81 @liahaslosthermind @deepestmentalitypersona @historygeekqueen @hermajestysworld @marina468 @esposamultifandom @astrokitty18 @larissa01-blog2 @acourtofbatboydreams @angel-graces-world-of-chaos @thelov3lybookworm @weekendlusting @dxjaaaa @thejediprincess56 @casiiopea2 @butterfix @sirenpearldust @marrass @satiresunflower @mae-foster @boo-shalala @optimisticbabydreamer @sttvrdustt @bunnybella186 @demon-master-zero @jaybbygrl @goodvibesonlyxd @starryhiraeth @hippop345 @its-an-avoblogo-thanks @izzygeekk @dnfhascorruptedme @the-tummo @aslut4percyjackson

#forever #the afterthought #azriel x reader #azriel x reader fluff #acotar x reader #acotar x you #fluff #azriel #acotar #acotar fic #acotar fanfic #mor #morrigan #tato writes

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littlcdarlin · 5 months ago

Text

My Burning Sun Will Someday Rise — the journey home

summary: Joel drives you home from the airport after your vacation. You miss him as soon as he's gone. warnings: daddy kink (mentioned once), big age gap (23 & 49), orgasm control (reader needs Joel's permission), slight angst, phone sex in your parents' home (the most mortifying thing I can think of actually)

note: sorry this took me so long, I lowkey forgot about it tbh. It's a little angsty, but I swear that angst will be resolved!! Idk when, because I'm writing a different oneshot atm, but at some point I plan on writing more smut & a confrontation with reader's Dad. Enjoy these head canons in the meantime, and thank you for your love on this series <3333

Your Dad calls while you’re still at the airport & Joel tells him he got you home safely (your panties are still ruined from how badly you wanted Joel on the plane, his hand on your thigh the entire time)

He puts the luggage in the trunk of his Bronco, and before you’ve made it halfway home, he pulls over to a deserted parking lot by the side of the road & makes you ride him in the car

So good, baby, let me have it one last time. He comes inside of you like he did every time he fucked you during your trip, and when you grab your tissues to clean yourself, he asks you to leave it, baby, want you to remember me when you get home

So you do, because you always do what he tells you, and because you don’t want to let him go completely just yet. The rest of the way both of you are very quiet

Joel pulls up to your Dad’s house (you’re staying with him to help him with his leg), and before you can get out, he pulls you into a hug, and kisses the side of your head

Hope ya had a good time. You want to cry but you also don’t want to seem clingy, so you nod. Joel doesn’t let you go for a few minutes

When you pull away to say goodbye, he looks like your Dad’s Joel again, wearing his boots instead of flip flops, a pair of jeans instead of your beloved trunks, and his linen shirt is nowhere to be seen

Take care, kid. Call me if you need anything, alright? And don’t study too hard.

Before you can answer, the front door opens and your Dad greets you, leg still in a cast, and considerably less tan than you and Joel

When you get out to greet him, you feel Joel’s cum drip out of you and into your cotton panties. You glance at Joel, who seems to understand and raises one playful eyebrow — he’s still your Joel, no matter his clothes

Your Dad hugs you and the entire time you think he'll be able to smell Joel on you, his clothes you kept wearing, his shampoo you used when you were too lazy to get yours from your own hotel room, his sweat and spit and cum on you, but your Dad just walks over to Joel's window and thanks him

"Had a good time with my girl?"

Joel doesn't really meet his eye, and you think to yourself that my girl is a term only applicable if Joel says it, but he just agrees, says the food was good and that you studied a lot

And that's it, Joel drives away with one last glance at you in the sun, and then he's gone and a strange emptiness settles over you

You tell your Dad you need some time for yourself after a week of socializing, which he doesn't question, so you say good night, plop down on your bed and put on a movie. You don't want to shower, not when you can still feel Joel inside of you

It takes you around twenty minutes to pull out your phone, and when you do, you've already got a message from Joel

Miss you already, baby. At the risk of sounding desperate, call me if you need a break from studying.

The proper punctuation makes you smile and want to cry at the same time, Joel's age so obvious. You take a couple of seconds to answer and fight the urge to call him and ask him to just take you away to live at his place, your Dad be damned

miss you too. can still feel you inside of me. trying hard not to call you right now

Almost immediately, your phone lights up with Joel's name, and then he's there, his beautiful face taking up the majority of the screen, and although you try hard not to cry, you feel tears burning your eyes

You tell Joel you miss your vacation already, that you wish you could go back, that you don't want to sleep alone tonight. You wonder if he just wanted to have phone sex with you and instead got this jumbled up mess of feelings and tears

But there's just kindness and warmth in his eyes, and when he tells you he wishes you were there with him, watching a movie together instead of alone, relief floods your body. He talks to you in his soothing voice until you stop crying, tells you you can always come over

You're scared to ask him what he means, if he's offering a shoulder to cry on, or if he actually wants to keep seeing you, but when he sees the expression on your face, he asks you to come to his place tomorrow and talk there, instead of over the phone

You agree, already longing for his arms around your body, and when you ask him to make you feel good in a hushed voice, he is quiet for a couple of seconds

Want me to help you get off in your Dad's house? You're not even home in your apartment and you already need it this bad?

It's humiliating in a way that switches off your brain, Joel's words exactly what you need to get lost in him – he isn't pretending what the two of you are doing isn't completely reckless and fucked, instead, he embraces it, makes you get off on it

He makes you use your fingers instead of a vibrator, and they feel strikingly small after being stretched out on Joel's cock for a week. By now, he knows your sounds well enough to tell you to stop when you're close, and only after bringing you right to the edge three times with little more than his dirty words, and you beg him with tears in your eyes, Daddy please, he lets you come

That's it, baby, you have my permission.

When you're done, you wonder why he hasn't touched himself, anxiety bubbling up inside of you, but Joel tells you he wants to focus on you, that he'll take care of it when you've gone to bed.

You tell him again how much you miss him, that you don't want to sleep alone, or get off alone, or eat alone, or with anyone else. Joel smiles sadly, and sighs. Don't gotta get off alone, kid, just text me whenever you need me.

But it's all he can offer – his permission to come, but no dinners together, no nights spent basking in his warmth and scent. You take it, though, and promise to ask his permission every time. You know it turns Joel on, but there is also something more intimate about it. The only exclusivity either of you can offer each other at the moment

You both fall asleep while still on FaceTime, but in the morning, your phone is dead

taglist: @allydiasx@b1bbles@monamedeiros12@brittmb115@dansdonunts @mattevioletgirl @pedrospurplerain @fsiryspit @strangerthingslover69 @thanyatargaryen @chochoooooooooo @guelyury @iloveumorethanlove @neayinia @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @clancysinferno @bbyanarchist @pedrofan @cr3aturef3ar @malfoycassimalfoy @akah565

#my burning sun will someday rise #my writing #headcanons #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller headcanons #joel miller x reader #joel x reader #joel miller smut #dbf!joel x reader #dbf!joel miller #dbf!joel #mine

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sukukuna · 2 months ago

Text

スククナ EMOTIONAL SUPPORT SORCERER (UNPAID)

part 1 part 1

premise; Shoko is done with being the only one who has to constantly handle everyone else's trauma and curse induced breakdowns. So when you casually mention you're pretty good at giving advice, she immediately recommends you to the higher ups as the new, unofficial therapist.

this is just a short intro to a series! if people enjoy this, i might continue it :p will include lots of characters!

You think that you made a mistake labelling yourself as a good listener.

Now you have a desk made of milk crates, a bean bag that you're 90% sure is haunted- a bean bag that occasionally tries to swallow some of your clients (just Gojo). Your office is a repurposed janitors closet, and payment comes in the form of boba tea, strawberry mochi and the occasional cursed trinket.

You're not sure how you ended up here. You're not exactly sure how to leave, either.

If you could go back in time, you'd go back to the moment when Shoko was patching you up after a rough mission, smoking a cigarette wistfully and complaining about how she had no time to herself.

You'd rather slap yourself in the face before uttering out the words "I'm pretty good at giving advice," again.

Because apparently, that's all it took for Shoko to appoint you as the new 'emotional support sorcerer' for Jujutsu High.

"I don't have a degree." you told her. She rolled her eyes as you voiced the obvious, tapping out her cigarette bud.

"Neither did Freud," she replied, tossing you a stress ball shaped oddly like a baby cursed spirit. "Welcome to the job."

And then there's the clients.

"Its pretty simple. You just listen to them and maybe patch up a cut or two, and make sure they don't completely implode. If they start crying, that's on you." Shoko handed you a hastily scribbled schedule of her working times. "I figure if you survive today, you'll be fine.

"Ah," you blinked up at her. "Okay." She smiled, and you were certain she was enjoying your discomfort. "Who's first?"

Her grin widened, and you shuddered. "Gojo."

".....Gojo?"

And Shoko just laughs.

CASE NO.1 SATORU GOJO.

You had only been in the Janitors closet Therapy room for five minutes when the door swung open like a storm hit the place. Satoru Gojo, in all his obnoxious glory comes strolling in with his blindfold and smug grin, looking like the worlds most egotistical superhero sorcerer.

"Y/n! You're the new group therapist, huh?" He slid into the beanbag chair like he owned it. You observed the haunted bean bag, as if making sure Gojo's boisterous energy wouldn't affect it.

"Uh-huh," Suddenly you were regretting every decision that led you to this moment.

Gojo raised an eyebrow. "Well, don't you worry. I'm gonna be the best client you've ever had."

"You're also the only client I've ever had." He ignored you.

Sighing to himself with a wide grin, "You won't be able to handle my perfect emotional depth." He sinks further into the bean bag, and you wince as the air starts feeling thicker, and the bean bag starts to seem more...menacing.

You close your eyes and take a deep breath. "Right...So what brings you here?"

He grins, and places his hands behind his head, his blindfold riding up slightly. "Well, I'm perfect, obviously, but... sometimes, I get a little tired of being the brightest star in the sky. It's exhausting being this good looking. And everyone loves me. Its a lot, you know?" No, no I do not.

You just stare at him blankly. "...And that's the reason you're here?"

He sighs dramatically, flopping back into the beanbag. "And also, like, How do you even deal with being this amazing everyday? Its like a curse."

"Gojo," You start, voice thick with sarcasm. "You're going to be fine. I'm sure the emotional toll of being a literal god doesn't keep you up at night."

He blinked. "Wait. It doesn't?"

DIAGNOSIS: CHRONIC GOJO SYNDROME

TREATMENT: COMPLIMENTS. KIKUFUKU.

It had been exactly fifteen minutes since your first 'session' with Gojo. Fifteen minutes since Satoru had stormed out of the makeshift office, having delivered the kind of emotional performance that only someone with his level of ego could pull off.

You rubbed your temples, trying to process the tidal wave that had just crashed into your psyche. You had managed to take a few notes, but they all stated the obvious.

EGO - IMPOSSIBLY LARGE

PROBLEM - ??? TOO PERFECT ???

SOLUTION - ?????? MORE THERAPY ??????

if this gets interactions i will continue <3

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cheollollipop · 2 months ago

Text

i’m spider-man, stop screaming. | mark lee.

genre: fluff.

wc: 1.7k

🕸️ author’s note!

i really enjoy writing these and i know i have like two series i need to be working on but these have been making me so happy 😭 i hope you all are enjoying them as much as i am! happy reading!

Mark calls an emergency hangout on a Sunday.

That's already suspicious.

Sunday is sacred. Jaemin's face mask day, Haechan's day of sleeping in until 4 p.m., and Jeno's scheduled "do nothing but wear sweats and watch cat videos" rotation. For all three of them to be vertical and in Mark's apartment before noon? That's either love or fear.

Possibly both.

So when they walk in and see Mark pacing like he's waiting for a jury verdict, the mood shifts.

"Did someone die?" Jaemin asks, setting his boba down like it's a glass of aged whiskey.

"No one's dead," Mark says, still pacing.

"Are you dying?" Jeno squints, eyes full of genuine concern.

"No!"

"You better not be," Haechan mutters, flopping onto the couch like a Victorian widow. "If you make me cry before I finish this milk tea, I'm haunting your hoodie collection."

Mark stops in front of the window, stares dramatically into the middle distance like he's in a tragic drama. "I just—need to tell you something."

All three of them go dead quiet.

Too quiet.

Jaemin tilts his head. "Wait... are you and YN having a baby?"

"WHAT—NO!" Mark yells, turning an aggressive shade of red. "OH MY GOD. NO."

Then he turns to me, eyes wide. "Wait... you're not pregnant, right?"

"Mark. We've never even had se—"

"OKAY!" Jeno exclaims, face flushed. "So it's not a baby. Got it. Great. Moving on. Please."

"Are you moving?" Jaemin offers.

"Are you joining the military?" Jeno asks.

"Are you secretly British?" Haechan deadpans.

Jaemin gasps, eyes huge. "ARE YOU BALD UNDER THAT HOODIE?!"

"Guys!" Mark groans, dragging a hand down his face.

Then he stops. Takes a breath. A real one. Like he's about to jump off a cliff.

And says it.

"I'm Spider-Man."

Silence.

Jaemin furrows his brows. "Like... a fan?"

Mark deadpans, "No."

"You like Spider-Man?" Jeno asks slowly, cautious.

"No."

"You had a dream you were Spider-Man?" Haechan tries.

"No."

"You are Spider-Man emotionally?" Jaemin suggests.

"WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN—no. I'm actually Spider-Man."

He pulls off his hoodie in one swift motion, revealing the unmistakable red-and-black suit underneath. It's scraped up. Real. Lived in. Battle worn.

Then he pulls his web-shooter out of the duffel bag and holds it like it's proof of life.

Silence.

Longer silence.

"You cosplaying?" Jaemin tries again. "Is this a Comic-Con thing? I love the commitment."

Mark's eye twitches.

"It's me," he says. "I'm the one on the news. The scaffolding incident? The giant rhino guy downtown? The time someone live-tweeted me chasing a car thief on a CitiBike? That was me."

"I thought that was CGI," Jeno whispers.

"It was me!"

"You're not jacked enough to be Spider-Man," Haechan says bluntly. "Like respectfully. Your arms are straight noodles, my guy."

"I carry grown men across the city!"

"But like... do you bench though?"

Mark's eye does a full-body twitch this time.

Jaemin stands up, arms crossed like he's in court. "Do the web thing. Prove it."

Mark lets out a suffering sigh. Raises his wrist.

THWIP.

A web launches across the room, smacks Jaemin's boba cup, and yanks it straight into Mark's hand with surgical precision.

Jaemin SCREAMS.

Jeno SCREAMS.

Haechan SCREAMS.

And I am laughing hysterically.

All three of them launch themselves behind the couch like it's a warzone.

"WHAT THE—"

"MY BOBA—"

"IS THIS A DREAM?!"

"AM I DEAD?!"

Mark just stands there, holding the cup, looking completely done with all of them.

"You done?" he asks.

Jeno peeks up from behind the couch cushion like a nervous meerkat. "That was a real web."

"Correct."

"You're really Spider-Man."

"Yup."

"And you stole my pearls," Jaemin says, betrayed. "That's, like, the best part!"

Mark groans. "That's your takeaway?!"

"This is so much," Haechan says, half-curled into fetal position. "I need a snack and a nap and maybe a cleanse."

After several deep breaths and one emergency pudding break, the chaos settles into stunned silence as they all sit in shock.

Mark explains.

How long he's been Spider-Man. How it started. Why he kept it a secret. How I found out the night he saved me in the alley, how he'd webbed a knife clean out of someone's hand and I didn't run.

"I almost lost it that night," he says quietly. "But YN saw me. And stayed."

"I would've fainted," Jaemin says, spooning pudding into his mouth.

"I almost did," I mutter.

"I was very emotionally taxed," Mark defends.

"I'm just saying," Haechan starts, eyes wide, "you being Spider-Man is like... finding out my rice cooker has a double life as a ninja."

Mark throws a pillow at his face.

Finally, Jeno sits up, serious for once.

"I get why you didn't tell us. I really do. But... you don't have to do this alone anymore."

"Yeah," Jaemin adds. "We're your guys. Your ride or dies. Your emotional support gremlins."

"I want matching suits," Haechan announces. "Sidekick chic. I want capes."

"Spider-Man doesn't wear a cape," Mark mutters.

"Well I will," Haechan says. "My superhero name is The Napper."

"Call me Bubble Boba," Jaemin says solemnly, still mourning his drink.

"I just want a utility belt with snacks," Jeno shrugs. "Something practical. Like trail mix. And revenge."

Mark buries his face in his hands. "This was a mistake."

"We're gonna be SO annoying about this," Jaemin beams.

"Yeah. I figured," Mark sighs.

But when Jeno holds out his fist, Mark bumps it without hesitation.

Then Haechan.

Then Jaemin, who whispers, "Welcome to the web, baby," like it's some secret club.

And Mark just smiles.

Mark barely has a second to enjoy the moment of quiet.

Because the next thing he knows, Haechan is holding the web-shooter like it's the freaking crown jewels. "Okay. Okayokayokayokay. Let's just test it. Just a little web. One baby thwip."

"No," Mark says.

Haechan's already aiming at the lamp. "What's the worst that could happen?"

"THE LAMP, HAECHAN—"

THWIP.

The lamp goes down like a wounded soldier.

Everyone screams again, including me.

Except Mark, who just facepalms.

"Do you want me to web you to the ceiling?!" he hisses.

"Lowkey?" Haechan says, still gripping the web-shooter. "Yes?"

Mark groans and retrieves it from him. "None of you are responsible enough to even look at this thing."

"You say that like I didn't just prove I'd make a fantastic sidekick," Haechan replies, smug.

"You almost gave the lamp a concussion!"

Jaemin is already standing on the coffee table with both hands in the air. "I VOLUNTEER AS FIRST FLIGHT."

"I'm not swinging you," Mark says.

"Why not?"

"You weigh more than my moral compass."

"RUDE!"

"I can do a pull-up!" Jaemin insists. "I'm agile. I do Pilates. I'm emotionally limber."

"Still no."

Jaemin gasps like Mark just insulted his skincare routine. "Is this because we called your biceps soft?"

"Partially."

Suddenly Jeno's next to him with puppy eyes and his arms already outstretched. "What if I go second?"

"There is no first!"

"But you love me."

"That's emotional manipulation."

"I'm your favorite."

"You ate half a stick of butter once because you thought it was cheesecake."

"ONE TIME, MARK. LET ME FLY."

"I'm not a theme park ride!"

Too late.

Jaemin is already wrapping a throw blanket around his shoulders like a cape. "Just once around the room. Let me pretend I'm in a drama action sequence. I've got the inner monologue ready."

"Absolutely not—"

"I'm the misunderstood heir to the chaebol fortune who moonlights as a vigilante web artist and falls in love with the bakery girl next door—"

"I said no—"

"SWING ME, YOU COWARD."

Mark looks like he's aged twenty years.

I can't stop laughing.

Haechan shoves a helmet on his head that came from God knows where. "I'm ready for battle," he says solemnly.

"That's a bicycle helmet," Mark points out.

"I'M READY FOR BATTLE."

Mark groans into his hoodie again. "Why do I have friends."

"Because we're adorable," Jeno says, already tying Jaemin's shoes together "for aerodynamic purposes."

"You're sabotaging his ankles," I say.

"Science!" Jeno declares.

Eventually, Mark gives in with the most dramatic sigh known to mankind.

"Fine. ONE SWING."

The room goes feral.

Haechan grabs a camcorder from the kitchen drawer.

"You have a camcorder?" I ask.

"For occasions, YN. This is historic."

Jaemin is bouncing like he's about to launch into orbit.

Mark shoots a web toward the ceiling. Wraps an arm tightly around Jaemin's waist. "You scream, I drop you."

“I scream for joy, KING."

They swing.

They actually swing.

Jaemin shrieks, not joyfully.

"IT'S SO FAST—MY LASHES ARE INVERTING—"

They land with a crash onto the couch, limbs tangled and both of them wheezing.

Jaemin immediately sits up. "I HAVE NEVER FELT MORE ALIVE."

Jeno is already in position. "Me next. I'm ready."

"You're wearing oven mitts."

"For grip."

"I hate this," Mark mumbles, but he's already webbing up again.

They each get a turn.

Haechan insists on doing a mid-air spin and nearly knees Mark in the face.

Jeno attempts a superhero landing and sprains nothing but his dignity.

When it's my turn, Mark holds me tighter than he did any of the others and whispers, "Don't let go."

I grin. "I trust you."

He smiles.

And then Jaemin yells, "KISS WHILE SWINGING," and the moment shatters like Jeno's emotional stability.

Mark flushes red and accidentally slams us into the wall.

Later, they're all lying on the floor, groaning, limbs sprawled in every direction.

The apartment looks like a tornado met a Marvel movie and then lost a fight with four idiots and a web-shooter.

Mark sits against the wall, hair a mess, hoodie half-on, eyes tired but soft.

"This is the worst thing I've ever done," he mutters.

"I've never been happier," Jaemin says from upside-down on the armrest.

"Do you regret telling them?" I ask, nudging Mark gently.

He glances at all of them. Jaemin humming the Spider-Man theme, Haechan trying to web his own face, Jeno using the oven mitts to clap like a seal and finally looks at me.

And smiles.

"No," he says. "This was inevitable."

Jaemin raises a juice pouch in the air. "To the Web Gang!"

"We're not calling it that," Mark groans.

But he clinks his pouch anyway.

「 🕷️masterlist🕷️ 」

⤷ network tags: @k-films @neocity-net

#k films #neocity-net #mark lee #mark lee oneshot #spidermark #spider man au #nct mark #lee jeno #lee haechan #na jaemin

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hearts4sturnz · 3 months ago

Text

BEFORE TOUR CUDDLES

Warnings: crying, pet names, fluff

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈·✦

Sad. Sad is an understatement. because my favorite person in the world is leaving tomorrow. I haven't been away from Chris for more than a week, ever. And even worse, he's leaving for a month.

Me and Chris arrive home from him insisting on me getting my nails done. And him tagging along. Once I unlock the door my chest feels tight again. Seeing Chris flop onto the couch and sigh making me realize that he's actually leaving tomorrow, that i'm not gonna be able to see him for a month. He smiles at me and I frown, tears blurring my vision. His smile falters when he sees me frown.

"What's wrong, baby?" He stands up, stepping over to me. "I don't want you to leave tomorrow." I close my mouth as I feel a sob about to come free.

"Oh baby. I know you don't, but I need to." He cups my cheeks in his hands. I lean into his touch, wincing at the lump in my throat. I sniffle quietly, reaching a hand up to clutch one of his that is on my face. "I'm gonna miss you. I'm really gonna fucking miss you, Chris." My lip quivers as a tear rolls down my cheek. He gently wipes it away with his thumb. "I know, y/n. I'm gonna miss you too." He kisses my forehead and pulls me into his embrace, running a hand up and down my spine.

I let the tears fall out of my eyes, resting my face on his shoulder. My tears soaking into the fabric of his shirt. "Do you wanna go lay in bed and watch some shows, sweetheart?" I nod against him. "Please."He nods and walks with me to our bedroom, opening the door and letting me step in first.

"There you go." He closes the door and he grabs the TV remote. "What do you wanna watch, babygirl?" I look at him as I sit on our bed. "Friends." He smiles softly "Okay, baby." He puts on the TV series and lays on his side, opening his arms, inviting me to cuddle. I accept it and I snuggle my body into his chest, tangling my legs with his. I take a deep breath, taking in his comforting scent.

"I love you, Chris."

"I love you too, y/n."

A/n; WOOO!!! ik this is short and it's probably shit!!! But please forgive me this is my first fic. I love you all

#sturniolo #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo fluff

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snippy-tano · 3 months ago

Note

Okkk hi here's one!! It's fluff :)

So can I get one where Fives and Reader are really close bffs to the point people thought they were dating (ex: he has the spare keys to her house, they're almost always with one another, they hold hands often, etc)

Everytime people ask they're always like 'Haha definitely no we're only friends' but one time Reader decides to go out on a date with someone they don't really know and Fives is immediately like 'You're dressed way too nice to be going on date with some guy' + 'What if you don't like him?' + 'Call me if anything goes wrong at all and I'll come save you'

This leads to his brothers straight up confronting him like 'You definitely like her more than a friend' to which he's like 'Pfft, no I don't, I just really care for them and think they're really cool and pretty and OH MY GOD.' and it's just him kinda freaking out abt it when she comes back and he ends up confessing???

THIS IS SO SPECIFIC AND LONG I'M SORRY

don't ever apologize for being specific and long! i am totally obsessed with this and i truly hope you love what I decided to write. I'm not sure where it came from or how it ended up so soft, but i am a true sucker for friends to lovers. sue me.

i hope you love this!! ;)

(fic name inspired by this song)

masterlist is here!

taglist is here!

tagging: @pro-fangirls-unsocial-life; @marvel-starwars-nerd; @mackstrut; @dissapointingpancake; @padawancat97; @fractiouskat; @mandaloriandin; @bantha-shit; @katelynnwrites; @s1st3r; @leotatombs; @torchbearerkyle; @the-navistar-carol; @bombshe77; @arctrooper69; @social-mockingbird; @littlebluebatbrat; @get-wr3ckered; @flowered-bicycles; @idoubleswearimawriter; @eris-k; @lucyysthings; @quizznag; @dangraccoon

FRI[END]S

You

You were buried deep in your couch under several blankets and a small tub of ice cream perched precariously on your knee. Your eyes were fixed on the small holoTV in front of you. It was the season finale of a series you had been watching for years and you’d already cried twice.

It’s because of your intense focus that you missed the sound of your front door opening. You jumped, a small scream escaping as someone flopped down on the couch beside you. Fives dove for the ice cream, catching it before it spilled to the floor. He settled beside you, reaching for the spoon in your hand and digging himself out some of the sweet treat.

“Hey wait, why did you start this without me?”

“Fives, you don’t care about this show. You always complain about me watching it.” You said, making a swipe for your spoon only for Fives to dodge and continue eating.

“Doesn’t mean I don’t want to watch it.”

“Since when you banthabrain.” You dove for the spoon, but Fives dodged again. You slumped into his side and he slipped an arm around you.

“Since always, bug.” He replied, digging the spoon inside the container before holding it out to you. You quickly took the bite and rested your head against his chest as he took another bite himself. “So, what did I miss?”

You quickly caught him up to speed between shared bites of the cool treat. Fives eventually set down the tub, pulling the blankets tighter over both of you and gently tracing his fingers over your free hand mindlessly. Your show eventually ended after prompting you to cry a few more times. Fives flipped through the channels, trying to find something else for the both of you to watch.

“I’m on leave tomorrow too, do you want to do something? Try out that ice cream place you’ve always wanted to try?” Fives asked and you hummed.

“I wish. But I have plans.”

“Plans? With who? You don’t have any other friends besides me.”

You pinched his side, ignoring his shout. “That’s a lie. I have other friends. No, this is a date.”

“A date?”

“Yeah. We met on the holonet. I figured I should probably start putting myself out there, so we’re meeting for caf tomorrow morning.” You replied, feeling Fives tense slightly.

“Are you worried about something going wrong?” He asked and you glanced up at him.

“Not really, no. I mean I’ll be careful of course, it’s why I picked a public place. I’ll be fine. I know how to take care of myself.” You watched a muscle in his jaw tick.

“If anything goes wrong, you’ll call me right?”

You sat up, eyes fixed on Fives. “Of course. Are you okay?”

Fives turned to look at you, a small smile on his face. “I’m always okay. Just looking out for you, bug.”

You gave his shoulder a shove before slumping back against him. “I’m glad I can always count on you.”

He cleared his throat. “So, have you decided what you’re wearing?”

“I have a few ideas.” You sat up again. “Wanna see?”

He laughed. “Sure. We all know my fashion sense is top tier.”

You shoved again before scrambling to your feet, almost tripping over the blankets in your rush to your room. “Wait there!”

“Wouldn’t want to be anywhere else!” He called back and you laughed to yourself as you quickly pulled out what you were thinking and changing.

With a flourish, you stepped out of your room. “Ta-da!”

Fives turned to look at you, resting his chin on his arm that propped up against the edge of the couch. He narrowed his eyes. “Isn’t that a little fancy for a first date? Especially one at a caf shop?”

You looked down. It was a little nicer, but it was your first date in years so you were a little excited about it. “Maybe a bit, but it looks nice on me and I want to make a good first impression.” You paused. “Maybe I should think of something else.”

“No no no.” Fives said, quickly climbing to his feet and walking over to you, placing his hands on your arms. “If you feel good in it and that’s what you want to wear, you should. You look great.”

You fought a smile, poking his side. “Look at you, you’ve gotten soft.”

Fives chuckled, wrapping an arm around you and tugging you into a hug. “Only for you, bug.”

“You’ll have to change and come back to find out.”

You let yourself relax for a moment in his arms before he gave you a shove. “Now hurry up and change, I found a new movie to watch.”

“What is it?”

You rolled your eyes, but quickly turned and ran back to your room to change. Your stomach was fluttering with nerves about your upcoming date, but you were still excited and proud of yourself for putting yourself out there. And knowing Fives, your best friend in the entire galaxy, was behind you, you weren’t afraid of anything.

Fives

Fives arrived back at the barracks in the wee hours of the morning, slumping into his bunk with a huff. Most of the barracks were clear, but a few of the guys were still hanging out. He had stopped at the mess on his way back to grab a bite to eat before he slept for a few hours.

There was some rustling above him and he cracked an eye open to see Echo peering down at him. “Seeing your bug?”

Fives nodded, letting his eyes close again.

“Are you sure?” Came another voice from another bunk, Jesse if he had to guess.

“Did you confess?”

“Kriff off. It’s not like that.”

“Positive. They are even going on a date this morning and I helped pick out their outfit.”

“Woah wait.” Echo said, followed by a thump and his bunk shifting. “They’re going on a date and you’re totally okay with this?”

“Of course, why wouldn’t I be?”

“You really are blaster-brained.” Jesse huffed and Fives barely resisted the urge to gesture inappropriately at him.

“They are going on a romantic date with someone else and you’re cool with it. You hold hands with them, have a keycard to their place, sometimes sleep over with them, and you’re fine with them dating someone else.”

“Yes I already said that, were you not listening?”

“Fives, you definitely like them more than a friend.” Echo said and he huffed before sitting up to look at his brother.

“No I don’t. They’re my best friend. I just really care for them and think they're really cool and pretty and-” Fives trailed off, his thoughts swirling in his head.

Hold on. Did he actually like them like that? It couldn’t be. Friends did those things with each other, right? I mean him and Echo didn’t, but they were brothers. But then again, Echo didn’t brighten his day every time he saw him or make his stomach swirl in a good way. He loved his brothers, but he definitely didn’t want to wake up next to them every day or see them smile at him for his bad jokes.

Echo patted his shoulder before climbing back into his bunk.

Fives suddenly felt something wash over him.

Fives had never run faster than when he was rushing back to your place.

Oh kriff he needed to stop this date.

You hadn’t shared when the date was happening, but he hoped it wasn’t too early and he could catch you before you left. The turbolift you used to always make fun of for being slow seemed to sense his urgency and go even slower. He actually hit a floor lower than yours was and booked it for the stairs, taking them two at a time.

When he arrived at your door, he was out of breath and feeling more frantic than he ever had. It took him three tries to get the door open because his hands were shaking so much.

When he did finally get it open, he stumbled through the door, your name on his lips. But as he frantically looked around, he realized your place was empty. Fives rushed towards your room and he felt his heart sink when he realized the clothes you had picked out the night before were gone from their resting place.

He squeezed his eyes shut, feeling sick to his stomach. It was so obvious now. He should have known and realized how he felt sooner. And yet, he was still too late.

Fives shuffled over to your worn couch before slumping into it. If he closed his eyes, he could almost smell your shampoo embedded in the blankets.

The sound of the door opening had him scrambling to his feet, eyes wide.

You were standing in the doorway, blinking at him in surprise. You stepped inside and shut the door behind you. “Fives, what are you doing here?”

You were dressed for your date and he thought you’d never looked prettier.

“I-I-uh-how was your date?”

No! Not that! Fives winced. That’s not what he wanted to say.

You set down your comm and keycard on the table. “It was the funniest thing. They were very nice and we shared a lot of the same interests-”

Oh here we go. He’s already lost you.

“-but for some reason, all I could think about was you.”

Wait, what?

Fives’ eyes fixed on you as you looked at him with a fond expression with a hint of annoyance on your face. “The whole time we talked, all I could think about was you. I thought ‘Fives would like the caf here’ or ‘maybe I should get a sweet roll for Fives’. We had good conversation and I know that we would have made good partners, but I didn’t want that. Because I already have you.”

You took one step closer. “I may be about to kriff everything up, but I realized that I didn’t want to be just friends anymore. My feelings have grown beyond that and I want to be so much more with you, if you’ll have me.”

The ARC trooper had been trained to handle surprise situations. He knew how to think on his feet and adapt to any circumstances placed before him.

But for some reason, his mind was absolutely blank.

And before he realized what he was doing, he was bounding forward towards you. He only had a moment to revel in your wide, beautiful eyes, as he placed his hands on either side of your face and brought your lips to his. You melted almost immediately, slumping against him with a sigh that sent a shiver down his spine.

Fives knew he wasn’t the smartest out there and he didn’t pretend to think that he knew everything. But as he stood here, in your kitchen, having just listened to a confession from his best friend, he thought, maybe, just maybe he was the luckiest guy in the galaxy. Everything clicked into place and he felt like maybe he did finally understand the meaning behind everything.

Because everything that mattered in the galaxy was in his arms.

He pulled away, not because he wanted to, but because he realized he should probably give you a verbal answer. His heart warmed when he saw you blindly chase after him, trying to pull him back down. “In case it wasn’t clear, I don’t want to be just friends anymore either.”

You laughed, tightening your grip around his middle. “Good, because I am never going on a date ever again unless it’s with you.”

“I can do that, bug.” Fives said before leaning back down and once again capturing your lips with his.

On the rare occasion that Fives thought about his future, he knew you would have a place in it. It just wasn’t until now that he knew the exact place you would exist until the day he died. And as he wrapped you up tighter in his arms, lips moving against yours, he took your laugh, your smile, your everything and nestled it carefully deep within his heart. Right where you belonged.

#this was so soft and i couldn't help myself #gah #i need it #i love it #and i hope you do too!#asks #askBri #Fives x reader #arc trooper fives #fives #tcw #the clone wars #sw: tcw #tcw fanfic #the clone wars fanfic

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stars-n-spice · 10 months ago

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TechPhee + Chuseok/Hangawi!

Recently it was Korean Thanksgiving (추석/한가위) and so I thought it was the perfect excuse to draw the sillies in different hanboks because why not?

Next up we've got Tech and Phee!

Of course, I had to draw Tech as a scholar, aka a Seonbi (선비). He's wearing a dopo (도포) and a gat (갓). No, seriously, the hat is called a 'gat.' Phee is in a hanbok designed to look like her usual wear and I styled her hair like the Eoyeo-meori (어여머리) wigs/hairpieces that were worn by nobelwomen/courtladies. Honestly, there are some crazy headpieces and wigs worn by Korean ladies of the upper class back in the day, but they were absolutely gorgeous. Like,, clearly they were the inspiration for some of Padmé's looks (a Korean Padmé would've been so cool-). Anyways, the headpiece is adorned with tteoljam (정의) and I tried to make the circle one look like the compass in the "Entombed" episode.

Is this a nobelwoman!Phee who flirts around with a scholar!Tech? Maaaaaybe...But I knew I had to draw Tech as a seonbi in the silly gat hat and draw Phee in hair that was going to be fitting for her.

Others are linked here! His twin will be posted tomorrow :)

Hunter and Jung (plus Omega) // Echo and Viram // Wrecker and Khea // Crosshair and Tay'kaa

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covetyou · 10 months ago

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performance enhancement

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist ⋆ series masterlist

pairing: Dieter Bravo & gn!reader rating: Teen (18+ only blog!) warnings: anxiety/stress, Dieter Bravo being a stubborn asshole, cute baby animals, vaguely fluffy word count: 1k summary: I couldn't stop thinking about that baby pygmy hippo and what Dieter would do if he saw it, so this fic was born. you're welcome.

follow @covetedfics and turn notifications on for updates on future fics

"I can't work in these fuckin' conditions!"

You hear him before you see him, sat scrolling through your phone as you wait the few hours still left until you have to pick him up. You'd got here early - as you usually did - even though Dieter was frustratingly late more often than not.

The door to the trailer is wrenched open a moment later, and you're raising your eyebrows in disapproval at the grumpy actor as he flings himself inside the trailer, slamming the door behind him.

"I can't do it," he huffs, turning anxiously in a circle, hands on his hips, running through his hair, balling into fists. "I can't fuckin' do it."

"Do what, Dee?" you say from your position curled up on the small bench seat in the trailer.

"This!" he yells, turning to face you gesturing in the vague direction of his face.

You make a face at him, still clueless as to what he's talking about. In a long line of things Dieter Bravo could be frustrated with "this" didn't really help to narrow it down.

"They want me to," he begins, fannining his eyes. "They want me to leak, and I can't."

"Cry?," you laugh. "Dee, it's in the script, of course they want you to. Have you tried the tear -"

The actor rounds on you, shaking his finger in your direction before you can even reach for your bag to see what you have to hand to help.

"No! I do not need performance aides."

"Dieter, it's just to help yo-"

"No!"

Dieter yanks off the thick knit sweater that makes part of his costume and dumps it uncermoniously onto a chair, shaking his arm in frustration as the sleeve just won't give up its hold on his wrist, growling at the garment when he's finally free. He rounds on you again when he's a little more bare, a little less claustrophobic, and flops down next to you.

"I'm not doing it," he says simply, as he tucks himself in beside you on the bench, and that's that, discussion over. You know better than to argue when he's like this so, with a roll of your eyes, you flip your phone back over and continue your aimless scrolling as Dieter's head finds its place on your shoulder.

He fidgets for a little while, the bench not really big enough for the two of you to curl up, until he's slumped down and half turned toward you, legs splayed out in front of him where yours are tucked beneath you.

"Can I watch?" he murmurs sadly a moment later, his face pressed into your arm and eyes screwed tight.

"Dieter, that's up to you. They're your rules, not mine."

Dieter didn't have a phone of his own. Not right now, anyway. That was locked away back at his house, awaiting the day it could be reunited with its owner. For now, all he had was an old send-texts-and-make-calls-only brick of a phone for emergencies, that he mostly used to bug you at all hours of the day. It was a rare day you weren't greeted with a "u up x" text in the morning, or a garbled jumble of letters as he forgot how to text with a number pad.

"I wanna watch," he mumbles into your arm, face pressed so tightly to you now you can feel his lips move against your skin.

"Then go ahead."

You watch then as he slowly opens one eye, peeking out shyly before opening the other and staring wide-eyed at your phone screen. You're only scrolling mindlessly, not really paying much attention to whatever the algorithm is throwing your way. Some stupid ads, spoilers for a show you're not even watching, the red carpet looks of a movie premiere Dieter was invited to, but couldn't make it, and endless shitty takes from random internet strangers. Just a normal day for the internet, but amazing for the man next to you who had kept himself away from the world of unsolicited advice and badly shot paparazzi pictures for weeks.

"Wait," he says suddenly, sitting up and scooting closer to you. "Go back, what was that?"

You scroll a little slower as you move back through the endless monotony on your phone, until Dieter goes stiff by your side and grips your arm.

"That," he says. "What's that? Is it fake?"

Something in you swells, oddly proud at the man for knowing to question something he'd never seen before rather than taking it at face value. More than once he'd come to you gushing over an image only for you to take one look, see the 8 fingers, and have to break the disappointing news to your employer.

"She's real," you say, opening the video for Dieter to take a look. "She's been everywhere the last few days."

"She's beautiful," he murmurs, transfixed on your phone screen. "Look at her. Get that girl an Oscar. Is there more?"

"Yeah, Dee, there's more."

"Can I see?"

You move to hand him your phone, but he refuses to take it, instead choosing to snuggle into your side as you search for the baby hippo that had taken his attention. A few minutes in you almost expect him to be sleeping by your side, but a small sniffle and the swipe of his hand tells you otherwise. Crying over baby animals wasn't new for Dieter, and each time he did it, you found it unbearably sweet. Eventually, he shifts by your side and squares off his shoulders, before standing, grabbing up his ugly sweater, and pulls open his trailer door with a determination to rival his earlier resignation.

"I think I can go back now."

You don't look up at him, transfixed on the tiny hippo staring back at you from your hands. A 180 flip like this wasn't unusual for Dieter. It probably wasn't even his first for today. Either way, you'd still be here when he got back from filming the last scenes of the day, ready to cart him back to the apartment he insisted you stay with him in.

"Do you need the tear stick? Drops? I've got some in-"

"No," he says with certainty. "No, I've got this. Just... just gonna think of that fuckin' hippo."

#dieter bravo #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x gn!reader #dieter bravo fanfiction #the bubble fanfiction #coveted fics #yes this is somehow a moo deng fanfic now #still not the weirdest thing I've written

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absolutebl · 4 months ago

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Hi P'ABL! I have a bit of a niche request/challenge for you - and no worries at all if you aren't willing!

I've been thinking about what makes for a good kiss in a QL, and I realized that my favorites are usually very emotionally satisfying... but why are some more satisfying than others, what's the common denominator? Sometimes it's a needed release of tension, or a shared moment of happiness, or a cathartic reunion of sorts... there are a lot of story elements at play for good kisses, I found.

So then I thought about character dynamics, instead. In many onscreen relationships, there is The One Who Pursues and The One Who Resists, for various reasons. I recently finished To My Star 2, and for ~*~no reason at all~*~ (cough episode 4 coughcough) I got curious about other series in which The One Who Resists initiates a kiss.

So that's my question/request - what are some of your favorite kisses in which The One Who Resists initiates it? <3

Turn Table Kisses!

I actually talk about this kind of kiss in the post I did about chemistry, I can't remember what I called it, lemme check...

According to that, this kiss usually falls under The Sudden Kiss category (uke-to-seme variation) and it's not all that common. I like it a lot. It often happens when the uke is super tsundere, or in hyung romances because the uke (being older) is more experienced and will suddenly decide to take the lead (I'm a little sad we never got it in ThamePo - but I appreciated Po's hungry hands almost as much).

Off the top of my head some early iconic versions are:

SOTUS

Love Sick

Why R U?

My Top 10 personal favorites are:

We Best Love (the crying, the bridge, what's not to love?)

HIStory 2: Crossing the Line (should probably go in the iconic section)

Semantic Error (also iconic)

Hidden Agenda (one for the ages, the best thing in this whole show is Zo's grab & kiss and then shove back into the hallway and then Joke's reaction)

Bad Buddy (of course, more a surprise response but still counts)

Love Tractor (hyungs gonna hyung eventually)

A Breeze of Love (of course)

Jun and Jun (his little whimper!)

My School President (the surprised face)

Our Dating Sim (that stolen kiss and giggle is life affirming)

There should be more Taiwanese stuff here but they are so weak in seme/uke most of the time it's hard to call as such. They also tend to play about with and and flip the power dynamic a lot and kiss a lot - reasons I love Taiwanese BL so much. This weakens the emotional impact of that sudden flip/flop major surprise kiss! moment, which means while I'm sure they happen in Taiwanese BL, I don't remember them all specifically as such.

Oh wait!

How could I forget?

My Tooth Your Love!

(source)

#my top 10 uke kisses #when the switch flips #thai BL #taiwanese bl #korean bl #We Best Love #Love Tractor #HIStory 2: Crossing the Line #Hidden Agenda #Bad Buddy #Semantic Error #A Breeze of Love #Jun and Jun #My School President #Our Dating Sim

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carolmunson · 2 years ago

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the moon had turned to gold.

(soft!eddie x badatfeelings!gf)

and we're back folks. i'm going through it so i had to revisit my kids. the badatfeelings!gf set is a series of ramblings with no rhyme or reason, flow of conciousness. not from a 'you' perspective but 'she/her' has no physical descriptors.

tw: depictions and descriptions of depression (eddie to the rescue). because i'm sad!

Her eyes have been half closed for days -- wakes up and gets out of bed, makes coffee, reads the paper, gets back in bed for an indescerable amount of time. More coffee, hand fulls of shredded cheese, water from the side table that's been there for days. She hasn't been going into work, just in the dark of her room while the hum of the window unit drones on and on and on. He knocks, opening the door to darkness despite the warm glow of golden hour outside -- her black out curtains a bigger success than she expected. She's awake but not really, eyes glazed over watching snow on the TV she moved to her bedroom.

Summer blues she called it, summertime sad. The air is stale, he can tell she hasn't moved much this morning. She hasn't moved much all month. "Hi." Quiet and soft, rounded edges in his voice, "Bad day?"

She uses whatever strength she has to lift her arm out of the covers and give him a thumbs down. He lets a huff of a laugh out of his nose, "Yeah, I see that." Despite laying in bed all day her body is tense and he knows that maybe she'll feel better about moving when she knows the sun is going down. He thought this vampire sleep schedule shit would've been sexier -- but it's not. It hurts to see her like this, so tired from just waking up, so sick of just existing. He's seen her cry more than he has in the years they've been together. But at least she's like -- crying. She never used to cry at all.

He sneaks onto the edge of the bed, his backside and hips nestling in the dip of her waist over the covers, "Do you know what would be nice?"

"Hm?" she asks, body heavy while she flops over to put an arm around where she can reach. "Taking a shower," he offers, hand resting on her hair, thumb grazing her forehead, "You always feel a little better after." "Mhm," she nods sleepily. "I can put your jammies in the drier so they're cozy when you come out," he smiles, voice still soft, still rounded edges. Her lashes flutter before she looks up at him, glassy and glazed, half here half not. Zombie girlfriend, vampire girlfriend, monster girlfriend, sad girlfriend. She's so pretty, he thinks.

"Yeah," she nods.

"Yeah to the jammies in the drier?" he asks. "Yeah," she says, her voice is quiet -- meek. 'Yeah' was her first word of the day. "That," she nods again, deep breath in through the nose and it rattles at the exhale, "Shower, too."

He helps her up and hears the crack in some of her bones, the stiffness in her joints while her face contorts at the change in position. She's been in the same sleep shirt for three days, some field day shirt from college. Green socks on her feet, the tops shoved down her ankles, one nearly falling off. No crumbs in her bed at least -- he knows she's too anxious for that. But the dishes aren't done and the bag of shredded cheese is abandon on the counter. Mugs of varying fullness off coffee are sitting in random placeholders in the small apartment. Forgetful -- foggy.

"C'mon," he coos, pulling her in at the shoulders to take her to the bathroom. She's so tired from doing nothing that she can't help but keep doing nothing. He pulls off her sleep shirt and panties, he helps with the socks, turning the shower on to a medium heat. Forhead kiss, cheek kiss, cheek kiss. Poor baby.

"Do you need help getting in?"

She shakes her head no.

"What do you want to wear for PJs?"

She shrugs. He figured she would.

He pulls back the shower curtain and she gets inside, he waits for the inevitable sigh she lets out when the water hits her. He peeks in, her naked body not important the way it usually is -- its those eyes, half closed -- less sad, less sleepy. Contemplative, alive. Half dead lover. His ghoulish girl.

"I'll leave them in here for when you're done."

He knows he has time to clean up for her -- easy to get lost in the void when you stand in the shower and that's where she is. Here and gone and here and gone again. Tongue tucked away between her teeth -- he almost misses when she's mean. He misses her so bad, but he takes what he can get, even if it's putting sweats in the drier.

When the hot water runs out she emerges, wet hair dripping down onto the new t-shirt -- still warm like the sweats on her legs. Fresh linen scent radiating off her like her coconut conditioner. She doesn't even care that the rest of the house is warm and sticky from the air outside. It's fresher now, he opened the windows and did the dishes. Cleaned out all the mugs. Opened your bedroom door to let the coolness flow to some of the house, too make things less stale. He lit two candles, sugar cookie scented -- it's all you ever bought because that's his favorite.

"Thank you," voice still meek. Still under twentywords today. Eyes a little more open. He puts down the mug he was drying and tosses the hand towel over the faucet of the sink.

"S'no problem, baby," soft round edges, soft round boy. Patched vest left behind on the kitchen table chair, soft cut off t-shirt left behind. Tattooed arms outstretched to her in the sterile light of the kitchen, the sun is down now -- the stars starting to peek out of a dark navy sky.

She lets herself get pulled into him and it feels like it's happening in slow motion -- face in his chest, he closes in on her like a wave. The pressure is welcomed -- she's alive but barely. Biceps crush on her shoulder blades, her neck cracks -- reanimator boyfriend, zombie girlfriend. Living glass doll that feels better off dead. She falls into the hold while he sways with her, chin on her wet hair.

"Blue moon, you saw me standing alone..." he sings quietly while he sways, his own eyes shutting, "C'mon, sing it with me." He feels her head move in a 'no' on his chest. "It's your favorite," he argues, "It'll feel good." Another sigh -- the inevitable. "Without a dream in my heart..." He smiles at her voice, coming out a little stronger than before, he snickers before beginning again. "Without a love of my own..."

"Blue moon," they start together, he smiles a little stronger. She's doing her best so he doesn't push it when she doesn't keep singing. He peers down while he continues, her eyes are closed against his chest but she feels alive. Just safer. The kind of safe where she'll sleep good tonight, might even eat breakfast tomorrow.

"And then suddenly, appeared before me..."

He shakes her to the beat the song normally has, bum bum bum bum. She huffs a chuckle a the shimmying, smile stretching against the warm fabric of his shirt, the inhale like laundry detergent and summer heated skin. "The only one my arms will ever hold, I heard somebody whisper, 'Please, adore me'..."

"That's me," she interrupts, he pulls her in tighter, the sway stops slow. "Yeah," he sighs out, "That's you. Dropped right outta the sky." "Yeah," she says, head tilting up. The whites of her eyes glisten despite the redness creeping in at the edges. "I ordered pizza," he says, "Cause I know you didn't eat."

Her brows furrow, mouth souring.

"I know, I'm awful," he giggles, "Gotta feed the girl in your brain that isn't so sad -- that's my girl in there."

"M'still your girl even when I'm sad," voice back to sleepy meekness, she yawns.

"Yeah, you are," he confirms sweetly, plush lips pressing against her forhead, "Always my girl."

In the cool white green light of the kitchen they stand in damp solitude -- with a heave of her chest she starts to cry. He doesn't need to know the reason, just as long as she does -- as long as he's there to hold her through it. Alive girl. Fully alive in the darkness of another deep blue summer night.

And when I looked, the moon had turned to gold.

more badatfeelings here

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fan fic #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #boyfriend!eddie munson #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things au #badatfeelings!gf #baf!eddie

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clumsydolly · 17 days ago

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Obey me x Jinx!Reader

Part 2! Younger brothers!

Now this is part 2 of a series and I'm not sure how to link things yet! So please go to my page and look at the previous post!

Warnings:⚠️! Bombs, murder, violence

Asmodeus

The first time Asmodeus saw you, he nearly dropped his mirror.

Not because you weren’t beautiful, you were stunning, in that anarchic, paint-smudged, gunmetal glitter sort of way, but because you were a vibe. Pure, uncut, radiant chaos wrapped in fishnets and armed with sass, scars, and enough explosive energy to put a whole nightclub into cardiac arrest.

“Darling,” he gasped, hand over heart, “who dipped you in hot danger and gave you permission to exist in my Devildom looking like that?”

You blinked. “Huh. Thought this was the realm of sin, not snobbery.”

He squealed.

That’s how it started. Not with hearts and roses, but with verbal sparring over which glitter brand had the best luminosity and whether demon blood was a good substitute for lipstick base (spoiler: no, but you tried it anyway).

You were a whirlwind of manic laughter, sarcasm, and violent creativity. Asmo adored it. Adored you. You were unpredictable. Loud. Reckless. Everything he was, just angled a little more toward mischief and a little less toward romance.

And it killed him.

Because while you blew up chandeliers and sprinted through the halls shouting nonsense with a lit sparkler in each hand, Asmo found himself doing something he didn’t usually do: crushing. Hard. Real hard.

You weren’t like his usual fans. You didn’t melt under his compliments. You didn’t giggle and blush when he turned the charm up to 11. You didn’t even pretend to be impressed when he showed you his custom perfume that changed scent based on your emotions.

You just raised an eyebrow and said, “Does it turn into napalm when I’m pissed off?”

It did not. But he made a note to invent one that did.

You were a disaster and a masterpiece, walking contradiction in combat boots and smudged eyeliner. And Asmo, beautiful, pampered, flirtatious Asmo, was fascinated.

He watched you flirt with chaos the way he flirted with people. Watched how you’d laugh after causing a disaster and then moments later sit down and quietly fix something broken without saying a word. You were messy and explosive, but you had depth too, scars you didn’t talk about, memories you tried to drown in jokes, softness you rarely showed but couldn’t entirely hide.

“Why do you always act like it’s all a game?” he asked one night, lounging beside you after you’d both been caught red-handed glitter-bombing Lucifer’s office.

You grinned. “Because when it stops being fun, it starts hurting.”

Asmo didn’t smile back. “You know… you’re allowed to feel things. Even the icky ones.”

You tilted your head. “You offering a shoulder to cry on, Pretty Boy?”

“I’m offering a lap to sit on and a hundred ways to remind you how lovable you are,” he said, too quickly, too sincerely.

You stared at him, wide-eyed.

Then you smirked. “You are cute when you’re trying to psychoanalyze me with glitter in your hair.”

He groaned and flopped dramatically onto the couch. “You’re impossible.”

“Yup.”

“But you’re my favorite impossible.”

You two became a duo of absolute menace.

Asmo introduced you to spa days and healing face masks; you introduced him to homemade fireworks and graffiti tagging. He taught you how to flirt like a god; you taught him how to hotwire a demon chariot. You’d drag him through abandoned haunted buildings for thrills, and he’d pull you into fashion galas just to show you off.

When someone tried to insult you at one of those galas, he unleashed his full charm and menace combo, all sweetness laced with venom.

“Oh, darling, I adore how brave you are—coming for my favorite person like that with such confidence. So rare. So stupid.”

You were already behind the jerk with a slingshot full of ghost pepper oil, but it’s the thought that counts.

You were fire and confetti, chaos and affection. And Asmo? Asmo was the only one who could keep up, not because he matched your madness, but because he understood it.

He understood what it was like to be seen as too much. Too loud. Too dramatic. Too extra.

But with each other, you weren’t too much. You were just right.

One day, while lounging in his room, half-asleep in one of his silk robes that you totally stole, he turned to you and whispered, “You ever think about the future?”

You raised a brow. “Like dying in a confetti cannon accident?”

“No, like… us.”

You blinked. “Us us?”

He nodded. “I think we’d make the Devildom’s most fabulous power couple. Or chaos couple. You know, like glamorous criminal masterminds.”

You stared at him for a beat.

Then grinned. “Only if I get to wear the crown.”

“Darling, you always wear the crown.”

Beelzebub

If Beel was expecting another normal day in the House of Lamentation, he lost that privilege the moment you arrived. You, with your neon-colored hair, bomb-themed accessories, manic grin, and the very real possibility that you'd stuck something explosive in the fridge "for science."

"Who ate the purple cake I left cooling on the counter?"

"Oh, was that cake?" you replied, munching on what was definitely a piece of it. "I thought it was an experimental bread brick. Surprisingly edible! Ten outta ten."

He blinked. Slowly.

He should have been mad. Or confused. Or maybe worried. But instead, he found himself handing you the last of his demon-chili cookies the next day while saying, "Try this. It might burn your face off, but it's good."

That was how it started.

You were chaos. Literal, embodied, sugar-charged chaos. You tap-danced on kitchen counters, left glitter bombs in cereal boxes, and made it your life mission to invent the perfect "lunchbox landmine" (a.k.a. a sandwich that combusted into confetti).

Beel just... let you.

It wasn't that he didn't notice your more explosive tendencies. He did. Like the time you tried to microwave metal just to "see what kind of sparks it made," or the time you convinced Mammon to help you duct-tape firecrackers under Lucifer's desk.

Beelzebub always showed up at the last second. Quiet. Watchful. Disarming you gently with snacks.

"Maybe not this one," he'd say, removing a cookie with a suspicious glowing center. "This looks... dangerous. Want one of mine instead?"

And somehow, you listened to him.

He wasn't like the others.

Lucifer would scold. Satan would psychoanalyze. Levi would panic. Asmo would dramatize. Mammon would scream and probably make it worse. But Beel? Beel just stood there, like a mountain in a hoodie, and offered you a sandwich.

"You're not scared of me," you muttered once, sitting cross-legged on the kitchen counter while licking frosting off your fingers.

"Should I be?" he asked, genuinely confused.

You shrugged. "Most people are."

He tilted his head. "You're not scary. Just… loud."

It wasn't an insult. It was Beel. It was honest. And in his own quiet, Beelzebub way, it was kind.

Your antics didn't stop. Of course they didn't. But something shifted.

Instead of rigging the pantry to explode with marshmallows, you asked Beel if he'd help you set up a "controlled marshmallow ambush" in the common room. He agreed. You told him it was for science. He didn't question it.

You still climbed on furniture, ran with scissors, and turned the bathroom into a bubble rave, but Beel was always nearby, making sure you didn’t trip too hard.

You had a habit of getting hyper-focused. Of pushing too far, too fast. Beel could see it in your eyes when you’d spend an entire night wiring up some ridiculous invention, too distracted to eat or sleep. He’d wordlessly set down a protein bar next to you, then sit on the floor and wait.

Sometimes, you’d glance up at him.

“You’re weird.”

“So are you,” he’d reply. And that would be that.

The moment that really changed things was small. Almost forgettable.

You’d botched an experiment. A real one this time. Some new gadget meant to shoot candy from a crossbow (yes, it was as stupid as it sounded). But something fizzled, then smoked, then nearly caught fire.

You panicked. Just for a second.

You dropped the half-melted candy trigger and backed away, hands trembling. And Beel, who’d been halfway through a sandwich, set it down and stepped between you and the smoldering mess.

“I got it,” he said, simple as ever. And he did.

No lecture. No drama. Just steady hands and a calm voice.

Afterwards, while you sat slumped against the wall, hair singed and mascara smudged, he handed you a slice of strawberry cake.

“You okay?”

You blinked at him.

“That’s it? No lecture? No ‘What were you thinking, Jinx?’”

He shrugged. “You look like you need cake more than yelling.”

You took the cake.

It was the best damn cake you’d ever had.

Bonus Glucose Explosion (You Know We Had To):

You made Beel a lunchbox shaped like his own head. It had six compartments, all of which could hold entire turkeys. He loved it.

He carries you around without question when you’re in the middle of a chaos binge. You scream, he holds. “You’ll hurt yourself otherwise,” he explains while you flail.

You tried to make him a high-calorie energy bar that exploded on impact. He ate it anyway. “Crunchy,” he said, with mild surprise.

When you cuddle up to him after accidentally tranquilizing yourself (long story), he doesn’t move for hours. Just pets your hair and shares his snacks.

Once, someone insulted you at RAD. Beel cracked his knuckles. That demon now avoids the cafeteria entirely.

You bring the chaos. He brings the snacks. And somehow, it works.

Belphegor

Belphegor thought he knew chaos. After all, he was the youngest of the seven avatars, a demon who'd started a literal celestial rebellion and nearly murdered an exchange student out of spite. He was the embodiment of Sloth, which meant he had endless time to think, scheme, and poke holes in the fragile walls of his enemies' psyches.

But you? You were something else entirely.

He first met you when he emerged from one of his many midday naps only to find his bedroom ceiling covered in glowing stars. Not the kind from the Devildom night sky, no. You had painstakingly installed a light-up constellation kit in the shape of a demon flipping the bird.

"Sweet dreams, sleepyhead," you had whispered dramatically as he stared up at it, unblinking.

He blinked once. Twice.

"...Did you break into my room again just to do that?"

"I do a lot of things for art, Belphie."

And then you were gone, skipping down the hall like you hadn’t just committed the most elaborate nap-time insult in the Devildom.

Belphie should have been annoyed. But instead, he laughed.

And that’s when he knew he was screwed.

Unlike Lucifer, who tried to tame you, or Mammon, who tried to compete with your chaos, Belphie didn’t even bother. He just watched you with that sleepy-eyed stare, silently cataloging every impulsive, unhinged thing you did with a mix of amusement and quiet curiosity.

You once launched a glitter bomb during breakfast. He didn’t even flinch.

You painted a fake staircase on a wall. He watched Levi slam into it and simply said, “Classic.”

You tried to prank him once by replacing his pillow with a bag of jelly beans.

He just slept on it.

“This isn’t as uncomfortable as I thought it’d be,” he murmured when you peeked in to see if it had worked.

You stood there, jaw dropped. “You’re supposed to scream. Or at least complain.”

He yawned. “You’ll have to do better than that.”

Challenge. Accepted.

But for all the chaos, there was an undercurrent of something else between you. Something... quiet.

He started noticing how you flinched at sudden loud noises. How you never liked being left in a room alone for too long. How you covered it all up with laughter and big, wild expressions. A mess of neon hair, weapons-grade sarcasm, and twitchy fingers.

It was one night, when everyone else had gone to bed, that things cracked open a little. You were sitting upside-down on the common room couch, hair spilling onto the floor, twirling a screwdriver between your fingers like a weapon.

"Can't sleep?" he asked, plopping onto the other end of the couch.

"Sleep is for the stable," you muttered.

He hummed in agreement.

The silence stretched. It wasn’t awkward. Just... breathable.

Then: "You ever feel like your brain’s a bunch of angry bees who all failed therapy?"

Belphie blinked. “All the time.”

You chuckled. It was the first real laugh of the night.

From then on, it was a strange friendship. You’d sneak into the attic just to nap next to him. He’d show up uninvited to your chaotic workshop and lay on your table while you tested explosives ("I like the vibrations"). You left sticky notes with nonsense doodles on his pillow. He left bags of your favorite snacks next to your bed without a word.

He didn’t try to fix you. He didn’t want to. But he started making space in his world where you could just... exist. No explanations required.

Then one day, someone said the wrong thing to you. One of the newer demons at RAD sneered, "You know, for someone who acts so tough, you sure seem desperate for attention."

You laughed.

And then punched a hole in the wall.

Belphie appeared beside you so fast it was like he teleported. He didn’t say anything. Just gently guided you away, his grip loose but grounding.

Later, in the attic, you sat beside him, fingers twitching.

"I don’t care what they think," you said.

He nodded. "But it still hurt."

You glanced at him, startled. He wasn’t looking at you. Just staring up at the ceiling. The glow-in-the-dark constellation was still there. Your chaotic gift to him.

You leaned your head on his shoulder.

He didn’t move away.

Bonus Chaos:

He once sleep-mumbled your name while curled up on your workshop bench. You spent the next hour drawing doodles of him snuggling your explosives.

You tried to replace his blanket with a weighted vest once. He actually liked it. Now you have to custom-make them for his naps.

He let you paint his nails once. Now he won’t go a week without a touch-up. But only if you do it.

Belphie wasn’t loud about his feelings. He didn’t shout them, didn’t write sonnets. But when he moved over to make room for you in his hammock without a word, when he handed you a snack mid-breakdown, when he let you be as loud and chaotic and unhinged as you wanted without ever once telling you to stop—

That was enough.

For you?

It was everything.

Thank you all so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed! As usual Reblogs are encouraged and appreciated!

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hsangel64 · 1 year ago

Text

bandmates pt. 9!

synopsis: coastal has there gig and the plan is in play

warnings: cussing, angst, smut

song for the chapter:

a/n: i hope everyone is enjoying this series ive been loving writing it! don't worry it's not over after this! comment to be a part of the taglist! i also made some changes in the song don't get mad!

"hey bee can we please talk?" your expression dropped, and you rolled your eyes.

"what could you possibly want to talk to me about?"

"can we just please.." ellie said defeated, you missed her so you agreed. you got up and you both went to your room you sat on your bed and ellie stood. it was silent for about a minute until she spoke up.

"i am really sorry i promise i actually am."

"for what?"

"well for-" you scoffed and raised your voice slightly.

"for calling me your friend but behind closed doors you were eating me out like there was no tomorrow? getting that girls number in front of me? cuddling with cat after not talking to me even asking if i was okay?"

"look it's not like that-" you stood up with a quickness.

"what do you mean it's not like that? every time i would ask why we haven't gone on a date you would brush it off and say you're busy but i knew damn well what you were doing all day. what is it like please fucking enlighten me ellie." you started raising your voice even more, ellie walked towards you and put her hands on the sides of your face. you pushed her away and stumbled back.

"no don't fucking touch me.'

"baby please." you shook your head as she came back towards you, she put her hands on your face again and hugged you. you had tears falling down your face, she felt so warm against you and you couldn't resist. you fell into her arms and she whispered 'i'm sorry' and 'its okay' into your ear.

"i just want you to call me baby to everyone, i want to be known as yours is that so hard ellie?" you looked up at her and felt her breathe on your lips. your stomach tensed up feeling her so close to you.

"it's not and i want the same i really do baby." she was crying at this point.

"then why don't you.." she didn't answer for a second until she asked.

"can i please kiss you." you didn't want to say yes but you nodded. she grabbed your face and kissed you, you melted into her lips and kissed her right back. she gently pushed you into your bed and you fell back crawling up the bed. you both felt desperate grabbing at each other. it didn't take long for you both to take each other's clothes off.

ellie moved so she could make her way on top of you, she kissed down your neck and moved her hand onto your mouth to silence your moans.

"don't want dina and jesse to hear." she mumbled as she was making her way down your stomach, kissing every inch of it. every kiss sent shivers down your spine. she made her way to your panty line and kissed it gently.

"can i take these off?" she whispered only for you to hear.

"yes please do." your voice was shaky, and you gasped as she grabbed the top of your panties with her teeth and slowly pulled them down. you gasped at her actions, she was going really slow almost too slow for your liking. she pulled them all the way off and lightly blew on your pussy. you moaned just from that, you were so desperate to have her tongue on you.

"please please ellie."

"what do you want baby tell me." she was lightly grazing her fingers across your stomach as she talked.

"i want your tongue on me."

"that's not how you ask."

"please els fuck."

"as you wish." she immediately started running her tongue along your clit. it felt so good, but you knew how wrong it was. you couldn't stop her even if you tried.

----

it was the day before the gig, and you had been thinking about that night. the morning after you woke up in and empty bed, you went and checked your phone to see a text message from ellie stating "im sorry." you sighed and flopped back into bed. 'what the fuck is my life' you thought.

after that night till now ellie hasn't talked to you not even a single text after that. you guys had gone to class together, practice and even the dorm, and she didn't even poke a glance at you. you felt like shit all week, this was bringing you down way too much.

currently you and dina were hanging out figuring out what to wear for the gig.

"d i don't know what to wear." you groaned as you looked through your packed closet.

"wear something that screams revenge."

"okay but i don't have anything for that...plus all my good outfits i have worn already this week and i really don't have time for laundry."

"well i think this calls for a mall trip..."

"i like the way you think." you both giggled and grabbed your bags and headed out to your car and to the mall.

it felt like one of the coming-of-age movies where they goof around and try on clothes together. you guys had bags on bags on your hands and had gone to every store imaginable.

"d i think we should get some food to treat ourselves to for this long shopping day." she nodded at you and you both walked to the food court.

"so are you nervous?" you looked at her confused.

"for what?" she giggled as you answered with food in your mouth.

"for tomorrow night..."

"OOHHH, i mean a little but i feel pretty confident."

"how do you think ellie will react?"

"i really don't care what she thinks she's treated me like shit."

"i mean valid but do you really not care?" you stopped eating for a second and really thought about it. of course you cared, but she has treated you like shit and you wanted this to hurt her. on the other hand you felt like shit for doing this to her, what if she hates you after this, even worse hates dina and jesse for doing this.

"no of course not." you shook your head.

"y/n i know how you feel about this, it's okay to talk to me, but if you really don't want to that's okay." she grabbed your hand, and you smiled up at her. you nodded your head and you two got back to eating.

----

it was the day of the gig, and you were nervous beyond belief. your hands were sweaty, you've had to reapply your makeup multiple times because of how shaky your hands were. dina has come into your room multiple times to check on you and talk you down. ellie wasn't in the dorm all day it made you nervous thinking she would just dip and not tell anyone. she had turned her location off so you couldn't check, until you saw her walk into the room with cat of all people. what the fuck. you groaned loud enough for them both to hear and got up. as you were walking out you heard cat mumble.

"what the fuck is up with her?" you stopped in your tracks just outside of the door and restrained yourself from attacking her. you walked over to jesse and dina's room to get out of that hell scape.

"fucking cat is here are you kidding me?" you groaned as you closed the door.

"what?!" both said at the same time.

"yeah why the fuck is ellie still hanging out with her?"

"literally no clue."

"do you want me to beat her up yet?" jesse said as you rolled your eyes and ran your hands down your face, already feeling a headache coming on. you felt even more inclined to do this, you felt the anger bowling in your body, and you felt ready to get on stage.

"hey you guys are on in 10." the stage manager came to tell us; you stood up from the couch and reached out to grab their hands.

"i love you guys a lot."

"we love you too." you all hugged and did your small band ritual together. you went back to your dressing room to let ellie know you guys had to be on soon, you walked in and saw her and cat laughing and cuddling together. with a very blank face you let her know you guys had about 5 mins left. you grabbed your guitar and walked out staring at ellie, she had such a pathetic look on her face, and you didn't even care in the slightest. you walked over to dina and jesse by the stage and peeked out, you saw how many people were there and you gasped.

"holy shit it's full."

"hell yeah it is." jesse laughed and jumped up like and excited child. you were trying to stop your nerves from getting the best of you. as you did some more vocal warmups with dina, ellie came up from behind us.

"hey you guys ready?" you all just nodded as you were being called to come on. you guys walked out and faced the crowd, it was huge so many people came. you scanned the crowd and even found some people you knew. this is what you guys practiced hours for, this moment right here. it felt good, as they all cheered for us you looked at jesse and nodded for him to start our first song.

----

"thank you so much everyone! the energy tonight has been amazing and we couldn't have asked for a better crowd." the crowd cheered.

"unfortunately, we are reaching the end of the show this is a new song we have and hope you guys enjoy! we will be out by the front if anyone wants pictures, we love you guys so much! enjoy, good luck babe."

jesse started with the soft melody on the drums and you and dina looked at each other and started to play. you saw ellie's face drop and you smirked at her.

"its fine, its cool

you can say that we are nothing, but you know the truth

and guess i'm the fool

with her arms out like an angel through the car sunroof." you sang and looked at ellie the whole time.

"i don't want to call it off

but you don't want to call it love

you only wanna be the one that i call "baby" as the song progressed the crowd went wild. your plan was working, ellie looked pissed, she didn't know what to do.

"you can kiss a hundred girls in bars

shoot another shot, try to stop the feeling

you can say it's just the way you are

make a new excuse, another stupid reason

good luck babe, well good luck babe

you'd have to stop the world just to stop the feeling." she was looking at you with a disappointed face, clenching her jaw and trying to look like she knew what to play. you smiled at her and continued on.

"i'm cliche, who cares?

it's a sexually explicit kind of love affair

and i cry, it's not fair

i just need a little lovin' i just need a little air" you sang the chorus again and you started to feel all the emotions again, you saw how pissed ellie looked and you felt part of your world shatter. what if she doesn't want to be friends anymore. what if she hates you forever. you started to feel that lump in your throat, but you threw it back down, you couldn't cry now. as the bridge built up you started to feel angry.

"when you wake up next to her in the middle of the night

with your head in your hands, you're nothing more than her wife

and when you think about me, all of those years ago

you're standing face to face with 'i told you so'

you i hate to say, i told you so

you know i hate to say but, i told you so." you belted out that note and felt so many mixed emotions. you finished off the song with the most power you have ever used during a performance, you almost blacked out. as the song ended the crowd went wild and you guys thanked them and ran off stage. you felt like you were going to faint, you walked over to a small chair by the stage and sat down trying to catch your breath.

"what the fuck was that about?!" ellie came running towards you and shouted.

"you fucking embarrassed me."

"no you embarrassed yourself ellie." you stood up from your chair.

"what the fuck is your problem?" she was face to face with you, you could feel her breath and the heat that radiated from her body.

"what do you mean ellie?! you come back to me wanting to work things out, you fuck me and then leave me before morning hits and all you can say is 'i'm sorry' what do you think my problem is?!"

"you're unbelievable." she scoffed and rubbed her hands down her face.

"i'm unbelievable?" you scoffed back at her.

"yes making a fucking song about private issues and not letting me know? i looked like a fool out there."

"that's how you've made me feel ellie, like a damn fool. waiting for you to call me to go out or to make it official, the nights we have had together doing unexplainable things to each other just for you to flirt with other girls and especially bring cat of all people around me."

"don't bring cat into this!"

"oh i will, because do you know how that feels? how it feels to be with you the night before and for you to bring cat around the next day to cuddle and kiss when your lips were on mine just before?! i have been so in love with you for so long ellie, our whole lives. i've cried more than i have ever in the past couple of months and it's all because of you ellie. so good luck with everything i am so done with you, i quit whatever we had." you started to walk away before you turned back.

"oh and you can find another singer for the band, i'm done. i don't ever want to see you again ellie williams." you turned around and ran past a yelling dina. you were sobbing as you grabbed your things, you tried to move quickly before anyone could see you. you ran out the back and through the alley way. you started to make your way to where your car was parked. when you made it into your car you didn't give yourself any time before hunching over and crying. the night running through your mind, you didn't know how you'd recover from this.

----

taglist:

@gold-dustwomxn @lil-elliesgf @elliestears @cjrights

@hopelesssheaven @depressedbratsworld @amberputh

a/n: how do we feel!! i am so sorry this took so long it's been hectic ! glad to be back!

#Spotify #ellie smut #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams #ellie tlou #ellie the last of us #ellie x reader #the last of us part 2 #ellie x fem reader #ellie williams angst #chappell roan

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