#joel mille fluff

[pedge-stuff]

emerald velvet (pedro pascal x gn/m!reader)

a/n: same vague universe as “marked.” drop a line if you have a sug. (do people not comment on tumblr posts anymore??? rip)

summary: Pedro is ready to tell the world about you.

——————————————————————————————————

There is a world where he comes out, ironically, to Jimmy Fallon. Casually, over a sip of black coffee from a Tonight Show-branded mug. Swallows down the lump in his throat, chokes, in the half second it takes for the audience to react. You can see, in the TV monitor, the shiny glint in his eye as the thundering applause rolls in.

You still can't help but feel like this is your fault. Like maybe you just forced a 47-year-old man onto a blue tweed couch to reveal the secret he'd perfected hiding for decades. It hadn't been an argument, not really. No one was mad. But looking at him now, you couldn't unsee the flash of hurt that had struck him upon your prodding— "would it be so bad?"

So stuck in the tension of the previous night, in his unwillingness to see you in the stupid dressing room before the show, you almost miss what comes next. Definitely missed what came after, couldn't hear over the dull roar in your ears: "He works in the building, actually—"

Pedro is recomposed, smiling on TV like a good actor does, and you're here, crying in your office, several floors above. A few shaky breaths, heels of your hands swiping over your eyes, and then you're down the hallway before you can even register standing up. No one in the SNL offices look twice as you pass; they don't watch Tonight Show tapings, though their host for the week is promoting the show. Amongst other, life-altering things.

You slip through the stage door in Studio 6B easily, standing in the dim cover of the backstage area. The crowd roars again, and it sounds so much louder here. You can feel the force of the applause. Hear the headset call for an act reset, see the blue curtains part, and then— 

You're in the air. Cheeks wet, chest pressed against Pedro's as you both gasp for air. One of the crew guys needs to take Pedro's mic pack, and maybe this can wait til you're back in his dressing room, but you can't bear to peel yourself off of him. He, who came out on national television and then, in the same conversation, claimed you as his own. He who slept turned away last night, embittered by the threat of change. But who loves you enough to suffer the consequences, anyways.

You slip quickly back to his dressing room, where you both are swept into separate congratulatory hugs. Claps on the back. A vague, fleeting embarrassment that you're very under-dressed, contrasted against Pedro's velvet emerald suit.

Nothing has ever mattered less.

— — — 

You would never tell him this, never admit to it for fear of stoking the hurt and guilt that had gripped him for years. But, you'd been curating an album on your phone: "Pictures I Will Share, When Sharing Is Possible."

They are easy enough to narrow down for Instagram's limit of 10. Harder to post. The first image, you favorite— a picture of him you'd taken on a hike last fall, which also serves as your phone background— taunts you from its little thumbnail.

The caption, at least, is easy enough: "What, did something happen?"

It is 11:29pm EST. In about 20 minutes, give or take a long monologue, your life will change forever.

You hit send, roll over, and fall asleep with your arm slung low on Pedro's waist.

As it should be.

[lotusbxtch]

SoCal to NorCal - Series Masterlist (Ongoing)

Series Pairing: husband!Joel Miller x f!Reader x boyfriend!Frankie Morales Series Summary: Joel is your rock, and Frankie is your ocean. So what happens when you bring the three of you together?

- or -

you and Frankie roadtrip up from Southern California to Northern California so he can meet Joel. A polyamory fic. This series exists in the Triple Frontier universe and is a Joel Miller AU/Triple Frontier AU. Series Rating: Explicit, 18+ only, MDNI Overall Series Warnings: (please check each chapter for specific chapter content!) no-outbreak!Joel AU, polyamory, age gap (I have them in mind as: Joel is in his early 50s, Frankie is in his early 40s, Reader is in her mid-to-late 30s, but ages are not specifically mentioned so make it you, boo), threesome, multiple partners, MMF dynamics, MFM dynamics, fingering, oral (m and f receiving), unprotected P in V (wrap it up pls!), DVP, creampie, multiple creampies, cumplay, cum eating, hair pulling, spitting, alcohol consumption, food consumption/mentions of food, mention of drug addiction and recovery, car sex, fluff fluff and more fluff, but also so much smut, Frankie being the PEK, all of these men have big dicks, gratuitous descriptions of male and female anatomy, everyone is STD testing regularly and is clean and on some form of birth control, Reader is female, has female genitalia, and uses she/her pronouns, Reader is able-bodied, has breasts, and has hair that can be pulled, otherwise no description of Reader's skin color, size, body shape, hair color, eye color, or ethnicity, Frankie has a young daughter but no specific reference to age, Sarah does not exist in this AU sorryyyyyy, no use of y/n Series Word Count: TBD Chapter 1: Malibu (ft. Santiago Garcia) Chapter 2: Hwy 101 and Beyond Chapter 3: Mill Valley [in progress] Chapter 4: Cataract Falls Chapter 5: NorCal Sunset

Disclaimer: inspo art is meant for vibes only - f!Reader is not written to be represented by any of the images.

If you would like to be added to the tag list for this series, please comment or reblog to let me know! 😘

Also, if there are things you’d like to see in future chapters - spicy or plot related, or both - also let me know! My inbox is open.

[gasolinerainbowpuddles]

𝙲𝚑𝚛𝚢𝚜𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚖 · · · · 𝙸𝙸. 𝚂𝚎𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 ║ ⓒⓗⓐⓟⓣⓔⓡⓔⓓ

𝙲𝚑𝚛𝚢𝚜𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚖 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 || 𝚗 𝚊 𝚟 𝚒 𝚐 𝚊 𝚝 𝚒 𝚘 𝚗 || 𝚏𝚒𝚌 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 | PAIRING(s): Joel Miller x fem!OC/reader

| RATING: explicit material | 18+ | CHAPTER CONTENT: fluff, flirting, pining, internalized negative talk | WORD COUNT: 8k

| CHAPTER SUMMARY: When Miller Contracting ends up in a bind, Joel wonders if you might be the solution to their problem.

Joel overheard it somewhere near the cracker and chip aisle. He’d been here enough over the past few weeks to recognize disembodied voices of some of the staff or to see you helping Mrs. Baker load up her car time and again, the latter of which he repeatedly swore to himself wasn’t completely intentional. He told himself he just kept the same scheduled date and time with Jordan because it was easier that way. It had absolutely nothing to do with the little dopamine hit his brain got whenever he saw you or got to talk to you in passing when he came in to buy lemonade.

“No, what I’m saying is that we don’t have time for this kind of shit when somebody already called out sick for their shift,” the store manager’s voice came drifting around the corner. All the sickly sweet customer service had been drained from his tone, and Joel imagined this was what he sounded like most of the time. Your typical run of the mill asshole who acted too big for his britches and could use a swift kick in the ass to knock him down a peg or two.

“Sorry, it’s just Mrs. Baker comes every week, and she’s a really good customer. I’m sorry that Robert had to ring up a few more people on his own, but I loaded up her car as fast as I could.” There was that sweet voice he’d become way too eager to hear every week - not that he sought it out or anything. Except the kindness usually found in it had deflated into a mildly panicked rush of explanation.

“However you wanna play your ‘I’m just so sweet’ schtick is up to you, but not when we’re swamped with customers,” Jeremy snaps. “Now get over to produce and straighten it up. It’s a fucking mess over there!”

The heavy stomp of feet fades towards the opposite end of the store. Joel peers from behind the endcap and confirms his suspicions that it had indeed been you on the receiving end of that prick’s badgering. Your head was still fixed on Jeremy’s retreating form. Fists clenching and unclenching at your side. Shoulders hunched and tight, raised so high they're practically touching your ears. Then all at once your body slumps into an accepted defeat, and you let out a long, tired sigh.

“He always that much of an asshole to you?”

You whip around in comic speed, hands flying to your chest in surprise at Joel’s appearance. Your eyes had gone the size of dinner plates, and you sucked in a deep breath like you were squashing a genuine shriek of surprise.

“Oh, didn’t mean t’scare ya,” he quickly allays, taking a step back and raising an apologetic hand of surrender.

“N-No, you’re fine. I just didn’t hear you.” You shake your head and fix your face with a soft smile. “Sorry about that.”

“He talk to all the employees like that?” Joel presses again.

“Like what?”

“Like he hasn’t had his ass beat enough times to talk nice to people?”

The surprised giggle busts from your chest like a swarm of butterflies, and Joel can’t help but grin even if the response is a little different than what he’d been expecting. He chalks it up to the leftover nerves of being startled a few moments prior. “Oh, sorry. Yeah, he’s just- we’re one person short, so he just sort of gets that way sometimes when he’s stressed. Just a bad day kinda thing.”

It’s bothersome how dismissive you seem about someone talking down to you, and if that weren’t bad enough, you actually sounded like you were defending that asshole a little bit.

“S’not really a reason to give somebody a tongue lashing like that - especially not a lady.”

He clocks the tight smirk that curves your mouth. “Well, thanks for the sentiment, and I’m - again - I’m so sorry you had to overhear that. It’s definitely not the customer experience we want to offer here, and I apologize that your visit with us was impacted negatively. I assure you it won’t happen again.”

“You always apologize this much for stuff that’s not your fault?” He wouldn’t usually be so blunt, but that was at least the fourth time you’d said sorry in half as many minutes.

Your smirk fades into dust. “What?”

“S’just, I mean– he shouldn’t be talkin’ to employees like that, is all. I couldn’t imagine talkin’ to any of my crew that way. Bein’ in a bad mood ain’t much of a reason to chew somebody out like that.”

“You manage a grocery store, too?” “Besides, it doesn’t make for good business runnin’ it like that.”

You both talk over each other, and Joel lets out a soft chuckle.

“Oh, sorr–” You clamp your mouth shut before you can finish the dreaded word. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.” You gesture for him to continue with what he was saying.

“You didn’t interrupt. We were just talkin’ at the same time. And, uh no, can’t say I’ve got the chops to manage a grocery store, but I do alright with my construction crew. I’m a contractor.”

Recognition dawns on your face. “Oh! Right! Miller Contracting, right?”

“Joel Miller of Miller Contracting, the one and only,” he confirms with a little wink.

Christ he needed to get a grip. Settling so easily into this sort of light, flirty exchange with you might not have been a conscious choice, but the last thing he wanted was end up being another creep hitting on you in the middle of your job when you didn’t have much choice but to stand there and engage. He was sure there was no short list of men who found all sorts of stupid things to ask for help with while you were just trying to get through your shift.

That small little grin was creeping back onto your features, and he tried very hard not to stare. 

“Yeah, I didn’t recognize you without your car underneath you.”

“Well I guess we gotta work on the ‘outside the truck’ branding then.”

You glance over his shoulder to the produce section. Right. You had work to do, and he was holding you up.

“Well, uh… wish I could say I remember your name, but in all fairness I don’t think you got your name and number slapped on the side of your car for me to use as a cheat.”

“Well, I don’t think my name and number would be super visible on my bike frame, but maybe I can work out some kinda sign or something and zip tie it on there.”

You look amused, but Joel feels like an asshole. He’d seen you on a bike a million times and riding in a car approximately zero times. You probably didn’t even own a car if he had to guess. He thinks about all the unseasonable rain this past summer and wonders what you do to get to and from work on those days. Certainly not ride your bike in the pouring rain. Hopefully you caught a ride with somebody or did one of those rideshare things Sarah was always talking about.

“Oh, m’sorry abou–I didn’t mean for that to sound–”

“You always apologize for things that aren’t your fault?” Your small grin spreads into a wide smile, and Joel breathes a little sigh of relief that he hadn’t made a complete ass of himself. He’s further relieved when you refresh his memory on your name and the street you live on.

“Right. Your dad and brother live there, too. Right?”

Your face pulls tight for a second before returning to something more neutral. “That’s us,” you confirm in a brighter tone than your body language tells.

“Well, I’ll let ya get back to it.” He points his thumb behind him towards your waiting work. “It was nice talkin’ to ya. Hopefully won’t be under the same circumstances next time,” he adds with a searching glance for Jeremy.

“Yeah, definitely. It was good talking to you, Joel.” You dip your head and walk off towards produce. Joel rolls his eyes at his fumbling social skills. Since when did he get to feeling like a nervous teenager just talking to somebody in a grocery store? What was more innocuous than talking to somebody in the middle of a grocery store?

He shook his head at his awkwardness and headed to the drinks. By the time he made it back to his truck, he was going to be late no matter how many red lights he managed to avoid. Maybe he should push Jordan’s next appointment back a little next time. Just in case.

You hadn’t meant to laugh, but it came out before you could stop it. After all, Jeremy’s soft toothed bite was a drop in the bucket of what you’d lived with your entire life. Sure, you’d been a bit nervous in the moment, but that was more Pavlovian response to a man being upset with you than any actual fear being present. Jeremy was an asshole most of the time, but it didn’t grate you like it did a lot of the other employees. You suppose you could thank your father for that built in function of desensitization to acerbic men.

You’d been seeing Joel crop up on a regular basis every week now, and it had sort of become something to look forward to. He was easy on the eyes and always polite. It was nice having that sort of certainty in a shift. Today had been the most you’d talked to him since he started showing up every week. You weren’t entirely sure if he was seeking you out the way you sought him out, but it didn’t much matter as long as you got that little boost of encouragement mid shift.

He was a captivating person, making these small microexpressions you couldn’t quite pin. You’d spent your entire life tuned into the tiniest of shifts in mood or body language so you could be prepared to keep it from changing into something unpleasant. Managing the mood of the room was always how you’d looked at it. It had become a useful tool once you started working after your mom skipped town. Yet another unintended gift from your father.

You were still trying to figure out where Joel's mind had gone to after you corrected him about not having a car of your own. It almost looked like concern, but that didn’t make a lot of sense in the context of the conversation. And then he’d gone and apologized, but you weren’t sure why. You hadn’t taken any offense to his assumption that you had a car. Most people had to have a car to get hired these days because even the bus wasn’t considered “reliable transportation.” It was a giant middle finger to anybody unfortunate enough to not have the option of a personal vehicle.

Your thoughts drifted like they often did as to who that second lemonade was for. At first you’d deluded yourself into imagining that he got two for himself, but he’d just buy the bigger size if that was the case, right? It was sort of around lunchtime when he came every week, so maybe that’s when his girlfriend was available for a little work visit. Well, you assumed girlfriend. He didn’t wear a ring. Then again, he was a contractor. Sometimes they didn’t wear jewelry when they were working for safety reasons, right?

Dissatisfied with your meandering considerations, you focused your attention onto something more certain: how absolutely and insanely handsome he was, especially up close.

The whole contracting thing made perfect sense considering he was in pretty good shape for someone in his… 40s? 50s? He had enough grays sprinkled in his curly brown hair and patchy beard. He had a sort of authority about him that spoke to knowledge earned through experience while at the same time holding an air of confidence in someone who was comfortable with themselves.

He gave you the feeling that wherever he led, you’d be safe to follow. The unassuming, kind way he held conversation had you transfixed on the spot every time. There never seemed to be anything he was going after, no specific outcome or response he was seeking, and it had you chatting back and forth in an organic, instinctive sort of way that was foreign enough to make you feel out of sorts. It was rare that you were talking to someone without following the prompts or silent directions they laid out. And if carrying yourself in talk with someone without outside pressures wasn’t enough to manage, you had to force yourself to not stare at him.

The span of his shoulders was the stuff of wet dreams. They were the sort of shoulders you imagined gave rise to the phrase “weight of the world on your shoulders” because if any could support it they’d be his. His pronounced, curved nose winded down towards rounded, pink lips. His eyes crinkled whenever he smiled, and you had never thought the idea of fainting couches was actually a thing until he graced you with one of those Joel Miller smiles.

Come to think of it, the man explained a lot of idioms and metaphors that hadn’t really made much sense to you until you’d met him. A sight for sore eyes. Take your breath away. Go weak in the knees. Head over heels. You were sure there’d be more the longer you knew him. He was the sort of person who demanded something more than plain speech. He had something innately poetic and beautiful about him, and you felt yourself wanting to know as much as he’d let you know.

Whatever you’d yet to learn about him, one thing was certain: Joel Miller was a bright spot in your otherwise pathetic life.

“C’mon now, Jennifer. This is gonna put us in a hell of a spot,” Joel groans into the receiver.

Loud sniffles and a hiccup come through the other end. “I-I can’t s-s-see him! I’m already m-moving out this w-weekend. It’s over. He f-fucking broke my heart, Joel! I c-can’t d-deal with this! HE BROKE M-MY FUCK-FUCKING HEART!”

Joel scrubs a hand over his face. Jennifer had been a great secretary/sometimes personal assistant over the past seven years. He didn’t think too much of it when Corey started working for them a couple years ago and hit it off with her. It wasn’t long before he was turning a bit of a blind eye when they were getting a little too cozy in the office. It was happening more frequently as they were clearly going out of their way to see one another, but it wasn’t affecting anyone’s work so he let it slide. Besides, he didn’t want to be the grumpy boss dumping water all over the flame of young love.

About a year ago when Corey proposed, Joel and Tommy felt pretty good about their decision to not intervene on the budding relationship for the sake of professionalism or whatever else. Now, listening to Jennifer sobbing and quitting over the phone after she’d found out Corey had been cheating on her for a few months? Yeah, Joel is second guessing every time he maybe should’ve hit the brakes a little harder.

“Listen, Jennifer,” he pleads. “I know it’s fucked up, and I’m not makin’ excuses for him. I have every mind to kick his ass myself, but the thing is right now that you are the only thing keepin’ these books and calls and appointments together. If you quit right now, me ‘n Tommy are gonna be royally fucked.”

She lets out a new round of sobs, and Joel winces at his poor choice of words. “Listen, Jennifer, we can’t do this without yo–”

“I’m s-sorry, Joel, but you’re gonna h-have to,” she chokes out before the line goes dead.

Great. Perfect. The time of year when they catch up on all this shit, and now Corey had to go be a fucking moron about everything and wet his dick in someone who most definitely was not his fiance. Joel had tried calling Jennifer back multiple times to talk her into not quitting, but she shut him down every time. The only thing left to do was try to salvage what he could of everything she’d left behind. The phones were ringing way more than usual, and it took everything in Joel’s power to not find Corey every day and wring his neck for causing such a massive disruption.

Joel wasn’t a total stranger to all this stuff, but he hadn’t been in the throes of it for nearly a decade. Jennifer was at the helm for all this stuff for nearly 7 years, and Sarah had done most of the job before Jennifer came along. He'd taken it for granted, not having to worry about much of anything when it came to administrative stuff, and it was coming back to bite him in the ass.

Around the week and a half  mark since Jennifer quit, Joel had finally moved all the files and calendars into his home office. Most of the time he felt ready to light a match and not look back. His main focus was keeping payroll uninterrupted, staying on top of current project accounts, and following up with payments and client satisfaction.

He missed a weekly appointment with Jordan because of all this hubbub, which meant he also missed a week getting to see you. He’s tired and on edge now, but at least he has a chance of getting to see you. Mrs. Baker is fiddling with her trunk, and he isn’t sure if she just arrived or is on her way out. When she shuffles towards the driver’s seat, Joel safely assumes you’d already loaded up her car and headed back inside. “Hey there, Mrs. Baker,” he greets with as much warmth as he can muster.

“Hi, sweet boy,” she calls back. She frowns a little as if she can tell something is off, and she says as much to him. He explains the main points of his current predicament but makes sure to leave out all the details of the stripclubs and the hidden dating apps. “Aw, well that’s a shame,” Mrs. Baker tuts. “We’d be better off if there were more youth like the sweet girl who helps me with these groceries.”

“That I agree with ya on one hundred percent, ma’am.”

“Such a sweet girl. Reminds me so much of my granddaughter. You know, Ruthie? Sweet girl. Always so helpful and looking for ways to be helpful. Smart as a whip, too. Seems a little sad sometimes, but what do I know.” Joel isn’t sure if she means her granddaughter or you, but he doesn’t get the chance to ask. “Anyway, you take care now, and tell that brother of yours I said hello.”

Joel promises to do just that and heads into the cold store. Much to his delight, he doesn’t have to venture very far inside before he spots you. You spot him, too, and he swears you look happy to see him. “Hey there. Met the President of your Fan Club out in the parking lot again.”

You laugh and shake your head. “Mrs. Baker is the President of everybody’s Fan Club, I think.”

“Tell that to Sandra Bigsby from when we were about 6 or 7. Mrs. Baker couldn’t stand her. We didn’t much care for her, but it was always sorta funny to see an adult show so much dislike for a kid.”

“Oh, you know Mrs. Baker? Or, well, I guess you’ve known her your whole life?”

“Yeah, pretty close to. Went to the same church growin’ up. She and my folks were friendly.”

“Well that says something, doesn’t it? That she still remembers you all these years later?”

“Yeah, I s’pose it does,” Joel admits with a faint blush. “And, uh, she’s pretty vocal about how nice of a person you are and helpful as all get out, so there’s that, too. You know, if we’re talkin’ about her stamp of approval meanin’ somethin’.”

Your face softens into a bittersweet corner tug of the mouth, like you hadn’t heard anyone say they were proud of you for a very long time. “She’s a very nice lady,” is all you mumble in return.

“That she is,” he agrees. “And, uh, you know, good judge of character ‘n all.” The thought had already started formulating in Joel’s head: would you be somebody that could help with a few phone calls and appointments until he found a replacement for Jennifer? “It’s actually sorta funny that she’d be talkin’ about how helpful ‘n smart you are because I’m actually lookin’ for a bit of help with something right now.”

You pause and turn your attention to him fully, brow pinched in curiosity.

“Well, you know the whole Miller Contracting business. We’re actually in a bit of a bind at the moment with secretary type help. Had our girl quit outta the blue on us, so I’ve been tryna do my regular stuff on top of all the stuff she managed.”

“Oh no, that sounds awful. I’m so sorry.”

The sincerity in your voice made Joel’s chest feel tight. “Yeah, it’s been about two weeks now, and I’m about ready to pull my hair out to be honest with ya.”

“No, I’m sure it’s a lot to deal with.”

“Yeah, that’s sorta where I was goin’ with this,” he presses. “I wouldn’t suppose– I mean, I know you work real hard here ‘n all, but if you were lookin’ for somethin’ like some extra hours, I mean….”

You tilt your head and purse your lips. “I just work at the grocery store. I don’t have any skills for office work or anything,” you breathe in a self-deprecating laugh. “I’ve never done any stuff like that, really. I don’t have any experience, I guess is what I should say.”

“I mean, yeah, some of it is using computer programs and whatnot, but a lot of it is just picking up a phone and followin’ up with clients and appointments. I’m sure you know how to use a phone.” Joel scratches the back of his neck and looks off to the right to displace some of the jittery nerves he seemed to get whenever he had to hold conversation with you.

“How do you even know I’d be helpful?” You ask this like it’s a genuine question, as if you can’t fathom a scenario in which you’d possess the capabilities to do something more than what you currently do. It makes Joel feel sad for a passing moment knowing that Mrs. Baker must’ve been talking about you and not her granddaughter Ruthie when she’d said all those things: sweet girl, always so helpful, always looking for ways to be helpful, smart as a whip, seems a little sad sometimes.

If anything, it strengthened his resolve to talk you into it. “I trust Mrs. Baker, and so do you. So, if she says I’m a nice young man or whatever, and you believe that to be true, then you also gotta accept that she vouches for you as somebody that could really help me out right now.”

Something about this seems to land with you. It occurs to Joel that asking you to place the trust in someone else’s view of you is easier than trusting your own beliefs and judgments. Seems a little sad sometimes echoes again as he watches you consider his request.

“I mean, is it–I can’t cut my hours here,” you say like you’re talking yourself through it aloud. “And I don’t have a car, so if the office is – I don’t know where the office is, so if it’s kinda far off then I wouldn’t be able to get there.”

“No no, no need to cut hours,” Joel assures. “And I actually just moved all of it to my home office so I could work on it after hours, so it ain’t too far from your house.”

“Oh?” You perk up at that. “That’s actually, yeah. That could actually work, I think.”

“And I ain’t lookin’ to short ya or anything on pay. It ain’t like a personal favor or somethin’. I would pay you right,” he rushes to explain. He was glad you didn’t think it was creepy or unprofessional he was asking you to work out of his house. You didn’t seem too put off by it at all. In fact, you seemed to have rooted in something that made you almost excited about it. The tentative hope that bubbled up in you gave him a strong urge to say or do something that would give him the opportunity to do it again. And again. And again.

“No, of course not. I know you wouldn’t do that, Joel.”

God, the way his name rolled off your tongue was like butter sliding down a hot biscuit. 

“So, you need me a couple days a week or ….?”

“Ah, well, yeah I’m willin’ to take up as much of your time as you can give me, if I’m bein’ honest.”

The easy smile that spreads across your features makes Joel feel like his brain just shut off and restarted. He blinks a few times and smiles back, a loose goofy thing he hoped didn’t make him look like too much of a dope. He gets himself together enough to exchange information with you and get a rough schedule for your help over the next couple of weeks. He apologizes in advance for his training abilities, but you just laughed it off and tell him it’ll be fine.

He had a feeling you were right.

You felt like you were flying the entire bike ride home. Not only were you going to have a secret stream of income that your father couldn’t touch, you were going to be spending more time with Joel Miller. The man who every time you talked to him it felt like you were slipping into a cozy warm bath. This type of thing was what the Kenzies of the world experienced, not you.

You tamper down your floaty feelings of happiness in case your dad was already home. The last thing you wanted was to rouse his suspicions about anything. You breathe a sigh of relief when you don't see his car in the driveway. It’s all a giddy blur getting inside and plopping down starfish onto your bed. You open your ancient slide screen phone and scroll down until you find Kenzie’s text thread.

You: how’s the job stuff going? miss u at the store :(

Kenzie: omg same :( but its going so good! ive already met so many ppl

You: I knew you’d hit it off right away typical kenzie lol

Kenzie: omg stop haha is jeremy being a tool still

You: the same so yes

Kenzie: ugh hes the worst istg

You: actually wish you’d been there the other day when he was being so loud getting on my ass that a customer overheard him

Kenzie: omg did they complain

You: no they just made sure I was okay it wasn’t like awful or anything just more awkward than anything Jeremy had always walked away

You: *already

Kenzie: was this customer a boy lol

You: no not a boy

Kenzie: aw booooo tomato tomato i thought u were gonna tell me a night in shining armor came to ur rescue

You: all I said was not a boy ;)

Kenzie: oohhhh a MAN?

You: lol yes Joel Miller

Kenzie: uuummmm mr lemonade hottie?!??!!

Kenzie: 👁️🫦👁️

You: ha ha yes

Kenzie: omg i would hav e died hes so hot

You: he was very nice :)

Kenzie: yeah ok and hot

You: I mean yeah duh

Kenzie: 💀

You: actually he offered me like a side hustle thing today

Kenzie: 👀

Kenzie: um explain pls bc that sounds kinda sus 

You: 🙄 the secretary at his contractor business quit I guess so he needs some help with phonecalls and stuff until he can hire somebody else

Kenzie: ummm he could just hire u 🤨

You: I don’t have the experience for that no way

Kenzie: u could learn in like 2 secs

You: yeah I guess we’ll find out soon

Kenzie: when do u start

You: next Tuesday

Kenzie: ok when he offers u the job pls let me be there when u quit in jeremys face bc i wanna see it 

You: yeah okay kenzie 😐

Kenzie: look at us out here becoming business professionals omg love that

You: you’re crazy lol

Kenzie: i know 💃

You laugh to yourself and let the phone slide beside you on the mattress. It felt nice to finally have something good to share with somebody.

The agonizing wait for Tuesday finally passes. You have the day off, and Joel shifted his schedule around to dedicate the entire day to showing you the ropes. You waited for your dad to leave for work and then biked over to Joel’s.

“Mornin’,” he greets warmly.

“Hey, how’s it going,” you return.

“Bit better now that I got somebody else to help with this clusterfuck.” He stills for a moment like maybe he shouldn’t be speaking to a quasi employee with such coarse language.

You wave a dismissive hand in his direction as he gestures for you to come inside. “I’m not going to tell you how to talk in your own home, Joel.”

And what a home it is. The space is muted but cozy, all earth tones like things grow and flourish here. Like the stories the walls hold are those of good times passed and good times to come. It makes your heart ache in such a distinct way, longing for something you don’t even know.

“It’s a bit of a mess, sorry,” he apologizes.

“It’s really nice here, actually.” 

He offers you coffee, which you politely decline. He shows you his makeshift setup in his home office, and you spend the first few hours together just familiarizing yourself with the basics of the operation. You listen intently, categorizing and organizing every bit of information he shares. You’re determined to prove yourself, even if this isn’t a long-term thing. You watch his eyes squint when he’s explaining something more detailed. You watch the way his large hands grip so delicately around the mug of coffee, voided pitch black and bitter for a man who conveys neither attribute himself.  You watch how his lips purse and flatten as he takes the time to explain things to you, pausing every now and then to make sure you’re understanding what he’s saying.

If watching wasn’t distracting enough, his shoulders would bump into yours every now and again when he’d lean forward to point out something on the laptop screen. His knees would knock against yours or a thigh would rub when he’d reach across you for a second to tap a few keys on the far end from him. The smell of him was intoxicating when he rested an arm along the back of your chair to lean in and explain something on the screen. It was a heady almost floral – no, citrus – sort of scent, mixed with an earthy bit of coffee and moss and woodwork.

The programs themselves seemed straightforward enough, but navigating and manipulating them was where the struggle would lie. Despite his hesitance at training you on all this, he had an amazing knack for adjusting his communication closer and closer each time to what was most comprehensible to you. It felt intimate in a way, his ability and desire to modify himself just so that it might be an easier undertaking for you.

By the time you get to lunch, you feel almost dizzy in the space with him. When he excuses himself for a minute to take a call from Tommy, you take the first deep breath you’ve had in a long time. You busy yourself with something so he doesn’t return to find you being lazy. You look over Jennifer’s physical calendar books and contacts. She has such legible, neat handwriting. Different bits of information are written in different colored inks – a sort of profiling system, you think.

At the bottom of each contact’s field on the page, there’s a small purple note. It’s always something random written there, no discernible pattern other than tidbits of personal information one might use to individualize an interaction. Factoids about a birthday or a vacation spot with a year next to it. Little snippets like do not call after 2 pm! or observes both Christmas and Hanukkah. Reminders like friends of the family and send copy to wife.

Besides all the helpful Purple Prompts – what you deemed them to yourself after reading the 6th or 7th one – the account overviews are also immaculately organized. The dread of getting anywhere near close to this level of competency starts to creep up on you and pull down. You push it away and focus again.

“Yeah, those are her handwritten things,” Joel announces as he walks through the door. “I haven’t gone over those much if I’m bein’ honest. Mostly just been tryna keep all the digital stuff goin’.”

“She’s very tidy,” you note.

“Definitely had all our ducks in a row,” he agrees. “That’s the downside, I guess, of havin’ somebody so damn good at their job. When they leave, it takes multiple people to do a poor imitation of ‘em.”

You grimace slightly at his remark, which prompts him to hastily add, “Not that you’re a poor imitation of anybody! I just meant it– you know– listen, you’re doin’ great.” He runs a hand through his hair, mussing it even more than it already was. Bits of silver catch in the light when he tilts his head. There was something so attractive about a man who wasn’t afraid to let his grays come through. Not holing himself up in the bathroom every week for 20 minutes with a bottle of Just For Men and a beer while he painted away any traces of wisdom and experience.

“Do I have somethin’ in my hair?” he worries as he runs his hand through it again. You realize you’re staring.

“Oh, no! It looks great!” you squeak out in embarrassment. “You look great. Very handsome.” Your eyes bug out in shock at the casual compliment word vomit. You turn in your chair quickly and busy yourself with the laptop. Joel just chuckles softly and settles into his chair next to you.

“Wow, brown nosin’ the boss already, huh?” he teases. “You better watch out before I start fishin’ for compliments.”

“I wasn’t–I didn’t mean to–I’m sorry,” you stutter.

“Hey now, I’m just kiddin’. It’s good for an old man like me to have his ego boosted every now and then, right?”

You snort and shake your head but keep your eyes glued to the laptop screen where you’re busy doing a whole bunch of nothing. “You’re not even old.”

“Okay, now you’re really just butterin’ me up.”

“No, I swear. You don’t look old. To me.” Your face feels like it’s a million degrees and counting.

“Oh? Can I get that in writing?” he laughs. “Would come in handy to show Sarah the next time she gives me grief for my creaky knees.”

“Oh yeah, that’s your daughter, right? The one who did all this before Jennifer?”

“That’s the one, yep,” he confirms. “Little shit gives me a hard time any chance she gets. Between her ‘n Tommy I’m tempted to say it’s borderline bullying.”

You giggle at his tellings of family and downtime and home life. It sounds nice. “Oh come on, you can’t be that old.”

A glint of amusement dances in his eyes, mouth tugging up in one corner. “Go on. Give me your best guess.”

You scoff and get a little nervous. You don’t want to offend him. Truth is, it wouldn’t matter if he was old. He was kind and sweet and drop dead gorgeous. He motions for you to wager your guess. “Um. I dunno. Um. Fourty…. three?”

He tuts and leans back as if to take in all your audacity at guessing so low. “Oh c’mon now, give me a real guess.”

“That was a real— ugh, okay. Um. I mean. I dunno, fifty six?”

“Now you’re just gettin’ wild with it,” he busts out in a deep laugh. 

You fidget your hands in your lap, fingers picking at imaginary pieces of dead skin hanging off of them. You’d never really been good at telling people’s ages, and this felt like a test you were failing somehow. “Well, I don’t know! I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything. It was stupid.”

“Aw, don’t say that, sweetheart. You’re not stupid, not one bit. I’m just teasin’ you. I’m comin’ up on 50 in a coupla weeks, actually.”

Sweetheart. It had poured from his mouth like a thick nectar, burning a sugary halo into your ear.

“Oh, happy birthday!” you say in a way-too-breathy-to-be-appropriate voice.

He waves you off but thanks you anyway. “See, you sorta had it. Just in between the first and the second number, yeah? You weren’t too far off. No need to feel bad or anything like that. And certainly no reason to feel stupid.”

“Okay, gotcha,” you agree quickly in the hopes that he’ll stop complimenting you. 

“Besides, you’re what? Twenty… er, twenty?” he offers weakly.

It’s your turn to roll your eyes at his ridiculous guess. 

“Hey now, it’s different for ladies,” he protests with an impish smile.

“I’m the ripe old age of twenty three,” you hum with a shrug. "Twenty four in a few months."

“Christ, you’re makin’ me feel ancient now. Sarah was already born by the time I was twenty three.”

“No, I think that’s just a generation thing. My parents had us young, too.” Your stomach clenches at the conversational transition to your family. If Joel notices your odd change in posture or behavior, he doesn’t say anything.

“Hm, maybe. Maybe so,” he agrees. “Well, it’s due time for a little break. You don’t have to stay in here – unless you feel more comfortable doin’ that.”

You realize you didn’t pack anything to eat. “Um, I think I’ll actually just, uh, head back home for a little bit if that’s okay. I forgot to pack anything to eat like a moron,” you huff in self-directed impatience.

“You ain’t dumb. Quit sayin’ that. It’s worse than you apologizin’ all the time,” he gently chides. “Just come on down to the kitchen with me, and I’ll make you a sandwich or somethin’.”

Your mouth hangs open for a moment in surprise at his earnest appeal for you to not tear yourself down. It was a far cry from your usual day to day. “Okay, but only if you’re sure?”

He lobs one of those devastating smiles your way. “Very sure. Let’s go.”

He hasn’t made somebody else a sandwich since Sarah was probably in her late teens. He’s overthinking it now: how do you fold the ham so it sits right? What angle does the cheese go? He assembles it in the most presentable way he can manage, but he doubts you’d have any complaints. You don’t seem like the type to complain, even if it might be warranted. Even if you might want to.

At first it just read as polite and good home training, but the more he’s around you the more he feels like it’s just a veneer. Not that you wouldn’t be kind and considerate of your own accord, but the inclination to do so feels very much forced at times, like there’s some small voice in your ear constantly dictating which move should come next. Sometimes you get flustered at some perceived wrongdoing on your part, all imagined, and Joel just hopes he isn’t unconsciously doing something to make you feel so nervous.

It’d hit him like a lead cloud when you came into his home and looked around as if it was some sort of breathtaking sanctuary. He felt the waves of immediate, riveted comfort rolling off you. And then that small smile of yours when you’d said it’s nice here, actually, the one that plays so timid on your mouth like you’ve taken a lot of nerve to speak whatever words fell from your lips. He couldn’t help but soften and drink it in. 

He tried so, so hard to not stare at you while he was trying to go over the basics of the company and its workings. Every unintentional bump or glide against you felt like a scorching surge of electricity straight through him. And your face when you were concentrating, how you’d sometimes nibble on your lower lip when you were listening really hard to something he was saying. He’d had to look away a few times when his cock started kicking against his thigh in appreciation.

But then you’d gone and done that thing again where you talk down to yourself. Sorry this, stupid that. He hoped he wasn’t making you feel that way. He wanted to see that same smile that softened your face when you’d first arrived. He kept lunchtime light on conversation, letting you take the lead on it. Turns out you’re a bit like himself in that you don’t feel the need to fill every moment of silence with something. The comfortable silence felt nice, though. It wasn't often he could just sit with somebody and enjoy solitude together. It was a different sort of peace to have that with someone.

Eventually he spoke up, though, not wanting to give an impression that he didn’t want to talk to you. You seemed more relaxed now, and it warmed his blood to think he might’ve had something to do with that. You’re agreeable, as always, when he mentions pay at first might just be an under the table situation until he figures out if he needs to - or is capable of - adding another employee to the roster. You seem perfectly fine with his cash offer. In fact, he thinks you seem to be relieved in a way. He’s not sure what to make of that, but he doesn’t spend too much time on it. Not when you’re sitting across from him smiling about something and laughing under your breath as you tell him some random little tidbit.

Every morsel feels like a feast, but you? You’ve made a glutton out of him. He might be able to drink you until he’s sick, but he doesn’t think he could ever drink enough of you to be satisfied.

You hope and pray that baking Joel a cake for his birthday isn’t too weird. Now that you’re standing in front of his door, the same door you’ve frequented over the past few weeks since you started, you sort of wish you hadn’t done a lemonade flavor cake. It felt sort of personal but in a forced way. You should’ve just went with chocolate or something and made it less pushy and awkward.

But you forget all about that when he opens the door for you and erupts into the biggest smile you’ve ever seen when he spots the confection. He grabs it up like he’s elated and eager and over the moon at your silly little gesture. Your eyes flit to where his band t-shirt flexes against the bulge of his bicep and tugs across his chest. Your eyes wander down to the curvature and fit of his jeans against his hips and thighs as you follow behind him into the kitchen. The denim clings and pulls as he bends towards the counter to set the cake down. You can feel the heat on your chest creeping up your neck.

“This is just– thank you,” he says in earnest.

You smile back at him and shrug. “Just thought I’d brown nose the boss some more, you know?”

His whole face lights up at your gentle teasing. “Well, it’s working.”

“Would it undo it if I said I didn’t want to put candles on there because I didn’t want to risk burning the house down? Fifty is a lot, you know.”

He breaks into a deep belly laugh at that. “Sarah would give you a gold star for that one.”

He grabs you up into a loose, friendly hug. Your hand shoots to his chest and snakes up in a fraction of a second. He pulls back, still smiling, and rubs your back. “Thank you. Really.”

“It’s nothing,” you insist.

You both pull away from one another and eat a slice of cake.

It’s nearly the end of the month, and Joel has a growing funny feeling lodged in his chest. Once he thought it, he couldn’t unthink it. Once it crossed his mind, it had boomeranged back and rooted itself firmly into place and exploded. You look like you belong here in his home. It melded around you as if you’d always been a part of it - were meant to be here -  and what was worse was every time you were here it felt like a missing piece had come back to fill the empty space left behind. 

He wishes he could blame it on that hug when you’d brought him cake for his birthday, when your hand grazed across his chest and left a blazing fire in its place. But, no, it had started before that, and it was only getting worse. He listens to you now taking on a sometimes alright sometimes difficult client. They were behind schedule on starting a project for him. He was a repeat customer, but he was no nonsense about things.

“No, of course, Mr. Dillard. And I hate that all this is going on when I know it’s probably a tough time for you, too,” you say softly into the landline in his home office.

There’s some gruff sound on the other end.

“Oh, I apologize. I just– Joel had mentioned about Duke passing last year, and I know the first anniversary of something like that can be so difficult.”

Joel’s head cocks to attention at that. He hadn’t said any such thing. He leans in closer to listen to whatever it is that you’re concocting. There’s a long pause and then softer speaking.

“Oh, of course. I’m sorry if I shouldn’t have said anything– Oh– no, right —”

Another pause and a muted voice. You nod your head and purse your lips in agreement and faux understanding even though Mr. Dillard can’t see it.

“He mentioned it when I told him you were on my list of clients to call next. He has a memory I would kill for, I swear. And he’s always had a soft spot for dogs– oh my god, don’t tell him I said that, though. He might kill me if I’m going around telling everyone he loves fluffy puppies,” you giggle.

He hears what sounds like gentle laughter over the receiver before more unintelligible comments.

“No, and we appreciate how wonderful everyone is being about it. We’ve certainly been trying to put on a brave face, you know. She feels terrible about having to exit like that, but we keep telling her she absolutely should be focused on her health right now.”

More garbled conversation on the other end.

“Well I’m not at liberty to say, but I cannot express how much that means to us that you’re asking after her. I just know she appreciates all the support with how fast everything happened. Yeah. MMmhhhmmm. Yes, your thoughts and prayers mean so much to us, and I will definitely let her know that you are thinking about her.” 

Joel’s jaw would’ve been on the floor if possible. Mr. Dillard was okay for the most part, but god could he be a jerk if you caught him in the wrong mood. Here you were pulling some story outta your ass that had him doing a 180º and asking after Jennifer’s health after her brisk departure.

“Okay, now. I’ll be back in touch very soon, Mr. Dillard. Alright. You take care now. Buh-bye.”

You set the receiver down and scribble a few quick notes in purple ink. He doesn’t remember when he’d bought a purple pen. Had you bought that to just keep up with Jennifer’s established system?

“You’re amazing,” he laughs – an incredulous tone.

You knock him out with one of those bright smiles of yours.

tagging a few people who showed interest (lmk if you wanna be removed):

@witchy-and-persnickity @sheepdogchick3 @tuquoquebrute @ellenmunn @akah565 @goodwithcheese @koshkaj-blog @umnitsa @ellenmunn @jupiter-soups @pastelnap @fadajnaoqkzalq @confusedpuffin @zooty-and-fruity @drunk-and-capable @cumberpegg @witchy-and-persnickity @persephone-girl @lovelyjess69 @verybigvag @nutterbitter @sunshinehaze1 @tuquoquebrute @beelzebeth87

[inklore]

— 𝐅𝐀𝐐 ⋆ ˚｡

this blog is strictly multifandom, but that does not mean that i don’t play favorites for certain fandoms/characters. so there will most definitely be more writings for certain characters and fandoms.

requests: are closed, but thots are always welcome!

in no way shape or form should minors be interacting with anything on or posted to this blog. this is an 18+ space. anon hate and celebrity discourse also has no place here, so please respect that. if you are racist, homophobic, bigoted, zionist, islamphobic, judgmental to what people enjoy writing/reading, can’t depict fiction from real life, you will be blocked.

𝐈 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞…

rpf, necrophilia, incest, pregnancy, daddy/little play, age play, spitting, kitten, bimbo!reader, foot fetish, animal play, race play, watersports, underage scenarios, alpha/omega, domestic violence, kid fics, male!character x male!oc, i hate the word ‘doll’ as a pet name so i avoid it like the plague.

𝐈 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞…

smut (refer to the above list when it comes to this), fluff, age gaps, poly/threesome+, reverse harem, dubcon, noncon, yandere, toy play, cheating (to a certain degree), blood play, knife play, some bdsm, breath play, violence, gore, capture x captive, hunter/prey, praise and degradation, power imbalance, step siblings, supernatural, villainary, choking, mommy/daddy kink (to an extent).

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐒.

marvel ↷

miguel o’hara, hobie brown, marc spector, thor odinson, loki laufeyson, peter parker (all variants), yelena belova, joaquin torres, doctor strange, wade wilson, carol danvers, eddie brock, scott lang, hope van dyne, kate bishop, hela, pietro maximoff, logan howlett, wanda maximoff, steve rogers, kraven, cable, druig, makkari, thena, blade

dc universe ↷

dinah lance/black canary, diana prince, clark kent, pamela isley/poison ivy, arthur curry/aquaman, harley quinn, adrian chase, pattinson!bruce wayne, edward nashton/the riddler

top gun: maverick ↷

jake 'hangman' seresin, bradley 'rooster' bradshaw, javy 'coyote' machado, mickey 'fanboy' garcia, natasha 'phoenix' trace, beau 'cyclone' simpson, reuben 'payback' fitch

star wars ↷

poe dameron, finn, kylo ren/ben solo, bo-katan kryze, din djarin, young!han solo

scream ↷

ethan landry, stu macher, billy loomis, chad meeks-martin, mindy meeks-martin, amber freeman, tara carpenter

bridgerton ↷

anthony bridgerton, colin bridgerton, benedict bridgerton, kate sharma, simon basset, phillip crane

house of the dragon ↷

ser harwin strong, daemon targaryen, aemond targaryen, rhaenyra targaryen

american horror story ↷

cordelia goode, tristan duffy, michael langdon, harry gardner, madison montgomery, kit walker, xavier plympton, ally mayfair-richards

etc shows ↷

villanelle, lip gallagher, tommy miller, carmy berzatto, luca (the bear), kate parks, daisy jones, billy dunne, warren rhodes, geralt of rivia, love quinn, max wolfe, olivia benson, roman godfrey, dream the endless, lucifer (sandman), jonathan pine, mira phillips, the salesman (squid game), hwang jun ho (squid game), kim geon-woo (bloodhounds)

movies ↷

john wick, finnick odair, peeta mellark, johanna mason, han lue, cipher, walter de ville, tangerine, dave lizewski, thomas sharpe, james conrad, neil (tenet), edward cullen, millie / molotovgirl, dante reyes, thrandull, steve kemp, charlie swan, marquis vincent de gramont, keys (free guy), akira (john wick), beverly marsh (it two), ben hanscom (it two), keith (barbarian), frank (don't worry darling)

adam driver ↷

kylo ren/ben solo, adam sackler, flip zimmerman, phillip altman, charlie barber, henry mchenry, commander mills, rick smolan, officer ronnie peterson, matt the radar technician, clyde logan, paterson, jude

oscar isaac ↷

santiago garcia, poe dameron, nathan bateman, jonathan levy, william tell, blue jones, rydel keener

pedro pascal ↷

din djarin, javier peña, frankie morales, javi gutierrez, joel miller, dieter bravo

chris evans ↷

ransom drysdale, lloyd hansen, andy barber, ari levinson, frank adler, steve rogers, jake wyler

[wayhaughtao3feed]

From Afar: one-shots

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2Hjuvex

by Avrilsky

Just a bunch of one-shots set in the From Afar universe.

Words: 5628, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Series: Part 2 of Can't help falling in love

Fandoms: Wynonna Earp (TV)

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: F/F

Characters: Nicole Haught, Waverly Earp, Wynonna Earp, Eric Mills (oc), Trenten Haught (oc)

Relationships: Waverly Earp/Nicole Haught

Additional Tags: Fluff, Comfort, One-Shots, featuring Joel the dog

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2Hjuvex

[branlovestowrite]

Killian? Is that you?

I got inspired to write this little one shot this morning, just in time for Thanksgiving. With all the angsty Knightrook stuff out there, I wanted to add some fluff to the mix.

Inspired by this post from @thesschesthair​

Summary: Henry and his wife Jacinda move to Seattle and discover that their neighbor looks just like Henry’s stepfather. No magic AU.

“Are you sure about this?” Henry asked as he walked around the apartment. It wasn’t much. Of course, he and Jacinda had stayed in smaller places than this, but, with the baby on the way, he couldn’t help the thought that this would quickly become very cramped.

“You having second thoughts?” Jay asked. He couldn’t help the smile pulling at the corners of his mouth as he looked upon his wife. How had this goddess agreed to marry him?

“I’ll gladly go anywhere as long as I am with you. I just don’t know if it’s a good idea for us to be so close to your stepmother and stepsisters.”

“Victoria and Ivy won’t be a problem. And Ana and I have always got along well. It will be nice to be close to her again. She’s so excited to be an aunt.”

“I know, and I’m glad you’ll get to spend some time with her again. I guess I’m just nervous. This is a big leap of faith for us.”

“I know. It’s a lot. Starting the food truck with Sabine. Moving to a new city. You finally making time to write your novel. It’s all big leap of faith. But, no risk, no reward, right? And we have been saving up for this for two years. We can make this work.”

“You sound more optimistic than usual. I guess having breakfast with Sabine infused you with confidence.”

She smiled. “Something like that.” She stepped closer and took his hands in her own. “I know the baby throws a wrench in all our plans, but it’s not like it’s insurmountable. We can do this.”

“The baby is what makes me so nervous. Is it really a good idea for me to spend so much time focusing on my writing? Maybe I should try to find a steadier job.”

“You make good money driving for Swyft, as you’ve told me many times. Stop doubting yourself, Henry Mills. I’m supposed to be the one with insecurities that you help me overcome.”

“I love you,” Henry whispered as he pulled his wife in for a kiss.

Jacinda pulled back and smiled momentarily before turning her head abruptly to look at the intruder who’d suddenly stepped through the open door of their new apartment.

“Helloooooo,” the newcomer said. She was a teenager with wavy blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. Despite her innocuous appearance, Henry couldn’t help but feel like there was something off about her.

“Hi there,” Jacinda responded in a wary tone.

“Are you the new tenants?” She had some kind of British accent, though he couldn’t quite place the region.

“We are.” He stepped forward and extended his hand. “Henry Mills, and this is my wife, Jacinda.”

“Alice Rogers,” She replied, capturing his hand in a firm shake. With her free hand she reached into the pocket of her oversized jacket and pulled out a jar of something that looked like jam, but in a bright orange color. She handed it to Henry. “Here’s a little welcome to the neighborhood gift. It’s marmalade. I make it with my Papa. He and I live across the hall.”

“Thank you,” Jay said as she took the jar from Henry. “Is your Papa around? I’d like to start meeting our neighbors.”

“He’s at work. He’s a cop. Well, detective, actually. He just got promoted. I’ll bring him by later.” Alice turned and walked off without waiting for a response.

“Well… she’s… peculiar.”

“That’s one way to put it,” Jacinda replied.

“I’m sure she’s harmless. She’s just a quirky teenager. It wasn’t that long ago that you and I were teens. You know how hard you try at that age to establish your identity.”

“You sure you’re not a psychologist?”

“Just an observer of people. That’s what makes for a good author, right?”

Jay smiled and give him a quick peck on the lips before walking into the bedroom to talk about furniture placement.

It was a week after they moved in before Henry actually met Detective Rogers. Apparently his cases kept him working odd hours. Then, one Saturday morning, returning home after a grocery run, Henry saw the door to Alice’s apartment open and her Papa step out. Only, it wasn’t her Papa. It was Henry’s stepfather.

“Killian?” Henry asked as he stared at the man. It didn’t make any sense. Killian was supposed to be in Storybrooke with Henry’s mom, Emma, helping raise his stepsister, Hope. What was he doing in Seattle, leaving Alice’s apartment?

The man didn’t appear to have heard him. He extended his hand. “You must be Henry. Alice told me about you. I’m Joel Rogers. Welcome to the building.”

He was stunned. The likeness was uncanny. Their voices even sounded the same. It was as if they were twins. Rogers cleared his throat, and Henry noticed the outstretched hand. He took it and gave a nervous shake. “I’m sorry. I’m just a little confused. Do you have a brother? A twin named Killian?”

“That’s an odd question. I guess it’s altogether possible, but the only family I know of is my Alice. I’m an orphan.” Rogers laughed nervously. “Why? Have you met him?”

Henry had a strong urge to pull out his phone and face time with Killian at that very moment, but he ignored it. He needed to talk to Killian first. What were the odds of finding his stepdad’s doppelganger on the other side of the country? “Um, you look like someone I know is all. Maybe it’s just a coincidence. I’d better get inside. I need to put the milk away.”

“Indeed. Don’t want it to spoil. Well, I’m sure I will see you around Henry. Have a good day.”

“You too.”

After he put the groceries away, he checked on Jacinda. She was still sleeping. She’d been having bad heartburn from the pregnancy, and it was disrupting her sleep. Deciding to let her rest some more, he closed the door to their bedroom and settled on the couch. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed his mom.

“Henry,” she answered warmly. “It’s nice to hear from you. How’s Jacinda?”

“She’s doing OK. Just a lot of heartburn at night.”

“Poor thing. I had heartburn with Hope. Maybe it’s a sign that your baby is a girl.”

“Yeah, maybe. Hey, is Killian around?”

“Yeah, he’s making lunch for Hope. Hang on a minute.” Henry heard her walk into the kitchen and hand the phone to her husband.

“Hello lad,” Killian said as he took the phone. “Everything alright?”

“Oh yeah, everything is going well. Better than I could have hoped. But something weird just happened. Do you know if you have a twin brother?”

Killian chuckled, and it sounded so much like Rogers. “I don’t believe I do. The only brother I know of is Liam. Why?”

“Because I just met my neighbor, and he looks and sounds just like you.”

“Bloody hell. Did you get a picture?”

“No. I didn’t want to freak him out. I wanted to talk with you first. And anyway, he’s a cop so he probably wouldn’t appreciate me taking random pictures of him.”

“Probably not. How strange. I’ll call Liam and ask him, but he probably won’t be of much use. You know I was five before Liam learned of my existence.”

“Okay, thanks. Let me know what he says.”

“I will, lad. Talk soon.”

Liam had no idea why there was a Killian lookalike in Seattle. The mystery continued to grow. Unfortunately, Henry hardly ever saw Detective Rogers. One day, when he should have been working on his book, it all got to be too much to ignore. He dug out a photo album his grandma made for his graduation. It was a scrapbook, with the pages meticulously laid out and the photos glued in place. He found the picture he was looking for and removed the page from the protective sleeve. There was a little guilt as he ripped the photo away, tearing the page and a few accompanying stickers, but he shrugged it off. His grandma would forgive him.

He stepped out of the apartment and made the short walk across the hall, knocking on Rogers’ door. Alice answered.

“Hello Henry. How can I help you?”

“Alice… shouldn’t you be in school?”

“Today’s a teacher planning day. Whatcha got there?” Before he could react, she snatched the photo from his grasp and stared at it closely. “What’s this? Why do you have a picture of my papa? And who’s that woman in the wedding dress?”

“That woman is my mom. Well, one of them, anyway… that’s not important. What is important is that the groom is not your papa. It’s my stepdad.”

“So… you have two moms and one of them is married to a man who looks exactly like my papa? That seems strange.”

“You’re telling me. I’ve been wondering about it for over a week. I asked Killian, that’s my stepdad, Killian Jones, and he had no clue. And your dad mentioned to me that he’s an orphan.”

“He is. Well, I guess that makes you my cousin, in a way. Welcome to the family!” She reached out and wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug.

“Whoa, whoa,” Henry said as he extracted himself from her grasp. “Two things. One, I don’t think it works that way. And two, I’m not sure I want to be seen hugging my underage teen neighbor in the hall. People like to talk.”

“I’m a lesbian. Everyone here knows that. And even if they don’t, let them talk. People always talk because they need something to occupy their minds. Anyway, grab your keys. Let’s go.”

“Go? Where?”

“Down to the station to find papa and show him this.” She still held tightly to the photograph. She was already halfway down the hall before she turned around. “Come on, cousin Henry.”

Henry grabbed his keys and locked his apartment door before following her down the stairs.

They walked into the station. Alice acted like she owned the place, but her pass did not extend to Henry. Every officer gave him a wary look. She led him to an empty desk with a nameplate reading ‘Joel E. Rogers.’

“Your dad’s middle initial is E?”

“Standards for Edward.”

“Did people call him the Jolly Roger when he was a kid?”

The desk sergeant overheard him and laughed loudly. “We still do!”

“Oi!” Alice yelled. “I thought you called him Eagle Scout now.”

“He can have two nicknames,” the sergeant yelled back.

“Come now, Marley,” Rogers said as he walked out of a conference room. “I have three nicknames. Don’t forget about Captain Hook.” He held up his left hand, which was gloved and looked stiff. Henry realized for the first time that it was a prosthetic.

“Now that there’s a chance you could make Captain one day, I’d rather not call you that one,” Marley replied. The phone rang before he could say more, and he answered it. Rogers walked to his desk.

“Hello my little love.” He pulled Alice in for a brief hug. “Henry, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Um… “ Henry began, but Alice jumped in.

“We came to show you this, Papa.” She held out the photo. Rogers took it in his good hand and stared at it for a moment.

“That’s me, but I don’t recall this moment. I’ve never been married.”

“That’s not you. That’s my stepdad. His name’s Killian Jones. He lives in Maine with my mom and stepsister.”

“Bloody hell…”

“That’s what he said when I told him. His mother died when he was young and he was abandoned by his father. He never knew anything about having a twin.”

“So, you think this man could be my long-lost twin brother?”

“What other explanation could there be?”

“I don’t know…” he wiped his face with his hand. “Bloody hell.”

“Henry,” Alice said, “give me your phone. Unlock it first.” Henry’s eyes never left Rogers as he handed his phone to Alice. “Come with me, boys.” She led them into the same conference room Rogers had just emerged from. Fortunately, it was empty. Once they were all in, Alice opened the FaceTime app and tapped the icon to call Killian.

“Wait, what are you doing?” Henry asked.

“Why delay? I always find it’s better to rip the bandage off in situations like this.”

Killian answered after a moment. “You’re not Henry.”

“Nope. My name’s Alice. But don’t worry, Henry’s here and he’s fine.” She motioned to Henry and he stepped behind her, waving over his shoulder.

“Henry, what’s going on? Everything okay with Jacinda?”

“Yeah,” Henry said, taking the phone from Alice. “Just needed to show you something.” He walked over to Rogers and stood next to him, angling the phone to get the other man in the frame. “Killian, I believe this man may be your twin separated at birth. Meet Joel Rogers.” He handed the phone to Rogers and stepped back.

“Bloody hell…” Killian said.

“You’re telling me, mate,” Rogers replied. “Apologies for the shock. My Alice can be a bit too direct at times.”

“Don’t talk about me like I’m not in the room, Papa.”

Rogers smiled at his daughter. Henry heard Killian chuckle, and knew he was smiling too.

“I have a daughter as well. She can be quite the handful.”

“Just wait until she’s a teenager.”

Henry hustled around the apartment, preparing the small space for Thanksgiving dinner. Fortunately, Sabine had offered to cook. The food truck she ran with Jacinda was parked downstairs, the two friends using the commercial grade equipment to prepare the meal. Henry was tasked with rearranging furniture while they cooked. His mom, Killian, and Hope would be arriving at any minute, and Rogers and Alice would be joining later, along with Sabine’s mother. Once he was satisfied with the arrangement of seats, he returned to his phone, compiling the perfect playlist for the day.

Rogers and Killian had taken to speaking almost daily, but today would be their first face-to-face meeting. Their bond became very strong, very fast. Henry could see they were both happy to have another family connection.

Alice became a regular at Henry and Jacinda’s apartment. With her dad working such odd hours, Jay had insisted that Alice have dinner with them more frequently. She was indeed quirky, but she had a kind heart. She’d already offered to babysit once Lucy was born. Henry wasn’t sure Jay would let anyone near Lucy for the first few months, but his mother assured him that she would relent eventually, and then they’d be glad to have a teenage relative across the hall to help give them a break.

Henry reflected on the last few months in Seattle. The food truck was doing well, and he’d made significant progress on his book. And to top it all off he had discovered a long-lost Uncle and cousin. For Henry Mills, who prided himself on his family, two new additions were more than welcome. He definitely had a lot to be thankful for this year.

[bulletforged]

LIST OF RP FAVORITES AND LEAST FAVORITES !  / repost, do not reblog.

tagged by: @bondedamalgam​

tagging: anyone

FIRST NAME:  Ellie.

FAVORITE FCS TO PLAY:  I love JR Bourne so freakin’ much so he’s definitely among the favourites. Aside from that, I’m not sure. I find that love for a FC is often tied to love of a character for me. I love Chris Argent and I love writing him, so naturally the man who plays him is gonna be one of my fave FCs.

FAVORITE SHIP YOU’VE EVER HAD:  I’m not sure I could pick one favourite ship. I just love those ships where you jump into a million threads and even if you have loads in your drafts for your partner, you always know you can just throw a new thing at them whenever the hell you want and you know there’s no pressure, because you have the mutual respect there and you know it’s cool if you need to drop some in exchange for new ones or put some on hold while you have no muse. Those ships where you literally will do all the plots and aus and crossovers and constantly throw hcs back and forth in chats -- they’re my favourites, always. I don’t have enough of them here tbh.

FAVORITE FANDOM YOU’VE BEEN IN:  In all honesty I’m not sure I’ve ever found a ‘perfect’ fandom. My best experiences have been in private groups tbh, not indie. :’)

FAVORITE SONG TO GIVE YOU MUSE:  I don’t often find that songs give me much muse.

LEAST FAVORITE FCS TO PLAY/PLAY AGAINST:  The usuals like models; singers; etc., but I’ve grown to dislike some FCs based on characters I don’t like or rpers I’ve written with before. Examples would be the guy who plays Grant W*rd, but also the guy who plays Dean Winch*ster. I just can’t deal with him anymore tbh. Someone ruined Dean for me. In fact two people have. :’) I’m working on pushing that aside for the sake of other people I know who write him well but it’s hard for me to like him now.

LEAST FAVORITE RP EXPERIENCE:  Having a duplicate copy my stuff and steal from me isn’t fun lemme tell ya. In fact I think they’re still at it. Last time I checked, they were still using the old bio I made so.... yeah. :’)

LEAST FAVORITE GENRE OF WRITING:  I'm down for pretty much anything tbh although I lean towards nice things over angst. Idk I’m trash.

LEAST FAVORITE FANDOM YOU’VE BEEN IN:  Is it bad that the first thought that came to mind was the Teen Wolf fandom? There’s just a lot of shit in this fandom I really don’t like. Like... common things people write or constant hate towards good characters or too much hype on characters who aren’t that great or ships that legit came out of nowhere and are not even remotely in-character or justifiable. Like I’m not gonna be spewing anti-stuff about it cause I don’t have the energy but yeah... this fandom probably wins this category. There’s just so much bullshit.

LEAST FAVORITE THING PEOPLE ASSUME ABOUT YOUR CHARACTER:  When people underestimate him or the Argents in general, like when they act as if Chris couldn’t kick the crap out of them or they make hunter OCs and the default tends to be ‘they think the Argents are a joke’. It annoys me because it’s canon that the Argents are the original hunter family, and it’s also canon that even the very powerful Hale family is scared of them -- they tell their kids to run and hide because they know fighting the Argents isn’t a good idea. They are a 300+ year old powerhouse of a family with a terrifying amount of resources and a global reach, and yes, a few of them are corrupt, but we haven’t seen enough to base the whole family on those three corrupt characters. If they were so corrupt and that weak, they wouldn’t be as powerful and they wouldn’t be as feared. They’d have died out a long time ago. If they weren’t highly respected, they wouldn’t have so many resources. I just cba anymore with anyone who disregards the canon set up of the Argent family. Just because Chris and Allison broke away from the old code and their family’s ways, doesn’t mean the rest of the Argents have. And frankly just because Allison is dead in canon, doesn’t mean the Argent family is in ruin. It’s not. This very small 5-person-branch of the family is, but not the whole damn dynasty. If you think Chris couldn’t still use his last name to get a fuck tonne of back up and support and resources, you’re wrong.

OTHER CHARACTERS YOU’D LIKE TO PLAY:

Maggie Greene; The Walking Dead

Meredith Grey; Grey’s Anatomy

Melissa McCall; Teen Wolf (but I probably never will)

Dr Evil; Austin Powers (don’t look at me)

Joel; The Last Of Us

Wade Wilson; Marvel

Jennifer Blake; Teen Wolf (but I won’t)

Kate Argent; Teen Wolf (but probably won’t)

Regina Mills; OUAT (but definitely won’t :’))

and, for the bonus round, bold whatever rp-related things appeal to you from the list below!

MUSE PREFERENCES: females / males / canons / ocs / corrupted / good / live action / animated / human / supernatural / other species / hopeless romantic / averse to love / younger (15-25) / older (25+) / easy for you to relate to / hard for you to relate to.

PLOT IDEAS: accidentally married / affairs / age gaps / angst / apocalypse / arranged marriage / boarding school / college roommates / criminals / enemies to lovers /enemies with benefits / exes / fake relationship / fluff / forbidden relationship / friends with benefits / online relationships / pregnancy / prison / professor/student / road trips / rich kids / royalty / smut / supernatural / toxic relationships.

POSSIBLE TRIGGERS IN PLOTS YOU’RE OKAY WITH: abuse / bdsm / daddy kink / drinking / drugs / dub-con / gore / incest / kidnapping / murder / non-con / prostitution / stepcest / stockholm syndrome / torture.

[bobasheebaby]

#5, 15, 27, 37, 50 for the ask thingy, please!

5) If you had to choose a favourite out of all of your multi chaptered stories, which would it be and why? 

Well if we are talking full series What Almost Was, I hated how MC was supposed to be so willing to be the mistress, I was able to make her push back more than the book let me. I hated how you saw another LI behind Liam’s back and he didn’t know until he proposed so I added my duke, Percy. Liam knew he was trying to take his girl and jealousy ensued. Athena was about to skip the bachelorette (again PB we should have been allowed), and Liam put Madeline in her place. 

Favorite part out of all my multi chapters? Dog Days in Rome, it was the second time I fluffed, and man did I fluff! Percy and Chance equals major fluff! Athena was able to skip the bachelorette party and just have fun with Percy. 

15) If you write OC’s, how do you decide on their names? 

Percy I had some help. I knew it couldn’t be a standard name and @mrsnazario1223 was kind enough to give me Perceval. His full name which I know I haven’t given you is Duke Perceval Lennon Hunter of Winchester, Lennon yes like John Lennon. She said he should be duke of Winchester I added Hunter, so Supernatural references.

Bailey I got her face first and found a list of names I liked staying away from A’s cause her family didn’t need to be that family. Bailey just fit.

Alexander Dean Ross, well we decided on Alexander, Dean from his character, Ross is his actual middle name.

Mille and Rowan ended up really Irish but it fit @leelee10898 helped me with naming them she also helped me name Kellan James. Joel just fit, and I kept thinking Burton. 

27) Do you make a general outline for your stories or do you just go with the flow? 

Good question! Both. What Almost Was, Following Her Heart, and Starting Over, Together all have(had) a general outline and endgame. I knew who I wanted Beth with one From the Wolves but I was at their mercy. Betrayal was pure by inspiration, as was In Their Hearts  and Consequences of a Fling. Most of my one shots I just go with out they flow. It’s the series I have an endgame for usually. 

37) What’s the funniest story you’ve written? 

croNUT, when you add Justin, Maxwell and a cronut and an have Athena supposed to be getting advice from Justin hilarity is bound to ensue! 

50) If you could write only angst, fluff or smut for the rest of your writing life, which would it be and why?

I know some of my stuff you can’t tell but I like a balance I’d have to cheat and write fluffy smut or angsty smut. I guess smut cause then I can still do my crack pairs, but most of my series would be fucked cause life isn’t just sex there is drama and happiness. 

Thanks for the asks anon!

Ask me about my fics.