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fluentmoviequoter · 6 months ago

Text

Two of Them

Requested Here!

Pairing: Jim Street x fem!reader

Summary: When Hondo asks you to help catch a car thief, you meet Jim Street. As you get to know one another, you learn that you have a lot in common, but balance each other out perfectly.

Warnings: r loves cars/owns an auto shop & is sarcastic and makes jokes (very similar to Street), mentions of robbery and murder, fluff, softie Street

Word Count: 4.7k+ words

A/N: There's so many things I love about this request and a ton of (personal) references! I hope you all enjoy!🤍

Masterlist Directory | Jim Street Masterlist | Request Info\Fandom List

Someone wolf whistles as the garage door opens, and you walk faster to see what is worthy of such attention. When you step into the garage if your auto restoration shop, your jaw drops.

“Is that a ’59 Impala?” you ask breathlessly.

“Sure is,” Joel, your righthand man and drivetrain expert, answers. “She’s here for a tune-up. I know you’re busy, boss, so I can handle this one.”

“Yeah, right!” you exclaim. “All of my childhood dreams are under that hood.”

“You dreamt about reconstructed motors as a kid?”

“Do you talk to your wife like this, Joel? Because she’s never going to let you buy a C-10 with that attitude.”

He chuckles before he waves toward the office. “Impala owner is in there. Wants to talk to you.”

“Thanks, Joel. Don’t start without me!” you call over your shoulder.

As you enter the lobby, you put on your best customer service smile and straighten your shirt.

“Good afternoon,” you greet. “You must be the owner of that beautiful Impala.”

“Yes, ma’am. My friend Rick Castle told me that you were the person to see. I had the car restored by a guy in Texas, a ground-up rebuild, but it’s not riding as smoothly as it was before. The passenger side – sorry, I’m not very good at explaining these things – it almost feels like it’s bouncing while I drive,” he explains.

“Okay, that’s really helpful. It sounds like it’s probably an alignment issue. We can look at it today and give you a call when we find the issue,” you suggest.

“That would be great. Thank you.”

You review the paperwork he completed with Joel quickly before telling him bye. After putting his contact information into your computer system, you rush back to the garage.

“Let’s find out what’s causing the involuntary hydraulics,” you tell Joel.

“Hondo, get 20 squad in here!” Hicks calls.

As they gather in the situation room, Lieutenant Lynch queues a video pulled from a security camera. Street recognizes the location as the building they raided a few days earlier but remains quiet as she begins speaking.

“This is, of course, the building you raided. If you’ll recall, we hoped to locate an unidentified subject tied to several car robberies, assaults, and more recently, carjacking with deadly force. He killed a driver during a carjacking gone wrong and has continued to get more violent with each crime. We still haven’t identified the perp, courtesy of his never-ending vehicle supply and seeming knowledge of traffic cams. He didn’t seem to think about the security camera across the street from the parking garage before the raid, however.”

She presses a button on the tablet in her hand, and the video begins to play. Several cars come and go, but there’s nothing unusual. Hicks raises his hand to point to the time stamp, and the guys watch, waiting for some smoking gun or clear picture of the guy running from the cops. All that happens, though, is a man leaving in a convertible. Lynch pauses the video again and looks up expectantly.

“Was that a Triumph?” Luca asks excitedly. “Those are still rare in the states, even decades after they stopped manufacturing them.”

“It’s not stock,” Street adds with a shake of his head. “That’s not standard suspension, and the paint is too new to be original. Whoever brought that over had a lot of work done to it.”

“Which is great, makes it easier to find,” Hicks agrees. “Except there’s no plates, no registration, and no one has reported it missing. There’s not even a T3 in that color registered to anyone through the California DMV. We have something to look for, but no more information on who we’re looking for.”

“I know someone who can help,” Hondo says. “Classic cars, new paint, rebuilds…”

“You have a car guy?” Deacon asks. “Why?”

“Of course, I have a car guy,” Hondo scoffs. “My dad may have introduced me.”

“That makes more sense,” Luca says, nodding with Deacon.

“Hold on, guys,” Lynch calls. “The tech team thinks they may have found another lead. Consensus is this video is the same driver.”

She plays a new video, this one taken from a gas station camera. Another newer sports car pulls in, but no one exits the car. It sits for nearly three minutes, then pulls out.

“I’m not as versed as these guys, but that looks like a Lamborghini,” Tan comments. “Can’t be too hard to trace those in Los Angeles.”

“It is when they don’t have the original drivetrain. The back tires spun out way too far in that turn. It’s been modified, too,” Luca points out.

“He’s either got a thing for modified sports cars or he’s someone who’s flipping them to be completely different cars after he steals them,” Street hypothesizes.

“Your car guy gonna be able to help with that?” Hicks asks Hondo.

“Oh, yeah,” he answers. “This case’ll be closed in a week.”

“Then get out of here. You’ve got a rare car to track down.”

“One more thing,” Lynch says. “Really, I promise this is the last thing. None of those cars have been seen again. Seems like he drives them once and then ditches them.”

“He has to have his own garage, then,” Street says. “One that I wish I had.”

“Then it’s a bigger target,” Hondo declares. “Let’s roll.”

The chime connected to the front door of your shop rings loudly and you tell Joel to go check on the customer. You are under a 1977 Chevrolet Nova and elbow-deep in the engine bay. Even if you’d wanted to be the first face they saw, given that it is your business, you wouldn’t be able to get out from under the car before they assumed no one was here.

“Ah ha,” you murmur.

You pull the broken mounting bracket down past the ballast. It falls to the floor with a loud ting before you roll out from under the car. As you sit up and wipe your grease-covered hands on your coveralls, you see Hondo looking at you with his brows raised.

“Hello,” you greet.

“You got a little something right… everywhere,” he jokes.

“Funny,” you reply as you stand. “If your eyesight is that good, it’s no wonder you made SWAT.”

Someone laughs behind him, and you lean to the side. His entire squad waits in the lobby, and you wave before returning your attention to Hondo.

“I take it you’re not here about your dad’s car then,” you muse.

“Not today. We need some help with a case, if you have the time,” he explains.

“Sure. I’ll have Joel take you to my office. Let me clean up and I’ll meet you – all of you, I guess – in there in a minute.”

“Thanks. I owe you one.”

“You owe me an entire car at this point, Hondo,” you call as you walk out of the garage.

Once you’re out of your stained overalls and have washed all of the grease and car-related grime off of your skin, you return to your office. Hondo and three other men wait beside your desk, and you invite them to sit. Hondo introduces you to Tan, Luca, and Street, and you shake each of their hands before you sit across from them. Hondo rolls his eyes when you smile at Street, but you’re not sure why.

“So, what exactly does Metro SWAT need from an auto shop?” you ask.

“Long story short, there’s a guy stealing sports cars; classics, fresh off the floor, and everything in between. Then he’s customizing them, driving them once, and ditching them for a new illegally obtained ride,” Hondo answers.

You nod as you think, then lean on your elbows on your desk. “Why customize them?”

“To make them untraceable, we think,” Luca answers. “You can’t report a car missing if it doesn’t exist anymore.”

“That tracks,” you agree. “But then the question becomes, how do you ditch them? You can’t leave something like that at a chop shop, the parts would bring more issues.”

“Private garage,” Street says. “Or maybe he’s selling them out of the county. Lots of possibilities.”

“It takes an incredibly rich, incredibly dumb person to treat cars like that,” you comment.

“We deal with criminals,” Hondo interrupts. “Rich and dumb is kind of our thing.”

“No, Hondo, cars aren’t like people. They fight back, they don’t just disappear without a trace.”

“She’s right,” Street adds. “These cars are more than property to be stolen.”

“What are you saying?” Hondo asks.

“Ever read Christine?” you joke.

“Or heard of Decepticons?” Street adds.

You smile at him again, and he nods before he winks quickly.

“So, can you help us or not?” Hondo inquires.

“Yeah, of course. What do you need me to do?”

“We’ve got some security cam footage of the cars he’s altered. We need to know where he’s getting the work done, or info on where a private garage big enough for a collection like this would be.”

“I’d be happy to look. I can’t promise anything, though. My clientele is more of the rebuild this classic or fix this issue not the I want to make a rare sports car even more unique off the books.”

“That’s why we’re here.” Hondo looks at his phone quickly and huffs. “Uh, Street, you stay and go over the videos with her. Deac said he and Chris need backup.”

“You got it,” Street answers.

Hondo thanks you quickly before he, Luca, and Tan leave. You’re left alone in your office with Street and aren’t sure how to start a conversation after joking together while Hondo filled you in on the case.

“Uh, here’s the videos. There’s only a few on this, but it should be enough to get an idea of what he’s doing,” Street says as he passes you a memory stick.

You take it from him and insert it into your computer. As the videos begin playing, you rewind it, pause it, and take a few notes. The cars in it don’t have anything in common, other than the fact that they’re stolen and modified.

“Well, I can say for sure that my guys didn’t do this work. Nobody I work with did, either. I’ll ask around and see what I can find,” you tell Street.

“I appreciate that,” he replies. “You know, when Hondo said he had a car guy, I was expecting…”

“A guy?” you guess.

“I mean, yeah. Middle-aged, beer belly, his name on the sign. The usual.”

“Sounds like my shapewear is doing its job if you don’t see a beer belly,” you joke.

“Please, you know how pretty you are,” Street replies.

“Seems like you think so.”

You lean forward and smile as you return the video drive to Street. He returns your smile and opens his mouth, likely to make another joke, before Joel knocks on the door.

“We’ve got another customer, boss. With a ’73 Corolla,” he informs.

“Excellent timing,” you mumble.

Street stands as you do and says, “Call Hondo, or me, whoever, if you find anything. Thanks for helping.”

“I will. Thanks, Street.”

He leaves through the lobby, and you take a deep breath. Joel smiles as he watches you, but you tell him to get back to work before he can comment.

“On what?” he yells behind you.

“Hondo, we’re not even doing anything,” Street groans in HQ the following morning. “Just let me go make sure she doesn’t need help or anything!”

“She knows more about cars than you do,” Hondo answers.

“That’s not what I mean. C’mon, man, she has an auto shop. Are you really going to make me sit here when I could be solving a case in my dream garage?”

“Hondo!” Deacon calls. “We’ve got another video. New car this time, but it doesn’t look modified.”

Street looks toward Hondo expectantly, and nearly cheers when Hondo sighs and tells him to go. He accepts the video and rushes to his motorcycle. Work will be more fun with you, he thinks.

“You’re back,” you say when Street walks into the garage.

“And you’re working on a 1960s Mustang,” he says dreamily.

“1964,” you tell him. “Want to take a look?”

“I’m supposed to be working. We have a new video with a different car.”

“Surely it can wait a few seconds, so you can look at the new 289 sitting pretty under the hood.”

“Yeah, we can wait,” Street agrees as he follows you to the hood of the car.

After Street takes a few minutes to admire the work you’ve done on the Mustang, you lead him to your office and bring up the new video.

“I haven’t seen it, but the people in the lab didn’t think it had been modified,” Street explains.

“Okay. Let’s see,” you say, turning the screen toward him.

Your shoulder presses against his arm as you watch, but you’re both too interested in the sports car on the screen to notice that you’re in shared space.

“I don’t see anything,” Street says.

You drag the video slowly and pause it when the wheels turn.

“That car shouldn’t be all-wheel drive. It’s a minor conversion compared to the other work you’ve shown me.”

“Who makes a Datsun 240z all-wheel drive?” Street murmurs.

“Who steals a Datsun 240z?” you counter. “They stopped making them for a reason. Short of a complete overhaul, they weren’t worth their weight in metal.”

“As right as you are, that doesn’t bring us any closer to finding this guy.”

“No,” you agree. “And none of my friends have heard anything. We’re getting the word out, though, so as soon as it reaches the right person, I’ll have more information for you. It’d be great if he decided to switch garages and was my next customer.”

“It would be easier.” Street leans back in the seat and looks at the pictures on your wall. “Best and worst customer to date, go,” he asks.

“Ooh, okay,” you say excitedly. “Best? A writer who lives up in the hills has brought me over 20 different rare classics to restore from the ground up. The worst was last week. Kid came in with a brand new, stock Lambo Huracan and wanted the double-clutch tranny switched out for a 4-speed automatic.”

“In a Huracan?” Street repeats incredulously. “I… I feel like I just aged twenty years.”

“Tell me about it. I asked him if he could drive it the way it was and never got an answer.”

“Did you do it?”

“Are you kidding? No! I’m in this business for the cars, and that’s just sacrilegious.”

Hondo knocks on your open door, and he’s leaning against it with his brows raised when you look up.

“There’s two of them!” he exclaims dramatically as he looks back at the rest of the guys. “I thought you and Street were bad enough separately, but this isn’t fair.”

“Can I help you Hondo?” you ask, ignoring his comment. Although, you don’t hate him viewing this as you and Street, together, as one.

“I just came to see if anything came of that video,” Hondo says.

“Nothing inherently helpful. Your smoking gun is still lost.”

“Keep looking,” Hondo requests, tapping his knuckles against the doorframe before he leads 20 squad away.

Street watches him leave, shakes his head, and turns back to you to ask, “How’d you get into cars?”

“My, uh, my home life wasn’t great growing up. Cars were my escape. From the time I was old enough to realize that walking out into the driveway to mess with the cars got me away from the fighting, I was out there constantly. Then it became a love for cars and everything they mean to people. This isn’t just my job, it’s my passion.”

“I lived in foster homes for too long,” Street says. “When I met my brother, Noah, he got me into motorcycles, which led to cars. We dreamed about getting a Ducati someday.”

“See? Cars mean something, they’re more than electronics and gas to get you from A to B. They’re life itself for some of us.”

“And you treat them like that. When I get that Ducati, I’ll bring it to you.”

“For what? Those are perfect as is.”

“Maybe it’ll just be an excuse to see you.”

You smile and shake your head, but you know that you’d welcome him in, anytime, with or without a Ducati.

“… And then after the toe, caster, and camber are matched up on both sides, we can move on to complete the diagnostics,” you finish.

“Okay,” the young girl says. “I need to call my dad really fast. Can I come back in and let you know after that?”

“Of course. Take your time.”

As she walks out, you notice Street standing in the doorway to the garage.

“That happen often?” he asks, gesturing toward the girl standing outside.

“Occasionally. Mostly with younger customers,” you answer. “Must be nice to have a parental relationship like that.”

“Tell me about it.”

“So, what can I do for you, Officer Street?”

“Are you ever going to call me Jim?” he asks.

“I like cars, so Street is more fun,” you reply with a shrug.

“I actually came to give you a break. Hondo said you’ve been sending him updates day and night. You have to step back from it all before you burn out,” Street explains.

“I can’t. I have cars to finish, and some of my contacts have leads that seem promising, but they have to go through a chain of different garages, and…”

Street steps to you and lays his hands on your shoulders. He waits until you look into his eyes and relax to say, “You need a break. Trust me.”

“I need to finish with her,” you whisper. “Five minutes?”

“Five minutes,” he agrees. “And then I’m dragging you out of here if you won’t go willingly.”

Five minutes later, you follow Street into the small customer parking area outside the lobby. He walks to a motorcycle, and you eye it in admiration.

“This is your bike? It’s gorgeous, Street,” you say, running your fingers over the smooth metal body.

“It’s fast too,” he replies.

You accept a helmet and put it on as he climbs onto the bike. The Cardo logo on the side of the helmet catches your attention, but as you sit behind him and wrap your arms around him, you’re more than happy to ride in silence and decompress.

When you get back to the garage, you climb off the bike and hug Street before he can swing his leg over.

“Thank you,” you say softly. “I did need that.”

“I’m not just a pretty face, you know,” he jokes as he returns your hug.

“Neither am I. And you shift into fourth too soon. That’s why it revs harder.”

“I knew coming to see you would embarrass me eventually,” Street laments. “But at least you’re pretty and really close to me.”

“I can move,” you say against his shoulder.

“No, thanks. Not until I have to go back to work.”

His phone rings in his pocket and you laugh as he grumbles, “Hondo always has to ruin the moment.”

The phone on your desk rings again as you lower the new L1 engine into a C-10. You roll your eyes at the sound but refuse to answer it.

“Somebody else answer the phone!” you call. “I can’t answer another stupid question today!”

Joel salutes you as he walks through your open door. He returns a moment later with the cordless phone in his hand and smiles.

“It’s Street. Would you like me to pass along your message?”

You extend your cleaner hand and tuck the phone between your ear and shoulder to say, “Hey, Street.”

“Can you remove the hemi from my Charger?” he asks. “It’s too loud when I drive.”

“I will hang up on you,” you threaten.

The line beeps and you pull the phone from your ear with pinched brows.

“Not if I hang up on you first,” Street says from the doorway. “Which is rude, by the way.”

“Have more videos for me to watch?” you ask loudly as you lean into the engine bay of the truck.

“No, just wanted to drop by. Nice body… the truck, I mean.”

“Sure, you did.”

You grunt as you stand and pass a screwdriver to Street.

“I don’t work here.”

“Yet you’re here every day,” Joel says from inside the cab of the truck.

“Not my fault your boss freelances for my boss,” Street replies.

“I told Hondo this morning that I hadn’t heard anything,” you interrupt as you wipe your hands on a rag.

“I know. I just wanted to drop by. I got off early, so, here I am.”

“Hmm. I was hoping you’d say you were undercover or something.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want to believe this is how you dress when you’re not in uniform,” you joke.

“You’re covered in-“

“I’m at work,” you defend. “Hazards of the job. And don’t bring up the fact that my laundry room smells like motor oil because you can’t prove that.”

Your phone buzzes on the workbench behind you, and you apologize as you walk past Street to get it. He watches your eyes widen as you press the screen a few times.

“Call Hondo,” you demand.

“But-“

“I know who your car thief is. He’s on his way here right now with the Triumph T3.”

“How? Why?” Street questions.

“The guy he hired to do the work thought they were really his cars. Apparently, my name came up and with the message about him going through the automotive grapevine, his former mechanic recommended me for a modification tune-up,” you explain quickly.

Hondo arrives less than ten minutes later with the rest of 20 Squad. He asks what is so urgent as he looks between you and Street, though there isn’t much room between you.

“He isn’t ditching the cars. He’s still driving the cars because the Triumph slid last night and now he’s bringing it here to be repaired,” you tell Hondo.

“Okay, it slid and he’s bringing in one stolen car. What does that mean for me? And no automotive speak,” Hondo replies.

“Could I interest you in the Cybertronian translation?”

“Tell me what my bad guy did.”

“If I can convince him to list every car he may want me to work on in the future, could you get a warrant? I’ll try to get an address and a name for him, though they may not be legitimate.”

“We can certainly try,” Deacon agrees. “But he doesn’t seem like the type that will answer questions.”

“I have a way of getting people to talk. Especially car people. Guys like him like to brag, so if I one him up, he won’t have a choice but to tell me what you need to know.”

“Just be careful,” Street says. “Don’t let him get so cocky he thinks he has to prove himself in any way except talking about cars.”

“I won’t. But you guys need to get out of sight. He’ll want to see the garage and get a feel for the security.”

“We can pretend to be security,” Street argues.

“Nah, you got a cop face, man,” Joel says from inside the truck.

“Joel, I’m going to marry your boss and ask her to fire you,” Street shoots back.

“I want to hear more about that later,” you interrupt. “But seriously, get out of sight.”

A few minutes later, a Triumph T3 stops outside of the lobby entrance. The man who enters looks like the driver in the security videos, but you have to get more information before anything else can happen.

“Hi,” you greet. “You must be the gentleman Josh told me about. He said you had a classic, but I was not expecting a ‘50s Triumph. That’s a gorgeous car, sir.”

“I appreciate it. She’s my baby, but the steering is a bit off since I hit a wet patch last night and the back end slid.”

“That sounds like a simple enough fix. If you can just fill out some information-“

“Josh said you’d do this off the books for me, like he has. Cash upfront.”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” you agree. “Go ahead and pull her into the garage.”

He nods and exits the front door. You sigh and move into the garage, planning how to get him to talk about the other cars he has stolen and where he keeps them.

“Nice facility,” he compliments as he enters your garage. “Yeah, well, I’ve got a couple incredibly rare classics that I work on often, and those customers deserve the best.”

“Rarer than a 1953 Triumph T3?” the man asks, defensive and growing insulted.

“Oh, yeah. I’ve had a Model T in here, several European cars, including a T2, plus modern sports cars.”

“I’ve got a garage full of classics that make those seem like Hot Wheels.”

“I don’t know,” you murmur as you lift the hood of the Triumph. “I’ve had my hands in a 1931 Bugatti Type 41. I don’t think it gets much better.”

“My collection is worth a dozen of those outdated bugs!” he exclaims. “The Triumph, a Lamborghini Aventador with custom drivetrains, and I’d bet this car that you haven’t seen a Datsun 240z in mint condition with all-wheel drive. If your little dump of a garage could handle even that! My 25,000 square foot garage has cars you’ve never even heard of.”

“LAPD SWAT!” Hondo calls as he and his team enter the garage. “You’re under arrest for grand theft auto, carjacking, assault and battery, murder, and about fifteen more charges that I don’t have the patience to list. Now, when an arrest warrant goes through without a name, you know that’s a bad person.”

“Do not push him up against this car!” you demand as Hondo grabs his shoulder. “Toolbox, wall, anything other than a pristine T3.”

“Thanks for the help,” Hondo calls over his shoulder as he leads the thief out of the garage.

“It’s a shame such a pretty car has to go into evidence before it returns to its owner,” you tell Street.

“Yeah. Listen-“

“You didn’t hear a word I just said, did you?” you ask.

“Do you want to go out with me?” he asks.

You smile as you answer, “I’d love to.”

“Trust me, you’re gonna love this place,” you promise as you take Street’s hand. “All of the food is served in trays that look like classic cars.”

Street laughs as you bounce excitedly and uses your joined hands to pull you close.

“If you could buy one classic car, what would it be?” he asks.

You answer without hesitation before asking him the same question.

“Car? Probably an Aston Martin or a ‘60s Impala. Something sleek, classic, dangerously fast,” he answers. “Motorcycle is still a Ducati.”

“You’d suit an Aston Martin or an Impala,” you agree. “Or you can just ride shotgun in mine.”

“I was born to drive,” Street says dramatically.

You laugh at him as you slide into a booth in the restaurant. Street follows, setting the tray of food before you as he sits beside you.

“Are all of our dates going to be car-themed?” Street asks.

“You’re the one who already planned our wedding, and I’ll go ahead and tell you now that I’m not firing Joel, so you tell me.”

“I don’t care what we do as long as you’re there,” Street decides.

You smile as you turn toward him, and when you raise your chin, Street kisses you quickly. You momentarily forget about the car-themed trays holding your food, too distracted by his affection to care about which model you got. But then he tells you he got the better one and you push him away from you to check. Street laughs as he pulls you close again, and you’ve never been happier to have so much in common with one person. Maybe there are two of you, but the balance and love Street brings is perfect.

#jim street x fem!reader #jim street x reader #jim street fluff #jim street fic #jim street imagine #jim street #swat x reader #swat cbs #fem!reader #requests #hanna writes✯

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evolnoomym · 3 months ago

Text

1. This is me trying

Sugar-Daddy!Joel Miller x f!OC

General Masterlist | „Runaway Butterfly 🦋“ Masterlist

Summary: You may have gotten out, but the damage is done. As you look back on the past you take a step forward in the present.

Rating: 18+ explicit content mdni!!!!

Word count: 2k

Warnings: no y/n, f!reader, this is how my first OC Moon got born, childhood abuse, self hatred, alludes to sa & suicide attempt(s), 2 separate instances of underage OC getting taken advantage of, nothing to graphic, Weed consumption, panic attack, OC sexualizes herself, she has tits and ass

If I missed anything please let me know 🙏🏻

Authors note: This is the first chapter of my my first Series, it’s been sitting in my notes basically for about 3 months. (Can we believe I’ve been here for 3 months already 😅) I know it’s rather short but the following chapters will be a lot longer. No Joel except in photos, also the Hawaiian Flannel he wears in one of those is the same as @strang3lov3 owns, hers is inspired by Jim Hopper. Bug was also the one that told me to write, so it’s all thanks to her 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

Shoutout to @saradika-graphics & @cafekitsune for the dividers 🫶🏻

Big thank you to for beta reading @fhatbhabiee & @jennaispunk 🦋🦋🦋

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so if you come across mistakes it might be due to that. I’m totally here for constructive criticism or feedback on how to improve. In general I appreciate comments, likes and reblogs greatly 👌🏻

Technically you are missing, you didn’t tell them where you’d go, they didn’t even knew you’d go at all. Though, you are sure that they are happy to be ridden of the problem, connecting all of them.

They took your pride, confidence, dignity and hope. They clipped your wings early on so you’d never get away, no chance at getting out of this nightmare. Always destined to be the black sheep, the picture-perfect scapegoat for all of them, and whenever something went wrong you got blamed.

No wonder you started to hate yourself, believing their cruel words. You were never good enough and they made you think it would be better if you would just be gone.

They tore you apart, made you hate the girl in the mirror till you just wanted to give up, they put all the blame on you, they used you as a little girl sized punching bag, they made you believe that everybody grows up that way.

Since both of your parents were equally unstable people, it forced you to grow up quickly, so you could take care of them. Never would you know who that real version of yourself could’ve been, without all the trauma, a loss to carry forever.

How should you have known that what happened was wrong, if you never knew anything else. You thought the violence and the loneliness was part of being a little girl.

With time you became something akin to a shapeshifter, trying to be whatever it took to fulfill their desires, if it meant to be loved. Even just the tiniest amount of recognition, was worth giving yourself up.

But those closest betrayed you. Turns out it was all for nothing at all. All the sacrifices you made were so entirely useless, breaking yourself down to become the version they might’ve liked best, trying fit the shape of their choice and satisfy their deranged ego’s.

You scraped together any amount of savings you still had and sold everything you owned that was worth anything. Your Dad and Grandma gave you some money and that was it.

They had pushed you so far, you felt the need to flee to an entirely different continent, almost a 15 hour fly and 525 miles away from what was supposed to be home, that’s what it took to get some semblance of freedom and peace. Austin became your home, it was a fresh start and that’s exactly what was needed.

To much happened, to many unforgivable occurrences. You couldn’t ever heal in the place they broke you in, surrounded by abusers. They might have forgotten, painted an entirely new picture of the truth for themselves, but you’ll always remember what really went down.

You could still vividly remember your brother’s frantic calls once he realized you were gone. He couldn’t believe you’d really go through on that childish silly dream, he always laughed at you for saying, you’d just pack up one day and leave everything behind.

Guess he’s not laughing anymore.

After countless attempts you finally gave in and picked up, only to met by loud thundering voices yelling at you. It was all about how insane you must be, so incredibly selfish, overly dramatic, over-emotional and weak for simply running away.

A coward.

As always it’s just about them, their feelings and what would be best for them. No care for what you’d want and what the best for you could be.

You tolerated more than anyone else would’ve, before ending the call. It was just an accumulation of empty threats, supposed to put you back in line, but it did the opposite. That phone call was the last time you’d speak to them.

8 months have passed since leaving, its now May and here you sit lounging in the living room of your tiny two-room flat. The soft, grey, cloud-like couch was one of your best investments, making it your second favorite place besides your bed.

Its Friday. The clock shows that it’s close to 6 pm, the early-evening breeze flows in through the open balcony and alongside the bustling noises of the streets outside. Cars honking, tires screeching, kids yelling, people laughing and birds chirping, all of it reminds of the overwhelming world waiting outside of your safe bubble.

You just pulled out your rolling tray, trying to quiet your mind, you’ve barely finished licking the paper. When your phone suddenly goes *ping* *ping*, a sound you haven’t heard before.

Normally that might make you anxious but today you are just annoyed by any sort of interruption to your routine.

„Ughhh.”

You begrudgingly get up to retrieve your phone from the kitchen counter. When you reach it and take a look at the screen you immediately understand what caused the strange sound.

A notification for the Sugar-Daddy website you had started using earlier this week. You have tried those odd websites before, at 16 thinking it would be a good idea. Back then you were already after the attention of a mature, wealthy and significantly older Men.

Looking back you always had a weird infatuation with men outside your age range.

Your first kiss happened, when you were 13 and still played with dolls. He was 21 and had just gotten his drivers license, already moved out and had a job. He took you on a walk, then sat down on an old park bench and just kissed you which felt like heaven,at the time. He was your Bestfriend’s older brother who knew exactly how madly in love you were with him.

Two years later, at 15, you thought that 25 year old police apprentice was seriously interested in you, convinced he’d make you his. But, no, he wanted to fuck a minor, he was after the thrill of something tight and young, to be the first to break you in and then throw you away once you served your purpose.

Even though you were foolish and naive, the perfect opportunity for him to use, it seemed your desperate want for genuine love chased him away before he could go in for the kill.

In those instances you were lucky that nothin worse happened, but at 17 the luck had run out or maybe what happened is what you get for making the mistake of trusting.

It was the friendly guy in your semester group, the one who was troubled himself but made you feel like it’s okay, he seemed to understand you. He became a good friend, he made you feel less alone and in the end he became the biggest nightmare.

Your trust was already broken and played with many times before him, but what he did was one too much. He changed the way you viewed the world, the way you lived.

You were deeply afraid of ever running in to him again, and when it happened you could practically feel the world stop spinning.

It was just a worst case scenario that never came true until it did. You remember that day like it was yesterday, it was supposed to be a quiet run to the grocery store, shopping with a friend. Standing in the bread aisle, you were waiting beside the cart for your friend to make her decision. You just stared down at the ground for a split second before looking back up and there he was. Staring at you with this awful smile of his. Ringing in your ears, shivers running down your spine and shaking hands were all you needed to know that getting out of there was more than necessary.

As you stood at the cash register the thought that it might not have been him weaseled itself into your head. The hope that it might’ve been just some mix-up got crushed when a voice behind you spoke up. That voice, the way he talks, you would recognize it anywhere. He was right there, the monster who looked so nice in the beginning was just a couple inches away. You could practically feel him breathe down your neck, just like he did that night. Keeping your composure was the biggest challenge.

Afterwards on the way home, in your friends car you broke down, never ever would you want him that close again. He contributed to you wanting to get away.

Now at 21, even after everything that happened, you thought about giving the Sugar-Daddy thing one last chance. The money would be nice, of course it would, living free without having to worry, having someone who takes care of you and you get to just enjoy living, is the dream.

You wanted to experience that, so the Profil was created, a few pictures were added showing your face, one displayed a peak of cleavage and another with focus on your backside, wearing tight pants that accentuate your plush ass all while you are just sweetly gazing over your shoulder.

Those photos were choosen with good reasoning, you believed that showing skin would attract more attention from the Sugar-Daddy’s.

A classmate once told you „You know...the only fuckable thing about you is that set of tits and that ass. Nothin else, well except maybe ur mouth,“ all while smugly laughing.

And he wasn’t the only one who said shit like that, so you believed it, showin off the assets it was and it worked but none of these man were really what you were looking for.

After 2 days of being flooded with messages, little to nothing came through anymore which you were a bit happy about, since the overwhelming attention was too much too quickly.

You are a recluse, three friends that’s all you got, two of them not even living in Austin. A lot of times you just want to be alone with yourself. Branching out like 6 years ago is not your style anymore and you started to regret putting yourself out there like this. You would’ve probably deleted the profile if it wasn’t for the awfully handsome Man who apparently took a look at your profile which caused the whole strange notification-sound.

You could only see his name “Joel Miller” but that was enough to peak your interest.

You take your phone, walk back to the couch and sit down. You scutch backwards till you can feel the pillow at your back to lean against. You open his profile and your mouth goes dry instantly. He looks to be about 40 ish, his brown-grey streaked locks are neatly styled, a well groomed beard adorned his face and those grey patches certainly made you squirm in place.

They showed his age and that is what turned you on. His amber brown orbs were quickly pulling you in. In some of his photos he wore expensive lookin suits, all highly professional. In others he looked more casual, wearing flannels and even a cute hawaiian shirt in a picture that must’ve been taken on a beach.

He looked big, 6ft3 tall, tan skin, with broad shoulders, biceps that could crush you and his hands, oh they are a sight to behold, you thought of what he could possibly to with them. How would they feel on your body, holding your hand, caressing your face, stroking your head or squeezing your waist.

You feel your cheeks get warm, heart rate picking up and there is a tremble in your breathing, all because of him.

You can already imagine how much power he would have over you with his entire body, you want that.

With all the gawking and fanning you lost track of the time, 45 minutes where spend looking at him, that realization made you feel a bit embarrassed but it turned into shock when the *Ping* *Ping* sound of again, this time with a notification that read ”Congratulations, The verified Sugar-Daddy has sent you a message don’t let him wait to long, swipe here to answer,“ and then his name ”...Joel Miller“.

Maybe he would be different to those before him, maybe you got your luck back and so you decided swipe.

Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI, thank you 🙏🏻

People I think might be interested: @aurorawritestoescape @milla-frenchy @joelmillerisapunk @joelslegalwhre @punkshort @burntheedges @almostfoxglove @taeslarityy @joelsdagger @littlemisspascal

Taglist 🦋: @joelalorian @msjarvis @stevie75 @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 @beefrobeefcal @baronessvonglitter @sherala007 @moonlitbirdie @thundermartini @sjc7542

Please let me know if you want to be added to the taglist or taken off 🫶🏻

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x oc #joel tlou #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #the last of us #modern au #joel miller x you #kinda slow burn #tlou #tlou fanfiction

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noxturnalnymph · 1 year ago

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Birthday Surprise

dbf!Joel x f!Reader

(1153 words)

Summary: Your birthday celebration with your hot DILF neighbor/dad’s best friend takes a bit of a strange turn.

(Happy Birthday @chloeangelic ily)

A/N & Warnings: SMUT ahead. MDNI. This is dbf, so all the shit that goes with that whole thing. This is unhinged....... I apologize for nothing.

The first thing you notice is the warm glow of the fireplace. You don’t remember who started the logs burning but the flames cast an orange glow on the room, filling it with a familiar smell and the sound of crackling wood. You can hear your mother humming in the kitchen, working to finish the celebratory meal.

Suddenly, your dad, uncle, and your neighbor Tommy all jump off the couch, cheering the Cowboy’s tenth touchdown of the game, high-fiving each other. Your dad and your uncle chest-bump each other like teenagers. Tommy stretches his hand over to high-five his brother, Joel.

Joel, who lives in the house next door. Joel, who is one of your dad’s closest friends. Joel, whose lap you’re currently sitting on. Joel, whose cock you’re currently warming.

Your dad makes a comment about the other team’s weak defense and it’s met by grunts of approval from everyone, and laughter at the other team’s coach. He looks around and points finger guns at everyone, asking if anyone wants another beer. Joel removes his left hand from under your shirt and waves it in your dad’s direction.

“I’d love another one, thanks Jim.”

“I gotcha Joel, don’t get up!” your dad giggles as he leaves the room.

Joel puts his hand back under your shirt, calluses gently scratching your soft skin, his warm palm back at home cupping your breast. You aren’t wearing a bra of course, Joel had told you not to. He also bought you a little pink sundress and told you to wear it with no underwear beneath it. Of course you obeyed. You’d been obeying him for months and he never steered you wrong.

You hiss as he pinches your nipple, causing your cunt to clench around his thick member. He groans loudly in response, moving his hand to repeat the motion on your other nipple in an attempt to elicit the same response. It works. He is still moaning when your dad comes back in the room, hands full of beers.

Your dad hands a fresh beer to each man and brings the last one to the chair you and Joel are sharing. He grabs Joel’s empty bottle out of the cupholder on the armrest and replaces it with the new, cold beer, so Joel doesn’t have to move his right hand from its current position under the front of your skirt.

“Thanks Jim,” Joel smiles up at your dad appreciatively.

“Anytime, buddy,” your dad smiles back, clapping Joel on the shoulder.

The game starts back up and you grab the beer, gently placing it against Joel’s lips and letting him take several pulls from the bottle. He rewards you by gently tapping his hand against your clit. It’s not meant to be pleasurable but you enjoy it all the same, knowing Joel will reward you later for behaving. You try not to whine as you constrict around him, your pussy stuffed full of him and yet still famished, your wetness running down his length and pooling at his base.

You hear your mom call everyone to dinner and you expect to hear the men protest but you look at the TV and notice the game is over and the Cowboys have won 79-3. Tommy comes and stands in front of the chair, putting his hands under your arms and lifting you off Joel’s lap like you’d lift a toddler. The squelching wet sound can barely be heard above all the shuffling feet making their way into the dining room.

Joel hastily tucks his cock back into his pants and follows as Tommy carries you on his hip like a child. When you get into the dining room you see everyone is already sat down and gathered around the table. Your mom and dad, little sister and big brother, uncle and three aunts, seven cousins, and even Chloe - the yellow Lab you had when you were nine is there - sitting at the head of the table.

The table is spread with all of your favorite foods, a glazed ham, roast turkey, stuffing, macaroni and cheese, mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, Red Lobster cheddar bay biscuits, pad thai, baja-style fish tacos, chik-fil-A nuggets, and a tiered cake. You think your mom has probably been cooking for days to create this meal.

Tommy sits you down in a high chair at the other end of the long table, opposite Chloe. You feel warm hands wrap around your body and tuck a napkin in the front of your shirt and you realize the high chair wasn’t a chair, it was just Joel’s lap again. Tommy pushes the ornately decorated cake closer to you and lights the candles atop it.

Everyone starts to sing happy birthday to you, even Chloe. Joel wraps his arms around you and whispers “Happy Birthday Babygirl” in your ear. You feel his stubble scratch against your cheek and you simultaneously feel his trimmed pubic hair against your other cheek, realizing he’s got his massive fat cock crammed back inside you.

Your mother is crying happy tears and your cousins are cheering and throwing confetti while Chloe - with her beautiful blonde hair - continues the birthday song with a verse of “how old are you now?” You lean forward to blow out the birthday candles and the movement causes Joel to orgasm inside you. He grips you even tighter, holding you down, as the force of his ejaculation threatens to propel you off his lap.

You feel his hot spend coating your walls, filling you up, overflowing out of you. You can hear it dripping off his lap and hitting the floor. Then Tommy leans in close and slaps you in the face. Hard. Then another slap, this time even harder.

You hear your mother louder now, wailing above Chloe’s song. The confetti is piling up on the table, coating all the food. The candles drip wax onto the birthday cake, which you know must be Devil’s Food Cake, your favorite. Joel’s come puddle is coating the floor, rising and getting everyone’s shoes wet. Tommy slaps you one more time.

You blink and refocus your eyes, staring at the face of a woman named Brenda. You think her name is Brenda, because that’s what her name badge says. You move your arm to fix your bangs, which Brenda messed up when she slapped you, but your hands are bound. Joel’s arms must be around you too tight. Oh wait, you’re wearing a straightjacket.

“Stop screaming you little weirdo,” Brenda hisses in your ear, “or I’ll dose you up so much you’ll be drooling in that pillow the rest of the day.”

She shoves your head away, catching you off balance and sending you clattering to the floor. The small TV mounted to the wall high above you plays another Looney Toons cartoon as you fade back into your dream-like state. You were about to eat your birthday cake!

🎂

😈

🎈

#joel miller x reader #dbf!joel #chloeangelic #happy birthday #chloe's favorite trope

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arc852 · 4 months ago

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21. Coveted

Definition: greatly desired

Summary: With spring break approaching and Grian and Joel packing, Jimmy decides now is a good time to head back into the walls to prepare for the following weeks alone. He is stopped by Grian and Joel.

G/t: Grian and Joel are normal-sized, Jimmy is a borrower

Word Count: 2070

AO3 Link

This is probably one of my favorites in the BBBCAU! I hope you guys enjoy!

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Jimmy knew, with the end of the semester, marked the start of spring break. Which meant most students would be going back home for a couple of weeks. For Jimmy, this usually meant he would have to stock up on supplies and seek out the few students who would be staying the whole time. Borrowing during breaks was always a hit or miss, something he learned back when he first moved into the college dorms.

He didn’t think anything would be different now, even with Joel and Grian knowing about him. They both had families they wanted to get back to after all. He had overheard them talking about plans they had for over the break. So with them leaving, that meant he would be going back to how things used to be.

Honestly, he hasn’t visited his own home in the walls for weeks now. He hadn’t really had a reason to. Not when Joel and Grian offered up their room for him to stay in. Now that he’s thinking about it, he hasn’t borrowed in about as long. Not when Joel and Grian were willing to share food and other things with him.

Has he been relying too much on the two of them?

Jimmy shook his head. He didn’t want to get into that line of thought. They were his friends and friends did things for each other. That’s what he’s learned, at least. Even if he felt like he wasn’t offering as much to the two of them as they were to him.

Anyway, he had to get ready for the long weeks ahead and get back into the swing of things. Especially with how rusty he must be.

He stood up from his spot on the nightstand, having been watching Joel and Grian pack and talk with one another about their plans. He started climbing down and could feel some attention turn to him. Joel and Grian were used to this though and mostly just kept an eye on him to make sure they knew where he was in order to avoid any…accidents.

Jimmy was thankful for that.

Once his feet hit the floor, Jimmy started on his way toward the entrance he had into this room. He hadn’t used it in so long he almost forgot where it was but thankfully he remembered it was underneath Grian’s desk. As he made his way, he was careful to not look at Grian and Joel. From this angle, it was still terrifying to see them. No matter how long he’s known the two humans, he doesn’t ever think he will quite get over the sheer size difference.

As he made it under the desk, he realized there was a box blocking his way back into the walls. With a slight annoyed huff, he turned back around. Looks like avoiding his friends from the floor was a no go this time. “Hey, Grian! Can you move this box, please?!” Jimmy yelled from the floor. Thankfully, Grian heard him and carefully walked over.

Jimmy turned away but felt more comfortable looking again when Grian kneeled down on the floor. “Oh, sorry Tim.” Grian grabbed the box and Jimmy backed away a few steps to get out of the way as Grian dragged it out and away from the wall. “Did you need to grab a few things or something? You haven’t wanted to go back into the walls for a while.”

Jimmy looked at him a bit confused. “No, I just figured I’d go ahead and start on getting things ready now. Most people will be gone by tomorrow and even more by the next day, I gotta get going before everything’s been cleaned and packed.” He noticed as he was talking that Joel came over to crouch down behind Grian to see what was going on.

“Jim, what are you talking about?” Joel asked, just as confused as Jimmy himself felt.

“I gotta stockpile on food for spring break.” Jimmy put it plainly. “If I don’t start now, I might miss out on some things. But don’t worry, I was gonna come back and say goodbye before you guys left tomorrow.”

Grian and Joel blinked, their eyes going wide as they looked at each other. Realization crossing their features. “We forgot to ask him.” Joel said.

“I didn’t think we even had to! I thought it was obvious!” Grian exclaimed and now Jimmy was even more confused. Why was being around these two always so confusing for him?

“Now what are you two on about?” Jimmy asked, gaining their attention back.

“Timmy, honestly…” Grian started and trailed off as he shook his head and scooped Jimmy off the ground. Jimmy yelped as he was suddenly lifted up and even more so as Grian stood up. He was brought up to chest level. “We weren’t just going to leave you alone for two weeks.”

“Yeah!” Joel chimed in on his other side. “I thought we made it clear you didn’t have to borrow and stuff anymore.”

“But…well, yeah, I know that Joel. But I know you guys aren’t staying here for spring break. You’ve already talked about going back home. Which is fine, I know you guys wanna see your families. I’ll be fine, I just gotta go and start borrowing now.” Jimmy tried to explain. He didn’t want them missing their vacations because of him.

“My goodness you’re an idiot.” Grian mumbled.

“Hey!” Jimmy yelled, face flushed. What wasn’t he getting?

“Jimmy, we’re not planning on leaving you alone but we’re also still going back home. Which means…?” Grian tried, leaving the last bit of his sentence in the air for Jimmy to finish. Unfortunately, Jimmy was still confused.

“Uh…” Jimmy let out a noise but otherwise didn’t know how to answer. Thankfully, Joel stepped in.

“Which means we’re taking you with us, dummy.” Joel said.

Jimmy blinked. And then blinked again. “Wait, what?”

Grian sighed and if he wasn’t already using both hands to hold Jimmy, he would have used one to pinch the bridge of his nose. “We’re not leaving you here all alone to try and fend for yourself. We promised you would never have to worry about borrowing or going hungry again.” His voice became softer, which was unusual for Grian. “We’re not going back on that promise just because we’re leaving the dorm for a couple of weeks.”

“O-Oh…y-you guys really mean it?” When he was met with nods from both humans, some tears started forming. “I just…sorry, I just assumed I would be staying here. I-I didn’t think…” Of course he knew they cared for him. They were friends and had been for months now. But the dorms were his home. They weren’t Grian and Joel’s. He just figured they would all be ‘going home’ per say, for spring break.

“I told you we should’ve asked.” Joel said, glaring at Grian. Grian rolled his eyes and then suddenly there was a giant thumb in his face. It gently wiped away the tears that had started to fall without him realizing.

“Come on, don’t cry on us, it was just a misunderstanding.” Grian said, but his tone was still soft. “Is that okay? Going home with one of us?”

Jimmy nodded, wiping up the last of his tears. “Y-Yeah, I would really like that.”

“Then it’s all settled.” Grian said, setting Jimmy back down on the nightstand. “So unless you need to grab something, there’s no need to go back in the walls.”

“Yeah, no, I’m good.” He’s gone this long without needing anything from there. He already had everything he needed out here, after all. But he quickly realized there was one thing that hadn’t been made clear to him. Especially considering both Grian and Joel were going to two different places. “Um, who am I going home with by the way?”

“Me.” Both Grian and Joel said at the same time and then looked at each other in surprise.

“Joel, I thought we already discussed this and agreed I was going to be the one to take him.” Grian said, eyes narrowing.

“What?! No, I definitely remember me being the one who we agreed would take Jimmy home.” Joel yelled back.

Jimmy laughed nervously. “Uh, guys?”

“When the heck did that happen? No, I’m taking Jimmy home.” Grian said, pointing at himself and then crossing his arms.

“No, I’m taking Jimmy home!” Joel did the same, crossing his arms with a huff.

“Guys!” Jimmy shouted, finally gaining their attention. “Stop fighting, I’m not-I-I mean, I’m surprised this is even something you guys are arguing about.”

Something crossed their features briefly before becoming neutral again. So fast Jimmy couldn’t hope to try and figure out what emotion it had been. “Of course it is. You’re our friend Jim, we want you with us.” Joel said, uncrossing his arms.

“Ah! W-Well…” Jimmy said, feeling flustered again. It was kind of nice when they said it out loud like that.

“There really is no use arguing though.” Grian reasoned. “We’ll never come to an agreement at the rate we’re going. So, how about we let Jimmy decide who he wants to go with?”

“Wait, what?” Jimmy asked.

Joel nodded. “That sounds reasonable and fair.” Both humans turned to Jimmy. “So, who’s it gonna be?”

“W-Wait! I can’t choose between the two of you! I’d feel bad for whoever I didn’t pick…” Jimmy said as he trailed off. He really couldn’t choose between the two of them, they were both his friends after all.

“You don’t have to feel bad, Jim. We’ll be fine with whoever you pick.” Joel said, his tone going softer.

Grian nodded in agreement. “Yeah, whoever you don’t pick now, well, that just means you get to go with them for the next break we have.” He explained. If they did it like that, then all Jimmy would have to do is choose once and then they would just go back and forth from there. No more arguing after that.

“Still…I don’t know how I’m supposed to choose.” But Jimmy knew he was really the only one who could. He sighed and tried to think. Maybe…if he tried figuring some more stuff out. “Okay. well, um…what are you guys going to do while back home?”

The two humans blinked, not expecting to be questioned. Joel was the first one to answer with a simple shrug. “I mean, my plans were really just to hang out with family and relax. Nothing too exciting honestly.”

Jimmy nodded and then turned to Grian. Who was not only glaring at Joel but also looked a bit down. “Uh, Grian? What were your plans?”

Grian crossed his arms and looked away. “My family and I were, uh…gonna go river rafting.”

Joel laughed out loud while Jimmy once again became confused. “River rafting?”

Joel leaned down with a big smirk. “It’s when you get an inflatable boat and take it out on a river and let the water take you wherever it pleases, basically.”

Jimmy’s eyes widened at the explanation and he suddenly pointed at Joel. “I choose Joel.”

“Yes!” Joel celebrated, pumping his fists in the air. Meanwhile, Grian looked defeated.

“Sorry Grian, but that sounds way too dangerous for me. Next time though?” Jimmy said, trying to cheer Grian up.

Grian sighed but then lifted his head, a small smile on his face. “Yeah, I figured. It’s all good though Tim, next time for sure.” He reached over and ruffled Jimmy’s hair with a finger.

Jimmy laughed and tried to push the finger away playfully. Grian took his hand back and Jimmy smiled, happy he wasn’t taking not being picked too badly. He must have realized it would be a bad idea to take Jimmy with him too, once he remembered what he and his family were going to do.

“Alright, we’re losing daylight here. Let’s finish packing and then we can go grab something to eat. And then we should probably head to bed. We all have a big day tomorrow, after all.” Joel said as he turned back to his suitcase.

“Sounds like a plan to me.” Grian said, going back to folding his socks.

“Sounds great.” Jimmy chimed in, sitting down on the nightstand and once again going back to watching and listening as they talked and packed.

He couldn’t wait to go home with Joel for the break.

#g/t #giant/tiny #au #borrowers #mcyt g/t #hermitcraft #hermitcraft g/t #hermitfic #gtjuly2024 #day 21 #borrower jimmy #tiny jimmy

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thewritersaddictions · 8 months ago

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Christmas Stories 2024 Master List

Welcome to the Christmas Stories 2024 Master List

A/n- There will be some fluff for and during the Christmas time. This is 24 days of fluff, dedicated to the cold holiday time.

Word Count-

Series Master List

Day 1- Joel Miller + Fake Dating

Day 2- Jim Hopper + Kissing under the mistletoe

Day 3- Alcina Dimitrescu + Looking at Christmas Lights

Day 4- Negan Smith + Catching snowflakes

Day 5- Steve Rogers + Sick s/o

Day 6- Eddie Munson + Building Gingerbread houses

Day 7- Koing + Cuddling Together

Day 8- Elijah Mikealson + Drinking hot cocoa by the fireplace

Day 9- Spencer Reid + Celebrating new years together

Day 10- Rick Grimes + Roasting marshmallows

Day 11- Leon S. Kennedy + Opening Christmas Gifts

Day 12- Daryl Dixon + Building Snowmen

Day 13- Steve Harrington + Christmas Shopping

Day 14- Jensen Ackles + Watching Holiday Movies

Day 15- Soldier Boy + Watching Snow Fall

Day 16- Joyce Byers + Baking Cookies

Day 17- Loki + Chirstmas Cruise

Day 18- Michonne + Snow Angels

Day 19- Billy Hargrove + Sleding

Day 20- Ellie Williams + Snowball Fight

Day 21- Bucky Barnes + Slipping on ice

Day 22- Stefan Salvatore + Ice Skating

Day 23- John Price + Decorating Christmas Tree

Day 24- Karl Heisenberg + Babys First Chirstmas

Completed On: (12/24/24)

Posted On: (03/28/24) - (12/01/24)

CS24 Tags-

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thyme-in-a-bubble · 9 months ago

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「 alternative universe masterlist 」

here is a massive list of all of the AUs i've written for, as well as all of the different kinds of y/ns.

return to the main masterlist

ATHLETE

boxer!steve rogers

pro football team!avengers

mma!rafe cameron

BODYGUARD

bucky barnes

CULT

cult member!steve harrington

cult leader!jim hopper

DEMON

bucky barnes

FANTASY

click here for the full fantasy AU masterlist

FARMER

farmer!steve harrington

farmhand!tyler owens

GAMER

gamer!steve harrington

GUARDIAN ANGEL & DEVIL

angel!steve harrington and devil!eddie munson

HISTORICAL

click here for the full historical AU masterlist

LUMBERJACK

lumberjack!frank castle

MASSAGE THERAPIST

massage therapist!bucky barnes

massage therapist!steve harrington

MEDICAL

doctor!spencer reid

doctor!aleksander morozova

doctor!peter parker

MOB

mob!bucky barnes

OLD MONEY

modern!old money!sirius black

PIRATE

remus lupin

sirius black

miguel o'hara

PORN

sugar & spice AU

ROCKSTAR

eddie munson

sirius black

remus lupin

ROYAL

prince!james potter

king!steve rogers

STEP

stepbro!sirius black

stepbro!peter parker

stepbro!rafe cameron

UNIVERSITY

evergreen university AU

sugar & spice AU

professor!ben solo

VAMPIRE

remus lupin

bucky barnes

steve rogers

WEREWOLF

bucky barnes

steve rogers

WILD WEST

cowboy!joel miller

ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE

steve harrington

DIFFERENT FLAVOURS OF Y/N

artist!reader

baker!reader

ballerina!reader

bookstore!reader

camgirl!reader

cheerleader!reader

fairy!reader

farmer!reader

knight!reader

librarian!reader

mom!reader

nurse!reader

pornstar!reader

pregnant!reader

princess!reader

private school!reader

vampire!reader

witch!reader

#lea’s writing #au #alternate universe #housekeeping #masterlist

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weirdfreakshow · 6 months ago

Note

What if and hear me out, Rancher Jimmy getting caught in a barbed wire fence while trying to bring Bull Joel to the milking station, Joel being a mixture of pent up and hateful, precedes to VICIOUSLY pound Jimmy while he’s all caught up in the fence, the barbs digging into his skin and causing him to bleed and wince in agony, a grueling mix of pain and pleasure (mostly pain) coursing through his body as the Bull he’s used and abused is currently fucking him senseless.

Fuck guys this is so good . so so so so so GOOD .

Just imagine Joel's huge bull cock pounding into lil rancher Jimmy. He's so pent up n violent about it, bulging his tummy as Jimmy wails. I think the barbed wire must be incredibly painful, but it's okay . Jim can revel in the pain n whine and cry but cum so hard as he's being filled up by his own cattle. The thought of Joel thinking he's breeding him makes him dizzy with pleasure. He wants to spill inside him and mark him as his, and Jimmy can do nothing about it but take it. Joel cums so many times in him that by the time his cock softens and he pulls out, Jimmy's hole is completely ruined and dripping with so much fucking cum. He should be found like that, it'd be funny

#asks #dubcon #jim #jo.el #thoughts

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2leggedshark · 5 months ago

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the important question isnt how old is teenage jimmy the question is how old are her friends (and m****n)

Martyn is like late twenties

Sausage is around 18, scotty is the same age as jim, lizzie and joel are like 17. I don't think I've drawn any other teenagers.

#asks

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belovedspector · 1 year ago

Text

I'll Have to Say I Love You in a Song

Pairing: Joel Miller x gn!reader

Word Count: 1k

Content: No outbreak/modern AU, fluff, use of pet names (darlin', sweetheart)

A/N: Based on the song of the same name by Jim Croce. Also, this is my first time writing for Joel. Enjoy! :)

You’re dozing off in bed, the TV playing a show you’ve seen a hundred times before, when the buzz! of your phone on your bedside table jolts you awake.

One of your arms emerges from your cocoon of blankets to blindly reach for your phone. The screen lights up with a text from your boyfriend.

Joel: Are you awake?

Barely, you think, but yes.

You: Yeah, what’s up? Joel: Can I call you? You: Of course :)

Moments later, the call comes through, and you’re quick to answer. You sit up in bed and worry your bottom lip between your teeth, hoping nothing’s wrong with him or the girls.

“Hey, is everything alright?” you ask as you answer the phone.

Joel’s voice comes through the speaker, low and smooth. “Yeah, darlin’, everything’s fine.”

You breathe a sigh of relief.

“Listen,” he starts, but then trails off.

“Yeah?” you prompt.

“I, uh,” he begins again, “I got somethin' to tell ya.”

“Okay,” you say, worry coming back again.

Is he breaking up with you? He wouldn’t do that over the phone, though, right? And things have been so good between you two! At least, you think they have—

Your train of thought is cut off by Joel’s soft reassurance. “Nothin’ bad, I promise.” He must have heard the waver in your voice.

You nod, although you know he can’t see it. “Well, what is it?” You try for a teasing tone, but you’re not quite sure you pull it off.

“Right,” he says. He mutters something to himself that you can’t make out. “I’m gonna put you on speaker and set the phone down, alright?”

“Sure,” you say.

You hear him do presumably just that, along with what sounds like the plucking of a guitar string and a deep sigh from Joel.

You turn up the volume on your phone as you hear a beautiful guitar melody drift through the speaker.

Then, he starts to sing.

“Well, I know it’s kinda late, I hope I didn’t wake you. But what I gotta say can’t wait, I know you’d understand.”

You can't help but smile as Joel serenades you. Sure, you’ve heard him sing before, but usually it’s in a more casual setting, like singing along to a song on the radio while driving. This feels so much more intimate. You only wish you could be there in person to see it.

“Every time I tried to tell you, The words just came out wrong, So I’ll have to say I love you in a song.”

Oh.

“I love you?” Neither of you has said it yet. It’s almost slipped past your tongue more times than you can count lately, but you always hold yourself back, afraid of how Joel might react. But, now, here he is, singing those three, little words to you.

You feel tears well up in your eyes as he continues.

“Yeah, I know it’s kinda strange, But every time I’m near you, I just run out of things to say. I know you’d understand.”

Joel is a man of few words. He’s a man of action, showing his affection through acts of service—fixing up things around the house without needing to be asked, bringing you your preferred coffee order at work…playing a guitar and singing a song about how he loves you.

“Every time I tried to tell you, The words just came out wrong, So I’ll have to say I love you in a song.”

There’s a break in singing as Joel plays a little guitar solo. You can picture those calloused hands, those deft fingers, strumming and dancing across the fret board.

“Every time the time was right, All the words just came out wrong, So I’ll have to say I love you in a song.”

God, you don’t think you’ll ever tire of hearing him say he loves you. You’ve only just heard it for the first time, but you know it is the first of many.

“Yeah, I know it’s kinda late, I hope I didn’t wake you. But there’s something that I just gotta say, I know you’d understand.”

You nearly laugh at how much the lyrics resonate. Sure, you’d been drifting off before he called, but now you’re wide awake, sleep entirely forgotten. But, you know you would wake up from a sound sleep every night for the rest of your life if it meant getting to hear from Joel.

“Every time I tried to tell you, The words just came out wrong, So I’ll have to say I love you in a song.”

Joel strums the last few notes, and the song comes to an end. You’re speechless, at first, but Joel’s quiet cough on the other end of the line snaps you out of it.

“Joel?” you say, trying to keep your voice steady.

“Yeah?” He’s breathless. Whether it’s from singing or in anticipation of your answer, you don’t know.

“I love you, too.”

“Yeah?” he says again, a huff of a disbelieving laugh following the word, as if he thought you’d say anything else.

“Yeah,” you confirm. “Joel, that was…the sweetest thing that anyone’s ever done for me.”

“Aw, come on, now.”

“I’m serious, Joel.” There are those damned tears again, making your voice waver.

“Didn’t know how else to tell ya,” he explains, voice a little gruff. “Figured this’d be easier. But I needed you to know. I love you, sweetheart.”

“I love you, too,” you say again, giddy to finally be able to test the words out on your tongue. They feel good, right.

“I’ll, uh, let you get goin’. Know you’ve got an early day tomorrow.”

“Okay,” you say, unable to fully keep your disappointment at bay. You don’t want this little moment to end.

“Hey, I’ll call you in the mornin’, okay?”

“Will you be singing me another song?” you can’t help but tease.

“Don’t you start with me,” he warns playfully.

“Good night, Joel,” you say with a light, little laugh.

“Good night, darlin’. Sleep well.”

With that, the call ends. You place your phone back on your bedside table and turn off the TV. You get comfortable in bed once again, letting out a contented sigh.

Joel Miller loves you.

And you love him.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! Please feel free to let me know what you think! :)

#the last of us #joel miller #joel miller x reader #x reader #jace writes

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