#it got down to 31 f last night

[espytalks]

minor plant update: we had our first freeze warning last night, and since everything's in planters we moved em all close enough to cover em with blankets. I just woke up and took em off, and they seem to be fine. it's still really cold rn, and it's gonna stay pretty chilly, but the worst is over for now.

it's weird, usually it doesn't get this cold until a bit later. it's not unheard of, and ive had a fair amount of actually cold winters, but the last few didn't start getting cold until much later.

[luvrodite]

RO'S KINKTOBER 2024

welcome to my second kinktober event!!! last year was so much fun and i hope you enjoy this one even more!!

warnings. please mind the individual warnings on each fic and bear in mind that you are responsible for your own media consumption. if you don’t like something, don’t read it! if you feel as though something is missing a tag, please let me know!

happy reading!

ⓘ minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact, you will be blocked!

ᯓ★ ONE. OCTOBER 1 | FUCK OR DIE

GOT ME CALLING OUT FOR HELP (S-O-S) [3.8k]

in retrospect, it was only a matter of time before you got hit. you should consider yourself lucky — there are worse fates than being fucked like your life depends on it. (it’s gotham. of course it does) or: you get hit and jason deals with the fallout

content warnings. f!reader, dubious consent due to intoxication, chemical aphrodisiac, established relationship, dry humping, penetrative text, begging, unprotected sex, creampie, prevention of pulling out.

ᯓ★ TWO. OCTOBER 5 | COCKWARMING

SIT STILL, LOOK PRETTY [1.3k]

jason doesn’t know what’s come over you, but he’s going to finish this chapter. then, if you’re good – and only then, he’ll make you cum.

content warnings. f!reader, established relationship, dominant jason, cockwarming

ᯓ★ THREE. OCTOBER 12 | MASK KINK

HUNT YOU DOWN, EAT YOU ALIVE

"did no one ever tell you not to walk around at night by yourself? it’s not safe around these parts." the only problem with his warning is – he looks like the not safe in question.

content warnings. f!reader, established relationship, predator/prey scene, public sex. more tags to come

ᯓ★ FOUR. OCTOBER 19 | INFIDELITY

SAY YOU GOT SOMEBODY, I'LL SAY, 'I GOT SOMEONE TOO'

he's patient. he knows how to play the long game, he's done it before. a new boyfriend is a hitch. that's all it is. he's always been a good problem solver.

content warnings. f!reader, cheating, obsessive jason todd. more tags to come

ᯓ★ FIVE. OCTOBER 26 | VIBRATOR

WHAT'S UP, BULLET?

in retrospect, it had been wishful thinking for you to hope your boyfriend wouldn't find out about the toy you kept hidden in a box beneath your bed. you just hadn't expected this reaction.

content warnings. f!reader, use of vibrator, minor overstim, cunnilingus, fingering. more tags to come

ᯓ★ OCTOBER 31 | SUCCUBUS

EXORCISM...

jason knows a thing or two about bad dreams, but the pretty thing that's been haunting his nights couldn't possibly be so bad, right?

...SEE YOU IN YOUR DREAMS!

content warnings. f!reader, dubious consent, monsterfucking, succubus reader. more tags to come

ⓘ a reminder that you alone are responsible for your media consumption. if you don’t like something, don’t read it!

[xxsycamore]

╰┈➤ It's Halloween night at the Crown caste, and you're looking for some fun.

- William, Harrison, Liam, Elbert, Alfons, Jude, Ellis, Roger, Victor, Ring, Nica, Darius x f!reader

[ PART 1 ] - PART 2 - PART 3

• rating: 🔞 E (MDNI) • tags: Monsterfucking; Human/Monster; Mythical Beings & Creatures; Werewolves; Vampires; Naga; Incubus; Manipulation; Mildly Dubious Consent; Curse play; Light Somnophilia; Non-Human Genitalia; Knotting; Hemipenis; Snakes; Anonymous Sex; Masquerades; Vampire Bites; Blood Drinking; Mild Blood; Creampie; Vaginal Sex; Wet Dream; Vaginal Fingering • wordcount:  1,465 • masterlist

a/n: Happy Halloween! I got this idea for a story that is similar to Nine Nights, but without any plot or continuity between the different parts whatsoever. Unless, of course, you want to imagine that all of these take place one after another (poor Reader)... Monsterfucking is a new territory for me, so please bear with me. Parts 2 and 3 coming soon! Once again, I tried leaving you with enough hints about who is who and I hope you can have fun guessing them lol

Dubcon warning: The reader seeks out physical intimacy on her own from the very beginning, however, some suitors use their curses' abilities on her without her being aware of it.

VISIONS OF TEMPTATION 2024/ KINKTOBER DAY 31: Non-human characters/traits

 ❝ MONSTER VILLAINS' NIGHT. ❞(PART 1)

As you put in some last-minute finishing touches to your costume, your eyes drift to the invitation laying on your vanity table.

Miss Robin,

You're hereby invited to a spectacular celebration that will take place in Crown castle on Halloween night, namely, a masquerade ball. By all means, enjoy yourself as you see fit! But be warned - on this wicked night, not everything is as it seems, and you can never know what monsters linger in the dark.

                                                                                  — Yours, Victor

It would be a lie if you said you paid no attention to the ominous warning in the invitation. But knowing Victor and his penchant for dramatizing things, it's no wonder why you're readily brushing it off as nothing now, as you make your way into the dimly-lit ballroom.

I. A seductive Vampire

"This place is really crowded. Here, take my hand so you won't get lost."

It didn't take long for the handsome stranger that struck a conversation with you to offer that you move it to some more quiet place. While trying to keep up with his fast pace, you feel a certain warmth rising inside you… starting from the place where your hands are connected.

The secluded corner he leads you to is mostly devoid of light, but neither of you needs much of it to find the other's lips. It's strange. Ever since he caught your eye, clad in an elegant outfit complimented by a classy cravat fixed around his neck and a long black cape draped around his shoulders, you knew you wanted to get into his pants… But the moment he took your hand, the feeling grew tenfold. There's something dangerous and intoxicating about the mysterious man who is currently attacking your neck with kisses, but you can't quite put your finger on it.

"Now, get even more addicted to me."

The softness of his plump lips suddenly ceases to be the only thing you can sense on your heated skin. In stark contrast with them, his canines, unusually elongated and sharp, sink into your neck.

Those audible gulps… No, there's no doubt - he really is drinking your blood, like a monster. Is this real? Are your fantasies of becoming a handsome vampire's diner finally becoming real?

A pair of enchanting sea-blue eyes look at you through the thin slits of the masquerade mask, but you're more focused on the blood running down his chin. One of his legs pushes between yours, and as you eagerly begin rubbing yourself onto him, you wonder if you're surprising him with your boldness.

By the time he flips you around and enters you from behind, you already miss the surge of endorphins that comes with his bite, so you extend your hand behind you to guide his head where you need it. He chuckles darkly, sending shivers all over, before claiming your neck again.

You've fallen too deep now, there's no way back.

II. A tempestuous Werewolf

"Woah, they're sooo soft!"

You can't help but voice out your impressions when the man dressed like a werewolf finally agrees to lean down so you can pet his faux ears. Even if you're focused on the top of his head, this close up, you don't fail to miss the faint hint of blush spreading on his cheeks. The mask over his eyes does little to obscure the sight, and you think it's rather cute…

It's because he's leaning down that you also don't fail to miss his fluffy tail wagging. Laugher rises in your throat, making you wonder just what kind of string he's pulling to make this possible, and most importantly, how is he doing it all while looking so embarrassed from the act? In any case, it only makes you want to tease him a little bit more.

"Hehe… you're not much of a scary werewolf, are you?"

***

"Ahh, nghh!"

You helplessly try to grab into the nearby branches for purchase, as a heavy weight plows onto your body from behind. It's like he totally changed, in a heartbeat - you figured you went too far with the teasing and riled him up, and that it would only be fair if you made it up to him, so took him to the garden. Your intentions were purely innocent, his, however, much to your surprise, not so much.

Now you're starting to think that those ears might not be fake. It would only make sense, considering the other non-human parts of him, like the one buried deep inside you right now.

All of a sudden his intense rutting loses its pace, and you can feel something swelling at the base of his cock. The man above you begins to growl as he fills you up with his come, spurt after spurt, the knot preventing any of it from escaping you.

Amidst the blissful fullness you're made to feel without remorse, you think you catch a glimpse of his ears twitching happily on top of his head…

III. A deceitful Incubus

It would appear that you have dozed off, tired from the rowdy celebration.

Rubbing at your stiff neck, you get up from the sitting area of the hall and look for opportunities to shake off your sleepiness. There's also something else that you need a distraction from, and that's the highly detailed wet dream you just had, featuring one of the guests here that you previously found to be especially good-looking. It's just a trick that your brain plays on you, you're aware of that.

You're late at realizing that you've been staring directly at a gentleman across the balcony, and he takes it as an invitation to shorten the distance.

"My, you have quite the trouble written across your face. Is there by any chance a way in which I might help?"

Oh, there might be. You feel bad about using the first stranger you found like that, but… when you whisper it in his ear, his lips curl up in a deviously willing fashion, so you figure it's fine.

Now you regret omitting the details of your wish, because he settles for fingering you to an orgasm right here on the balcony, without a chance to turn this into something greater. Still, his gloved fingers are delightful; masterfully tugging at all your strings and pressing all your buttons, somehow familiar, until you come undone in his grasp. His fingers continue to rub at your nub until a new orgasm begins to build up inside you, but he simply chooses to let go; your body leaning against his frame because of how breathless he left you.

"Hmm? Is it not enough? If you ask me, you should go home and have a good night's sleep tonight. You will feel all better then."

You nod at his advice, failing to notice the way your mysterious helper hungrily licks his lips.

IV. A generous Naga

"Does it feel good?"

You whine at the question, brain so fucked out and drowning in pleasure that you're afraid you lost your ability to coherently communicate. Still, the syllables come out of your mouth and you're sure he understands.

"Tight..er…"

The coils tighten around you, and the twilight-colored scales slide pleasantly against your skin. It makes you want to squirm, just so you get to test his grip, and in turn, the two cocks inside you twitch deliciously. You groan at the stretch - you'd just gotten used to his unique appendage, having to remain still for some time now.

The upper body of the snake-like man is humanoid, and he uses both his natures to keep you pleasured. His hands caress your breasts, his lips map out your neck. All you have to do is sit obediently on his cocks, his tail keeping you in place.

"Do you want more?"

Your whole body feels on fire, as if he injected some kind of aphrodisiac-like venom inside you. The simplest touch is giving you ecstasy, and you try to grind yourself on his cocks, instead of telling him directly. Because who knows how much he's willing to give if you voice out your pleas, who knows if you can take it all.

Alas, his hold is too tight, and your attempts at fucking yourself on his lengths are futile.

"Fuck me… please fuck me and cum deep inside me…!"

Your wish is answered in a heartbeat, passionately so, as he begins to move inside you. As if by your command, he's already spraying cum inside you, both his cocks filling you up until you feel your stomach bloating with it.

It seems like this snake won't let you go until you absolutely can't take it anymore… he might even want to keep you all to himself, forever. And you don't hate the thought of it at all, right now.

Taglist: @arsnovacadenza @kimi00twin @g-kleran @thesirenwashere @devonares @galaxyprison   @starshards26 @thewitchofbooks @acethephoenix256 @crystal13unny @lordsister @ikemen-banshou   @themysticalbeing @otome-scribbles @rhodolitesrose @kpop-and-otome @queen-dahlia @kisara-16 @chaosangel767 @ikemenlibrary @queengiuliettafirstlady @aurora-morning @ikemenlover24 @mcofthemansion @joy-the-reader @katriniac @ikemen-writer @tele86 @lovely-bubb1es @aria-chikage @babyblue0t7 @rhodoliteschaos @shrimpy-kitsune @nightghoul381 @xbalayage @lucyw260 @kittygrimm88 @lokis-laugh @natimiles @completelyshatteredbrokenmschf @groovylita @raeraeks @ethereal-blossom @valkyyriia @candied-boys @ludivineikewolf Let me know if you want to be tagged/untagged!

[tieronecrush]

hot & heavy

chapter one: southern nights

neighbor!joel x f!reader

series masterlist

series rating: E (18+ only, MDNI), nothing explicit in this part but future parts will be

series summary: 

over the course of three summers, joel miller becomes woven into your life. the first summer is spent falling for him; nannying his daughter and sneaking around with him in a burning love affair. you know how you feel about joel, he isn’t so sure about how it all is gonna work. the second summer is brief. a month spent at home after graduation and before you move to boston for your dream job. one look at you, one time hearing your voice, and joel is hooked again. he pines over you for that month, but you think — how is long distance of over a thousand miles going to work for a single dad? the third summer, you return home burnt out and pride bruised from your post-grad life. you need time to feel at home again, like your complete self, so you’ve come back home with no return ticket booked. it’s only a matter of time before joel seeks you out, slowly spending more time with you. without an inevitable end to the summer looming over you both, what chances are you willing to take?

word count: 4.4k

warnings: NO USE OF Y/N, NO OUTBREAK (don’t need to worry about the mushies), age gap (joel is 30/31, reader is 22), canon-divergent (sarah is 7 y/o), mild alcohol use, mentions of food/eating, pet name (sweetheart), polite southern manners (*cough* sir *cough*), feeling familial and self pressure

“I can see a truck pulling up now! C’mere, see if you can get a glimpse of them. You’ve got better eyes.”

Your mother is standing at the side of the picture window in your living room, attempting to stealthily get a good look at the new neighbors moving in next door. Her hand waves you over from where you’re standing at the bottom of the stairs, disheveled from the sleep that is still fogging most of your brain.

You definitely have to be half asleep because you comply with your mother’s urgent pleas, the bottoms of your bare feet sticking to the humid wood floors. You are fresh-air people, as your mother says, leaving all the windows and doors open for as long as humanly possible in the summer. It only lasts for the first few weeks of warmer weather, and eventually, everything gets sealed up and the house becomes a frigid ice box with the way your parents crank the air conditioning. Peeling your feet off the floor one last time, you stop in front of the glass.

Standing next to your mother, fully visible in the open window, you study the moving truck that’s pulled into the driveway adjacent to yours.

A local company. Must already be from Austin.

Behind the massive truck, a navy blue Ford pickup that you don’t recognize coasts down the asphalt, getting thrown into park in front of the lawn of the vacant house. Two men, maybe early thirties if you had to guess, climb out of the driver’s side and passenger seat, already talking over each other.

The one at the passenger side has dark brown, nearly black hair that looks just long enough to need a trim and frames his face with curls. Fairly tall, firm build. The white ribbed tank top that he’s wearing hugs his torso underneath the green shirt thrown on over it, buttons undone. He has a shit-eating grin on his face about something that must have been said, hand banging on the side of the car before he walks back towards the bed to grab a cardboard box out of it.

The other, the one that’s come out of the driver’s side, looks a bit older than the passenger. Much more cropped, but still messy, lighter brown hair sweeps down onto his forehead, the back of it curling up slightly at the nape of his neck. Definitely could use a haircut, too, but the bedhead is endearing. A hand reaches up to scratch at the trim beard and mustache that he’s sporting, the facial hair framing his strong jaw nicely. His eyebrows are furrowing in frustration or annoyance, or maybe a bit of both while his head shakes back and forth at whatever his companion joked about. He makes the grumpy stare charming, and you suddenly have the thought that you’d like to know if he’s always got that crease in his brow or if that’s only reserved for the man who was unpacking the truck now. The muscles in his biceps flex as he shuts his door, t-shirt pulling taut over his chest as he steps to open the rear door, a grin growing on his face.

Out from the backseat pops the most adorable little girl you’ve seen. Looks to be about seven or eight years old, maybe, with tiny, sweet features and dressed in a lilac shirt and denim Bermuda shorts. She’s got voluminous, kinky curls that show off natural highlights in the Texas sunshine. She’s giggling and giddy, reaching for the man who opened the door to help her down from the raised truck. He scoops her up, a shriek of laughter coming from the little girl as he slings her over his shoulder. More muscles flex in his back as he carries the weight easily, walking back to the bed of the pickup to grab some bags out of it to bring inside.

So tunnel-visioned on the vignette of family life playing out in front of you, you didn’t even think that you could be seen. A voyeur of your street, you forget that your curtains are drawn, the window is open, and a large pane of clear glass is the only thing in front of you. As if he could feel the burn of your stare, the eyes observing his movements, the man carrying the little girl turns towards your house. His stare catches your own that was already trained on him, a friendly smile plastered to his face as he raises the hand holding the girl in a short wave.

Mortifying. The first impression that your new neighbor, your attractive new neighbor, had of you was you, standing in ratty cotton sleep shorts and an oversized t-shirt, hair falling out of the hair tie at the back of your head. Heat warmed your cheeks and the back of your neck at the embarrassment of being caught, and of being caught in this outfit.

Your mother next to you erupts in laughter, turning away from the window as you grumble under your breath about that interaction being her fault. Trudging back up the stairs to get ready for the day, annoyance is still twisted in your expression. You skip back down the stairs to the kitchen, dressed and hair fixed up, skidding into the open room to see your dad at the table alone, the newspaper in his hand with the job listing page already pulled out and set at your usual spot.

“Morning, kiddo.”

“G’morning, Dad.”

Sliding into the wooden chair at the kitchen table, you start to look over the listings in search of a summer position to occupy your time at home before you start your last year of university in the fall. There are a few postings for dogwalkers, hostesses, and waitresses that you’ve already seen or applied to in the last week. A couple of bartending jobs catch your eye, thinking about the tips to be made, but your thoughts quickly deflate when they require state licensing.

A huff of disappointment rolls from your lips when your mom comes back inside through the door to the garage, an artful smile pulling at her lips. She’s looking directly at you, the expression making you uneasy in anticipation of whatever news or plan she’s concocted. Your mother meddles, in the most loving way possible, but she can’t help but stick her nose in everyone’s business. So the next words out of her mouth really shouldn’t surprise you, but they do make your stomach turn with newfound anxiety.

“So, I just met the new neighbors. Well, one neighbor and his daughter, I guess. The Millers. His name is Joel, and his daughter’s name is Sarah, she proudly told me she was seven years old and starting the second grade in the fall. The other guy we saw was his brother that he introduced me to, Tommy.”

You’re currently rereading the same job listing over and over again to avoid looking at your mom, feigning disinterest as you nod slowly at what she’s saying. At the same time, your nerves zip in excitement at knowing his name now, and you bite your tongue to ask your mom to continue, knowing she’d tease your eagerness.

Instead, you let her tell you about the rest of the brief interaction, recalling whichever neighborhood Joel had said they moved from and how he and his brother have lived in Austin their entire lives.

“Oh! I almost forgot to tell you both,” your mom addresses your father for the first time in the conversation, the call to his attention making him lower the newspaper to look at her, a silent nod getting her to continue, “I invited them over for a barbecue tonight to take a break from moving in and have a nice meal after their long day. I’m gonna need you to run to the store for me, and I’ll have to get to cleaning the house…”

Your mom’s plan for the day and list of chores trail off in your ears as a buzz muffles it. Your hot neighbor was coming over to your house, tonight, and you were going to have to face him after being caught blatantly staring.

How great for you.

The sliding screen door pulls shut behind you with a woosh and a click, returning to its pathetic job of keeping insects out of the house while letting the slightly cooler evening air in. Foamy flip-flops smack against the weather-worn oak wood deck as you shuffle over to the large silver grill that your dad commands. Steel wool scrapes against the metal grates of the inside; your dad’s bent over to get better leverage to clean all the burnt bits off.

The beach-themed melamine platter weighs heavy in your hands, covered with burgers, hot dogs, and brats - plus a couple of veggie burgers - to the point where the design of crustaceans and shells in the waves and beach towels laid out on the sand is completely disguised.

“I didn’t ask what they like to eat, so I got everything I could think of! You can’t assume these days with all these new folks moving to Austin, I’m trying to be considerate,” is what your mother said to you when you asked if she was planning to feed the whole block or a small army with the amount of food that was going on the grill. 

Don’t even get started on the sides.

You set the platter piled with meat on the webbed black iron patio table to the side of the grill, shuffling over to stand at the edge of the deck, overlooking the chlorine-blue pool water that shines in the slowly fading sunlight. Your parents had installed the in-ground pool the first summer you’d been home from college, jokingly claiming it was their way to make sure you came home every summer, and your brother, Chris, too when he went away to school a short two years after you.

To be honest, it may have been a joke, but it was definitely part of the reason you came back each summer. That, and you just felt more yourself, more at ease at home. It was your comfort zone, but after spending every school year pushing yourself out of your comfort zone academically and socially, you always wanted to return to the warm, sun-soaked home that you grew up in. Maybe that made you more dependent on your parents still, maybe your friends saw it as immature, but you knew what you wanted to do, and you weren’t going to suffer over break just to seem like “an adult” like your friends thought they did.

“You gonna go for a swim, kiddo?”

Your dad’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts, focusing your eyes back from the wide aperture they had fallen into as you stood mesmerized by the water moving down below you. Clearing your throat, you cross your arms over your chest as you turn back to your dad at the grill, the clicks of the gas burners lighting aflame while he twists the dials at the front.

“Maybe later. Once this attempt of Mom’s to get the first gossip on the new neighbor is over.”

Your dad laughs softly at your lightly satirical joke at your mother’s expense, shaking his head and giving you one of those looks that says ‘just do as your mother says like you always do.’

“Well, you can relax plenty later. Just be on your best behavior for the neighbors, will ya?” He laughs at his own comment, the sarcasm coating the request he’d made. You’ve never made waves in your family, in your friend group, in your neighborhood. Always known as the “sweet girl” to your older neighbors, the “golden child” to your peers and your family. Your initially reserved nature gives everyone the impression that you are a polite, kind Southern belle. If only they could read minds.

Flip flops thwacking with each step as you cross the deck again, slipping inside through the sliding door. Skating past the kitchen quickly before your mom can rope you into helping with more preparation, you take the stairs two at a time to get up to your room to get ready.

You’d be lying to yourself if you said that there was a small part of you that was excited to meet Joel. The majority of you burns with embarrassment and is dreading having to face him after getting caught in your voyeurism this morning, but with how attractive he was, it could be a bit fun to have him as a neighbor next door.

Which is why you’re standing in front of your full-length mirror, hair fixed up from the state it was in when he first saw you and a short, light blue sundress on. Eyelets and embroidery covered the dress, the square neckline was framed by cap sleeves. It was modest enough to keep your intentions for dressing up hidden from your parents, but it was revealing enough to make you feel confident to face your hot neighbor for an official introduction.

The next half an hour is spent following your mom’s instructions, most of them being silent points of her finger while she’s absorbed in another task. Every so often you make eye contact with Chris through the patio door, him in the middle of the same treatment from your dad out by the grill.

At one point, your mom is so tunnel-visioned that when you finish the last assignment she’d given you, you slip out to where your dad and brother are now lounging in the chairs around the table on one side of the deck. The metal scrapes against the wood as you pull out one and take a seat, sighing gratefully when Chris passes you a beer from the cooler next to him. The cap twists off with a hiss and a pop, the water from the melted ice dripping onto your chest. As you tip the bottle to your lips and dab off the water before it runs down your skin to the neckline of your dress, the Millers walk up the steps at the side of the deck, tumbling greetings over each other.

Your dad stands, your brother behind him as they take a few steps to meet Joel and Tommy halfway. Polite handshakes are exchanged while you get up out of your seat, beer left on the table to go get the embarrassment over with.

Sarah stands shyly next to her dad, her little shoulder completely encompassed by her dad’s hand as she looks up at all the men around her starting to talk about the latest Astros game. You smile softly at her and give her a wave as you move to stand with everyone, a slight smile growing on her face at someone acknowledging her. She steps away from her subtle hiding place next to Joel, the movement causing Joel to glance down at her before his eyes turn up to you.

A friendly smile ticks up one side of his mouth, brown eyes speckling with caramel highlights as he squints in the sunlight to take a step forward and reach out his hand to you.

“I’m Joel, the new neighbor.”

You give him a firm, polite handshake with a warm grin attached to it, nodding your head. 

Please dear God, or whatever is out there, don’t let him mention this morning.

“It’s nice to meet you, sir. Hope today hasn’t been too much of a nightmare moving in.” Nerves bubble in your stomach, but you can’t help but feel them turn to butterflies when his eyes darken ever so slightly at the word ‘sir’, hand quickly falling out of yours and resting back on Sarah’s shoulder as he clears his throat quietly.

“Hasn’t been too bad, right bug? You wanna introduce yourself?” His eyebrows raise encouragingly to his daughter and the nickname warms your heart, watching as Sarah grows more confident to stand up straight, a smile on her face.

“My name’s Sarah,” she directs towards you and then turns to her dad, waving him to crouch down to her level so she can whisper at the not-so-subtle kid's volume, “What do I say after that?”

Joel chuckles lightly and whispers back to her quietly enough for you not to hear. He stands up straight again, watching Sarah.

“It’s nice to meet you, miss!” she turns to Joel again, beaming proudly, “Is that right?”

He nods and looks back at you as you laugh softly, a wide smile on your face from the adorable and incredibly polite greeting Sarah’s given you. His own smile pulls larger as you bend down to be at eye level with her, warmth emanating from you introduce yourself just as Sarah did and fall into conversation with her.

She tells you all about her last school year in the first grade, her favorite toys, and how excited she is for her summer camp. The two of you have moved to sit next to each other on the outdoor couch, your drink forgotten next to you as you listen to the bubbly seven-year-old.

Joel and Tommy stay in conversation with your dad and Chris near the grill, standing around in a semi-circle and making small talk about sports, weather, and the sturdiness of your deck. Joel and Tommy mentioned having a contracting business together, and your dad ran with it, asking them every question under the sun about the longevity of the build that was done a few years ago.

Your mom comes out to join them for a bit, sitting with you and Sarah as you talk with each other before she gathers all the meat fresh off the grill to bring inside and finish setting up everything.

A few more minutes pass before your mom pops her head out and calls everyone in to make a plate. You stand up and wait for Sarah to climb off the couch, following behind her bouncy curls. Everyone’s made it through the door ahead of you, except for Joel as he lingers to wait for his daughter. One of his hands finds her head as he carefully ushers her inside, turning to you with a sincere look in his eyes.

“Thanks for keeping her entertained. She loves to talk, doesn’t really get that from me,” he drawls out, his accent a bit thicker than yours. You shake your head, waving a hand at him to dismiss him.

“She’s the one keeping me entertained, I’m surprised I’m not boring her with my lack of summer plans to discuss. She’s very excited for day camp,” you chuckle quietly, still standing less than a foot from Joel at the sliding door. You can smell the body wash he must’ve used in the shower before coming over, fresh eucalyptus and birch mixing with the richer cedarwood and bergamot of what you assume is his cologne.

“Oh, yeah. Big time. She was begging me to sign her up finally this year and it made sense with my work schedule getting busier. But, still, thanks for hanging out with her.” He nods toward the door, gesturing for you to walk in ahead of him. His hand hovers behind your back as you step in ahead of him, fingers brushing your dress lightly before he quickly pulls them away.

You stand to the side to let the guests go through to get their food first, Joel helping Sarah put everything she wants onto a plate while balancing his own. Tommy happily starts eating what’s already on his plate halfway through the line, earning a jab in the side from his older brother. Once everyone’s gotten what they wanted, you all pile back outside to the deck to sit around and eat.

The table isn’t large enough for everyone, so it ends up being your parents, Chris, and Tommy sitting around it while you, Joel, and Sarah sit around the patio lounge set. Sarah happily sits on the ground at the coffee table, you slipping a cushion down for her to rest on before sitting in one of the chairs across from the couch.

Joel’s settled next to his daughter, facing you as he wipes his mouth with his napkin.

“So, uh, your dad said you’re going into your last year at TCU? What’re you studying?”

“Public Relations and Advertising. I’m hoping—”

“She wants to move to Boston!” Sarah interjects with a mouthful of hotdog bun.

Joel looks at her with a gently reprimanding look, “Bug, please don’t talk with your mouth full. ‘S not polite.”

He turns back to you after patting his daughter’s curls, lips curled up to one side.

“Boston, huh? What’s all the way up there?”

“Not here,” you laugh softly, shrugging your shoulders as you stab a piece of potato salad with your fork, “I love Austin, don’t get me wrong, but living here my whole life and going to school only three hours away in Fort Worth feels like I haven’t seen much outside of Texas. Plus, there’re some good agencies up there and it’s not as scary of a move like New York or Los Angeles would be.”

Joel nods in understanding, speaking up after he finishes a bite, “I get that. Haven’t lived anywhere but Austin my whole life, but I can understand wanting to experience new things.”

You might be imagining things, but you swear you can hear his voice drop deeper in the last half of his sentence. It sends a flutter between your legs, and the back of your neck burns with chagrin.

Conversation continues to flow easily between you and Joel, and Sarah, too. Your parents don’t ask you to help clean up because you’re so invested, laughing quietly at his subtle humor and smiling widely when Sarah adds in her commentary or tells a story.

Tommy and Chris join you all on the lounge furniture, falling into a wider group discussion of neighborhood politics and what fun things you and Chris got up to when you were around Sarah’s age.

Joel’s eyes stay trained on you whenever you're speaking, even glancing at you when you’re both listening to someone else. The eye contact from him stirs your stomach and hitches your breath, your own stare avoiding his when it gets a bit too intense.

Hours are consumed quickly, the twilight blue skies dimming your backyard so that only the porch and string lights illuminate the deck. Low light and the late hour have soothed Sarah to sleep, her small frame tucked into Joel’s side. He keeps a hand on her back while she rests, everyone looking at her tenderly.

Joel asks you and your mom if you know of any other neighbors with young kids that are going to the park district day camp for the summer, wondering if there’s a possibility to carpool or arrange some care for Sarah when he’s got a busy schedule.

Not knowing anything yourself since you don’t live here full time anymore, you turn to your mom and watch as the gears turn in her head, eyes lighting up with an idea.

“Actually, haven’t you been looking for a summer job, honey? Maybe you could nanny Sarah! Drop her off when Joel can’t, pick her up every day, and watch her until Joel gets home from work. That is, if you’d be interested in that, Joel.”

Your mouth opens and closes as you try to stutter out a response, feeling a bit flustered at your mom’s out-of-the-blue suggestion. Plus, you aren’t sure you could manage to work for your hot neighbor and to see him often; it was one thing to have a crush and pine freely from afar, but spending time in his house? Seeing him every day?

Your thighs press together as your mind races with thoughts about more of Joel in all aspects.

Being the ever-so-polite Southern daughter you were raised to be, you turn to Joel with a glittering smile and nod despite the stomach acid creeping up your throat with your nerves.

“I’d love to help out if you need it. Spending my summer with Sarah would be fun.”

At your confirmation of the offer, Joel pauses for a moment to look down at his sleeping daughter, heading swinging back to you with a boyish grin on his face.

“Guess that solves my problem then. Think you can start next week? Her first day is Wednesday.”

Arrangements are made with Joel as the Miller crew gets ready to leave, your own family have said their goodbyes and retiring inside to clean up after the night. Joel and you stand on the deck next to the stairs that lead to your side yard and over to their house. He shifts on his feet, passing Sarah from his arms to Tommy’s for his younger brother to get her home.

Joel’s arms stretch up briefly, giving you the slightest peek at the bottom of his stomach when his t-shirt lifts. Saliva floods your mouth as the thought of kissing there when you’re on your knees for him passes through your mind quickly. 

Stop thinking about him like that. Yeah, he’s hot but he’s also now going to be employing you.

“Thanks again for offering to nanny, Sarah. She’s gonna be real excited when I tell her in the mornin’. You sure you don’t wanna take the out now?” His hands shoved into the front pockets of his jeans, a coy smile on his face.

“It’s really no problem at all. Like I said, I think it will be a fun summer.” 

There’s no hidden meaning to your words, but for some reason Joel drops your stare after you speak, glancing down at his boots before he raises his head again, his smile a hint wider.

His drawl coats the words as he replies, “Well, it’s definitely gonna be somethin’, sweetheart.”

Joel turns on the heel of his boot, bounding down the short staircase and over toward his yard. He looks back once, a short wave raised towards you as he calls out a ‘goodnight’ to your frozen frame on your deck.

The front door of the Miller house clicks closed and you finally exhale the breath you didn’t realize you were holding in. Slow movements carry you inside and up to your room, flopping down to your bed on your back. One had rested on your stomach filled with butterflies, the other over your heart to feel the quickened rhythm.

Joel was right, this summer was definitely going to be something. And you were eager to find out what exactly it could be.

series taglist: @beskarandblasters @undrthelights @swiftispunk @joelsversion @clingontolife @elizabeth01585 @wandaandellie @asirenbyanyothername @ellenmunn @ja-ehyun @livinxdeadxgrl @sw33tp1xie @starsandsaints07 @marisemonteiroo @brunetteeras @whydontyoysaynodoja @beee-haw @shmaptainshmerica07 @jenna-mcgraw19 @whore-4-pedro @spursgirl14-blog @katifefe @joelmillerswifu @itsgiorgiaz @soph55 @grapejuicesny @wild-hearts-runfree @youcancallmeelle @lisa-ru @jupitren @ziggy-star @miaispunk @oneofutoo @starkovli @thatgeminigirlx @marchai @bunnyskisses @houseofballoonsth @casual-obsessions @pedro-pascal-lvr @bimbodolls-world @burningnerdchild @tuquoquebrute @mrsvedder12 @estelivi28 @helllsent @bongsrconfusing @addictedtotlou @brittmb115 @angie2274 @owod3 @pedrostories @pedroholicx @theelishad @johnwatsn

[slut4msby]

Happy New Year? Miya Atsumu x Fem!Reader

+ tags & warnings; suggestive content, heavily implied smut, atsumu and reader did the deed :0??, borderline fuckboy!atsumu [i have a soft spot for fuckboy!atsumu], not proofread, implied ex bf but no one is specified other than being a vb player so use ur imagination qts :3

+ a/n; hey guys! i'm lea :3. this is my first fic on tumblr in YEARS i used to have an account long long long ago that like NO ONE would know so this is my welcome back ig ;p have some fuckboy!atsumu tehheeheh [i want fuckboy!atsumu so bad or maybe i just have issues teheheh]. also its dec 31 when i post this so HAPPY NEW YEAR!!! stay safe and take care x

Waking up on your own has become a tradition on New Year's Day. For the past three years, a very lonely past three years. Ever since your partner had broken up with you. 

This year was no different, waking up in an empty bed - but not your bed? The realisation left you in confusion. Your eyes darted around the room, cologne, dirty clothes, sports trophies and empty water bottles filled the room. How classy. You sat up against the headboard, head pounding from the alcohol that had consumed your body the night before. Despite its uncleanliness it was a nice room at its core. The problem is, you don't know when you got here or how you got here. Matter of fact if you were even still in the country.

“Hey Doll.” A shirtless figure called from the doorway, a towel wrapped around his waist, his V-line on full display. He was fit, no one could deny that. His blonde hair messy from his shower, his body littered with hickies and scratches - your hickies and scratches. “You really did a number on me huh?” He let out a soft chuckle.

You tried to respond but your body was still in a state of shock from the man you had managed to catch.

“You alright princess? You seemed to be a lot louder and confident last night.” He teased, walking towards you taking a seat on his bed. “You know, you look good in my shirt.” He adds on in reference to the oversized t-shirt which accompanied your body. He shuffled closer to you, he planted another kiss on your neck over one of the many purple marks he had given you last night, “could get used to having you around.”

“Me?” You question, he only nods in response. 

He grabs your face in his hand. You couldn’t deny his hands were nice, they were big and he obviously knew how to use them. He moved you to look at him, forcing tension. You couldn’t lie from what you could remember is that he was good. He pulled you closer and closer, looking at your lips and then your eyes. “Can I?” He asks.

“Can you?” You respond giving him your infamous ‘fuck-me eyes’.

“Oh doll, we both know we can.” He mutters against your lips, before pulling you in for a kiss which you very happily accept. 

That’s when the memories come back, you could never forget a kiss like that. You remember Kuroo forcing you to a party and meeting him, Atsumu Miya.

“C’moonnnnnnnn n/n-chan it will be fun.” Kuroo begged.

“Tetsu, I don’t know I am happy alone.”

“You’re so boring now n/n-chan.” He pouts. He knows that sentence will rile you up. “You used to be the life of the party y/n.”

“Used to? Oh baby I still am.”

“Then come to the party n/n.”

“Fine.”

You remember walking in and being greeted by Bokuto who you hadn't seen in years. Completely ditching the volleyball scene after your ex-boyfriend. Bokuto was still as huge and friendly as always. You greeted all the familiar faces and were even introduced to some new ones. It was nice. As the hours went on the alcohol overtook your body. 

You had found yourself on a couch on top of him - Atsumu Miya. 

“Woahh pretty girl slow down.” He pulls away from the kiss a string of saliva breaking you apart as he does so. “What's yer name, pretty girl?” He asks before leaving light kisses on your neck forcing a gasp out of you.

“L/n.” You say quickly, “y/n l/n.”

“Pretty name for a pretty girl.” He says continuing kissing down your neck. He would have gone further right then and there however your rendezvous was cut short by Bokuto and Kuroo calling your name. And you thought that was gonna be the last encounter with the mystery man.

“Ohhhh~ n/n-chan getting it on with tsum-tsum.” Bokuto teases.

“N/n is lonelyyyyyy.” Kuroo slurs.

The teasing continued all night, however at 11:58pm everyone started gathering around for the countdown, you were convinced this is the fourth year you would be lonely. Before you felt an arm snag your waist.

“Hey pretty girl.” He purrs into your ear.

“Oh it’s you.”

“I have a name y’know princess?”

Silence.

“Do yer seriously not know who I am.”

“Egotistical by the sound of it, pretty boy.” You respond.

“Atsumu Miya. Y’know? MSBY’s setter?”

“Right. I like pretty boy more.” You giggle.

5

“Yer won't be moaning that tonight trust me doll.”

4

3

2

1

Atsumu pulls you in for a kiss, “So you wanna take me up on that offer princess?”

You can’t help but nod eagerly.

Happy New year to you indeed.

©slut4msby.

[zot3-flopped]

Zayn Malik became the first former One Direction member to venture back on stage following the death of Liam Payne in October. No direct mention was made of his late bandmate during his set, but Zayn departed the stage to a projection displaying Liam’s name, the dates 1993-2024, and the simple message “Love you Bro” with a heart emoji.

An audience of twenty-something women lingered on, hugging each other and singing along to the recorded version of Zayn’s song Stardust, investing a lot of emotion into a suddenly rather elegiac lyric: “Feels like stardust / Floatin’ all around us / Shootin’ right across a / Big black sky.”

It was genuinely touching, and slightly at odds with the controlled hysteria of the rest of the occasion.

I am not saying I was the only man amongst 2,300 attendees at Leeds O2 Academy, but I honestly couldn’t see another around me, nor make out a male voice amidst the deafening roar that greeted Zayn’s arrival onstage.

This was a partisan audience who have loved the 31-year-old singer and songwriter since he was the moody, doe-eyed one in the 21st century’s biggest boy band.

They came to scream, and did so in all the appropriate places, listening reverently to Zayn’s fluid falsetto and sensual balladry, then signalling the end of every song by emitting a collective sound many decibels louder than the accomplished, all-female band itself.

Zayn seemed delighted and abashed. “F--k yeah!” were the first words that came out of his mouth. “What do I say? Amazing!”

Bradford born and raised, his Yorkshire accent was thick with pleasure as he declared love for his home county. “It’s good to be back up north, can’t lie. Got a doner kebab yesterday. Miss that s--t!”

His presence in the flesh was far removed from the moody international playboy image projected in photographs, or the sophisticated lover of his solo recordings.

He was dressed in baggy hip hop casual wear and a Tupac T-shirt, with a red baseball cap pulled tight on his head, and he looked somewhere between thrilled and terrified.

He spent the entire set either clutching his mic with near desperation or shuffling awkwardly around the mic stand, arms hanging limply by his sides, nodding with his eyes closed.

Zayn postponed the opening night of his first solo tour last week to attend Payne’s funeral, so this was understandably a nerve-wracking occasion. It has been nine years since Zayn became the first member to quit One Direction, and he has made his personal discomfort and artistic dissatisfaction with the boyband format known.

Such was his anxiety and disillusion with performing that it has taken him this long to venture out on the road. He seemed to understand he has ground to make up. After a strong start (2016 album Mind of Mine was a global number one) his recorded career has drifted into the doldrums.

Leeds O2 Academy is a respectable venue, but it’s a long way down from the stadiums he used to play with 1D.It was a qualified success. Zayn can sing like an R’n’B angel, riffing through the octaves and fluttering on a fluid falsetto.

He was always the best vocalist in the band, and he’s even better performing his own material, thoughtful and emotional songs that blend R’n’B tropes with timely flavours of acoustic country and rock.

Zayn has the makings of a superstar but it’s hard to understand how anyone can be famous for that long and be so entirely lacking in stagecraft.

He could do with an injection of his former bandmate Harry Styles’s swagger and charisma instead of looking like he’s still nervously auditioning for Simon Cowell on The X Factor. Maybe it will come as the tour rolls on. The best you can say about Zayn is that he’s moving in the right direction.

[shybibaby-reboot]

NSFW Asks

1: Kitchen Counter, Couch, or on top of the dryer?

2: Your last sexual encounter: Good or Bad and why:

3: A fictional person that you think would be good in bed:

4: Something that never fails to make you horny:

5: Where is one place you would never have sex:

6: Weirdest thing that ever made you horny:

7: How are you after a really good f$%k?

8: Have you ever got so wet in the night that you wake up wanting some sexual activity?

9: Tell me your wettest dream?

10: Top or bottom?

11: What body attracts you the most, men or women?

12: Ever kissed someone of the same sex?

13: Home alone and you’re bored. What do you do?

14: Something that you have hidden in your room that you don’t want anyone to find:

15: Weirdest nickname a significant other has ever called you:

16: Are you a touchy feel person?

17: If you were/are a lesbian, would you go for the women/girls who act like men, or the ones who act like girls?

18: Does a massage get you wet?

19: Is it ever okay to not use a condom:

20: If there’s one place a girl/guy should touch you to make you instantly horny, where is that?

21: Has a guy/girl even touched you or discreetly groped you while clubbing or in a crowded place?

22: Ever left the house without wearing any underwear?

23: What do you wear when you go to bed?

24: Biggest turn on:

25: Worst possible time to get horny:

26: Do you like it when your sexual partner moans:

27: Worst sexual idea you ever had:

28: How much fapping is too much fapping:

29: Best sexual complement you ever got:

30: What do you think you and/or the opposite sex looks the sexiest in?

31: Have you ever been called a tease?

32: Fill in the blanks: “If they ____________, we are ****in”

33: What your favorite part of your body:

34: Love (>,<, or =) Sex For those of us who don’t remember our math thats “greater than, less than, or equal to]

35: What do you wear to bed?

36: When was the last time you masturbated:

37: Do you have any nude/masturbating pictures/video of yourself?

38: Have/would you ever have sex outside?

39: Have/would you ever masturbate at work?

40: Have/would you ever have sex on a plane?

41: What is one song you’d like to have sex to?

42: Has anyone ever posted nude pictures of you online?

43: How do you feel about tattoos on someone you are interested in?

44: Does size really matter to you?

45: Is there anything you do on the internet that you would not like your significant other to see?

46: Do you own any sex toys? (what is it? (how long have you had it?)

47: Would you give your significant other access to your internet history?

48: Would you be offended if your significant other suggested you get plastic surgery?

49: Would you rather be a pornstar or a prostitute?

50: Who gave you your last kiss? Did it mean anything?

51: Do you like to have phone sex?

52: Do you feel comfortable going “commando”?

53: Would you have a problem with going down on someone if they hadn’t shaved their pubic hair?

54: Booty or Boobs?

55: If you had a penis, what would you name it?

56: Have you ever been on an official date?

57: Have you ever cheated on someone? (Why?)

58: Have you had sex with someone of the same sex?

59: Have you had sex with more than one person simultaneously?

60: Have you ever been to a strip club?

61: Name one naughty act you have done in a public place?

62: Sex in the morning, afternoon or night?

63: Shower or bath while having sex?

64: Do you want someone aggressive or passive in bed?

65: Love or Money?

66: Have you been caught having sex?

67: Does anyone have naughty pics of you?

68: Do you like wild sex or romantic sex?

69: Do you consider hair pulling sexy?

70: What should a guy first do when about to have sex with you?

71: Something that will never fail to get you horny?

72: Favourite sexual things a guy/girl does to you thats not sex?

73: What do you wear to seduce the opposite sex?

74: Have you ever paid for sex?

75: Do you like kissing in public?

*This is a repost of thee original, I lost it when I rebooted my blog*

[myseungsunglove]

44,640 Minutes | Ksm

Pairing: Seungmin x reader

Warnings: fluff, mild cursing

Word Count: 720

Synopsis: the reader is missing her boyfriend while he is away on tour.

This is my first Drabble in years and years. I used to write regularly many years ago, so if this really sucks ass, I’m sorry. I’m so rusty!

Feedback Appreciated!

「© June 28, 2023 by myseungsunglove」

It had been a month since you last saw Kim Seungmin’s face live and in person. 31 days of absolute torture. 44,640 minutes without feeling his hand in yours. 2,678,400 seconds since his lips last brushed against yours.

You were losing your ever loving mind. The fact that you were keeping track of how long it had been since you had last been with Seungmin, down to the second, was proof enough that you were without a doubt head over heels in love with that little menace.

You stepped out of the Uber, buzzing with excitement. The LA sun was bright, the chill of the air reminded you that summer was still a long way off. You pulled your jacket closer around you as you walked toward the concert venue, still shocked you just got on a plane and flew half way across the world for a boy. Missing him made you do crazy things, but this one was an all time record.

The boys’ manager met you at the door with a warm smile. In your haste to leave Seoul two days ago, you had at least had the forethought to let someone know about your plans. Telling Seungmin a convincing lie about why you couldn’t FaceTime two nights in a row was much harder, but you managed.

It wasn’t long before you were surrounded by the usual crews. Occasionally people waved greetings and smiled warmly as you passed by. You could feel the butterflies flitting in your stomach the more steps you took. A month had been far too long without your boyfriend, and you couldn’t wait to have his arms around you.

The manager stepped through the door into a room where the boys were holding a pre-rehearsal rehearsal. A time that was much more relaxed than the actual rehearsal before the show. You followed, taking a deep breath as you did so.

“Look what I found roaming around outside,” he joked, stepping aside to reveal you to the group.

“Y/N!” a few of the boys rang out, but not your boyfriend. His back had been turned in deep discussion over a specific dance move with Minho.

“Shut up, guys. Not funny. You know I’m missing her like crazy. Don’t gotta rub it in on concert day,” he whined turning around to face the group. As he did so, he came face to face with you, a stupid grin plastered on your face, the beginnings of tears forming in your eyes from the overwhelming happiness you felt.

“I really missed you too, Seungie,” you chuckled, looking up into his beautiful deep brown eyes.

His face scrunched up, confused for half a second before his brain caught up with what was going on.

“Shit,” he breathed out, as his arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you close to him, his face quickly nestled against your neck. “A month is too damn long,” he mumbled, his breath warm against your cold skin.

Your hand held the back of his head, fingers gently running through his soft brown hair, as you reluctantly pulled away from the hug to look into his eyes. You were barely able to do so before Seungmin’s pink, plush lips met yours in a slow, meaningful kiss. You pressed him closer to you and deepened the kiss, desperate to be closer to him.

“I agree,” you breathed out against his lips. “Let’s not do that again,” you added as your fingers combed through his hair once more. “I don’t have to be in my studio to get work done. I’m on hiatus anyway. I can record just about anywhere. You aren’t there. So, neither am I.”

His smile brightened, stretching all the way to his eyes. “So you’ll join us?” he asked, and you could hear the desperate hope in his voice.

“Can’t get rid of me now,” you joked, pressing your lips to his again.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he smiled against your lips. What you didn’t know was that the 31 days away from Kim Seungmin had drove him to buy a ring just last night while missing you because he wanted to make sure you didn’t have to spend 31 days apart again. That ring was currently in his hotel room, hidden away in a safe.

44,640 minutes made people to some desperate things when they missed someone, but you’d both soon realize that these two decisions were the best decision either of you had ever made.

Tags from interest in original announcement I won’t continue to tag you unless you want: @starlostseungmin @backintomykpopphaseagain @jho-1

[joelswritingmistress]

Last Halloween: Chapter 31

Summary: After a tragedy involving Joel happened on Halloween one year prior, the town now shuns him while ignoring the details of the now closed case. You are seemingly the only one to offer empathy to a man the town is making out to be a monster.

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

The passing of time began to heal the wounds that had been bestowed on you and Joel. Despite some initial reluctance, you agreed to talk to a therapist about being kidnapped by Vic and all that took place before and after. Joel had talked you into it, and agreed to go, himself.

By the summer, you felt almost back to normal; and those wounds turned into scars. Never forgotten, but no longer the focal point of your pain.

You passed the last of your practicals and exams. The final course you finished that summer and by the fall you had your nursing degree as planned.

It was October 1st when you handed your three closest girlfriends your last lump sum of money for the monthly rent on the house you had been renting together. It was bittersweet. The four of you had had so much fun through your mid twenties in that house, and waking up to share laughs and have coffee were the little moments you would miss so dearly.

"You're only moving six minutes down the road," Jessie reminded you, when the two of you cried together, complete with seemingly contradictory smiles.

"I know." You dried your eyes. "But.. I just.. I'm so happy but this is-"

"The end of Act One in your story and the beginning of Act Two." Jessie pulled you in for a long hug. "And this is where the friendships grow stronger, and the real depth comes in."

You sighed. Her words made you cry a little more before you finally got it together and bid a temporary farewell to your friend. The four of you already had a plan to go out the following Friday night and that was solace enough for the time being.

The very bright light at the end of the tunnel was Joel. Once you parted from Jessie, you sped over to Joel's street with your car full of all of your belongings. Your heart was letting you know how full it was from the constant thudding in your chest. It picked up the closer you got and felt like exploding when you pulled down the private driveway.

As promised, Joel sat on his front porch waiting for your arrival. One year later and he still made you swoon. The site of him still made butterflies flutter around in your midsection.

When you parked the car and popped open the driver's side door, you smiled wide as he approached with a key dangling between his fingers. You almost couldn't believe this was really happening.

"Welcome home." Joel smiled just as wide. The two of you couldn't take your eyes off one another and you pulled him in by the collar of his flannel shirt to leave a long, meaningful kiss on his lips.

"I love you," you breathed into his mouth.

"I love you, too." He brushed his nose against yours and you kissed again before accepting the key from him.

"I can't believe I live here now."

Joel kept you close. "Maybe one day I'll get you that cabin in the woods, but I thought this would do for now."

You shook your head and nodded toward the house behind him. "This is home."

He pecked your lips once more. "Come on." He pulled you by the hand and the two of you began to unload the car.

You were on cloud nine. Each box you brought inside made the move feel more permanent. When you unpacked the box that had your Bluetooth speaker in it, you plopped it on the little end table by one of the couches and put on one of your many playlists.

"Bob Dylan," Joel nodded in approval as the first song began to play. "Nice."

You smiled at him as he hauled another box in over shoulder. The two of you went through it together, finding a permanent home for your things. While you didn't want to impose on Joel's space, he was overly accommodating.

"It's our space now," Joel reminded you three or four times.

You stuck your toothbrush in the slot next to his. Joel cleared out more than half of the closet space for clothes. You laid out your boots, shoes and sandals.

When all of the bins and boxes were finally empty, you made your way back downstairs, welcomed by the infamous pipes of Sheryl Crow's Strong Enough, you finally reached for your car keys, and the single, gold key you had placed beside it; the one Joel had given to you.

As you picked it up between your fingers, Joel crept in behind you and kissed down your neck. You moaned lightly with a smile and closed your eyes.

"Mmm.." you let out a deep exhale through your nose. "So, this is my life now, huh?" You sunk back against him.

"As long as you want it to be," Joel whispered, as his hand snaked up the bottom of your shirt.

You turned around and Joel met you halfway in a smoldering kiss, one that you had been wanting to give him all afternoon. For the rest of the night you didn't take your hands off of him. Moving in together had turned you into a feral, needy woman.

When the two of you finally laid in bed, breathing heavy but otherwise quiet, you stated aloud. "I live here."

Joel began to chuckle, guiding you to lay partially on his chest. "You live here."

You sighed contently again, listening to his heart beating rapidly in his chest with your arm slunk across his abdomen. "Imagine if I had never offered you that free coffee that night."

"What's meant to be will always be." Joel played with your hair. "But I'm glad you did." He added, "You're a brave woman. I owe you my life. You gave it back to me."

"All I want from you is to share it with me."

Joel kissed the top of your head and the two of you laid contently for a long while, talking about life, the future, and what was to come. You both intentionally left out the past. It was the easiest way to fall asleep peacefully.

When the next morning rolled around, you felt refreshed. It was like leaving a great dream only to awaken to a better one - one with Joel beside you. Permanently. Every day. For as long as you both could stand to be around one another. In your mind, that meant forever.

You smiled at him sleeping there and swung your legs off the edge of the bed before tiptoeing out of the room so you wouldn't wake him. As much as you wanted to lay there all morning with Joel, you also wanted to surprise him.

Despite it being your first formal night as a resident at the Miller house, you knew your way around the kitchen. And so you went about whipping up pancakes, setting the coffee pot and gathering the syrup, butter and chocolate chips you happened to find in one of the cabinets.

You hesitated before retrieving a long rectangular box wrapped in candy corn wrapping paper from your jacket pocket by the front door and left it by Joel's unmade plate.

Before you could go see if he was awake, your eyes lifted to meet his as he strolled into the kitchen. Joel pulled a long-sleeved tshirt down over boxers and you couldn't help but smile at his head of messy hair.

A smile crept on his face. "It smells amazing down here."

"Thought I'd surprise you on our first official morning living together." You smiled back and retrieved a glass dish filled with pancakes and placed them in the center of the table.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome." The two of you sat down at the table and Joel raised his coffee mug to you. "To many more cups of coffee together first thing in the morning."

You giggled and reached for your cup, tapping it gently against his. "To many, many, many more."

Joel took a sip, smacking his lips together with an appreciative sigh and then eyed the little box by his silverware. He smirked and reached for it. "What's this?"

You felt your stomach knot up and folded your hands on top of the table. "You'll uh.. you'll have to open it."

Joel's eyes squinted in playful suspicion but he still smirked as he tore open the corner of the tiny package. "I didn't even know they made candy corn wrapping paper," he commented, glancing up at you with a wider grin.

You flashed him a closed-mouth smile and waited as he removed the small, white box from the paper. His eyes met yours a final time before he opened the box and stared down at the contents inside.

A quiet exhale escaped your lips as you waited for Joel's reaction. Those next few seconds felt like hours.

"This is, um.. is this what I think it is?" He looked right at you now motioning down toward the box. A wide smile spread on his face, "I mean it's not a positive Covid test, right?"

You managed a light laugh but ultimately the gravity of the situation held you firmly in place. "No, it's not a Covid test."

Joel chuckled to himself and brought a hand across his mouth for a second, before running it across his beard. His eyebrows raised and he reached for the rectangular stick in the box.

"Tell me." He stared intensely across the table at you.

Your bottom lip dropped away from your top one and you hesitated. You weren't sure why but it was such a powerful, permanent set of words to string together. When Joel couldn't contain a smile, it gave you enough confidence to spit the words out with a little, timid shrug of your shoulders.

"I'm pregnant."

"Really?" He asked as if he didn't believe it, rising to his feet. Joel made his way toward you.

You nodded and rose to your feet, feeling completely content and at ease in his arms as he hugged you. The warmth that often radiated from him transferred into you and you closed your eyes as his hand moved up and down your back.

It felt as if Joel didn't want to let you go, and you didn't mind. You smiled to yourself when he kissed your forehead before edging his back an inch or two so you were face-to-face.

"Are you okay?" He asked.

You nodded and smiled back at him. "Yeah. Are you?"

"Yeah." He chuckled, making you laugh and you shared a long, closed-mouth kiss. "I'm going to be a dad." The words came out almost like a question. You were sure the shock of the moment hadn't fully registered yet.

"You're going to be a great dad."

A lopsided smile still lingered on his face. He opened his mouth to speak but stopped and shook his head. When he couldn't find the words, you pulled him back in for a hug and he melted against you.

After a minute or so, Joel finally said. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

He picked you up off the ground and spun you in a circle, making you giggle again. When your feet were back on the ground, Joel put a hand on his head and you saw a dampness in his eyes.

"Don't," you said with a laugh, "I made it this long without crying."

"Sorry," he said with a laugh as a tear streaked his face. "Fuck. I'm the man, I shouldn't be crying."

"That's an outdated take," you told him with a laugh, as he dried his face with his hands.

"I know." He chuckled and then dropped down to his knees in front of you, lifting the shirt to expose your stomach. Despite there being no obvious indications of your pregnancy, Joel placed a hand over your abdomen and then left a single kiss just below your belly button.

You cradled his head against you as he placed the side of his face against the area and hugged around your waist.

"We're going to have our own little family," Joel acknowledged allowed.

"Yeah." You ran your fingers through his hair.

"What do you think, five kids?" He joked, making you laugh as he rose back to his feet.

"Maybe seven or eight," you teased back, accepting a series of kisses from him.

"I love you," Joel said again, tucking hair behind you ear. "Really. I loved you right away. Last year, a week into this, I knew this was something that comes once in a lifetime."

You had tears in your eyes now. "I knew it too. And now you finally get your happily ever after."

"So do you."

@untamedheart81 @amyispxnk @grogusmum @ghostwritesthings @strawbunnyx @ayamenimthiriel @noisynightmarepoetry @jiminstinypinky @tuquoquebrute @pedr0swh0r3 @runningmom94 @mellymbee @shayna-d-clown @bbiophiliaa @theclassicvinyldragon @tiffanypooh @mandijo17 @poodlebae @purple-fig @vabeachazn

[sulatni-flerida11]

Typing...

life itself part 1 | next part

Etho | 4:18 PM

hey cleo ! could you meet me at the rooftop of our apartment later?

Seen 4:22 PM

Cleo | 4:23 PM

uhm… why?

Seen 4:23 PM

Etho | 4:23 PM

c’mmon, indulge in me a little bit?

Seen 4:23 PM

Cleo | 4:24 PM

i already do that by being your roommate

Seen 4:24 PM

Etho | 4:26 PM

i’ll bring your favorite from the coffee shop?

Seen 4:27 PM

Cleo | 4:27 PM

promise?

Seen 4:27 PM

Etho | 4:28 PM

deal

Seen 4:28 PM

Cleo | 4:28 PM

<3

Seen 4:29 PM

Cleo | 4:28 PM

this is why you’re my favorite

Seen 4:29 PM

Etho | 4:29 PM

yeah sure

Seen 4:29 PM

Etho | 4:30 PM

meet me at 6 after classes?

Seen 4:30 PM

Cleo | 4:30 PM

sounds alright

Seen 4:31 PM

Etho | 5:47 PM

hey

Not seen

Etho | 5:47 PM

so i uh.. went ahead

Not seen

Etho | 5:48 PM

[picture attached]

Not seen

Etho | 5:48 PM

feel free to come up here once you’re home :)

Not seen

Etho | 6:26 PM

cleo?

Not seen

Etho | 6:26 PM

wow, i buy your favorite and now ignore me :(

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Etho | 6:28 PM

kidding!

Not seen

Etho | 7:33 PM

uhm.. cleo?

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Etho | 7:36 PM

i hope you’re doing alright

Not seen

Etho | 7:36 PM

i can pick you up if you’d like?

Not seen

Etho | 8:12 PM

cleo i went back to the apartment now because grian didn’t bring his key

Not seen

Etho | 8:12 PM

i’ll probably just wait here too.. bit chilly up there, haha

Not seen

Etho | 8:29 PM

cleo

Not seen

Etho | 8:29 PM

yoru stuff isgone ?

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Etho | 8:29 PM

like

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Etho | 8:30 PM

your room is epmtyo f youe stuff

Not seen

Etho | 8:30 PM

i juts messaged bdubs adn grian just callde lizzie

Not seen

Etho | 8:30 PM

they both havent seeny ou after class

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Etho | 8:30 PM

thry said you eevn rushed out of art class a whlie ago

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Etho | 8:30 PM

and joek and scara re nowhere to be foudn too

Not seen

Etho | 8:30 PM

and joel stoppef repyling tol izzie

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Etho | 8:30 PM

giran and i aer worried

Not seen

Etho | 8:31 PM

pelase reply wehn you can

Not seen

Etho | 11:07 PM

grian and i just came from the receptionist

Not seen

Etho | 11:07 PM

said you got a call from your family about your parents

Not seen

Etho | 11:08 PM

we don’t know what’s going on, but whatever it is, i hope you know grian and i are here for you

Not seen

Etho | 11:08 PM

and scar and joel of course

Not seen

Etho | 11:11 PM

i really wish you guys are alright

Not seen

Etho | 11:11 PM

and that whatever you guys are going through right now will pass

Not seen

Etho | 11:11 PM

you three are some of the strongest people i’ve ever met

Not seen

Etho | 11:11 PM

especially you

Not seen

Cleo | 2:27 AM

hi

Seen 8:28 AM

Cleo | 2:28 AM

please don’t take any of this personally

Seen 8:28 AM

Cleo | 2:28 AM

i’m so sorry i couldn’t say more

Seen 8:28 AM

Cleo | 2:28 AM

or anything properly to you directly

Seen 8:28 AM

Cleo | 2:28 AM

but i will say

Seen 8:28 AM

Cleo | 2:29 AM

you’ve always been my favorite

Seen 8:28 AM

Cleo | 2:29 AM

and you’ve always had this way of making me feel loved

Seen 8:28 AM

Cleo | 2:29 AM

even though i don’t deserve it

Seen 8:28 AM

Cleo | 2:29 AM

please don’t burn the apartment down now i’m gone

Seen 8:28 AM

Cleo | 2:28 AM

This number has blocked you.

Seen 8:28 AM

Cleo | 3:49 AM

This number has unblocked you.

Seen 8:28 AM

Cleo | 3:49 AM

i just realized that there’s a really big chance we’ll never see each other again

Seen 8:28 AM

Cleo | 3:49 AM

so i

Seen 8:28 AM

Cleo | 3:51 AM

god this is harder than i thought

Seen 8:28 AM

Cleo | 4:07 AM

i love you

Seen 8:28 AM

Cleo | 4:07 AM

This number has blocked you.

Seen 8:28 AM

Etho | 8:30 AM

that’s what i was supposed to tell you last night

ERROR | Message cannot be sent

Etho | 8:30 AM

why didn’t i tell you sooner

ERROR | Message cannot be sent

Etho | 8:30 AM

we won’t burn the apartment down

ERROR | Message cannot be sent

Etho | 8:31 AM

and you deserve all the love in the world

ERROR | Message cannot be sent

Etho | 8:31 AM

and you’ve also always been my favorite

ERROR | Message cannot be sent

Etho | 8:32 AM

i love you too

ERROR | Message cannot be sent

Etho | 8:32 AM

yall better come back to us

ERROR | Message cannot be sent

Etho | 8:36 AM

please

ERROR | Message cannot be sent

Etho | 4:27 PM

cleo

ERROR | Message cannot be sent

Etho | 4:28 PM

our math prof a while ago said you, scar, and joel dropped out?

ERROR | Message cannot be sent

next part

A/N: this snippet of cleo and etho is just a part of the big picture as this is just to set up the AU. it will touch on their... relationship (?), but it isn't the focus. the next part i'll write will depend on the poll's answers 👍

(also this AU is being held up by Glass Animal songs, specifically their album "How to Be A Human Being")

feel free to ask qs :]

[ohtobeleah]

congrats on 4k!! you deserve it leah 🫶💕

PL2 with scenario 32 (date gone wrong) and sentence 31 (“i won’t let anyone hurt you”) with mickey?

Protective Mickey is a weakness of mine through and through so thank you for attacking my weak spot. 

Warnings: Sexual Assault. Mickey Garcia x F!reader. Please do not read ahead of you are sensitive to topics that include sexual assault and unwanted advances.

Mickey Garcia would throw his literal life on the line for you, he would give up his Mr ‘good guy’ Fanboy golden retriever energy to protect you from harm's way. He’d drop the gentle demeanour that he and Robert Floyd seemed to work pretty hard to maintain in a heartbeat to throw down with any man who put you in any form of danger, and he did just that, last night, when someone did just that, put his best friend in danger. 

Mickey, currently—could be found sitting at his desk with his knuckles bruised and a black eye. He was a mess to say the least and he most certainly wasn’t making the situation any better by watching the group chat pop off like he was the talk of the town. He knew come Monday morning he was gonna get a write up. But that was the least of his concerns. 

You were his number one priority. 

Mickey had snuck back into his room after he’d spent the better half of the night with his arms wrapped around you in a warm and ever so protective embrace with a bag of frozen peas from the freezer pressed to his eye. You were so out of it still but you managed to recognise the smell of Mickey's cologne, settling into his touch to wrap your arms around his tense shoulders.

Fanboy still wasn’t over it, he hadn’t slept all night. You would know because you too had laid awake all night just breathing in the familiar scent of Mickey Fanboy Garcia, still very much hungover, still very very dazed and confused. 

“Watching people spread falsified drama around town about you won’t help Mick.” You mumbled into Mickey's neck as you came to stand beside him at his desk, leaning over his shoulder as you watched the video Jake had sent to the group text of Mickey nearly beating the guy who’d spiked your drink and tried to take advantage of you, within an inch of his life play on his phone screen.

“S’not falsified, besides, can only see it through one eye so it’s only half as bad as it would be normally.” Mickey responded with a soft chuckle that rumbled through his chest as he held your hand that was gently playing with his chest hairs—firmly bringing it to his split lip and leaving a gentle kiss upon your palm. “Are you okay?” 

As you removed your arms from Mickey's body briefly, he spun around in his chair as you sat down comfortably into his lap—straddling his waist as you cradled his beaten up yet still so beautiful face between your hands. Your eyes glancing over every inch of him. You took  in everything before you as you shook your head. 

“No.” You held back a sob as tears threatened to spill over your lower lash line. You took a moment to breathe in deeply and exhale slowly—with your eyes closed tight, your body tensed up from remembering the events of the night prior. 

***~***~***~***~***~***~**~

It was as impromptu as your presence in North Island was, you’d come to stay with Mickey for a week or two after you’d finished up your apprenticeship at the bakery back home. You needed a break, a reprieve from the mundane. 

So when you found yourself sitting across from some guy at one of the booths in the Hard Deck listening to him drone on about his latest tactical response time for the US Navy, you knew you were a little far gone when it all sounded like a blur of words you didn’t understand. 

“So you two never—?” Hangman asked as he bumped Fanboys shoulder with his as they played a casual game of pool. “She seems like a nice girl? I could probably take her home to mama Seresin and she’d probably approve.” Jake got a chuckle from Mickey as he took his shot before standing to look over at where you were, happily laughing away with this guy who’d stolen your attention. 

“Y/n’s just Y/n.” Mickey tried to play down the fact he’d been in love with you since the fourth grade. “And I like to see you try Hangman—she’s got standards.” Mickey napped back at Jake as his jaw slightly hung in utter disgust. 

“I’m uh—gonna go to the bathroom for a minute.” You made it a point to politely excuse yourself from the gentlemen who was sitting across from you. He nodded and took another sip of his drink as you rose to your feet—a little wobbly. God you always pushed it two far, your liver must’ve fucking hated you at this point. Poor little guy, you promised yourself you’d never drink this much again as you made your way towards the bathrooms at the back of the bar. Mickey caught your gaze. He just needed to know where you were was all. 

Although you threw up the contents of your stomach into the toilet bowl, thinking that it was just because you’d had a little bit too much to drink—willing yourself to lay off the alcohol for a while, you swore you hadn’t had that many cocktails. 

Everything was fuzzy as you sat on the somewhat clean bathroom floor with your head in your knees. You didn’t care about modesty or the fact that you were wearing a dress and if anyone walked in they would see your underwear. You didn’t care, but you would. 

You didn’t even notice when he walked in, you felt so off and incoherent  to the point you were almost blind it was a miracle you hadn’t said anything embarrassing. 

“I’m not feeling so good, Flyboy.” You tried focusing your eyes on the built man you thought was your best friend, only noticing the dark locks and firm shoulders that you held on to as he picked you up from the floor with ease and placed you on the marble countertop. It caused your dress to very much roll up your thighs, clearly exposing your panties. But you didn’t care, it was only Mickey? 

Right? 

“Mick? W-what are you?” You started to ask as the man who you thought was Mickey pulled your legs apart with ease, to tired, drunk, dazed and very confused to fight back at all.

“S’okay dollface, I’m gonna take real good care of you.” His lips attached themselves to your neck as you tried to move away. Like a succubus, the man made his way up the expanse of your neck. 

“Stop, Mickey, I'm serious! Get off me!?” You tried your hardest but it was to no avail, the man who now looked nothing like Mickey Garcia had pinned your hands above your head with one arm as he unfastened his belt and fly. 

“We were having such a good time out there, I thought maybe we could have a little more in here.” You were drunk, yes, but you knew you didn’t want this, didn’t ask for this, didn’t make any advances that could have led to this. The shock of the man pinning your arms cleared your eyes long enough for you to see it wasn’t Mickey - it was the guy you’d been on an impromptu date with and had flirted with for drinks all night. Turns out he wasn’t just buying you rounds, he’d spiked them too. “You’re so fucking sexy.” 

His hand was cold against your entrance as he pulled your panties to the side, he knew how high you were because he had fed you the drugs. Whatever the hell he’d spiked your last drink with.

“Y/n? You in there?” Jake asked as he knocked on the door. He tried his best to turn the handle but it was locked. “You ran in here like ten minutes ago?” A mumbled Jake Seresins voice broke through the haze and confusion as he knocked on the bathroom door which clearly stated ‘occupied’  

“HEL—!” You screamed, the man’s hand came up to cover your mouth before the p could leave your lips. Your worried eyes meet the man who stood between your legs as you struggled to breathe against his hand. 

“S’okay? We’re okay? Right dollface?” 

What he didn’t know? was that Jake had heard that. He knew it was you who just screamed, and he definitely didn’t like the sound of the last sentence he heard. Rage pumped through his veins as he barged against the flimsy door - catching the eye of Fanboy who was already on his way over after seeing Jake press his ear to the bathroom door, you’d been gone a hell of a lot longer than Mickey was comfortable with. What the hell was going on and where the bell was that dude you were just with? 

“Hangman? What’s wrong?”

“Y/n’s fucking in there! And I heard a guy's voice,  something’s not right” Mickeys heart sank as Jake barged against the door again. This was the Hard Deck. Things like this didn’t happen at the Hard Deck. 

Oh boy was Jake right because the guy you’d thought could have been a decent guy had almost his entire length inside you before the door came flying off its hinges - Jake and Mickey followed right after as the guy quickly pulled himself from you and started fixing his pants. 

Mickey took one look at the sight in front of him and felt his blood boil. With fire ignited in his heart he wasted no time grabbing the guy by his collar and slamming him to the wall—no questions asked. Mickey threw his first punch of the night as Jake picked you up and carried you out. 

“I got you—“ Jake soothed you as he assessed your state and immediately knew you weren’t all there. “Penny! I need you to call an ambulance and the fucking cops.” 

“THE FUCK GIVES YOU THE RIGHT!” Another punch landed against the guys face as Mickey seethed through gritted teeth. He saw nothing but red in front of him. How dare he touch you, assault you, violate your trust and kind heart. 

“I’ll fucking kill you before I walk out this door! Mother fucker! What gives you the right! To TOUCH her!?” Another punch landed, three to the nose in less than ten seconds. You can clearly see how the bruised hands came to be.

“She wanted it!” The guy cried out through a smirk and bloodied teeth before shoving Mickey off him and landing his one and only punch against Mickey of the night before he almost came close to visiting the gates of hell. 

It was all over pretty quick but it was long enough for videos to be taken and spread like wildfire- no context given. You really couldn’t in that moment of madness comprehend the severity of the situation. 

Jake handed you over to Mickey once he had finished talking with the police. Making sure a case would be brought against your attacker before talking with the medics to see if you needed to be admitted overnight, you quietly sobbed into his chest, confused and scared. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t protect you.” Was all you remember Mickey saying before you passed out, not really remembering the rest of the night until you were laying in silence against Mickey's chest—breathing in the familiar scent that is Mickey Fanboy Garcia. “But I won’t let anyone ever hurt you again, I promise.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

Leah’s 4k celebration 🎊

[karahalloway]

Sleepless in New York: Epilogue - Into The Night

Series: TRR

Pairing: Drake Walker x F!OC (Harper Gale)

Synopsis: What if Drake met Harper on the first night of Prince Christian’s New York bachelor party? A stand-alone AU written from Drake's POV.

Masterlist: Sleepless in New York

Chapter Summary: On the long-dreaded night of the Masquerade Ball, Drake has a revelation...

Word Count: 4,600

Rating/Warnings: M (angst, way too many f-bombs, drinking, references to drug-use, fluffy fluff fluff)

Chapter theme song:

A/N1: This is my slightly belated submission for @choicesprompts Flufftober 2023 event I got this out as fast as I could! The prompt that this fits is '31 - You don’t know me and I promise I’m not a creepy stalker but...' and possibly this one:

A/N2: I have no clue how many people actually listen to the chapter theme songs for these fics, but if you have time, I highly encourage you to listen to this one! I dredged it from the depths of my Middle School memories because I realised that it was perfect for this chapter (in my head, if Sleepless were a movie/TV show, this is the song that would play as the end credits song).

Epilogue - Into The Night

"You okay?"

I shoot a scoff across the room. "Shouldn't I be asking you that?"

"You could," Chris concedes, meeting my eye through the full-length mirror as he adjusts a cuff. "But I am not the one who has been staring into that whiskey glass for the past ten minutes."

"Speak for yourself," I reply, quickly draining what's left of my drink. "You've been eyeing up your reflection for the past fifteen."

"I just want to make a good first impression, is all..." he admits while obsessing over the gold aiguillette draped across his jacket.

"Isn't that what the job of the so-called ladies?" I ask dryly, dropping the now empty glass back onto the bar cart.

"I am certain they will be pulling out all the stops," he sighs, smoothing his already immaculate hair down. "But, given the occasion, it is only fair that I reciprocate."

"Well, short of emergency Botox, I think you've more than crossed that T."

Chris snaps his head around in bewilderment. "Pardon me?"

I shrug apathetically. "You're fast approaching thirty, buddy. And those crow's feet aren't doing you any favours."

He quirks a brow at me. "I think you'll find that they are laugh lines..."

"Now you're just splitting grey hairs, old man..."

Chris bursts out laughing. "Speak for yourself, Drake! You were born three months before me!"

"True," I concede. "But unlike you, I ain't got no wrinkles."

His mouth pulls into a knowing smirk. "Only because you hide them under all that unkept facial hair!"

"You should try it sometime," I riposte, running my hand suggestively over the bristles on my jaw.

Chris shakes his head with a wry grin. "I must've done something very wrong at some point for you to be my best friend..."

I spread my arms. "Hey. I'm just here to keep you humble."

Chris scoffs. "Yes. By reminding me that I'm fast approaching middle age..."

"It took your mind off the Ball, didn't it?"

"Yes," he concedes after a pause. "I suppose it did."

"Not just a hat rack, my friend," I grin with a tap on my temple. "But seriously. You look great. Warts and all."

A wan smile ghosts his lips. "Thanks, mate. You don't look too shabby yourself."

I glance down at the black tux that I'm wearing. "Yeah. Well... Given the occasion, I figured I should make some kind of effort as well."

"You know you don't have to dress up on my account... I know how much you dislike donning evening wear."

"Tell that to the prick who put 'black tie' on the invite..."

Chris chuckles. "That would be my father."

"Figures..." I say with a roll of my eyes. "He's got more dinner jackets than you can shake a stick at."

"A necessity when you are a king, I'm afraid..." Chris reminds me. "But at least it isn't a white tie 'do."

"Oh, sweet Jesus..." I groan, remembering the last royal event that I had to subject myself to in a bow tie and matching waistcoat. "I was sweating like a priest in a brothel strapped up in that monkey suit."

"It certainly did not help that the air conditioning system had been broken..."

"In the middle of a heatwave..." I add. "With five hundred people packed into a room."

"Yes, that Venice trip certainly was memorable."

"For all the wrong reasons," I grunt sourly. "I somehow managed to get food poisoning as well."

"I remember," nods Chris sympathetically. "But at least you missed the terrible opera."

"Honestly, I would've traded that hellhole of a night for an entire week's worth of bad arias..." I grumble. "I definitely got the short end of the stick in that trade."

"You only say that because you do not know what it is to sit through four hours of off-key yodelling," Chris says with grimace.

"No," I admit solemnly. "Because I always bring earplugs."

Chris' eyes widen. "And you never thought to share them?"

"Doesn't really work if you only block one ear..."

Chris rewards my factual clap-back with a shove. "You are a sod, you know that right?"

"Thought that was old news," I reply with a grin, dodging out of the way.

"And yet you nevertheless continue to raise the bar..."

"Hey," I wink as I reverse my way back to the bar cart. "I have high standards."

Chris shakes his head with a wry grin. "You're impossible."

"Thought I was a sod," I quip over my shoulder as I refill both our glasses.

"An impossible sod," accedes Chris wryly as he slips on his monogrammed Breitling.

"Just so we're clear..." I smirk as I retrace my steps to offer him one of the tumblers.

"Thanks," he acknowledges, taking the heavy crystal. "What shall we toast to?"

I think for a second. "How 'bout blind, dumb luck?"

Chris lifts a brow. "That's a new one."

"Seems to be in short supply of late," I tell him, raising my glass.

"Very true," he agrees. "To Lady Luck, then! May she bestow her golden smile upon us once again!"

"'Cause we could all do with a fuckin' break," I add dryly, clinking my glass against his.

Chris brings the gin to his mouth with a laugh. "Did we not just have one?"

"Not all of us," I remind him, throwing my refill back.

"Well, we'll need to make sure you take some time in lieu, then."

"I'll be fine," I assure him. "I'll just chalk it up as overtime."

Chris chuckles. "At the rate you're going, you'll soon have more overtime on the books than regular time."

"Yeah, well..." I shrug. "Shit needs doing. But I'm planning on dropping off the grid for a couple of weeks once the Bash is behind us."

"Take a whole month," Chris advises, clapping a hand onto my shoulder. "You will have more than earned it by then."

I scoff. "I can't just—"

He firms up his grip. "I insist."

Lifting my gaze, I find his clear, emerald eyes locking me down.

I huff out a low breath. "Fine. I'll think about it."

"That is the best I'm going to get out of you, isn't it?"

"Yep," I tell him with a slap on his arm. "Now, hop to it, Cinderella — your ball awaits."

"Yes, I suppose we best get on," he concedes, depositing his empty glass on a side table. "Would be rude to turn up late for my own party..."

Turning on his heel, he strides determinedly towards the door of his suite. The footman stationed by the wall quickly grabs the latch and pulls the door back.

"Here we go..." I mutter under my breath as I drop my tumbler off as well and follow after him.

This is it. The start of the slow, downward skid towards the inevitable. The beginning of the end.

Because tonight's ball kicks off not just the months-long circus that is the social season, but the countdown to Chris' coronation as well.

As despite all the official interviews and press releases, it's no secret within the Palace that Constantine is living on borrowed time. His pancreatic cancer had been diagnosed too late, and even with vigorous treatment, it had spread. And even based on the most optimistic outlook, chances are good that he won't make it to Christmas.

Which is why New York — by necessity — had been such a whirlwind tour. Because any day could end up being the old bastard's last, and Chris has to be ready to step up to the plate at a moment's notice. Not that he isn't already running the country in all but name... It just isn't official yet.

But that's why the race to find the next Queen is exactly that — a high-stakes time-trial where the clock is against everyone.

Especially Chris.

Because if Constantine's condition takes a sudden turn for the worse, Chris may not get the luxury of choice. As some dumbass had had the bright idea a few centuries ago to enact a law that states that Cordonian monarchs must be married or engaged at the time of their coronation. Which means that Chris' hand could end up being forced by circumstances — and selfish interests — outside his control.

So, we better pray that he finds someone, and fast. Or that the doctors are wrong. Ideally both.

Otherwise, we're gonna be up the proverbial creek without a paddle, hurtling down the rapids of a constitutional crisis that could very literally tear the kingdom apart.

"Well... This is it," declares Chris as we arrive at the doors of the ballroom.

"Yep," I agree over the soft hubbub of gossip and classical music that's seeping out into the ante-room we're standing in. "Last chance to cut and a run."

"I am honestly considering it," he admits with a shaky laugh as the footmen prepare to open the double-height doors.

"Hey," I say, stepping in front of him. "If you need a time out—"

He shakes his head. "I'll be fine."

"You sure?" I ask, fixing him with a critical eye as I wave at the staff to hold their horses.

"Yes," he nods determinedly. "Just... Just some last-minute nerves, is all."

"Understandable," I concede. "There are only about a dozen girls on the other side of that door waiting to throw themselves at you."

He eyes the barrier uneasily. "I suppose I should feel flattered..."

"...but you're seriously thinking about jumping off the balcony."

He bites out a strangled laugh. "Is it that obvious?"

"You never could beat me at poker."

"Shit..." he mutters, running an agitated hand down his face.

"Hey," I say, clamping my hands onto his shoulders to make him look at me. "It's a fucked up situation. I get it. Your dad's got one foot in the grave, you're trying to run a country, and the last thing you want to do is play Royal Bachelor in front of all these tossers. But you need a Queen. And the season's your best bet at finding one."

"But how will I know which is the one?"

"You won't," I admit. "Until you do."

Christ knows Gale struck me like white lightning out of the blue...

His lips curve into a ghost of a smile. "Blind, dumb luck..."

"Blind, dumb luck," I confirm, giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

Chris heaves a low exhale. "Here's to chance, then."

"Knock 'em dead, buddy," I say with a grin as I step back.

Chris lines himself up in front of the entranceway again. The footmen reach for the handles as the herald takes his position.

I give everyone the go.

The double doors swing open, and the herald clears his voice.

The music and the hubbub come to an abrupt halt as every neck in the room cranes around with unfettered interest.

"Preeesenting His Royal Highness, the Duke of Applewood!"

Chris squares his shoulders and lifts his head. And just like that, the man disappears and in his place stands the Prince — cool, composed, collected — any wayward reservations masked behind the diplomatic smile he's been practising since the age of three.

The crowd parts...

...and with one final inhale, Chris steps over the threshold and the doors close behind him.

A breath that I didn't realise I'd been holding explodes out of me.

Phase 1 — check.

Now to try and get through the remainder of the ball without any front-page scandals, culinary clusterfucks, or assassination attempts upsetting the carefully staged high-society apple cart.

Because I hadn't been joking earlier when I'd said we could all do with a fuckin' break. The media storm kicked up by Leo's abdication was still raging in full force through the pages of the tabloids, and it's only gonna be a matter of time before the paps get wind of Constantine's condition.

Which is why it's so critical that tonight's event goes off without a hitch. As the royal family — Chris especially — is in desperate need of a publicity uplift before the coronation... and the funeral.

And it's my job to quarterback while Bastien coordinates from the command centre.

So, I need to be especially on it tonight. As we can't afford any cock-ups.

Spinning on my heel, I make my way towards the closest side-door as I activate the hidden mic clipped to my jacket. "Falcon has flown, over."

"Confirmed," comes the crackled sound of Bastien's voice over the comms. "Blue Team — do you have eyes on Falcon?"

"We have eyes on Falcon, over," affirms Marquez.

"Walker, you're clear to take up secondary position, over."

"Roger that, over."

I feel my shoulders relax slightly as I reach the end of the service corridor.

So far, so good.

Just need to stay focused for the next six-or-so hours, and make sure that nothing goes sideways.

Opening the white-washed door in front of me, I slip into the ballroom near the back of the royal dais. Clicking the latch closed softly behind me, I catch sight of Constantine.

He's dressed to the nines in full royal regalia, patent oxfords polished to within an inch of their life. But the carefully coordinated window dressing can't hide the fact that the old man is a shadow of his former self.

His cheeks are sunken, his greying hair is sparse, and despite the carefully applied make-up, his skin lacks the usual vigour of health.

But I gotta hand it to the man. Despite his failing health, he's out here tonight. Putting on a united front for the sake of the kingdom — for the sake of his son — to make sure that the royal show goes on. Even if it fucking kills him.

Because that's the price of duty.

And regardless of his other failings — of which there are many — you have to respect him for that, if nothing else.

He spots me out of the corner of his periphery. "Drake..."

"Sir," I acknowledge with a respectful nod, coming to a stop.

"I trust everything is under control?"

"Yessir."

He eyes me for a moment before leaning back into his upholstered chair. "Let's ensure that it stays that way."

Knowing a dismissal when I hear one, I resume my path around the perimeter, scanning the crowd as I walk, always keeping at least one eye on Chris.

Because Constantine's direction had been clear.

Don't fuck up.

Not that I plan to.

I learnt my lesson the hard way in New York about taking my eyes off the ball. And like hell am I gonna—

"Managed to find a new shirt, I see..."

I freeze. No fuckin' way.

I must've imagined it. A trick of the space... A wayward echo... An auditory illusion.

But if that's true, then who the hell is standing behind me? Eyes locked onto my back like a laser-sight? Their familiar scent tickling my nose?

Camomile with a hint of honey.

I shake my head, trying to rejig my senses.

It doesn't work.

Which leaves me with just one option.

Steeling myself, I turn slowly around, part of me convinced that I've well and truly lost the plot, part of me 'bout ready to believe in miracles.

Because that voice... Here? That's just not possible. Unless there was something in that whiskey and I'm tripping major ballsacks right now.

Wouldn't be the first time Max pulled a stunt like that...

But as I complete the about-face, it quickly becomes clear that I ain't just obviously high — I've lost my motherfuckin' mind completely.

That, or a bomb has just gone off in the ballroom and I'm now stood at the Gates of Heaven, about to receive final judgement.

Because I can think of no other scenario that would explain why she's here, in front of me, wrapped in a shimmering, floor-length white dress that clings to her curves like wisps of a dream, a coy smile playing at her lips.

"But I guess you can't show up at a place like this in cowboy boots and Wrangler jeans, huh?"

The soft lilt of her voice slices through me like a boot knife. "Harp—"

I make the mistake of catching her eye.

And whatever semblance of rationale thought I may have had left dissolves instantly in the sparkle of her hazel-green gaze.

The crowd... The Schubert... The entire fucking kingdom crashes into inconsequence as I feel my already tenuous grip on reality slip, leaving me stranded on the twilight edge of reason, struggling for breath.

How—?

I have no clue how long I stand there, rooted to the spot like a vegetate stoner as I try — and fail — to make sense of what the actual fuck is happening.

Because this shit? It sure as hell ain't real.

"...Drake?"

The sound of her voice finally unglitches my brain.

I blink.

But she's still there. Staring at me. Like an unabating hallucination with a bad sense of humour.

With concerted effort, I force myself to choke out the only salient question. "The hell are you doing here?"

"Looking for you."

"Why?"

"You left your jackets behind and—"

My jaw drops. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

Who — in their right mind — chases someone halfway around the world? Because of a goddamn jacket?

Nobody. That's who.

The girl's obviously crazy.

Her smile falters slightly. "I thought I'd surprise you..."

"Yeah. Well, I hate surprises," I cut in acerbically, still trying to process this shitshow.

"Yes," she snips, hazel eyes hardening. "That much is becoming clear!"

"What the fuck did you expect, Gale?" I hit back. "That I'd just—?"

"I don't know what I was expecting!" she snaps, the force of her annoyance propelling her forward as she flings an arm out. "But it sure as hell wasn't this!"

"Well, that makes two of us," I bite out, suddenly finding myself nose-to-nose with her. "Because I would've expected a fucking heads-up!"

Her eyes narrow. "Do you know how many Drake Walkers there are online?"

I feel my jaw clench. "What the hell does that—?"

"Over a hundred!" she shouts into my face... loud enough for a few nearby aristos to turn their heads. "And none of them are you!"

I grab her by the arm. "So, you just decide to jump on a plane and—?"

"Yes! Because it's not like I had your number, either, Walker," she continues forcefully, jabbing me in the chest. "Because you just left and—"

"You fucking think I don't know that!" I yell back, the inherent accusation of her words ripping away the last vestiges of my sanity.

Several more heads to turn.

But I don't give a shit.

Because I can't seem to think straight around this girl on the best of days. Let alone when she springs herself on me like some damn jack-in-the-box — for the third fuckin' time just as many days — leaving me slap-faced and scrambling, and then accuses me of being an asshole?

Like fuck am I gonna act rational...

...also, why the hell does she have to look so damn good in that dress?

She's glaring up at me, chest heaving. "This was obviously a bad idea..."

I scoff humourlessly, her face inches from mine. "No fucking shit."

Her body tenses... but in the next instant the fight goes out of her just as fast as it ignited. Dropping her gaze, she mutters, "Glad we got that cleared up..."

There's something in her tone that I can't quite place.

But my burnt-out brain is too slow at cottoning on, and before I have a chance to figure it out, she's spun out of my grasp and I'm left holding nothing but air...

"Harp—"

...but by the time I look up, she's already turned and vanished into the crush.

Shit.

That obviously came out wrong.

But what the fuck had she been thinking? For me to just throw my hat over the moon like some star-struck moron? To sweep her off her feet and kiss her like we were in a goddamn rom-com?

I catch sight of the flash of her honey-caramel hair halfway across the room.

Crap.

That's exactly what I should've done.

Ignoring every single warning light going off in my head — she's not been vetted, she didn't have an invite, how the fuck did she even find me? — I throw myself after her.

Because as pissed off as I am that she was able to get the jump on me like she did — someone's sure as shit getting fired for that — I can't deny the fact that I'm still a complete and utter fool for her.

And the thought of her walking out on me — like I'd walked out on her — hits worse than a bullet to the gut.

"Harper!" I shout, pushing through the crowd of beady-eyed onlookers to try and get to her, much to their undisguised disgust.

"Oi, watch it, you!"

"C'est intolérable!"

"Do you know who I am!"

But if she hears me over the growing furore, she doesn't stop.

"For fuck's sake..." I grunt under my breath as I momentarily lose sight of her in the sea of heads.

This girl's going to be the death of me.

But if I'm going to have any chance of catching her, I know I need a change of strategy.

Spinning on my heel, I cut a hard and fast path back to the edge of the ballroom, spilling more than a few fancy drinks in the process as I knock aristos out of the way like bowling pins.

Heedless of the chaos left in my wake, I burst out onto the periphery of the crush. Throwing myself into a sprint back towards the tail end of the room, I bump off anyone stupid enough to get in my way.

I'm not losing her again.

Rushing past the raised dais, I see Constantine turn his head in my direction...

...but I've blown past him before he has a chance to open his mouth.

Sliding to a haphazard stop in front of the wall, I pause for just long enough to wrench the hidden door open before hurling myself down the service corridor.

Rushing past doors and junctions on my left and right, I pull up a mental blueprint of the Palace, trying to extrapolate her most likely position based on her speed and prior trajectory, and cross-reference that against how fast I'm going to determine the best option for an interception.

There. The main foyer.

Skidding around a corner, I double-time it down the narrow passageways, praying and hoping that I've been able to make up for time lost in the ballroom.

Arriving at the exit point, I throw myself against the door — nearly dislocating my shoulder in the process — and crash back out into the Palace-proper...

...but I can't see her anywhere.

"Fuck!" I cuss, running an agitated hand through my hair as I spin around.

Maybe I miscalculated. Maybe she's already gone. Maybe—

"Ooph!"

I collide bodily with someone speeding around the corner from the opposite direction, their head smacking into my jaw.

Agony shoots through my mouth as the unexpected impact causes me to bite down on my tongue.

Motherfucker!

But the sharp sting of the pain doesn't stop my body from reacting. If anything, it kicks my training into gear. Moving more on instinct than anything else, I execute a targeted sidestep to realign my centre as my hand snaps out to grab the other person by the arm to stop them from falling backwards.

Using their weight as a fulcrum, I redirect the force of our momentum into a spin to bring both of us to a stop next to the wall.

"You okay?" I ask, peering down at the panting, hot mess in my arms.

Gale snaps her head up so fast she nearly breaks my nose as well. "How the hell did you get in front of me?"

"Trade secret," I tell her.

She lays into me. On the exact same spot she hit me last night.

"Christ!" I exclaim, reeling back. "What the hell was that—?"

"For being an asshole!" she decries, hitting me again.

"Asshole?" I scoff. "You fucking ran into me!"

"Well, maybe I wouldn't have done if you hadn't been such a jerk, Walker!" she shouts, smacking me again.

"What do you want, then?" I demand, catching her wrist. "A goddamn apology?"

Her eyes blaze. "It would be a damn good st—"

Fuck it.

Giving her wrist a hard tug, I use the inherent resistance in her arm to yank her forward. And before she has a chance to object, I've crashed my lips against hers.

I hear her suck in a sharp breath of surprise before her body suddenly softens, melting against mine with a sigh as she gives into me.

The scent of her wildflower perfume subsumes me as she throws an arm around my neck, and I'm — at long last — home.

Because it's not until this moment that I realise how much I fucking missed her. Even though I barely know her, and I have no clue how... or even if we can make this — whatever this is — work, I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that I was a monumental idiot for not going back to find her in New York...

...for the fact that I walked out on her in the first place.

Because this girl? She's unlike anything I've ever seen before.

The sheer fact that she's here — despite all the myriad-and-one ways in which I've screwed up with her — proves that.

And I'll be damned if I'll find another like her.

"Harper... I'm sorry," I pant between kisses, reaching up to cup her face in my palms. "For being an asshole... for being a jerk... for getting you fired... for hurting you... for—"

"I'm sorry, too..." she gasps, gripping my hair as my lips skate down her neck. "I didn't mean to... freak you out... like that... and I should've—"

"How did you even get here?" I ask, spinning her around to press her up against the wall behind me.

"Leo," she moans, arching up towards me as I drop a hand down to her ass, pulling her back into me. "He came to the apartment and—"

I scoff as I capture her mouth again. "Un-fuckin'-real..."

I'm gonna murder the bastard.

Because if this is his batshit way of saying 'thank you' for me being here for Chris instead of him, then he's definitely more than one brick shy of a load.

As regardless of whatever kind of happy reunion he'd cooked up in his mind, there's only one possible outcome to this royal SNAFU — me losing my job. Because there's no way in hell that Bast will be able to overlook the fact that I deserted my post to chase after a girl.

Again.

As unlike last time, there are a good two-dozen witnesses who can throw me under the bus. And they'll do so with impunity, given half a chance. Because one of those witnesses is Constantine. And no way is he gonna let such a flagrant dereliction of duty fly. Especially not after the very clear command he gave me.

Plus, it's not like I can justify my behaviour with any kind of rational argument. Or swear on a stack of Bibles that I won't do it again.

I'd tried that in New York.

It hadn't worked.

But as I glance down at Gale's flushed face, one thing is crystal clear.

I'll deal with that shit in the morning...

~ Fin ~

A/N: This is it! We have arrived at the end! 🤗 Thank you so much for bearing with me over the course of this fic, which has been 2 long years in the making! Hopefully, the journey was worth it! There will be some Extras in the near future (art, a bonus chapter), but no ETA on any of these yet (too many other WIPs I want/need to finish). Thank you to everyone who took the time to read, reblog, comment, emote, and generally encourage me through this project! I - for one! - have certainly grown to love Drake more as a result! 🥰 Hope you have too!

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Sleepless in New York only

@bebepac

Picture Credits: Harper - Cordonia - Drake - Constantine - Kiss - Christian

[riahlynn101]

Whumptober Day Thirty: "Not Much Longer Now."

Takes place in the FNAF movie universe.

This is a work in progress, but I've been so busy. Day 29 (which I'll post sometime today) and day 30 are basically the same story told from two Point of views. This one is Garrett's POV. And day 29 is Mike's.

I'm going to put the story under a read more just in case I decide to include spoilers.

Trigger warnings: Child death, major character death, blood, gore, implied/referenced kidnapping.

Edited 10/31/2023 - added onto the story. Minor grammar and spelling edits.

Garrett can still recall the pain he felt. The knife ripping into his flesh. Uncle William staring down at him with a cold expression, not a hint of remorse in his eyes. He remembers calling out for his brother. 

Mike never failed to show up before. Rushing into his bedroom during a thunderstorm to make sure Garrett’s okay. Checking under his bed for monsters every night without fail. And letting Garrett curl up next to him whenever he got scared. 

But that day, for one reason or another, his brother never showed up. 

Garrett died…scared and alone and-

The next couple decades are an endless blur of nightmares. Terrible beasts with claws and forked tongues chasing and lunging at him.

Sometimes, though, he’d get lucky. Instead of beating back monsters with a flashlight, Garrett would find himself being forced to reenact his last moments with his family. It should frighten him, being forced to do anything. But he gets to see his family again, and it’s the last good memory he has. 

He likes being able to play again, zooming around the picnic table with his toy airplane. Mike bought it for him with his birthday money. Garrett loved that toy until the day he died. Quite literally too, he died holding it. 

The only bad part of the dream is seeing his big brother so distressed. Watching Mike run after the car, calling out his name, hurts. His heart aches terribly. He longs to reach out to his brother, hug him and tell him that it’s okay. That despite what happened, it’s not his fault. None of it is Mike’s fault. 

But slowly, over the years, that wish changed. 

It morphed into something more permanent. 

A simple hug and some meaningless words wouldn’t suffice. His brother spent years ruminating on his kidnapping. Sure, it might work in the moment, but what happens when Mike wakes up? Will he be satisfied, or will his self-blaming tendencies come back in full swing?

Garrett puts his plan into motion. 

It starts with the reopening of a long abandoned pizzeria. When management starts talking about hiring a security guard, Mike’s file ends up on their desk. 

He talks with the other children, and makes sure that they know not to mess with Mike. They listen to him-for the most part-but Cassidy glares at him. Not that Garrett cares. As long as they leave his brother alone, they can hate him all they want. 

The next part of his plan is left to chance. It’s hard to maneuver the marionette, so leaving the pizzeria is hard. And it’s not like he can threaten his brother into taking the position anyway. Well, he can-if he could leave-but Garrett doesn’t want his brother to take the job out of fear. 

Instead, he calls his brother, dialing the only number that he could ever remember. His voice isn’t picked up by the receiver, so Garrett has to get creative. A customer left a speak and spell, so he uses that to communicate. 

He doesn’t have a lot of time, so he chooses his words carefully. Something that can’t be confused with anything else. 

“C…O….M….E…..F…I….N…D…..M….E….”

His brother always just hangs up the phone. Which Garrett finds to be a little bit rude. Their mom raised them better than that. He’ll have to remind him of that when they meet again. 

Mike takes the job, thankfully. And the kids do their part and stay away. Cassidy is noticeably absent most of the week, but Garrett has bigger things to worry about. 

The one and only thing that gets in his way during the week is the stupid music box. Whenever it’s played, he’s forced into a deep slumber. A deep slumber with the same monsters that have tormented him all these many years. And there’s no way to disable it, Garrett’s tired - many times. 

Fortunately, his brother slips up. He falls asleep at the security desk, head pillowed by his arms. The music box slows down until it stops entirely. 

Garrett maneuvers the marionette, maneuvering it through hallways and into the main office. He watches his brother sleep, a peaceful look on his face. Putting the marionette down, he creeps closer. 

He touches Mike’s forehead, setting the final part of his plan into motion. 

Garrett stands in the same forest that he was kidnapped from. The sun is out, shining down through the treetops. 

“Mike!” He calls, cupping his hands around his mouth. “Mikey!”

“Garrett!?”

Garrett whirls around to face his brother. “Mike!” He shouts, practically launching himself at his brother. It has been way too long since he could hug him. 

His brother hugs him tightly, body wracked with sobs. Tears stream from his eyes, but Garrett chooses not to mention it. Mike has always been weird about crying, especially in front of people. Which strikes him as odd, given that their parents used to encourage them to cry if they had big emotions. 

“I…I’ve missed you,” Mike murmurs. 

“Missed you too.”

“And I’m sorry. I should have-” 

Garrett cuts him off. This is supposed to be a happy moment, and he isn’t going to let his brother spiral into unhappy thoughts. “Nope. Not here. Not today.”

Sniffling, Mike nods. “Okay…yeah. Sorry.” He returns to hugging Garrett. 

Eventually, when they pull away from each other, he takes his brother by the hand. “I want to show you something.”

And his brother accepts his hand without thinking twice, because of course he does. Mike has no reason not to trust him. They walk through the forest, underbrush crunching under their feet. 

“Uh…Gar…where are we going?”

He smiles at his brother, who now looks exactly how Garrett remembers him. A child only five to six years older than him. “Not much longer now. You’re going to love it.”

His brother mutters something under his breath, but he ignores it. 

They arrive at a clearing. It’s full of flowers. Daisies and roses and sunflowers as far as the eye can see. Garrett turns to his brother. 

“Do you like it?”

“It’s…pretty…” Mike says, sounding a little unsure of what to say. “Did you do this?”

“No.”

“Then who-”

“Do you want to stay here forever?”

His brother looks at him, confused. “What?”

“Do. You. Want. To. Stay. Here. Forever? With me, I mean.”

“Gar, I…can’t. We have a sister now, and she still needs me.”

That’s what he thought Mike was going to say, but it doesn’t hurt any less. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Mike asks, backing up a little bit. 

“Okay. I understand.” He doesn’t. It’s not fair. Why is Abby more important than him? He knew Mike first. “Before you wake up, can I have a hug?”

“Sure,” Mike says, though there’s a slight hesitation in his words. Like he’s afraid of Garrett, which is ridiculous because he wouldn’t hurt his brother without a good reason. He wraps his arms around Garrett.

“I’m sorry, Mike,” he whispers. Before his brother can ask what he means, Garrett plunges a knife in his back. His brother falls back.

Garrett stands over him, watching him wraith around in agony. “It’s going to be okay,” he tries his best to sound reassuring. He steps forward, knife poised in the air. 

“N-no! Stop, Garrett! What are you doing?” He scoots backward, using his arms to shield his face. 

“It’s going to be okay. I promise.” Garrett strikes his brother’s chest with the knife, making sure to hit his heart. The less suffering he puts Mike through, the better. 

His brother cries out one last time. 

He smiles down at his brother. All the pain will be worth it, he silently promises Mike. 

We can finally be together again….forever. 

[tieronecrush]

hot & heavy

chapter four: american pie

neighbor!joel x f!reader

series rating: E (18+ only, MDNI)

series summary:

over the course of three summers, joel miller becomes woven into your life. the first summer is spent falling for him; nannying his daughter and sneaking around with him in a burning love affair. you know how you feel about joel, he isn’t so sure about how it all is gonna work. the second summer is brief. a month spent at home after graduation and before you move to boston for your dream job. one look at you, one time hearing your voice, and joel is hooked again. he pines over you for that month, but you think — how is long distance of over a thousand miles going to work for a single dad? the third summer, you return home burnt out and pride bruised from your post-grad life. you need time to feel at home again, like your complete self, so you’ve come back home with no return ticket booked. it’s only a matter of time before joel seeks you out, slowly spending more time with you. without an inevitable end to the summer looming over you both, what chances are you willing to take?

word count: 6.6k

warnings: NO OUTBREAK (don’t need to worry about the mushies), no use of y/n, inexperienced/virgin reader, age gap (joel is 30/31, reader is 22), canon-divergent (sarah is 7 y/o), nanny au, mentions of food/eating, pet names (sweetheart, darling, sweet girl, etc.), polite southern manners (use of sir), feeling familial and self-pressure, oral sex (m & f), slightly public sex (no bystanders), fingering, dirty talk, LATINO JOEL cause it's canon which means there's likely subpar spanish

It was Thursday night, the week after you’d kissed Joel for the first time. The week after he’d told you that he’s been thinking about you since he met you. The week after he’d asked you to ride his thigh. The week after he’d made you come while teaching you Spanish.

The last two things hadn’t happened since, but it had been a week full of fleeting moments that made your skin heat up when you thought back on them. You stayed later and later each night that passed, talking with Joel and getting to know more about each other. Joel would prepare dinner, relax on the couch, or even stay in the entryway while the two of you conversed, flirty glances and affectionate smiles passed back and forth.

And in the moments when Sarah was off in her room playing or was outside in the backyard with you two watching her from the screened door, Joel’s hands would sneak around your hips or skim down your backside. Sweet and sultry kisses were shared, giving you more Spanish lessons to tell you what he desperately wanted from you. Last night he’d set dinner down in front of his daughter and walked you to the door, wrapping his arms around you and grabbing a handful of ass as he caught your lips in a heady breath, melding his tongue with yours and leaving you feeling like jelly as he pulled away.

Reminiscing on the moment now as you chop some apple slices for Sarah has you so distracted that you jump when you feel a tug on your shorts, tiny fingers poking at your sides.

“Can I have my snack now, please?”

You smile and nod, throwing the slices into the Aladdin bowl sitting on the granite. 

“Here you, sweet pea. Sorry for taking so long.”

“It’s okay! Thank you!” Sarah sends you a beaming smile and twirls around, bounding out to the living room again.

As you’re cleaning up the counter and the dishes, your cell phone vibrates in the pocket of your jean shorts. After drying your hands off on the kitchen towel, you fish your phone out and smile to yourself when you see Joel’s name on the small screen.

On my way home, you got a minute to stick around when I get back sweetheart?

Course I do :) See you soon, drive safe!

Will do. Gotta make it back to both my girls in one piece

The last message makes your smile grow wider, a giddy feeling in your chest at the simple affection, even via text. After rereading the message a few times, you finally slip your phone away again and turn back to your task.

Settling in on the couch with Sarah after the kitchen’s cleaned, Lilo & Stitch runs on the TV after a few incessant requests to watch it with you. Her tiny legs are stretched across your lap, her torso curled into your side, and her eyes glued to the animations on the screen. As Lilo is yelling about feeding fish tuna, Sarah giggles and you wrap an arm around her to pull her closer.

“I want a Scrump! She’s so cute,” Sarah points at the TV when Lilo pulls the doll out of her duffel bag, and you can’t help but grin.

“I think I want a Scrump, too. She’s so much cooler than those other dolls. Very original,” you squeeze Sarah’s side and grin, “Maybe you can get a Scrump for Christmas or something this year! Put it on your list for Santa.”

“But that’s so far away, like a trillion days,” Sarah replies in a louder volume with a huff, perking up at the sound of keys in the front door. Joel walks into the house, throwing his work bag down on the ground and kicking off his boots. He shuffles into the living room, giving both you and his daughter a quizzical look as he flops down onto the couch on the other side of Sarah.

“What’s a trillion days away?” Joel rubs his hands over his face and looks at the movie playing on the TV, laughing softly to himself and sharing a sweet look with you over Sarah’s head.

“Christmas! I want a Scrump doll and I could ask Santa for one, but it’s so far.”

Joel’s laugh fills out, a bit louder as he speaks directly to Sarah, “Well, that’s true that you could Santa for one, but y’know your birthday’s in just a couple’a weeks, Bug. Maybe one of your friends could get you one. Or Uncle Tommy. He’d get you something weird like that.”

“Weird? She’s not weird, Daddy!” Sarah sits up, crossing her arms in annoyance towards her father.

“Sarah’s right, she’s adorable. I told Sarah I want one, too.”

Joel raises an eyebrow at your response, shaking his head and looking back to the doll on the paused screen.

“That thing? Really?” He watches you both nod and grins, huffing a chuckle out of his nose, “Y’all are somethin’ else.”

You roll your eyes at him playfully, and Sarah gets the idea in her head that she could make her own Scrump like Lilo did, climbing off of the couch and running excitedly up to her room to find materials. Watching her with a soft smile, you turn back to Joel when she disappears at the top of the stairs.

He scoots closer on the sofa, a slight smirk raising one side of his mouth. His hands stretch out, one caressing your waist and the other crossing your lap to the side of your thigh to pull your legs over his. There’s a small gap between the two of you now, close enough to feel his breath against your skin while your eyes fall in line with his deep brown ones. Tension feels thick in the silent air, the sounds of Sarah’s footsteps and the birds outside being the only background noise besides your breaths.

“Missed you today, darlin’. Couldn’t stop thinking about you,” Joel’s voice is low, barely above a whisper as the smirk on his face still tugs at his lips.

“Missed you, too. Been thinkin’ about getting a kiss from you all day.”

Your heart rate increases as Joel’s subdued hum vibrates throughout your chest, his large palms skating up your back and fingertips tracing your spine.

“That so? Well, all you gotta do is ask, sweet girl.”

You laugh faintly, biting your bottom lip as your eyes flitter back and forth over his to keep eye contact.

“Can I have a kiss?”

Joel tilts his head, clicking his tongue in a tsk.

“Now I think we both know you have better manners than that, sweetheart.”

You sigh with added drama, mouth screwing up into a tight purse to one side. Joel’s face is still stern, smirk playing at the corners and humor glittering in his eyes. An idea comes to mind, from the first time you met him even, and you bite back the sly smile that would give you away. Instead, you put on your best sweet expression, batting your lashes as you ghost your lips over his as you speak.

“May I please have a kiss, sir?”

His eyes darken as you’re staring into them, a long exhale slipping from his lips as he shifts his hips under your leg. A simper stretches your lips to expose your teeth, a light laugh rolling as you throw a satisfied look in Joel’s direction. A simmer grows in your gut as you await his response, pumping your heartbeat in a steady, quick rate.

“Don’t start somethin’ you can’t finish, querida.”

“What makes you think I can’t finish it?”

“The fact that you have to go home tonight.”

Before you can offer a counter, Joel closes the small gap between the two of you, a sincere smile on his face as he presses his lips to yours in a tender kiss. With a few seconds passing of the PG-rated kiss, his hand drifting down towards your ass parts your lips in a gasp, his tongue melding with yours in a hotter exchange. The two of you makeout with each other for a few minutes before you both hear the pitter-patter of footsteps upstairs, pulling apart and separating to your original spots on the couch.

Nothing more comes from upstairs, and Joel sends you a suspicious look.

“Probably should go make sure she’s not destroying her room or somethin’ to make that weird doll.”

You laugh and nod, standing up from the leather seat. Joel follows you to the front door, watching you slip your shoes on and grab your bag from the table. He grins when you turn back to him, reaching out to pull you in.

“Wanted to ask you somethin’ before I forget.”

“And what’s that?”

His eyes drift down to the ground and he clears his throat, free hand finding the back of his neck and moving up to mess with the hair at the crown of his head. Legs shifting his weight back and forth, left thumb rubbing circles into your hip before his eyes come back to you holding trepidation.

Is Joel…nervous?

What the hell could he need to ask you that has him acting like this?

“Is everything okay?”

You lay your hand over his on your hip, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“God, yeah, I’m sorry. Just, I, uh, I was wonderin’ if you were doin’ anything on Saturday night?”

Joel Miller is this nervous to ask you out?

Joel Miller is this nervous to ask you out.

Damn, he’s adorable.

“Joel, are you asking me out?”

He sees the smile hidden in you expression, an embarrassed groan rumbling from his chest.

“I haven’t asked anyone out in years, sweetheart, so you’ll have to forgive me, but yes. Was wonderin’ if maybe you’d wanna go for a drive, and then stay the night with me? Sarah’ll be at her mom’s for the weekend. And I’ll be real lonesome.”

He shoots you his best pleading look with those big brown puppy eyes — another thing you never thought you would see from Joel Miller, but after a week of being something with him, you’ve come to learn that he uses them frequently to get what he wants.

And you definitely haven’t built a tolerance for them.

And probably never will.

“No need to try to persuade me, I’d have agreed without the eyes, babe.”

He winks lightning fast, shaking his head. Feigning innocence with the look across his face, shrugging his shoulders and holding you to his chest.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about, cariño,” a chaste kiss is shared, and then another, and another, “You really wanna stay over?”

“Course I do,” your hands find his shoulders, nerves crossing his eyes, “Don’t worry. I’ll tell ‘em I’m staying at a friend’s house. We can figure somethin’ out with my car.”

“I’m sorry, darlin’. Just don’t think it’s a good idea—”

“I know, Joel. It’s alright. Don’t want to have you end up with a shotgun pointed at you. Metaphorically speaking. Dad doesn’t have a gun.”

He huffs out a tight laugh, nodding slowly and pressing a gentle kiss to your lips.

“See you tomorrow? We can figure out Saturday night then?”

You nod and give him a taut, thin smile.

“See you tomorrow. Night, Joel. Tell Sarah I said g’night too.”

“Course. G’night, sweet girl. Sleep well.”

He gives you one last peck before holding the door open for you, watching from the threshold as you cross the yards and give him one look back, waving to him.

Excitement for the weekend swirls in your stomach, but you can’t help but feel the sharp pain of your heart constricting at the thought of keeping a secret for the summer.

The pathetic air conditioning of your 1997 used Honda CR-V spits out lukewarm air while the rest of the car bakes in the 96º evening heat in the middle of July.

The skin of your thighs is plastered to the gray leather of the seat below you, and you can already tell it’s going to be extra painful to peel yourself out. At this point, you’re gripping the hem of your strappy white sundress and fanning yourself in an attempt to cool down even a little bit.

20 minutes have passed since you parked up at the far end of the lot outside of Foley’s department store at the Highland Mall. You’d told your parents that you were heading over to Emily’s house, a friend from high school, and spending the night there. After covering for her countless times over the last few summers, she owed you a favor — no questions asked — and so you made sure she would corroborate your lie if your parents asked.

But being the goody-goody you always were paid off from time to time. They trusted you enough to not have to check in with anyone you’d mentioned hanging out with, never expecting you to lie to them. And you really didn’t, not fully. You were going to spend the night at a friend’s house, it just happened to be Joel’s instead.

Joel didn’t let any detail slip yesterday when you were talking about tonight before you left. You’d come up with the plan to meet in the mall parking lot, but when you asked what he’d planned, he only gave you a grin and shook his head.

“It’s a surprise, sweetheart. What kinda first date would this be if there wasn’t some element of surprise? I wanna do somethin’ for you, so let me.”

Another five minutes have passed and you are nearing suffocation from the heat in your car. Finally, Joel’s Ford pickup is coasting through the virtually empty parking lot in your direction, slowing down to a halt before he throws it into park. You turn toward your passenger side to gather your purse and your backpack filled with your overnight necessities.

“Shouldn’t leave your doors unlocked just sittin’ here, sweetheart.”

Joel’s voice sounding from right behind you makes you jump, whipping your head around to look at him over your shoulder with a huff.

“Fucking hell, Joel, scared the daylights outta me!”

He laughs, leaning against the frame of your car to block you in.

“Like I said, shouldn’t leave your doors unlocked. Don’t know who’s gonna come by and try somethin’.”

“Oh hush, nobody’s out here,” you slide your purse over your arm and turn off the ignition, dropping your keys inside of its largest pocket. Joel backs up a few steps to let you climb out, a soft wince slipping from behind your teeth as your skin sticks to the seat. Once you’re standing in front of him, you turn around and lean over the seat and center console to grab your overnight bag.

Joel’s hands find your waist and turn you back to him when you have your backpack, a tender smile on his face as he looks down at you.

“Didn’t get to properly say hello to ya.”

His lips meet yours in a supple kiss, a smile finding its way onto your face as he lets out a satisfied hum.

“Hello to you too,” both of your smiles match before you continue, “So what’s the plan? I need somethin’ cold wherever we’re goin’, I’m sweating.”

His smile grows wider while his head slowly moves left to right. Your hands brush when he takes your overnight bag from you, his other hand finding the small of your back to guide you to the passenger side of his truck.

“You’re nearly there, darlin’. If I know anything about you, I know you’ll like what I’ve got planned for you.  And I promise it’ll cool you down.”

When the car door clicks open and he swings it out, Joel sends you a wink before offering you a hand to help you climb up into the cab. He closes the door behind you, making his way around the front to his side, setting your bag on the seat behind him, and starting up the truck.

Warmth spreads on your skin when his hand finds your thigh, long fingers extending to the inside while his thumb sweeps back and forth languidly toward the outside. Strip malls filled with one-off businesses, chain restaurants, and a few honky tonk bars blur past through the window, Joel heading in the direction opposite of your neighborhood and further out of Austin proper. The windows are cracked, and the speed of the car cools the wind down as it rushes in, swirling your hair around. You open the window further, extending a hand out and closing your eyes as you feel the evening summer air fill the car.

Joel slows to a stop at the first red light you’ve hit and you slowly open your eyes, taking in your surroundings and smiling softly when you recognize where you are. His timbre takes you out of your observations, head snapping in attention to him.

“You look real beautiful tonight, sweetheart. Pretty as a peach.”

The hand on your thigh finds yours closest to him, lacing your fingers together and bringing the back of yours up to his mouth to press a sweet kiss to your skin as the light turns green. You hold his hand with both of yours in your lap, a shy grin on your face.

“You clean up pretty well yourself, Miller. Lookin’ mighty handsome, but you always do.”

“Oh yeah? You think I’m handsome even when you see me dirty and sweaty and exhausted most of the time?”

He glances towards you, eyebrows raised expectantly.

“Well don’t go fishing now, but yes I do. Especially then,” you say casually, shrugging your shoulders before adding, “You’re built like a brick house. It’s hot seeing you all sweaty and dirty with your hair messed up and your t-shirts tight around your arms and your chest.”

Joel laughs, squeezing your hand in his and shaking his head in disbelief.

“Don’t think anyone’s ever said that I’m built like a brick house.”

“It’s true! In the best way possible. You’re solid and strong and tough. Safe. Sturdy. Reliable. The metaphor extends past your looks.”

“Thank you, sweet girl. ‘M glad you see me that way.”

He takes a breath in like he’s going to continue but it’s interrupted by getting his chance to turn off the main road and into the first destination of the night — the Tastee-Freez that you and Joel had talked about visiting when you were kids. Come to think of it, there’s a good chance you would have been there at the same time when you were younger.

A nostalgic grin crosses your face as you look over at Joel, a sheepish smile on his face. He scans for a parking spot, finds one, and lets go of your hand to stretch his arm behind your seat, twisting around in his as he effortlessly backs into the spot.

Why is it so attractive when a guy does that?

At the walk-up window, Joel stands slightly behind you with his hand rubbing up and down your back while you both act like you’re reading the menu when in reality, you’ll get the same thing you’ve been ordering for years.

It was a quick wait until you were up at the window to order, Joel’s hand still on you.

“Ladies first, darlin’.”

For you, it’s a vanilla-chocolate twist soft serve in a cone with chocolate hardshell dip.

For Joel, plain vanilla with butterscotch hardshell.

And yes, you had to give him a little shit for that.

The two of you find an empty picnic table at the side of the building, sliding onto the benches across from each other. Joel rests on his elbows on the table, leaning closer to you while his right leg slips between yours as if you’re a magnet. In between bites and licks of ice cream, the two of you reminisce together about coming to this particular establishment as kids, and then as teenagers, rowdy and causing trouble in Joel’s case. 

“That poor kid!”

“Oh, c’mon. He was eleven and it was Tommy. He doesn’t need your sympathy, darlin’. He was askin’ for it.”

“No eleven-year-old deserves gettin’ an ice cream cone to the head when he was talkin’ to his first crush! I can’t believe you were such a cruel older brother back then.”

“Cruel? I wasn’t cruel. I was building character. Now he’s a slightly less annoying pest.”

“That’s such bullshit, oh my god!”

Easy banter bounces between the two of you, stories running off on tangents and revealing details to each other about yourselves. Laughs and flirty passes are shared, Joel insisting on you trying his cone after you dogged on his choice again. You ended up swapping, Joel giving you the last bite of chocolate dip that your original cone had before finishing it. Flimsy paper napkins stuck to your hands as you attempted to clean up the drips that covered your skin, giving up and running to the bathroom at the back to wash your hands quick. Joel emerges at the same time as you from the men’s, giving you a smile and catching his hand with yours as your strides match up.

“Ready for the next surprise?”

“If it’s anything like this one, you have my full trust.”

“So glad you said that, ‘cause I actually booked us an appointment to get matchin’ tattoos.”

Your face drops, gaze snapping over to Joel and rolling your eyes when you see the playful twist of a smirk on his lips, humor in his eyes. Gripping his bicep, you shove him to the side gently, Joel not getting too far with his hand anchoring him to you.

“Quit fuckin’ with me!”

Joel’s head falls back as he laughs, slowing his walk as the two of you approach the truck again. He opens the door for you, grinning sweetly and pursing his lips.

“Can’t help myself, you look cute gettin’ fucked with. All flustered and wide-eyed.”

He winks before kissing your temple, a heat crawling up your spine and settling in the back of your neck. After helping you into the car, Joel’s back in the driver’s seat and eases the car out of the parking lot. He takes a right, heading back in the direction of your neighborhood.

About three miles from home, he takes a left and drives a bit further west. The radio plays quietly, a comfortable silence filling the car. His hand rests on your thigh again, half of his fingers slid underneath the hem of your sundress. His gaze is straight ahead on the road, and you take a moment to study his chiseled profile.

Familiar trills of piano and a bright, full voice rings out from the speakers. An excited gasp drops your jaw in a short inhale, your hand reaching for the volume dial to turn it up. Don McLean’s American Pie plays loudly into the truck now, a wide smile on your face as you look over at Joel next to you.

“I fucking love this song!”

The slower introduction seamlessly transitions into the upbeat, classic summer song as you roll your window down all the way. Your arm falls out of the opening, hair blowing in the wind as you start to sing along with Don.

“Do you believe in rock 'n' roll? Can music save your mortal soul? And can you teach me how to dance real slow?”

Your eyes shut tightly while you nearly shout the words, laughing in between the lines.

Joel’s own laugh interrupts your singing of the rest of the verse, and you sit up quickly to turn toward him.

“Sing along! I know you know how Miller. I saw your guitar and your daughter likes to tell me about all the songs you sing together.”

“You sound much better than me, darlin’. I like listening to you.”

“C’mon, please! For me?”

The song continues to play while the two of you project back and forth, Joel giving in to your own pleading puppy eyes and joining in with you on the chorus. His voice is gruff and bluesy, and suddenly it’s your favorite sound besides his speaking voice. The two of you start to shout the words, carefree when you pull up to stop signs and dance in your seats. Joel holds his hand in a fist over to you, your own hands wrapping around it and using it as an air microphone. He brings it back to himself, bobbing his head while the words effortlessly fall from his lips.

The river comes into view between trees, and a smile finds your face as you realize where he’s taking you. Another place you’d mentioned in passing that he’d paid attention to.

Parking up at the lookout point, the song fades into the next one. You turn the volume back down, sighing happily as you take in the view of the sunset starting. No other cars are around, the two of you alone in the spot you love to visit when you come back home during the summers to watch the sunset fully unobscured.

“You’re a good listener, y’know.”

Joel turns to you with a coy grin tugging one corner of his mouth up. He shrugs and rubs his hand against your thigh.

“Easy to remember things about you.”

The simple sentence strikes a chord in you, your heart beating faster and gut swirling with a warm, airy feeling. You can’t think of anything to say to him to convey what you’re feeling, so instead you unbuckle yourself, sit up and scoot over across the bench seat to his side. Your gaze only drops from his eyes to glance at his lips before you kiss him. It’s slow and syrupy, stretching your insides like taffy. Your tongue melts with his, soft whimpers being swallowed as Joel’s hands grip your thigh, gathering you across his lap. His hands move around you, pushing the steering wheel up as far as it could go and adjusting his seat back to give you more space to sit comfortably. Once the seat is settled, he wastes no time finding the flesh of your ass, hands slipping under your dress and moaning quietly when his fingertips brush against the lace of your panties.

“Wore somethin’ pretty for me, darlin’?”

“Mhmm. Wearing those white ones you like so much.”

“Fuck me.”

A giggle falls from your lips against his, the bulge of his jeans growing under you. His large hands on your ass push you down and grind his hips up against your covered pussy. The center of them sticks to your folds, your own hips swaying in the same rhythm. Heady kisses continued, Joel pulling away to attack your neck with kisses, licks, and tiny bites. All that comes from your mouth are whispers of his name.

Beneath you, you can feel that Joel is rock-hard. Saliva floods your mouth, an image of him in your mouth right here in his truck playing in your mind. A jolt of adrenaline kills your nerves, confidence filling your chest as you pull away from Joel, moving to sit at his side on the bench again. Joel stares at you inquisitively, his lust-hazed mind taking a moment to catch up until your thoughts become clear when you pop the button of his pants and drag his zipper down. His hand lays over yours, eyes locking with yours.

“You don’t have to do anything, sweetheart.”

The anxiety starts to crawl back, and before you lose your nerve, you shake your head.

“I want to. If you want to. It’s okay if you don’t, we can forget—”

“Definitely want to, darlin’. Definitely. If you’re comfortable,” his hand sweeps over your cheekbone and down your jaw, a tender grin crossing his face, “You ever done this before?”

Shaking your head, you bite your bottom lip.

“Never, um, with my mouth. But with my hand, yeah.”

“That’s a good start, cariño. I can teach you how to do the rest, but you show me what you know.”

You kiss him again while he pushes his jeans down to his kneecaps along with his boxer briefs, his cock springing up against his t-shirt. Your lips pull away from his as your head stares down at his lap, licking your lips. Joel’s voice rumbles low as he mumbles.

“G’head, pretty girl.”

A long exhale is quiet out of your nose, your tongue wetting your palm before your hand wraps around the base of his thick cock, starting languid strokes along the length. Pre-cum pebbles out of the slit at his tip, your thumb ghosting across it as your hand reaches the top on the next stroke. A short hiss squeezes out from behind your Joel’s teeth, his hand gripping your side while his head finds a place in the crook of your neck and his mouth continuing to pepper kisses and nips against your skin.

The pace of your hand speeds up, a faint moan from Joan vibrating against you.

“Fuck, sweetheart. Feels good,” another sigh of a moan cuts him off before he adds, “Think you wanna try with your mouth now? We’ll take it slow.”

“‘M ready.”

Joel helps you get comfortable kneeling over him on the seat and you feel the burn of his stare when you bring your mouth down toward his dick.

“Just start with the tip, darlin’. Y’can kiss it, lick. Only take it in when you’re ready.”

You follow his gentle instructions, kissing his tip and feeling his pre-cum coat your lips where it meets his skin, licking the spend before running your tongue across the tip. The sounds from Joel above you go straight to your aching pussy, your panties completely soaked without his touch reaching there. Your kisses drift down his length, tongue tracing over the veins before your mouth returns to his tip, taking the head into your mouth and hollowing your cheeks.

“Oh, fuck. That’s so good, baby. Just like that.”

At his encouragement, you swirl your tongue around him in your mouth before lowering your head and dropping your jaw wider to take more of his large cock. Joel instructs you to use your hand on the rest of him, following the same rhythm with your fist when you start to move your head up and down. He moans your name, hand resting on the back of your head and fingers tangling in your hair. You work your mouth on his cock, your free hand slipping between his legs to give attention to his balls.

“God damn, sweetheart. Sure you haven’t done this before?”

His breaths are short and you feel his balls tighten in your hand. He twitches in your mouth and he rasps out that he’s close. You’re desperate for him to come in your mouth, taking as much of him as you can before it sets off your gag reflex at the back of your throat. The loudest moan you’ve heard from him rumbles out of his chest, soft “fuck”s following it.

“Gonna come, sweet girl, fuck. Don’t have to take it in your mouth.”

Your lips leave him with strings of saliva tethered from his cock to your mouth, shaking your head quickly.

“I want it in my mouth.”

Joel’s eyes darken, nearly black, a flash of deep desire in them.

“Think we both know you got better manners than that, sweetheart.”

Your cunt flutters around nothing as his commanding voice, whimpering as he tugs your hair gently to look at him.

“May I please have your come in my mouth?”

“What are you forgetting? Ask again.”

His own hand works his cock, sweat pooling in the exposed skin at his collar.

“May I please have your come in my mouth, sir?”

“Good girl,” you relax next to him, bending over his lap again as you hear him give you permission, “Go on, pretty girl. ‘S all yours.”

His cock fills your mouth again, the tip gagging you again and muscles tightening around him send him over the edge, warm come spilling onto your tongue. You try to catch as much as you can before it slips down him from your mouth, his hand at the back of your head pulling you off to look at him again.

Awestruck, blown pupils stare at you as you show him his spend on your tongue, closing your lips and swallowing. He groans your name, breaths slowing while he watches you use your fingers to clean around your mouth, sucking your fingers before licking his cock clean of his come.

“God, you’re fucking incredible.”

He kisses you deeply, cupping your chest with one hand and thumb brushing over your hard nipple. You settle back with a proud smile, shrugging casually.

“Got a good teacher, I guess.”

He kisses you again, sighing softly as he pulls away.

“Better be ready for another lesson when I get you in my bed tonight. But I think you’d just qualify this one as a lecture. No need for student participation.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mhmm. Gonna make you come with my fingers and then on my mouth. You want that, baby?”

Your head lulls in a nod, a smirk crossing your face.

“Yes, sir.”

Joel groans, shaking his head as he mirrors your smirk.

“You’re fixin’ to be trouble with that, aren’t ya?”

“Yes, sir.”

You wink as Joel tugs his boxers and jeans back on, not bothering to button them. After the two of you get buckled, he backs out of the parking space, shaking his head again as he starts back to his house, driving a bit faster than before.

“Mi pequeño diablo, my little devil. Who would’ve thought you were such a naughty girl?”

Falling back against the pillows at the head of his bed, a film of sweat coating your naked body with a sheen and chest heaving to catch your breath after your third orgasm from Joel. He’d sped back to his house, only slowing down to drive normally down the neighborhood streets to not draw any attention to the two of you. Once you’d made it back, he’d virtually carried you inside with how quickly he was moving behind you and guiding you up to his bedroom.

His fingers had coaxed the first out of you, straddling his lap at the edge of the mattress after a heavy makeout session. His lips spilled out Spanish, translating for you after he’d let it all out.

“Te ves tan hermosa cuando te corres, cariño. Quiero que lo hagas una y otra vez solo para escuchar tus pequeños sonidos y mirar esa cara. You look so beautiful when you come, sweetheart. I want to make you do it over and over just to hear your little sounds and look at that face.”

Dressing you down to only the lacy set you had worn for him, he worshipped your body with his mouth, pressing kisses and marking you with lovebites as he got you completely naked. Teasing your nipples, fanning his breath over your wet cunt, he roused you up to use his mouth to make you fall apart all over again.

After his taste of you, he begged you to let him do it again.

“Just one more, sweetness.”

“I can’t do it, Joel, ‘s too much.”

His fingers worked you open slowly again, whimpers falling from you as he sends you soft encouragements.

“You can take it, pretty girl. This pussy was made for it, made for me to play with.”

It didn’t take much more convincing after he said that, his thick fingers and mouth pulling out that third ultra-sensitive orgasm from you, his name moaned repeatedly from you as you look down at him using his tongue to clean you up.

You finally caught your breath, exhaustion rushing over you as your hazy vision watches Joel clean you up with a warm, damp washcloth. Your eyes fell closed, turning on your side on his bed and using the last of your energy to slide under his comforter. The bed sinks when the weight of him joins you, strong arm wrapping over your side and tugging you closer across the sheets. He’s bare besides his fresh pair of boxer briefs.

“You sleepy, my sweet girl?” His voice is low and raspy, lulling you into the warm slumber.

“Yeah, but I wanna stay up with you.” You fight the feeling of falling, peeling your eyes open and stretching your lips into a drowsy smile when you see Joel’s affectionate look.

“‘S alright if you wanna go to bed, we’ve got the morning, too.”

“No, no. Just ask me a question, if I keep talkin’ I’ll stay awake.”

Joel chuckles, his smile showing off his teeth as his hand reaches for the side of your face, brushing your hair behind your ears.

“Alright, rapid-fire questions, sweetheart. Favorite color?”

“Green.”

“You?”

“Purple.”

“Childhood pet?”

“Dog. German Shepherd named Roxie. She was the best.”

He laughs softly again and nods.

“Had a mutt we found in our neighborhood. His name was Mancha. Means Spot, or really stain, in Spanish. My mom thought she was hilarious.”

It’s you laughing now, grinning widely.

“That is hilarious. Is she—is she still around?”

His lip twitches, eyes darting from yours for a second.

“No, she passed away when Sarah was two. Dad’s been gone since I was seventeen.”

“I’m sorry, Joel.”

You skate the pads of your fingers across his cheek in a tender touch.

“Thank you, darlin’.”

He punctuates his statement with a kiss on your forehead, hand tightening at your hip before he continues.

“What was your first impression of me?”

Your skin heats and a sheepish smile crosses your face, shaking your head.

“I was hoping you would never ask me this,” you groan before dropping your eyes from his and studying your finger as it creates constellations of the freckles on his chest, “I saw you first from my living room window getting out of your truck when you moved in. I thought you were really attractive; probably would’ve said hot. I thought it was kind of funny that you were yelling at Tommy, and I could see your whole demeanor changed when you grabbed Sarah out of the car. You just lit up and it was so endearing. And then I was immediately embarrassed when you noticed me and waved to me.”

“Y’know, I saw you way before that day, sweetheart.”

Surprise twists your face, wide eyes meeting Joel’s.

“What? What do you mean? Are you a stalker?”

“God, no,” he laughs before he caresses your cheek, thumb brushing back and forth, “It was the first time I toured the house. It musta been your Spring Break or somethin’, but you were sittin’ in the hammock in your backyard when I walked out onto the deck in our yard. Thought it was nice to see what the neighbors were like. Then you got up and walked towards the deck, and I really saw you when you got closer. Felt like the wind got knocked outta me, you were just so beautiful. Like the sun was radiating off of you that day, kinda— what’s the word?...Ethereal. I was sold on the house already, but the chance to see you again, meet you, was the cherry on top.”

You swallow audibly, breath caught in your throat as you look at him tenderly. Leaning over to him, you press a gentle kiss to his lips and say quietly.

“Bet my pajamas and bedhead look on your moving day had you second-guessing your choice.”

All he does is shake his head, a smile plastered on his face.

“Not a chance, my sweet girl. Not a chance.”

Conversation slows as both of you grow more exhausted, Joel turning to lay on his back and tucking you into his side. Your ear rests over his chest, the strong, steady thump of his heartbeat drawing you into sleep, not before pressing one last kiss to his skin.

taglist: @beskarandblasters @undrthelights @swiftispunk @joelsversion @clingontolife @elizabeth01585 @wandaandellie @asirenbyanyothername @ellenmunn @ja-ehyun @livinxdeadxgrl @sw33tp1xie @starsandsaints07 @marisemonteiroo @brunetteeras @whydontyoysaynodoja @beee-haw @shmaptainshmerica07 @jenna-mcgraw19 @whore-4-pedro @spursgirl14-blog @katifefe @joelmillerswifu @itsgiorgiaz @soph55 @grapejuicesny @wild-hearts-runfree @youcancallmeelle @lisa-ru @jupitren @ziggy-star @miaispunk @oneofutoo @starkovli @thatgeminigirlx @marchai @bunnyskisses @houseofballoonsth @casual-obsessions @pedro-pascal-lvr @bimbodolls-world @burningnerdchild @tuquoquebrute @mrsvedder12 @estelivi28 @helllsent @bongsrconfusing @addictedtotlou @brittmb115 @angie2274 @owod3 @pedrostories @pedroholicx @theelishad @johnwatsn @sunakochansama43 @elissaaa @felicityofbakerstreet @atinylittlepain

[theoffice-imagines]

Prompts

Sick/comfort:

1) “Are you alright?”

2) “You’re face a little flushed.”

3) “You’re so pale…”

4) “You look like you’re about to fall over.”

5) “Everything okay there?”

6) “I think so..”

7) “It’s just hot in here..”

8) “Am I?”

9) “I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

10) “I’m fine. Why?”

11) “It’s just a cold.”

12) “I feel strange..”

13) “I’ve felt kind of off all day..”

14) “I’m a little under the weather is all..”

15) “I really don’t feel good.”

16) “Let me take a look at you.”

17) “Come here, baby.”

18) “Here, sit down..”

19) “Can I check your temperature?”

20) “Stay put while I get the thermometer.”

21) “You feel so warm..”

22) “102? No wonder…”

23) “You’re burning up!”

24) “There’s something definitely going on with you.”

25) “Let me take you to the doctor.”

26) “I know you’re not hungry, but you need to eat.”

27) “Try a little broth, for me?”

28) “Drink your tea, it’ll help your throat.”

Angst/fluff:

1) “She was crying because of you!”

2) “I know for a fact that you’re not fine!”

3) “You’re looking at me like you’re disgusted. What did I do? Just tell me what I did, please!”

4) “I’m fine. Stop asking.”

5) “You said you needed space.”

6) “I’m not jealous!”

7) “Are you awake?”

8) “Are you done with that?”

9) “That doesn’t even make any sense!”

10) “Don’t ask me that!”

11) “This isn’t your fault.”

12) “Just admit it. You know I’m right.”

13) “What’s with the box?”

14) “Say it!”

15) “I could kiss you right now!”

16) “Just pretend to be my date.”

17) “Excuse you?”

18) “I might have had a few shots.”

19) “You did what?!”

20) “Come here. Rest, honey.”

21) “I have never been more in love with anyone than I am with you.”

22) “Are you okay?”

23) “I just don’t like thunderstorms.”

24) “I get it alright? I messed up!”

25) “What do you need me to do?”

26) “I can’t sleep.”

27) “When was the last time you slept?”

28) “I want to protect you.”

29) “Give it back!”

30) “Well, this is just great.”

Random:

1) “You’re always on my mind.”

2) “You have no idea how much you mean to me.”

3) “You’ve always felt like home.”

4) “I can’t imagine this world without you.”

5) “Trust me.”

6) “Why are you crying?”

7) “Who hurt you?”

8) “Was it me?”

9) “Nothing is wrong with you.”

10) “You make me feel alive.”

11) “I wouldn’t change a thing about you.”

12) “Who cares about what they think?”

13) “Lets go.”

14) “I’m not going anywhere.”

15) “Tell me what’s wrong.”

16) “You’ve always got me.”

17) “You look like you could use a hug.”

18) “Did you need something?”

19) “Just talk to me.”

20) “I can’t take the silence anymore.”

21) “Why are you so jealous?”

22) “You can’t do that. Not here.”

23) “Stop pretending you’re okay, because I know you’re not.”

24) “You owe me!”

25) “That wasn’t funny.”

26) “I love that show, too!”

27) “This tastes horrible.”

28) “This is delicious!”

29) “Can I borrow that book of yours?”

30) “Let me help you with that.”

31) “Don’t make me come over there myself.”

32) “Wanna go see a movie with me sometime?”

33) “Do you believe in ghosts?”

Hurt/comfort:

1) “I don’t remember that..”

2) “I didn’t do it!”

3) “Well, that was pretty rude of you to say..”

4) “Don’t touch me!”

5) “Are you mad at me?”

6) “Stop ignoring me!”

7) “Take that back!”

8) “We’re not just friends and you know it!”

9) “Please don’t cry, I can’t stand to see you cry.”

10) “Where do you think you’re going?”

11) “Just leave me alone.”

12) “Just talk to me.”

13) “You’re so beautiful..”

14) “You’re making me blush!”

15) “Stop being so cute!”

16) “You’re the best!

17) “Are we good now?”

18) “Stop lying to me and tell me the truth!”

19) “You belong to me!”

20) “Don’t get up. I’ll do it.”

21) “How about a kiss?”

22) “Don’t scare me like that.”

23) “I’m here for you.”

24) “Don’t ever do that again!”

25) “Don’t say that. Not now.”

26) “Everyone deserves a second chance.”

27) “Excuse me, I’m terribly lost. Can you help me?”

28) “You don’t have to stay.”

29) “You deserve so much better.”

30) “You did all of this for me?”

***

@theoffice-imagines

Request a prompt number for any of these characters:

• Michael Scott

• Dwight Schrute

• David Wallace

• Andy Bernard

• Jim

• Pam

• Angela

• Karen

• Kelly

• Erin

• Holly

[doctorbrown]

MCFLY JULY ‘24 ⸺ 「 27 / 31 * TWIN PINES MALL SANTA 」

December 15, 1977

“C’mon, Marty… We’re not staying out here all night, are we?” Jake shivers even under his jacket and pulls his hat further down over his ears, throwing a pleading look at the back of Marty’s head. Marty says nothing, but he grabs Jake by the arm and pulls him behind one of the poorly maintained hedges near the entrance to the Twin Pines Mall, feeling like they’re in some kind of spy movie. James Bond would be proud.

“If we get home and my mom finds out we snuck out she’s gonna kill us. Or ground me until I’m like thirty!”

Jake shudders at the thought of being stuck in his room until he’s an old man and considers it only marginally worse than possibly freezing to death out here.

“We’ll be back home before she knows we were gone,” Marty says, radiating confidence that does manage to ease Jake’s nerves somewhat, despite the fact their last ‘adventure’ when Marty sounded exactly this—if not more—confident almost ended up with their bicycles flattened by a car.

“All we have to do is see him come out, that’s all.” Marty sticks his head up from behind the bush, eyes narrowed and

“That’s what you said the last time and we ended up f—”

“Shhhh! I think he’s coming!” Jake promptly shuts his mouth and Marty pulls him closer, holding his breath while he waits for proof—pure, tangible, real proof that he can shove in Linda’s face later—that it isn’t just a myth that Mom and Dad made up all these years, that she’s only jaded and mean because she’s getting older and she was a real jerk last year and didn’t get that stupid thing she was asking for.

That what he’s been seeing for himself that he tries to ignore that suggests Linda is right can’t possibly be true.

Above all, Marty wants it to be real, because Hill Valley could use a little magic.

The doors to the mall glide open and Marty gasps when he sees a tall figure walk outside carrying several heavy looking boxes of something in his hands. He can’t see their face behind those boxes, but he can see their long white hair sticking out from the side of the boxes and nearly shakes Jake, absolutely giddy with his discovery.

“Marty,” Jake whispers, “that’s—”

Marty clamps a hand over his friend’s mouth. “Don’t scare him away!”

Jake mumbles something from behind Marty’s hand and when it’s clear Marty has no intention of removing it, Jake employs his secret weapon—he drags his tongue across Marty’s palm. Marty immediately pulls his hand away, face scrunched up in disgust. “Gross.”

Marty drags his hand across his pants. “That’s not him!”

“Yeah, it is—look!” Marty pops his head back up over the hedge, finding himself staring up at Doctor Brown. Instinctively, his eyes widen, and Marty tries to imagine what a spy might do in the moment when their cover was blown.

Doctor Brown looks just as surprised in the moment to see the two of them there and Marty considers that high praise given towards his sneaking skills. Maybe there’s something to this after all. “Boys,” he says, using that tone that adults often use when they’re not sure if they’re going to get them in trouble for something or not yet.

Jake’s eyes look ready to fall out of his head and Marty clears his throat, looking up at the old man. “Doctor Brown.”

“What are you boys doing out here so late?” Doctor Brown sets the heavy-looking boxes in his hands down and now that Marty can see his entire outfit, overcoat and all, he mentally kicks himself for wondering how he could have confused the two. Maybe he could have just been trying to hide. Famous people are always trying to hide, aren’t they?

Jake stammers something unintelligible at his side and Marty crosses his arms over his chest, weighing his options. He could say nothing, tell the old man they weren’t doing anything and leave, then high-tail it back to Jake’s place before his mom got home. But what if the old man decided to tell his parents that they were sneaking around this late at night? Similarly, he could tell him exactly what they were doing here, but there was also the possibility he’d be like every other adult and brush off everything he tried to explain to him.

“Marty was trying to see if the Santa in the mall was the real deal!”

To his credit, Doctor Brown doesn’t laugh. Instead, he looks between both boys and then back towards the doors to the mall, wearing a thoughtful expression that could mean at least a hundred different things—Marty wasn’t too sure what to make of it, but he didn’t feel like the man was about to laugh at him.

“Yeah—so? I wanted to prove that my sister was lying. That he is real.”

Doctor Brown hums. “Ah. Do you suspect he might not be or is it just because your sister told you that?”

“Well…” Marty fidgets slightly. “My older brother doesn’t believe. And my sister said only babies believe in that but she totally believed last year.”

“And you?” Doctor Brown looks genuinely interested in his answer.

He isn’t used to adults wanting to hear what he has to say. His parents certainly never give him their full attention, not anymore, and he has to sit for a minute with the fact that, of all people to take an interest, it’s Doctor Brown. “I guess—I just wanna know the truth.”