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mermaidgirl30 · 7 months ago

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✨Can You Please Be Mine? Part 2: Slip Into Me✨

Series Masterlist

A/N: I’m so so excited to share this little piece I’ve been writing! I really love this story, the chemistry Joel and reader have, and how flirty and fun this chapter ended up being. I want to hear all your thoughts on this one 🥰 Reblogs and comments are always appreciated, I want to converse with you guys 🩷

Chapter Summary: Joel takes you on a date to the fair

Word Count: 11.2k (I had a lot to say! I couldn’t stop writing their cute little love story unfolding)

Rating: Explicit (18+ Only MDNI)

Pairing: Joel x fem! reader

Chapter Tags: So much flirting, teasing, Joel takes reader on a date to the fair, kissing, chemistry, more flirting, holding hands, heavy making out, grinding on Joel’s lap, switching POV, reader has hair and is tan, allusions to smut, cute nicknames

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Joel Miller is a complete mess the rest of the day at the fair. He can’t think straight, not with the way the folded piece of paper is scorching his fingertips that sit in the pit of his pocket, calling out to him like a damn temptress that purrs his name to slip the digits into his phone.

He bites the inside of his cheek, furrowing his eyebrows every single time he thinks of those fucking long, tan legs. Those gorgeous eyes that seem to burn holes in the back of his eyes, and those short denim shorts that he wants so badly to rip off your thick thighs that scream his name. He thinks you’d look so fucking perfect completely naked, splayed across the soft sheets of his bed. Long, tan legs, the perfect curves, probably glistening with sticky slick waiting for him to lick clean. Fuck.

He can’t help the way he scans his eyes over the thick crowd of people that floods the fair, hoping he’ll snag a peek of your sweet smile that he wants so badly to sink his lips against. He thinks you’d taste so good, maybe cherry flavored lip gloss, a soft tongue that he’ll let lap against his own, sucking him dry as you take the soul right out of him. He thinks he wants to take you on a date so he can see that pretty face, that soft, flirtatious enigma he wants to twist his mind around as he wraps you completely around his index finger. He has to have you, he just has to.

He should be enjoying the fair with his daughter, should be paying attention to her as she picks at the stack of French fries he just bought her as she rambles on about upcoming volleyball summer camp and her friend’s pool party, but he can’t. He just can’t. His mind is focused solely on you. The prettiest flower in the crowd he ever did see. And you’d be his. At least he hoped.

“Dad?”

The word comes out in a fog, he almost misses it as he mindlessly searches through the bustling crowd. He needs to see your face, that gorgeous, radiant, perfect…

“Dad, are you even listening to me?” Sarah asks as she chews on the end of a golden French fry and stares up at her distracted father.

“Hmm? Oh yeah, kid. I heard ya,” he murmurs as his brown eyes become focused on his daughter as her long curls blow gently through the hot Texas breeze.

“You just seem a little distracted is all,” she mumbles as she rolls her eyes and finishes off the French fry in her hand.

Joel rakes a hand through his dark scruff and sighs in frustration. “I’m fine, Sarah. Ain’t distracted ‘bout nothin’,” he huffs. But he knows it’s a lie, a damn good lie. Because he is distracted. Distracted by the beautiful girl with the vanilla ice cream cone that teased him till he about came completely undone in line. He was in for the ride of his life.

After he gets home that night, he stares hard at the creased piece of paper as he reads your name over and over and over again. He memorizes it, studies the jumble of numbers until he can repeat them with his eyes closed. He grips the paper so tight that he thinks he’ll tear it in half, his mind caving in just like that of a mad man who’s lovesick from a stupid crush.

He finally comes to his senses and pulls his phone out of his pocket as he types out your name and number into his contacts list. After pressing save, he stares at the screen, his eyes burning into your name as he hovers over the call button. His mind starts racing a million miles an hour as his eyes go cross eyed from looking so hard at your name on the screen.

What if you don’t answer? What if you’re not really interested? What if it was all a game as a way to tease him? Surely not. No. Not with the way you were looking at him, your eyes burning into his like sparkling fireworks as you smirked his way, lapping up ice cream as you teased your tongue around the cold edges as he nearly collapsed to the ground. You were a feisty little firecracker, and he knew it. He wanted to taste those sparks, see just how far he could push you.

Without waiting another minute, he presses the call button as sweat pools on his forehead, tousled curls sticking to his tanned skin as he paces mindlessly in his room just waiting for you to answer. He’s about to give up after five repeated rings until he hears you pick up the phone on the next ring.

“Hello?”

His eyes go wide as his pupils expand, fingers digging deep into the denim of his jean pockets as his throat runs dry. That voice. That melodious, sweet lilt of your voice. It’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard in his entire life.

You hear some rustling on the end of the line and then finally a voice comes through the end of the speaker. “Ummm, hi.”

A deep, baritone voice seeps through the phone. Slow, a slurred Southern drawl, charming, and so sexy. It makes you gulp down nerves as slick automatically pools in your lace. It’s him. The man you couldn’t keep your eyes off at the fair. He called.

“Is this… ahh. You’re the one from the fair, aren’t you?” you ask smiling, a stupid grin spreading wide across your face as you bite your lower lip, your free hand gripping the pink sheets tightly as you grasp anything that’ll stop the excitement from taking you on a ride.

“Mhm. How’d you guess?” he asks as you hear a deep chuckle come alive on the other end of the phone.

God his laugh sounds like complete music to your ears. A bravado sound you could put on repeat like a favorite song you’d never get tired of. You already had it bad.

“Oh, I don’t know. A number I didn’t know and no text? Funny. Why didn’t you just text me? Most people just text nowadays,” you laugh as you tease him through the phone.

Another deep chuckle and his smooth voice is carrying through the line. “Guess I’m jus’ old fashioned, darlin’. Maybe I jus’ wanted to hear what you sounded like. Kinda like this better than a text.”

“Oh, I see,” you blush as you curl your fingers through the pink silk, feet pressing against one another as you repeat the word he just called you over the phone. Darlin’. You loved the sound of that.

“So, what’s your name, cowboy?” you giggle as you feel heat course through your chest.

“Cowboy, huh? That my new nickname or somethin’?” he asks with a laugh as you hear that sweet Southern drawl drag through the phone. Oh, this one already has you on a tight string, and you’re ready to never let go.

“Mmm, it fits you well, I think,” you giggle as you twirl a piece of hair around your finger nervously.

“Whatever you say, darlin’,” he laughs as you imagine him raking a hand through those gorgeous curls of his. Something you want to do. You bet it’s so soft, lush, velvet-like…

“Joel,” he says through the phone, bringing you out of your lovesick daydream of running your fingers through his soft hair.

“Hmm?” you ask confused, your mind focusing back on that deep baritone voice that you just can’t get enough of.

“The name’s Joel. Joel Miller.”

“Joel Miller…” you repeat, your smile widening on your face as you stare up at the ceiling filled with hanging fairy lights that make the room sparkle.

“That’s right, darlin’.”

“I like it,” you answer as you twist in the sheets, your soft skin rolling over silk as you see yourself through the long mirror that hangs on the wall. Your cheeks bright red, a Cheshire cat grin splayed wide on your face as you nearly pant out with glee. You look like a puppy. A stupid lovesick puppy.

“Glad ya do,” he chuckles as he takes a couple more seconds before he says anything else. “So, ummm. I was wonderin’ if maybe you’re not busy tomorrow night, would you maybe wanna go to the fair with me?”

Your jaw drops open, your mind dizzy with possibilities as you push yourself to the edge of the bed and clench your thighs together. “Like a date?” you ask wide-eyed, your heart pounding impossibly fast in your chest as you hope it is a date.

“Mhm. A date. If that’s what you want, that is.” His voice is low, fluctuating as you can picture his hand deep in his pocket, his fingers flexing with nerves as he waits for your answer. He has it as bad as you do, you think.

“A date…” you repeat steadily, your words lingering as you smile into the phone. “Okay, cowboy. It’s a date.”

“Alright,” he chuckles as his laugh echoes through the glowing room. “How does six o’clock sound? I could pick you up. Jus’ text me your address.”

“Six sounds perfect,” you purr, your eyes lighting up like a damn sparkler as you kick your legs in a frenzy underneath you.

“Six it is. Well, guess I’ll see you tomorrow, darlin’.” Darlin’. His words drip down you like sweet honey, a taste you want to devour down. You bet he tastes so sweet.

“Mkay. See ya tomorrow, Joel. Bye.”

“Bye, sweetheart.”

The call clicks to an end, the line going dead as you fall back into the silky sheets and scream into your hands. You’re going on a date tomorrow with the hottest Southern gentleman alive. You have to find something to wear!

You stand in the glow of the bathroom mirror and twirl around in your light green summer dress that grazes just a little above the middle of your thighs. The perfect length to tease Joel just a little and show off your tanned legs. You brush out your soft curls and dab some shiny lip gloss over your pink lips as you take one more good look at yourself. You’re more than ready. You spray a spritz of vanilla perfume on your neck and call it good as you sit the glass bottle back down on the edge of the sink.

When you turn around, you hear a couple of loud knocks echo across the hall from the front door. Joel. He’s here. You grab your light blue over the shoulder purse and wrap it around yourself as you pad toward the door in your white slip-on Vans. Your heart is galloping in your chest like a thousand race horses colliding their heavy hooves against a racetrack, your cheeks burning from nerves as you make your way to the front solid wooden door. Please like me, please like me, please like me.

When you twist the doorknob and open the door, your eyes go wide as you take in the sight that stands in front of you. Joel stands with his large arms crossed over his broad chest, his rolled up dark green flannel clinging to the thick muscles of his arms as he smirks flirtatiously down at you. His tousled curls are slicked back, and he smells like fresh cologne and mahogany. A kind of scent that could pull you in just by the way he smells. Intoxicating.

“Hi,” you say nervously as you shut the door closed behind you, your fingers behind your back digging into the soft material of your dress as you fight off nerves that pull at your insides.

“Hi,” he repeats softly as his eyes drag down your summer dress and your tanned legs slowly. He gulps as he looks back up into your eyes and smiles, making his eyes crinkle at the sides as your heart flutters in your chest.

He’s so handsome.

“My, don’t you look pretty,” he says with the warmth of his deep voice which seems to surround you, encase you in nothing but comfort. You could listen to him talk all day long if he sounded like that. Warm, deep baritone voice, slow, syrupy, exactly how you pictured it. Perfection.

You feel your cheeks burn bright red as you giggle like a little school girl and flutter your eyelashes up at him. “Thanks,” you say nervously.

“You ready to go?” he asks as he pushes off the brick wall.

“Mhm.”

“Well, c’mon then,” he laughs as he leads you to his red Chevy truck. He opens the passenger door for you and helps you up. His calloused hand seems to burn inside yours, a wildfire that simmers all the way down to your core the longer his fingers are on your skin. When he releases, he slams the door shut and makes his way over to the driver’s side.

When he hops in and starts the truck up, the engine rumbles to life exactly like your nerves do. You feel like a livewire that’s ready to explode. You’re in his truck, going on a date with him. You still can’t believe this is happening.

When the radio springs to life, you hear “Cherry Waves” by Deftones play softly against the hum of the speakers. Your eyes widen as a smile creeps up against your shiny lips. “Deftones, huh?”

Joel looks over at you as he furrows his eyebrows together. “You know Deftones?” he asks surprised, his grip on the leather steering wheel tightening as he takes you in.

“Yeah! Doesn’t everyone?” you laugh as you buckle your seatbelt and look back up at him. He’s still looking at you in awe as if he’s just now seeing you for the first time. The sight makes your stomach flip circles as he continues to look at you, the orbs of his honey eyes seeming to glow as you stare into those pits of pure warmth.

“Not exactly,” he chuckles as he pulls out of the quiet apartment complex and into the busy streets of Austin. “You like rock music?”

“What do you think?” you giggle as you turn the volume up one notch and lean your head back against the soft brown seat.

Joel turns his head toward you and cocks up a thick eyebrow as he smirks over at you. “Okay, smart alec. What’s your favorite song by them then?”

“Hmm, let me think,” you hum as you pick apart your brain, “probably Change.”

“Mmm. Guess you are a fan,” he smiles as he drives down the busy street full of speeding cars and hovering beam lights.

“And yours?” you ask with the hint of a smirk on your face.

“Rosemary.”

“Ahh. A classic. One of my favorites.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm,” you hum as you look out the glass window. You can see his reflection vaguely as he looks wondrously at you, and it makes butterflies flit through your stomach.

After a minute of silence, with only the hum of the radio playing, Joel clears his throat as you turn back to him. “So, slippin’ me your number in line, huh? Ain’t you a bold girl.”

You raise your eyebrow at him and lean a little closer as you inhale his mahogany scent as it makes your head a little dizzy. “I mean, I was just trying to get your attention.”

He chuckles as he shakes his head. “Sweetheart, you had my attention the moment I saw you up on that carousel. You didn’t even have to try.”

You feel your cheeks flush pink as you twist your fingers in your lap, your skirt barely covering your thighs as you find Joel’s eyes flit down to them. You pull nervously at your cotton dress and look back up at him shyly. “Maybe I just wanted to see you again.”

“Well, darlin’, I’m glad you slipped me your number or I wouldn’t have got to take out the prettiest girl in Austin.”

You bite your lip and slide back into the seat, your nerves buzzing through your body as you try to relax and enjoy the ride. “Prettiest girl in Austin?”

“That’s right, darlin’. Prettiest girl.”

You turn your head to look at the sun slowly slipping under fluffy clouds as sunset draws close. You let the music flow through your eardrums as you bask in the large presence of the man that was made of dreams. Joel Miller.

In just a few short minutes, Joel’s parking the truck in the parking lot and walking you up to the shiny entry gates to the fair. He pulls his leather wallet out and purchases two tickets and then leads you through the metal gates. When you get inside, the glow of spinning rides and lit up food stands cover the entirety of the fair, the thick crowd sprawled every which way as you walk through the bustling crowd of people.

“You must like the fair,” you say as you pass a little girl with a clump of blue cotton candy in her hands.

“Why do you say that?” Joel asks as he walks side by side with you.

“Well, you were just here yesterday,” you laugh as you look up at him. He looks nervous as he rakes a hand through his salt-and-pepper scruff and nonchalantly shakes his slicked back curls. “So, why’d you come back?”

“Because,” he starts as he turns his body to you, “I wanted to take ya out. And I figured dinner would be nice and all, but thought maybe this would be more fun. A better way to get to know you. Maybe make you feel more comfortable,” he shrugs as he laughs nervously next to you.

“Oh.” He’s so… thoughtful. He really took the time to think that through to do what he thought would make you more comfortable. He was so… good.

“Hope that’s alright. You didn’t have to come back if you didn’t want to…”

“No.” You cut him off and put your hand around his wrist as you turn to stand in front of him. “I wanted to come with you. This is perfect.”

“You sure? You’re not just pullin’ my leg?” he asks with knit together eyebrows, his jaw tense as you see his eyes burn like fire into yours.

You step closer to him and nod your head up and down, flexing your fingers around his soft flannel shirt as you respond just loud enough for only him to hear over the buzz of the crowd. “Joel, I wouldn’t be here if I was just pulling your leg. Why’d you think I slipped you my number, hmm? I thought you were the hottest man I’ve ever seen in my life. Didn’t want to miss the opportunity to pass me by to not get a chance to make a move on you,” you gush as you watch him relax against your touch.

“Darlin’, I’m gonna have to ask you to stop sweet talkin’ me or you’re gonna have me turnin’ this whole damn fair red,” he chuckles low as he slips his fingers behind your back, just above your hip as you feel warm heat slide down your spine.

“You mean I can make a big, strong, handsome man blush?” you giggle as he shakes his head again.

“You’re a little firecracker, ain’t ya?”

“Guess so. Wanna see how many colors I can paint your face?” you laugh flirtatiously as he rolls his eyes.

“C’mon, trouble. Such a little flirt.” He smirks and pulls you along the row of lit up games and lets his hand linger over your dress as you feel the tinge of red fill your cheeks.

“So, umm. How old are ya, sweetheart?” he asks nervously as you walk past a group of teenagers gathering around a basketball game.

“Twenty-six,” you say cautiously as you look up under your long eyelashes, blinking away any doubts you have that he’ll think you’re too young.

“Twenty-six, yeah? Wow,” he laughs as he scratches the back of his head, making his bicep cling tight to the green flannel shirt, “I can remember when I was that young. Was a long time ago.”

You scrunch your nose up at him and look curiously at him. “You’re making yourself sound like you’re ancient or something,” you laugh as you pass a little boy playing a ring toss game.

“I am ancient,” he responds as he looks the other way, shying away from you.

You pull on his flannel until his face is turned back toward you, making sure his brown eyes snap back down to you. “How old are you?” you ask with a raised brow.

“Too old to be with a pretty young thing like you,” he scoffs as he tries to look away again.

You pull a little on the fabric of his collar until he has no choice but to look straight at you. “How old?” You don’t give him a chance to shy away again, he’s locked in, he has to answer you.

“Forty-seven,” he mumbles as you see a flash of panic through those big doe eyes of his. You smile up at him, and he just looks at you with his mouth parted open, like he can’t believe you’re smiling at him. “What? Why are you smilin’?”

“Because,” you laugh as you drop your hand from his soft collar, “you’re not old, Joel. You’re just right.”

His features soften up, and you swear you see him sigh as relief seems to wash over him. He thought he was too old for you? “Jus’ right, huh?” he smirks as the corners of his mouth tilt up to be the most gorgeous smile you’ve ever seen in your life. He’s so pretty. Especially in the colorful swirling lights of the fair.

“Just right,” you confirm as you walk by a booth of various shapes of balloons.

“Hey, mister! Why don’t you come play a round of darts and win your girl a prize?” The game worker shouts across the way as Joel turns his head and furrows his eyebrows as he looks back and forth between you and the game stand awkwardly.

When he takes another glance at you, he gives you a soft smile as the glow of his eyes turn lighter. “Wanna play a round?” he asks as he nods his head to the game stand.

You turn your head and take in the row of balloons that paint the wall purple, red, yellow, green, and pink. All shapes and sizes of stuffed animals sit against the back wall, and you smirk up his way. “Think you can take out more balloons than me?” you ask playfully as you flick your hair behind your shoulder.

“Only one way to find out, darlin’.” He narrows his eyes mischievously and grabs your wrist as he pulls you to the edge of the stand.

Joel hands five dollars to the worker, and he gives him ten black pointed darts. He hands you five of them and holds his arm toward the board filled with balloons. “Ladies first.”

You smile and walk up to the line of white tape and carefully assess your movements. You decide to go for the middle row first. That should be safest. You line up your first dart and shoot. The pointy end barely grazes the edge of a yellow balloon and falls with a bang to the ground.

“Shit,” you mutter under your breath. You try again, but you miss again. Why can’t you just get one fucking balloon?

You huff out and purse your lips together as you feel your thighs rub together in the heat of the warm summer’s night. You see Joel out of the corner of your eye, maybe a hint of empathy on his face as he takes in your pouting lips. You feel the weight of his eyes on you, and you try your best not to look too upset as you twirl the smooth dart in your hand.

“Well, keep going!” The worker practically screams at you as you almost jump out of your skin. As you look down at the dart and weigh your options, something happens that you didn’t expect to. Joel slides up behind you and puts one hand on your waist as he angles you perpendicular to the board of balloons while his hand wraps around yours with the dart between your fingers.

You gasp as he guides your arm. “Let me help ya, sweetheart,” he smiles as his lips graze the shell of your ear, making a bead of sweat stick to the side of your forehead as nerves course through your veins.

“You wanna keep your eyes right on the center of the balloon. Imagine it has a big target in the middle that you want to reach. You wanna close one eye, aim right for the center, and throw hard.” The words whisk through you at an impossibly fast rate as his hot breath breathes down your neck. You think you might pass out at how hot your skin feels with him this close, with him touching you. It’s like he’s branding you as his own.

“Like this?” you whisper out hoarsely as you bring your arm up as his hand never leaves yours.

“Yeah, there ya go. Right for the middle of the yellow one. Go on now,” he encourages as he takes you through the motions, his gravelly voice breathing down the side of your neck as his broad body hovers over yours.

You hold your breath and throw the dart, keeping one eye closed as you focus solely on the blown up balloon and not on the gorgeous man that’s clinging to your skin. The dart soars through the air and lands right in the center of the yellow balloon as you hear a loud pop and see scattered shreds fall to the ground.

“Yes! I got it,” you say excitedly as Joel chuckles lightly and nods his head.

“Attagirl.”

The word makes you gulp as you feel your skin flush from the praise. He was basically calling you a good girl, and that was the hottest thing a man has ever said to you. Attagirl. Something so sexy about the way he said it to you in a deep, Southern drawl. Attagirl.

He steps back and lets you take your turn for your last two darts. You go over every step he told you to do and follow what he instructed you to do. You did exactly that and popped two more balloons as they fell broken to the floor.

“Nice shot,” he winks as he takes your place and steps up to the white line.

“Alright, cowboy. Let’s see what you got,” you say playfully as you see his lips curl up into a huge grin.

It’s almost too easy for him. He takes down two at a time with only one dart, his aim impeccable as he takes down balloon after balloon. When his five darts are gone, he dusts off his hands on his dark jeans and smiles your way. “So, how’d I do?”

“You’re too good, Joel. A master of balloons,” you tease as you playfully push at his solid chest.

“Master of balloons, not master of puppets?” he smirks as you roll your eyes at him.

“Metallica fan I see,” you say with a raised brow as you cross your arms over your chest.

“Good guess.”

Before you walk away, the game worker tells Joel he can pick out any stuffed animal he wants. Joel looks over at you with a wandering gaze as he reaches out his hand and pulls you over to the edge of the stand.

“What do ya want?” Joel asks as your eyes scan the wall. There’s a variety of stuffed animals. Monkeys, teddy bears, all the way to jellyfish. Your eyes wander the wall until they land on a light blue dolphin. That’s the one.

“That one.” You point to the dolphin, and the worker gets it down for you.

“Here you go,” the worker nods as you take the plush dolphin and smile down at it, “I’m sure your girl is happy now.”

Joel looks down at the stuffed dolphin in your hand and smiles as his warm brown eyes meet yours. “Yeah, think she is.” You blush and walk down the row of busy games as Joel walks next to you with his hand hovering over the small of your back.

“Thanks for that back there,” you murmur as you set your pace a little slower.

“For what?” he asks as his hand presses deeper into the fabric of your dress.

“For showing me how to throw the darts probably and winning me this dolphin,” you say as you hold the plushie stuffed animal up and poke him playfully in the bicep with it.

“Anytime, darlin’. Anytime,” he chuckles as he walks along the flurries of crowds.

You walk along the outside of the crowd as you pass an area full of a variety of food trucks. “So. Was that your daughter yesterday with you in line?”

“Oh, yeah. That was Sarah. My little girl. Well, not so little anymore. She’ll be eighteen next year, and she’s about to start her senior year of high school, but she’ll always be my little girl.”

You watch the gleam in his chocolate eyes as you take in his expression. A little sadness but also so very proud. He looks like he loves her a lot, and that makes your heart beat for him even more. “Is that your only one?”

“My only kid?” he asks as he turns his head toward you, “yeah, she’s my only one.”

You ask the next question carefully, walking on thin ice. You didn’t see a ring, so you assume he isn’t taken. “And there’s no Mrs. Miller in the picture?”

He scratches the bottom of his scruff as he stretches his neck, assessing the question before he answers. “No. It’s jus’ me, darlin’. No one else in the picture.”

Your eyebrows knit together as you turn to face him, your head cocking to the side as you look him up and down carefully. “You mean to tell me that a man like you is single?”

He just shrugs his shoulders and blatantly answers. “What’s so hard to understand ‘bout that?”

You put one hand on each hip and roll your eyes sarcastically. “I mean, hello? You’re ridiculously hot and nice and I don’t know, sweet?”

Joel chuckles and raises one eyebrow up. “Got me blushin’ again, darlin’,” he responds as he rakes a hand slowly down his jawline while his cheeks turn a deep red.

You laugh and admire how absolutely beautiful the man looks when he’s full of embarrassment. He’s so freaking cute that you could just squish him. Soft, the man is so soft. You might just fall head over heels for him.

“And that’s you, sweetheart. Sweet, flirty, adorable, absolutely drop dead gorgeous,” he gushes as he looks at you with glittering honey eyes. Now it’s you that’s the one blushing. “Can’t believe you’re at the fair with me. Of all the men you could be with, you went with me. What ever made you do that?” he asks unbelievably as he shakes his head.

“Because I saw more than a handsome face in that crowd when I saw you standing in line. I saw a man I wanted to get to know, wondered if you felt the same way. You looked like magic, and I wanted to taste it,” you smirk as his cheeks turn bright red again.

“Christ,” he chuckles as he grabs your arm and pulls you through the blinding crowd, “c’mon you sweet talker. Magic, huh? You’re the one that looks like magic.” You just giggle silently as you let him take you on the ride of your life.

The sun slowly dips beneath the clouds as the last clashes of mixed shades of purple and orange colors turn to darkness. The fair lights up every which way as glowing lights from the amusement rides and food trucks light the way on the warm pavement. You pass a stand with blowing bubbles and light up toys and look over to see Joel eyeing you, a curious glint in his chocolate eyes as he assesses you closely.

Before you wait to see what he’s about to ask you, you chime in first. “So, cowboy, what do you do for work?”

You hear him chuckle and mutter something about cowboy under his breath as he runs calloused fingers smoothly through his slicked back curls. “I’m a contractor. Me and my brother, Tommy, run a business together.”

You lift an eyebrow and smirk his way. “A contractor, huh?”

Joel just chuckles and nods his head. “S’right, sweetheart. We keep pretty busy, that’s for sure.”

You eye his green flannel, dark denim jeans, and leather boots and nod. Of course he was a contractor. He definitely looked the part. “So you’re strong and handsome? And you know how to build things? My, my, Mr. Miller. You’re quite the package, aren’t you?” You tease as you push him playfully in the arm and flash him a ridiculously huge grin that you can barely keep to yourself.

“A package, huh? Can’t say that anyone’s ever called me quite a package before,” he responds as his hand grazes yours carefully. You taste the flames as they lick against your skin, you want to dance in them as they burn you alive.

“Well, I called you one so there’s that if that means anything.” You shrug your shoulders absentmindedly and look back ahead as you hear Joel laugh under his breath.

“Mmm definitely means somethin’, darlin’.” You look back to see he’s giving you this crooked smile, and his chocolate eyes are scorching into yours as you see just how soft he is. He’s like a little puppy dog with those big eyes of his, and you just want to take him home and make him yours forever.

You almost reach out to lace your arm in his until he asks you a question. “What about you, sweetheart? What do you do?”

You smile warmly up at him and answer. “I’m actually studying to get my master’s in art at the University of Texas. And I work at this little art shop off Hollow’s Drive. It’s called Autumn’s Art Gallery.”

You watch the way he shifts his honey eyes over to you as he gives you a once over. “An artist, you say? Impressive. You draw or paint?”

“Both, actually. I find myself with a charcoal pencil in my hand more than a paint brush. But I love them both equally,” you shrug as your shoes scuff against the cement.

“You draw people?” he asks thoughtfully as you meet his simmering gaze.

“All the time. Why?”

He laughs as you see the crow’s feet pull at the corners of his eyes. “You gonna draw me like one of your French girls?”

�� “Joel Miller throwing Titanic quotes at me?” you laugh as you shake your head at him in disbelief.

“Couldn’t resist that joke, darlin’. Was the perfect opportunity,” he chuckles as you roll your eyes at him.

“Sure, just let me go conjure up a butterfly robe and an old parlor couch while I find you a red wig.”

You watch him crinkle his eyes up as he holds his stomach and chuckles loudly as he throws his head back. You join in on his laughter and almost burst into tears from how hard the two of you are laughing. When he finally catches a breath after a few moments, he wipes his eyes and places a firm hand on your shoulder. “Sweetheart, I can’t remember the last time I laughed that hard. You’ve got a gift,” he smiles as you see nothing but warm brown eyes swarm your vision.

“Glad I could make you laugh,” you giggle.

“So, art. What got ya interested in art?” he asks with a cocked up brow as he presses his palm into the middle of your shoulder blades. His hand burns like fire, but you love it.

“Well, I’ve always had a love for painting. I told my mom when I was in kindergarten that I was going to grow up to be an artist and look at me now! I made it,” you beam as the glow of the Ferris wheel lights your way forward.

“I’d love to see your work sometime,” Joel responds as his fingers slide down to right above your hips, right at that dangerous level of being too close but not close enough.

“Really?” you ask surprised as you see him nod his head.

“Really.”

You bite your lower lip and cross your arms as you turn to look at him, your eyes sliding along his beautiful face. “Would you… do you think you’d let me draw you sometime?” you ask shyly as you play with the skirt of your green dress, your cheeks flushing pink as you flutter your eyelashes at him.

He laughs out loud as his eyes widen. “Sweetheart, what would you wanna draw me for? Ain’t nothin’ worth drawin’,” he says amused as he adjusts the sleeve of his flannel shirt.

You shrug your shoulders and sway your hips as you respond. “I dunno. I think you’ve got such a handsome face. It’d be worth it to me.”

His lips part open as his eyes stare intimately down into yours as he takes in what you just told him. He looks conflicted, surprised even that you’d say that. But his eyes soften and a crooked smile splays across his mouth, and you think he’s the prettiest man you’ve ever seen in your entire life.

“Darlin’, if you’re gonna sweet talk me like that then ‘course you can draw me. Jus’ don’t let me look bad.”

“I could never make you look bad, Joel.” He smiles and cups his hand underneath your chin and grazes it affectionately before he takes your hand and pulls you along the street.

He slowly slips his hand into yours as he entwines his fingers around yours, the callouses grazing along your skin as you feel warmth cover your insides as he takes a hold of you. It feels so right, makes you a little dizzy if you’re being honest. How can you like a man so much that you only just met? You don’t know what it is, but he feels like complete magic. The perfect man that’ll indulge all your fantasies.

He pulls you along the busy crowd, hand in hand as he looks back every few seconds and flashes you with the most dreamy smile you’ve ever seen, ending with a flirty wink that almost makes you choke on your own saliva. He grasps your fingers tighter as he slides his calloused thumb gently over the top of your hand. Right before he passes the Ferris wheel that’s spinning slowly in the mix of all the different fair rides, Joel stops just a few feet from the entrance and looks back at you, one eyebrow cocking up as he takes in your curious expression.

“What?” you ask with a small laugh as you take in his coffee colored eyes that narrow just a tad, the look of a man with an agenda up his sleeve.

“Wanna go for a ride?” he asks as he nods his head toward the lit up Ferris wheel, his eyes never leaving yours.

You flick your eyes carefully over the spinning ride and then look back at him as you turn your hips closer to him. “A ride?” you ask flirtatiously as you smirk up at him, “Joel Miller wants to take me for a ride?”

His eyes slightly darken, his nail beds scratching along your skin as he leans in closer so you can hear that deep Southern drawl that clings to your insides. “Promise to take it slow,” he whispers menacingly. You gulp at his double meaning, his wicked smirk clawing at your insides as you feel the sweat bead down your skin.

Promise to take it slow. The words are harmless yet heated. He means the ride will be slow, but there’s also that other meaning. The one where it involves his lap, his cock, his slow motions as you gently slide up and down on his slick covered cock. That’s what those words really mean to you, and fuck do you want that. Badly.

“Okay,” you breathe out slowly as he smiles and leads you to the small ticket booth ahead. He pulls out his leather wallet and hands the attendant three dollars in exchange for two small pink tickets. Joel leads you to the front of the line and hands the tickets off as he lets you climb into one of the carts first. You sit down on the white plastic seat and get situated, fanning your green skirt across your thighs as Joel takes his place across from you.

After a few seconds, the ride starts up and you slowly ascend into the summer night’s air. The fair looks so different up in the sky, glowing lights encased in a blur as you see different shades of pinks, blues, reds, and yellows paint the fair. Soft bubbles float in the background, and bright stars twinkle in the night sky. It’s all so very whimsical.

“Wow. It’s really beautiful up here,” you say in awe as you take in all the colorful scenery of the fair.

“Yeah, it sure is,” Joel says quietly across from you. When you turn to look at him, he’s not looking at the loud crowds or the different colored bumper cars across the way. No. He’s looking at you.

Oh.

Your knees brush against his jeans, and his hand grazes gently against your inner thigh, his rough fingertips resting just behind your kneecap as his thumb brushes back and forth gently. Slow, meticulous, heated. His eyes bore into yours, chocolate irises that simmer warmly into yours. He just sits there staring, lips halfway parted as he’s mesmerized in place, his eyes only on you.

Another brush of his fingertips and suddenly the air is too hot, too much as you fight every bone in your body to jump right off your seat and straddle his lap. His lips look so inviting, plush, big. Lips that were made just for you to kiss. His eyes trail down to your lips, dark eyes smoldering as he gulps and takes another breath.

The tension is heavy, weighing down on your insides that scream for you to move. Kiss him, kiss him, kiss him. You bet he’s a great kisser, bet he has an experienced tongue, bet he can swallow you down and devour you whole when he licks into your mouth. Warm, inviting, blissful.

Suddenly your body is leaning forward, slowly reaching out as your right hand comes down on his denim clad knee. He does the same, cautiously bending forward, eyes locked with yours as he reaches, reaches, reaches until his calloused fingers are brushing against your jawline, eyes swallowing you whole as he leans forward more, almost to your lips, almost…

The Ferris wheel abruptly starts again and jolts both of you back in your seats, interrupting the almost kiss that could’ve happened. You internally grunt inside. Why the fuck did that have to happen? You just sigh as Joel reaches behind his head to scratch his neck, eyebrows furrowed as he blows out a breath and then looks back up at you with an amused expression on his face. Then the two of you burst out laughing, a harmonious melody that reaches through the dim night sky and catches on the bright lights of the fair. You keep laughing until both of you are gasping for breath, a silly moment that turned into a mutual joke.

“So much for a slow ride,” Joel chuckles as he runs a hand through his thick locks of curls, sighing again as you see the crow’s feet wrinkling at the edges of his golden eyes. And my oh my does he look pretty.

“So much for that,” you laugh and stare off into the blurring crowd on the ground.

After a couple more spins on the Ferris wheel, the ride comes to a halt at the bottom and Joel takes your hand and helps you out of the little cart. “You hungry?” he asks as he keeps your hand locked tightly in his.

“Mmm what’d you have in mind? Something sweet, maybe?” you smile with one eyebrow raised in question.

Joel shakes his head and laughs, warm and deep. “Figured you’d have a sweet tooth.”

“Oh? Why’s that?”

“‘Cause you’re the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen,” he smiles, eyes lit up like Christmas lights as you stare back at him in awe. He called you sweet. He thinks you’re sweet. You don’t say anything, you just smile and follow him down the row of lit up food trucks that are swarmed with lines. You think you’d follow him anywhere. As long as he’d keep you locked in his arms.

He pulls you into a short line of one of the funnel cake stands as you look at the decorative funnel cakes on display. That’s not all there is. There’s also blue and pink bags of cotton candy, Caramel apples, cinnamon rolls, and pink lemonade.

“You want a funnel cake?” Joel asks as your eyes scan the powdered sugar treats.

“Mhm,” you nod as his hand squeezes gently around yours.

“You want one of those fancy ones or just a plain one?”

“Just a plain one is good with me.”

“Anythin’ else?” he asks as he looks over his shoulder and down at you. Your eyes keep going back to the pink colored cotton candy, your mouth watering as you can almost taste the fluffy goodness melt in your mouth. He seems to notice as he speaks again. “I see you keep lookin’ at that cotton candy. Wanna get some?”

“Please,” you respond eagerly as you almost bounce at the mention of cotton candy. Joel chuckles to himself when he sees your eyes light up. He thinks you’re just the sweetest thing he’s ever laid eyes on.

When it’s your turn at the window, Joel orders the funnel cake and cotton candy and hands the worker some cash as she takes it from him. “Give us a few minutes with the funnel cake. We’ll have it out in about five minutes,” the worker says as she hands Joel a large bag of fluffy cotton candy.

“Here ya go, darlin’,” he drawls as he hands you the clear bag of cotton candy and grazes his fingers lightly over yours.

“Thanks, Joel.” You open the twisted bag carefully and tear off a piece of pink cotton candy with your thumb and index finger. When you pop a fluffy piece into your mouth, you swallow the cherry flavor and groan from the delicious cotton candy as you lick your glossy lips clean. “So good,” you sigh as you take another bite and lick your thumb clean of the sticky mess.

“Yeah? Let me have a bite then.” He reaches for the open bag of cotton candy, but you snatch it from him before he can grab a piece and hold it high in the air.

“Only if you can catch me,” you tease as you smirk over at him, snickering under your breath as his eyebrows knit together.

“Now, sweetheart. Jus’ what do ya think you’re doin’, hmm?” he asks as he extends his fingers and stares your way.

“Having some fun,” you giggle as he reaches once more for the bag, but you take another step back.

“You’re walking on mighty thin ice, darlin’,” he murmurs as his eyes darken slightly, almost like he wants to chase you.

“Oh yeah? What are you gonna do about it then? You gonna just stand there or are you gonna come get me?” you taunt as you rustle the bag and toss it back and forth in your hands.

“Oh, I’m gonna come get you, don’t you worry your pretty little head,” he smirks as he takes one step forward.

You lick your bottom lip and place one hand on your hip as you taunt him. “Come get me then, cowboy.”

He twitches his jaw and narrows his eyes playfully as a smug smirk covers his plush lips. Before you know it, he’s lunging at you as you squeak and try to run from him. You don’t make it far until you feel his thick arms wrap around your waist, and then he’s picking you up as you squeal while he spins you around.

“C’mere you little tease,” he chuckles as he places you back on the ground and leans forward, biting off a piece of cotton candy as almond eyes stare straight into yours. “Delicious,” he smiles as he grabs another handful and pops it into his mouth, smirking down at you as you stare wide-eyed at him.

“What am I gonna do with you?” he chuckles as he shakes his head slowly at you.

“I dunno,” you smile bashfully and sway your hips as your green summer dress blows in the gentle breeze of the night. “Guess you could keep me,” you say shyly, fluttering your eyelashes at him as you look carefully at his calm features.

“Keep you, huh?” he asks with a crooked smile splayed on his face.

“Mhm,” you hum shyly.

“Maybe I will, darlin’. Maybe I will.” He reaches out and cups your chin as he tilts it up so he can have a better look into your shimmering eyes. Just when you think he might kiss you, they call your order from the side window of the food truck. Joel grabs the paper plate of the powdered dessert and grabs up two forks and napkins as he leads you over to an empty picnic style table. You take a seat on the old, rickety seat, and Joel slides in next to you, the side of his thigh pressed firmly against your bare leg. And it burns, hot.

As the two of you pick at the savory funnel cake, you and Joel bond over interests and likes. You learn his favorite color is blue, the same as yours, he plays guitar, he likes fishing, camping, building and making things, but mostly he loves spending precious time with his daughter, Sarah. And you love that, love that he’s a good father. He’s not just a good father, he’s the perfect father. The way he talks about her is, well, wonderful. You could sit and listen to him talk all night long if you could. And you also wonder who the hell would be so stupid as to leave him? He’s literally perfect. Sweet, funny, handsome, a menace. But that just leaves more for you.

“How’s the funnel cake, darlin’? Sweet enough?” Joel laughs as he takes another bite out of the fried goodness.

“Definitely sweet enough, it’s just right.” You swallow another mouthful of powdered sugar and just when you’re about to reach for another forkful, Joel nods to the side of your face.

“You got a little somethin’ on your face, sweetheart.”

Grabbing up a clean napkin, you dab at your face embarrassed and find there’s nothing there. “Where? I don’t feel anything.”

“Oh, you missed. Right here.” He swipes his finger in a pile of powdered sugar and wipes it clear across the side of your face as you feel powdered sugar stick to your shiny skin.

Your eyes grow wide as you push him playfully against his strong chest. “Joel!”

He erupts into a fit of laughter as he throws back his head and holds a firm hand across his chest. “Sorry, darlin’. Couldn’t resist,” he chuckles as he plants his thick fingers against the denim of his broad thighs.

You lean forward, challenging him and smirk. “Okay then. If you think it’s so funny then why don’t you clean up the mess you made. Hmm?”

He eyes you carefully, his thick eyebrows knitting together as he studies you, flicking his eyes between your mouth and your playfully narrowed eyes. He runs a hand nervously down the side of his jaw, right through the greying scruff as he waits and waits and waits. Then he’s moving, leaning forward, brushing his calloused fingers against the edge of your thigh until his tongue is flat against the corner of your mouth.

His tongue is warm, long, wet as he laps up the powdered sugar. You feel a jolt of electricity shoot through you, a meer tinge of bravery slipping through your nerves. After he’s done lapping up the mess he made, just as he’s starting to pull back, you feel that spark of bravery shoot through you again at the speed of lightning, so you move, fast. Before he can turn his face away, you lean forward and plant your lips firmly over his, giving him a quick kiss on the lips as warmth runs like honey down your insides.

You break the kiss fast, your cheeks burning red as you feel sort of dizzy from the quick actions. Just when you almost apologize for diving in, Joel cups your chin and brings you back in. His lips are on you in a second. Hot, burning, electric, he seems to be everywhere. Crowding your space, slipping through your lips, burning you from the inside out. The kiss deepens as he cradles the side of your face, fingers brushing through thick locks of your wind blown hair. You seem to get lost in time as you wrap your hands around his neck and pull him closer to your body, until he’s flush against your chest.

You part your lips and allow his tongue to enter your vicinity, feeling it collide with your own as it dances around yours in a slow, steady rhythm. He tastes like powdered sugar, coffee, warm summer nights as his tongue glides against yours. It’s like all the busy movements and loud noises in the fair stop, it’s only you and Joel, just two people getting lost in a first kiss. It’s almost like you’re in a movie, camera slowly spinning around the two of you as you get tangled up together in a slow, romantic kiss. And it’s like fireworks go off in the sky, colorful swirls painting the way each time your lips move in sync. It’s unlike any other kiss you’ve ever had before. It’s slow, easy, just right, perfect. And you know then you’re a goner. You’ve fallen for the man with dreamy brown eyes and a Southern drawl you could hear for hours on end. You truly had it bad for the sweet cowboy that swept you off your feet.

After a couple of minutes go by, Joel pushes himself back, but keeps one hand lingering on your jaw, his thumb trailing gently against your flushed cheek. “I knew it,” he smiles, a warm, honey-like tone slipping off his tongue as he looks at you with warm, brown eyes.

“Knew what?” you whisper out, still catching your breath from that amazing first kiss.

“I knew you were sweeter than pie,” he smiles as you catch a gleam in those pretty honey colored eyes.

“Sweeter than pie?”

“Darlin’, you’re the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted.”

Your lips part open, a stupid grin spreading across your glossy mouth as you stare incredulously at the sweetest man that took your breath away.

You spend the next couple hours locked hand in hand, exploring every square inch of the fair, sharing cherry lemonade with each other, bonding over movies and shared interests, just spending the night getting to know one another. It was the best date of your life, the best night. You never would have imagined it to be quite like this, but here you were, completely entranced with some handsome man you fell for on the carousel.

The drive back home is quiet as the breeze from the open window blows softly through your hair. You can feel Joel’s eyes on you, the way he keeps smiling and staring every few seconds just watching you enjoy the long summer’s night. The radio hums low in your ear, but all you can hear is your own breath, the shift of Joel in the driver’s seat, the soft tapping noise of his thumb on the leather steering wheel, and the low rumble of the truck’s engine. You love summer nights, love getting lost in the night, but most of all you love being in this truck, in this seat, next to Joel.

You feel Joel’s calloused fingers slowly graze against the outside of your thigh, so you shift in your seat and look over at him all dreamily, getting lost in those honey flecked eyes you find so mesmerizing. He’s got you twisted around the black military watch that sits clasped against his wrist, and there’s no way in hell he’s letting you go.

After a few more minutes of driving on the dark, dimly lit road back to your apartment, he’s pulling up to your front door. The one with overflowing white lilies in pots and the crystal wind chime you can’t seem to let go of. He puts the truck in park and looks over at you, an expression of gentleness as he relaxes his brows and pulls some out of place locks behind your ear.

“I had a great time with you tonight, darlin’.” You watch the crooked smile appear on the side of his mouth, his eyes seeming to twinkle like the bright stars in the night sky.

“I did, too, Joel. Thank you, for the perfect date.”

“Anytime, darlin’. Anytime.”

You sit there a moment, hovering in the silence as you chew on your bottom lip and taste the hint of cherry lip gloss. You twist your fingers in your lap, thighs pressing together as you look up at him through your long eyelashes. He’s just sitting there, his jaw clenched as he stares at you perplexed with the engine humming faintly in the background.

Just as you think of slowly making your way out the passenger door, Joel clears his throat and dwindles his hand on the steering wheel. “Would you… would you maybe wanna go on another date with me next Friday? Sarah’s gonna be outta town for volleyball camp, and I have the weekend free. Maybe you’d wanna come over for dinner or watch a movie or…”

You interrupt his offer as you quickly nod your head yes. “I’d really like that.”

“Is that a yes then?” he asks, brown eyes full of hope as he tightens his grip on the steering wheel, awaiting your final answer.

“That’s definitely a yes, cowboy,” you smile as he smirks back at you in response.

“Friday it is then,” he confirms as his eyes never wander from yours.

“Friday it is.” You let your hand meander on the side of the door handle and tug gently as you start to slide over in the seat. “Well, goodnight. Thank you again for the perfect evening.”

Just as you about make it out of the door, Joel shoots his hand out and grabs your wrist tightly, his voice straining with an ounce of restraint as he holds you there, locked in his embrace. “Wait.”

You slowly turn, eyes locking with his as they seem to widen, his plush lips parted open as he stares transfixed, his chest rising and falling in deep breaths as he tries to hold back. He really needs to, doesn’t need to rush anything, but any self restraint comes crashing down when your eyes trail down to his warm lips.

“C’mere.” A gasp falls out of your mouth as he pulls you into his lap, your thighs straddling his as he pulls you flush to his broad chest. “Wanna kiss you one more time, sweetheart.”

With no hesitation, he tugs your head down to his and crashes his lips against yours. The kiss is heated, desperate, burning as you melt your lips against his and get lost in the radiant glow of the moment. You part your lips, and he slots his tongue inside your mouth, desperately licking at the cotton candy flavor as he collides with your tongue. He twists around, pulling you closer to his body as you feel the hard erection that bulges at his zipper line.

You deepen the kiss, tasting the powdered sugar and cherry lemonade against your lips, letting your body grind down on him as you hear him moan through your glossy lips. You feel his hands slowly slide your dress up, feel his meaty palms dig into your thighs as you feel slick start to coat your lace.

You rake your fingers through his messy curls, start to grind against the thickness of his cock through his tight denim jeans as you picture how ruined he must be underneath that zipper. You moan into his mouth the second one of his hands slides up higher, teasing the inside of your thigh as you desperately want to ride him right here, right now. You want to taste him, want to feel him slide in and out of your dripping core, want him to make you come until you see nothing but him in your vision.

His swollen lips drop to the side of your neck, teeth grazing against your skin as he starts to suck slowly, finding just the right spot that makes you moan and pant against the shell of his ear as your face rubs against his coarse salt-and-pepper scruff. Your fingers cling to his dark green flannel, curling around the edges as you lick the side of his ear, just as he makes you moan again from his teasing tongue low on your collarbone.

Your other hand grips the back of his sweaty hair, holding on for dear life as you feel you can orgasm right here at any moment. He hasn’t even touched you where you need him most, and he already has you unraveling from the seams. Just when he’s about to slide his hand under your soaked panties, his phone rings loudly, blaring as you almost jump out from beneath your sticky skin.

You hear Joel swear under his breath as he digs his phone out from deep within the pocket of his jeans. When he retrieves it, he looks at the lit up screen and sighs. “It’s Sarah, I gotta answer this,” he murmurs as you sit still and let him take the call. “Hello?”

You watch him talk, eyes blown out as his breathing is still shallow, beads of sweat staining his forehead as his curls stick to the edges of his face. His eyes are on yours, unmoving, even when he’s talking to his daughter on the phone.

“You alright? You call Tommy first?” he asks as his free hand stills on your exposed thigh, his thumb gently circling your burning skin as his chocolate eyes stare back into yours, that same heated gaze locked on you. You hear a small voice on the end of the line, but it’s just quiet enough to where you can’t make out what she says.

“Ahh, shit. Alright, jus’ hang tight. I’ll be there in about fifteen minutes. Jus’ wait there with Ellie and tell her not to touch anything. See ya in a few.” He clicks end on the phone and shoves it back into his pocket, sighing as he pinches the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes tight for just a few seconds.

“Everything okay?” you ask quietly, still out of breath from the heated kiss.

“Yeah, Sarah jus’ got a flat tire near the house. Tommy’s daughter, Ellie, is tryin’ to fix it, and I just know she’s gonna make a mess and hurt herself if I don’t get there quick. Damn kid likes to cause trouble,” he chuckles as he sighs again and pulls you close, resting his forehead on your own as he breathes out slowly.

He pushes some damp locks behind your ear, and you sit there glued to his flannel, your nose gently brushing against his. He shifts in his seat and sighs before he speaks. “Look, sweetheart, I didn’t mean to take it so far. If I didn’t get that call, I might’ve not been able to stop myself. You’re just so… so… beautiful and hard to resist and fuck. We don’t have to take it fast, we can go slow, as slow as you want, darlin’. I jus’ like you a lot and wanna keep you around and…”

You cut him off as you press your thumb against his bottom lip and gently hush him. “Joel, it’s okay,” you giggle out as you look straight into flecks of warm honey eyes. “What if I don’t want to take it slow?”

His eyes widen, a speck of sweat sliding down his forehead as he eyes you carefully, his heart hammering in his chest as he watches you closely. “Are you sure?”

You nod in response. “I’m sure, Joel. I want this, want you. I’m all in. I’m not going anywhere.”

A small smile creeps up against his lips, and then all you can see is warmth in his face, his cheeks tinged red as he blushes. “Alright, sweetheart. If that’s what you want. What do you say, Friday we pick this up where we left off?”

“Friday it is, cowboy.”

Another chuckle reverberates off his lips as he brings you down once more against him and crashes his lips into yours. This time it’s just one kiss, but it’s as heated and intense as the others, but there’s also something else in the kiss. Need, desire, want. He wants you, just as bad as you want him.

When he breaks the kiss, he helps you off his lap and ghosts his fingers over the back of your hand as you make your way out of the truck. “Goodnight, sweetheart. Sleep tight.”

Before you close the door, you smile warmly at him and wave flirtatiously. “Night, cowboy. You sure do know how to light a girl up inside.” Before he can say anything back as his cheeks burn bright crimson, you slam the door closed and saunter up to your small porch. You feel his eyes on you, watching until you make it in safely, then he’s driving off into the thick of the night.

When you close the door, you slide down the back of the wood and end up on the floor in a heap, giggling to yourself as you rest your head against the back of the door and hug the stuffed dolphin to your chest. You can’t stop kicking your feet, can’t stop the feeling of warmth and nerves pulling at your insides. You have it so bad for Joel Miller. You can’t wait to see him again. Your new favorite cowboy.

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bokettochild · 1 year ago

Text

I just saw a post asking which Link would make the best villain and....

It's Time guys

Like, I love the man, but let's be real; he's a second from snapping and committing atrocities.

Twilight is so thoroughly traumatized by the vision the spirits gave him and Fi's judgement of him that he literally can't stand messing with magic that isn't actually his own or connected to him. And while, sure, he doesn't need magic to be a villain, let's be real, it'd take something magical to force him to turn his back on everything he's ever fought for.

Similarly, Wild fought and died for his kingdom, and his people. There is nothing and no one worse than what he's already seen that could possibly make him turn his back on it all and throw his work down the drain just to destroy everything he'd built himself.

Legend is the same. he's been doing this far too long to ditch now. Granted, he's a grump, but if you look at his games, you see he's a highly empathetic and caring person. Unlike the others, who were tasked with saving the world by a mentor or friend, or had to go and save a friend or family member, or who where sworn to duty; Legend was literally some kid who was asked by an utter stranger to help, and did. Six times. No way someone like that is going to go and destroy everything.

And Wind! Wind is a moral guy, with a good heart. he set out for personal reasons and saw in his journey that there were bigger fish to fry, and he fried them. He had no reason to take it on, no call of the goddess, no responsibility, no reason for him, a child, to go and save the world as well as his sister, but he did it anyway.

Sky and Warriors are simply too devout. Warriors to the kingdom and it's people; with everything he suffered for them, you can't tell me the man isn't dedicated to serving his country. And Sky is loyal to Sun, who is Hylia, so he literally would never go against her. And by the law of the Zelda universe, villains are those who go against Hylia and Hyrule.

Four is an iffy one. Most people might say "but Vio was a villain!" but let's be real; if you read the manga, you know Vio was bluffing all along. If Vio, part of Four, didn't bow even under Shadow's influence, and Vaati's, and Ganon's, then again; who and what would drive this man to become a villain? Granted, the persuing of dark magic to bring back his lost friend could be argued, but is more likely to lead to his corruption than his attempting to take over Hyrule and kill innocents.

Hyrule is tough, since we have very little to work off of in cannon, but come on, even if Hyrule did turn to evil, he wouldn't exactly be able to do much. Hyrule's already in ruins in his time, and the monsters wouldn't hear of working beside him. He'd have everyone against him, and even if he does hold the triforce in it's entirety and thus could do all sorts of horrible things, he has neither motivation nor reason to turn away to becoming a villain.

Time though......

Time has watched the world burn and all his efforts be turned around and lost. He has lost everything so many times, usually with no reward or reason. In the end, Time, though a good man, cares more for the individual than the country. He cares about his wife and his boys, and based off the scars, we can only guess what lengths he's already gone to in order to accomplish his goals.

Time, if faced with the right issue, has every risk of dropping from defender to threat. Hyrule be damned, this man cares for his wife, his kids, his home, and if you threaten that, no matter who you are, he will go after you. He's one second away from going after Hylia and all she has done to him and those around him. He detests the Blade of Evil's bane, the symbol of Hylia's blessing. He borders every moment on the precipice of taking power beyond mortals to fulfill his own wishes, even if it is to help those he loves.

Put Malon in danger, heck, one of the boys, and Time won't let something silly like morals stop him from doing whatever it takes to protect what little that is still his and hasn't already been taken from him. He will fight tooth and nail not to lose anything else, and he won't let even the goddesses stop him.l

#lu time #linked universe #linkeduniverse #ketto's brainfarts

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macarthurpark · 1 month ago

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accidental pregnancy with fordsie :3

since you've made your way back to gravity falls for the summer, you hadn't stopped looking at the long lost twin of Stanley, the rather reclusive man with streaks of both black and grey in his head and a stoic frown of focus always on his lips.

safe to say, after he'd accidentally pulled you against him due to a reaction between the necklace on your bosom, the bracelets on your wrists, and the metal attracting device in his hand during a day of experimentation in the forest, there wasn't much stopping you both from developing a deeper interest.

ford was somewhat reserved, you weren't-- you liked singing karaoke at greasy's every Friday, and he couldn't be caught dead even attending such an establishment without either his brother or great niece and nephew, and Stanley would have to buy him fries if he wanted his brother to stay longer than ten minutes.

all these differences mattered little when he'd offhandedly mentioned Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons in a conversation with Dipper in front of you. after one game and a passionate screaming match between the two of you that reverberated through the mystery shack's floorboards, it was clear that a match had been made by the gods. even ford found himself unable to let you go from his mind when fall arrived and your lease had run out.

so, after some passive aggressive encouragement from Mabel on her grunkle's behalf, you stayed in your little rental in town. you took up some shifts at the mystery shack (stanley offered, not only for the extra help and lower than legal minimum wage, but also to watch with popcorn as his Sixer would grow red and all eager to discuss his latest discovery with you), and sometimes you even spent the night in his room.

it was all friendly at first, him offering a bed after you two spent the evening after playing Dungeons after his studies; it was nothing more than a sleepover, he'd tell himself! his thoughts couldn't defy the fact that his body burned to even consider sleeping nearby someone nearly a third of his age, as beautiful as you were.

(how he wasn't sheepish by those green shorts he wore to sleep, you had no clue. at least you liked the look of them when he wore them in the mornings, his hair all mussed with sleep and his glasses resting lazy on his nose.)

his bed was a twin size, too small to share between two grown adults, and he'd usually offered to sleep on the floor if you stayed overnight, even as the infatuation between you two grew obvious. No matter how tightly he would hold you close as you cuddled or how hungrily he could kiss you if you accidentally helped him with a discovery, he refused to sleep in his own damned bed, just because you were there.

until one night, he'd gotten the hint when you refused to let him go as he tried to slip away and lay on the floor.

he really got the hint when you straddled him instead of returning the stiff 'goodnight' he gave you.

the poor man's glasses had fogged up as he was fucked into next week by you.

such was the life of ford for the next few months or so, and time even came where he'd felt jealous on the nights you weren't asleep next to him.

one evening came where you weren't with him, for he'd been too busy with his work to chat. it was no big deal, not for you-- you already had felt rather drained, so it would be a peaceful night in for once. you were excited to crack open a beer, and watch some old reruns of the golden girls, anyway.

as soon as you'd flicked off the bottle cap of the beer, your nose wrinkled-- was something in the fridge bad? did a animal shit right outside your damn front door? you sniffed around till you leaned close to the fresh beverage in your hand-- and you gagged violently before dropping the glass in a panic. now there was glass and beer all over your tile!

what the fuck just happened!

you'd thought the beer had somehow went bad with such a vile smell that emanated from it, and you'd plan to give stanley the rest of the twelve pack when you saw him the next day. whether he'd drink it himself or sell it off as some sort of evil potion, you didn't care.

you tried to move on after cleaning up the mess, making some popcorn and finding almost an exact same reaction-- except this time, you did end up puking into the bowl when your senses became overwhelmed with the scent and buttery taste all at once. the better question now showed itself-- what was going on with you? How had you suddenly lost all taste for the things you loved to consume?

Later that evening, you could only seethe as Stan cracked open and drank one of your precious beers with a healthy chug, an echoed belch following you through the hallways to Stanford's office so loudly that you couldn't help but get pissed off. what a waste of perfectly good beer on that old con!

you went to ford about your concerns, even he was confused by such a reaction-- so of course, now you were sitting on his desk as he scrutinized you heavily. you'd given samples of your nail trimmings and had your armpits examined, but you trusted that your eccentric older boyfriend knew what he was doing.

"there's no tautness of skin...hmm... your palate remains the same..." He was busy muttering to himself, ignoring any actual question you made to his low words, and he turned away to look through his drawers again. He paced around from desk to desk in his lab, but Ford was finally returning to stand before you after a few minutes of scrounging.

"it could very well be a leech or some bug from swimming in that putrid lake! If you'll allow me to obtain a full body scan, I'll check to see if all is in order."

With a raise of his hand, you could see Ford had brought out this weird device that looked more like a gun than anything from your perspective. of course you shrieked and tried to dodge the end of it that was pointed at you. "hey, hey hey HEY!"

Pausing with a confused stare, the poor man was more caught off guard than anything as he watched you flail and shriek, but he was resting the object aside as he tried to calm you down.

"heavens above, y/n! its a wireless X-ray gun! it's harmless, it cant even emit radiation! sit down!" his voice boomed, more annoyed that you would think he'd hurt you than being willing to calm your sudden shock. you sat back on the counter, more shaken than annoyed or fearful, and pondering quietly as he pointed the thing first at the top of your head-- he could see the results from his perspective as he scanned over the expanse of your form.

his brows furrowed once he passed over your head, neck and arms to see nothing. he murmured and cursed to himself one more, and you were more interested in how he'd made such a device like the one scanning you now. he slowly guided the gun down your midriff, frustrated that nothing seemed to be showing itself off out of the ordinary.

"I don't understand. Nothing is--" The very moment the machine trailed over your stomach and lower half, his hand paused, and Stanford's eyes got big.

It was small, but the eyes of a scientist like him knew when he was staring at a fetus or not. It was so little, so new, but it was resting serenely inside you.

by the gods, after the last thirty years of trekking dimensions and surviving battles against demons, how did the topic of his own fertility be the last thing on his mind whilst he had been pumping you full of seed almost weekly?

From your perspective, it was humorous to see his glasses slightly dramatize how big his stare became-- you found yourself panicked the longer he remained still and said nothing about what he was very clearly looking at inside you.

"Christ! Do I have an egg or something inside me?! Let me see, Ford!"

"NO! No, no, y-you're fine!" No longer lost in shock, he yanked back the x-ray gun as you reached out for it, more panicked than anything in that moment and already very sensitive about his inventions. Even as he reassured you all was well, the look on Stanford's face didn't seem to appease you. He was shocked at whatever he saw.

"You're not making me feel any better, Ford. Can you let me see the reading?"

"i... it cant capture an image, i-it just exposes what ever is in front of it."

Ford was still being too quiet for you to stand.

"Ford, you're being dramatic! If I'm fine, then what is with this weird silent treatment? What, is there a baby or something?" You try to laugh off his fearful gaze with your ironic statement, but Ford wasn't laughing with you. As a matter of fact, that stunned stare was turning in to something more soft at your words-- more of a puppy dog's pleading gaze.

"You... happen to have a more enlarged uterus than normal?"

you both stare at one another for a long minute. ford isn't uncomfortable with the news discovered by some awry invention of his, but he's watching you closely for any sense of negative response. he's slightly even praying that you'll just smile and give him a hug with the happy news.

you burst into tears, and ford is in panic to start hugging you close once its clear you're in need his support. you hold him close, getting his jacket wet with your tears, finally calming yourself into an unsteady silence that is more familiar to you two both.

You look up at him, and you smile.

Ford smiles back, and he can feel his heart grow so warm he thinks he might start bawling with you at any moment.

"If my assumptions are correct, we've got eight months to have Mabel plan the perfect baby shower."

#I hope y'all like it cus Im a stanley girl more than anything #gravity falls #more like grab these balls!#ford x reader #stanford x reader #stanford pines #stanford doesn't cry till he's in the delivery room with you if you were asking my opinon #this time everyone calls the baby mini einstein <3 #I really don't know how this became a full length piece and not a Drabble.... I might do a stanley pt 2 for my fellow stanwives

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angelcakestarlet · 9 months ago

Text

salvatore pt 2

richie jerimovich x reader

warnings: age gap, cheating (eventually) (guys it's for the plot i swear), drugs mentioned, swearing.

as requested here is part two!! thank u for the support cuties <3

"hands, fuckers! i need hands table 13, someone come on!" richie's voice echos through the bustling kitchen. it was a busy saturday night, the kitchen was in the weeds, and the restaurant was full as shit. the chicago bears were playing the packers tonight which meant men, drunk men, who would camp out the entire game sitting at the bar or at a table ordering one meal for the whole night. while your apron was stained and you hadn't reapplied lipgloss in the last three hours, you took a quick peak in the mirror and concluded you still looked good enough for that 20% tip. your cheeks were flushed from running around the restaurant getting beer refills and pitchers for nearly every damn table. you should've called off, honestly.

"I got hands!" you came up behind richie. he passed you the plates with a rag beneath them, "here wouldn't want you to burn yourself, sweetheart". you smiled at him, something about richie made your stomach drop in a way that made you feel guilty. every time he spoke to you, it churned your stomach. you knew it was wrong, the whole 'older man' ordeal, you knew that you should probably feel disgusted at his little remarks towards you. but if anything, that was the cherry on top. you walk out the kitchen, feeling his eyes burning into your back. tina smacks richie's shoulder, "staring at that girl like you wanna eat her" she scoffs disapprovingly. he smirks, eyes trailing you.

"alright guys i have the italian beef sandwich, fries on the side?" you ask the men in front of you wearing their grey bear jerseys, setting it down on the table. "they got you on the side too?" one of the guys snickers, shoving his elbow into his buddy. you fake a sweet laugh, "depends, there's an upcharge for me", anything for that tip. glancing up at the clock, "two more hours to go," you sigh. and for the next two hours, the game finishes up and people start slowly leaving the restaurant. you get those who linger, collecting their betting pool winnings or reaping their loses at the bar. you start getting ready to cash out, calculating your earnings for the day when richie creeps up behind you. "how'd you do today, doll?" referring to your tips racking up on the screen, "guess" you look over your shoulder at him. his face is glowing with a sheen of sweat, rag draped over his shoulder, chain having fallen beneath his shirt, he looked good. "a girl like you? i'm gonna say you made 200 tonight." "try 350," he peers over your shoulder, he lets out a whistle and you can feel his breath blow past your ear. "they like you out here huh?" you turn around to completely face him, his face merely inches away "why wouldn't they?" he chuckles at your response. "god you've got a mouth on you" you notice his eyes pan over you, his response makes you go red. you can only feign confident for so long, his words strike you somewhere deep inside. he notices your flushed state, smiles, and makes his way back to the kitchen. when the doors close behind him you realize you've been holding your breath.

you make your way to the office to check out with carmen, "how did you do today, y/n?" he's seated in his office chair, legs spread and obviously tired. "really good, i'm really liking it here, chef. thank you for the opportunity to work here" you smile hands behind your back, "that's good to hear, you let me know if anyone gives you any type of trouble alright? including fucking cousin over there." you laugh, "trust me, everyone's been really welcoming". once you're done cashing out, you take your purse and head out. outside you find yourself two lingering drunks from the game, "where are you heading to so fast? hold on," one of the guys approaches you, you roll your eyes and continue making your way down the sidewalk. "hey, i'm fucking talking you, you too good to respond or something" you can smell the alcohol coming from his breath as he comes up to tug on your wrist. "fuck off, don't touch me!" you shrug his wrist off, "is there a fucking problem here or something?" you hear richie's scruff voice behind you. before he gets to say anything else the guy backs away from you, you turn around to see richie lifting his white shirt just above his stomach to reveal his gun. the sight gives you that familiar feeling, you almost feel a shiver down your spine. "cause I don't think we would want any problems, right?" he gets closer to you, putting a finger through your belt loop to secure you. "you're right man, we're good, we're good." the guys shuffle away almost tripping over their feet. richie tugs on your belt loop, turning you to face him, "you okay, sweetheart? what are you doing walking home at this hour, do you want to get fucking taken by some jagoff?" he put his shirt back down, covering his gun. you stay a bit stunned, "let me give you a ride, come on." you grab his wrist lightly, "thank you, richie, fuck. um fuck..." you grip your hair, about to follow him to his car you see headlights behind you. "shit um... thank you for the offer, and for helping richie. i was just already waiting on-" you hesitate catching his eye as he looks off to the car pulling over in the distance. "I was waiting on my boyfriend." you peer behind you to see him behind the wheel, he usually picks you up from work. richie nods, smirking almost "your uh boyfriend shouldn't make his girl wait for him like that, especially at night. have a good night, doll" he rubs his chin, turns and makes his way to his car. you sigh, questioning your own moment of hesitation before saying 'boyfriend'. you stare at the silhouette of his tall stature walk away, envisioning the cold gun that rests between his jeans and his stomach and bite down on your lip.

"how was work, babe?"

#richie jerimovich x you #richie jerimovich imagine #richie jerimovich x reader #richie jerimovich #the bear #the bear imagine #the bear x reader #the bear fanfiction #the bear hulu #sydney adamu #carmen berzatto imagine #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto #carmy x reader

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idyat · 1 year ago

Note

An idea

Hank x reader angst/fluff

Like reader getting Hurt and Hank going insanelly mad/protective over them 👀👀

Hank x reader

Insert Title

Summary: You almost die lmao

WARNINGS: Pretty hefty description of gore, blood and an almost dead body, reader gets shot lol

--------------------------------------------------

The alarm screamed as you ran through the halls, emptied out gun in one hand, the other trying its best to reach for your tablet and balance the files you were told to steal at the same time.

When you got it, you checked to make sure you were going the right direction. North West, drive-through storage room, perfect.

On your way there you smashed the alarm disabler off once you passed by it, for good measure. You winced from the glass shards but at least that damn noise was finally off. Picking up a gun from a dead agent, you ran down the building to where you needed to go as fast as possible before any reinforcements come and rough you up even more than you already were.

Eventually reaching the room you were supposed to exit through, you see a strange contraption on the door. You slowed down to check it out, make sure it's not a bomb, and it's...got S.Q inscripted on it? What the fuck?

A weird machine-looking thing with S.Q's logo or whatever tapped on it, stuck on th-

You hear a click and a beeping noise.

As you turn around, you barely have time to see yellow before a shot echoes in the room.

Fuck. You forgot how clever those engineer bastards could be.

* * *

"Hank? Do you hear me?"

Hank brought his bloody hand up to his earpiece.

"Loud and clear. What do you want Doc?"

2BDamned was lucky he only interrupted Hank after he was done killing all the agents in the room, otherwise he would have gotten a way ruder response, if any at all.

Hank wasn't eager on actually listening to anything that was about to be said to him, until the name of his lover was brought up.

"They were supposed to have left the base with the documents by now, but their tracker has been backing away from the exit? I think something happened to them. North-west, 1st floor storage room."

2B didn't need to tell Hank what to do, the latter dropped the corpse he was holding and rushed out like a raging ghost, ready to mow down whatever came across his path.

* * *

The engineer dragged his last victim's body along the floor as he communicated what he found on them.

"Yup, they were the one with the files. Gotta say, I'm surprised at how easy it was to trick them, I might as well have wiggled a cardboard cutout of Nick and they would've fallen for it!"

The radio-like voice laughed before quieting down when something was said in the intercom.

"Make sure to check if they're dead. Stay wary of your surroundings too, last time we checked the rest of 'em were still here."

"Yeah yeah. I'm using a big caliber, I'm sure it'll be good."

The ATP brought the body up to his eyes. There were indeed multiple gaping holes in their body, slowly gushing out blood and leaving a red trail behind him.

"Your optimism will be your downfall engineer, be careful."

"If you say so. Hey, now that we've mentioned Nick, tell him to buy me some smokes when he lea-"

The engineer suddenly whipped his body around, gun pulled up.

"...I heard something. Over."

It's funny how serious he just got, pointing his flashlight and weapon at every corner of the room, slowly advancing, dragging your body with much more care than before.

He begins going down the hall just a little bit faster. Both out of safety, and maybe because of a tiny prick of fear.

While he power walks, he looks back behind him one last time, just to check. The next thing he knew, he bumped against a tall bloody mass.

Just like you, the last thing he saw before blacking out was the splashing of his own blood.

But despite the burning rage, the want to hear this asshole scream until its lungs were fried, the killing machine threw the two halves of the body to the wall and fell to his knees, hands shaking in a frenzy to find out how to make rudimentory treatments before his dearest bled out.

All he could do at the moment was rip up tissues to stuff into the bullet holes and wrap a bandage around the wounds. He would have just torn off hunks of his own flesh to replace yours, but he wasn't yet sure if not only that would lead to an infection or not, or if that would even work any better than cloth.

Even when unconscious, your hands twitched at his first-aid attempts. It hurt. He knew it hurt. But he couldn't do anything about it. And on fucking god if that didn't break his heart. That and the dread of watching the life essence still slowly flow out of you as he called up to Doc.

"Emergency. NOW."

He held you up and ran to the car. No one could see it, but he was praying to any deity that may be left up there for you to be okay.

Protecting you was the best thing he knew to do. Even more than murder. And failing even this once would be a fate worse than an eternity of hell.

* * *

Pain. That was all you felt as the medbay light made you tear up slightly.

You closed your eyes, trying to sleep just a bit more, and potentially numb the horrible pain in your chest, but your attention is now also caught by the muffled voices in the room.

It takes a few minutes and what feels like a few injections for you to finally fully regain consciousness. When your sight unblurs, arm on the forehead to block out the brightness and pain, you see two red circles staring down at you.

"...Hi sweetie."

Hank almost jumps in happiness to his partner speaking up, his cold and calloused hands rubbing over your arm and sides, careful not to touch your many injuries.

"Excited, big guy...?" You tiredly say as you wrapped your arm around his and kissed his wrist. Your voice was weak, but you were smiling and alive and that's all that mattered to him at that moment. "Anything...what happened...?"

"You got shot."

Your eyes widen a bit, you didn't notice 2BDamned in the room until he spoke up while analyzing you a little more.

"Well...yeah, I figured. Anything else?"

"Hank over here finally understood how to not use food wrappings as bandages."

You let out a raspy chuckle. Hank definitely didn't care though, he was too focused on making sure you wouldn't faint and die at any moment.

It took a few minutes before Doc left the room. A few minutes of desperately trying to get to you for further examination without Hank giving him a death glare and pulling his partner away, closer to him.

When 2B finally left the room, he suddenly wrapped his arms around you as gently as possible and pulled you in, resting his head in the crook of your neck and relishing in the feeling of your living skin against his.

"Hanky? You alright?"

"No."

You softly hug him back with a sympathetic look on your face. He was breathing heavily, maybe even shaking a little. He hadn't let you go ever since you woke up, in fact his grip only got tighter and tighter, as if you would fade back away the moment he stopped.

"Hey, it's okay. It was just another little shot, nothing new."

You smile and rub his back, completely unaware of the hours spent to heal you back, of how many times you've flatlined during it, of all the empty blood packets sitting in the trash bin, of how they've genuinely considered just letting you die so they can bring you back later, of all the injections, bandages, tissues, spare organs, and most impirtantly, of how fucking scared Hank was.

Could he have been there to hold your hand while you agonised under 2BDamned, god damn he would have. He would have held it tighter and with more love than any gun he's ever handled. Maybe that's why he seemed so angry at Doc. As reasonable as it was, not being able to get any closer than 10 feet from the love of his life while they were nearly dead was torture.

But it was over now. He could hold you close without your blood staining his clothes. You gotta admit, it was quite pleasant to have basically a living ice pack against you when your entire body felt like you were going through a blender.

You two kept quiet for a bit, appreciating the contact with your lover, before he whispered.

"I'm sorry."

"It wasn't your fault."

"I should've been there."

"You couldn't have known. I should have been more careful if anything."

Hank lifted his head up from your neck before grabbing your cheeks and digging his eyes into yours.

"Don't say that. You got me?"

Your smile widened a bit.

"Sure."

His head fell back onto you after that. How adorable was it to see a ruthless genocidal maniac cuddling up to you like a cat.

--------------------------------------------------

"..."

"Did you save the intel?"

"Fuck if I know. Ask Doc."

"Later. I prefer cuddles right now."

I got lazy with the end sorry

#madness combat #madcom #hank j wimbleton #madcom hank #madness combat hank #madness combat x reader #mc hank #mc hank x reader #madness combat hank x reader #madcom hank x reader #hank j. wimbleton x reader #hank x reader #madcom x reader

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hellfirexwhore · 2 years ago

Text

Forget What You've Heard E.M.

Line cook!Eddie Munson x Bartender!Reader

Sorry it took so long between posts! I've been working all day every day so it's busy over here. I hope you enjoy!

I do not give permission for my work to be copied / posted as original work on any platform.

Your favorite co-worker's flirty nature is your favorite part of the workday, but is it genuine? Someone is feeding you lies just as your patrons are being fed mozzarella sticks and Eddie is determined to convince you he's not just playing games with your heart.

Misunderstanding, hurt/comfort, fluff, cursing, an asshole named Dylan (We all know one), use of Y/N

Wordcount 4.7k

You smile to yourself as you count up the tips you've made so far. Bartending has done wonders for your wallet, and it's totally worth it if you can look over the long hours on your feet, creeps trying to get into your pants, and going home smelling like sour mix and sweat. You just moved to Hawkins 6 months ago and since living on your own is expensive, you serve beers and shake cocktails at the karaoke bar downtown to make a living. It's easy work and you're good at it, but there's just one issue; your favorite co-worker is a huge distraction. Eddie is the cutest damn line cook you've ever seen with his curly hair always tied into a low bun and his smile that you're sure could cure a number of diseases, but those things don't make it easy to do your job efficiently. It's nearly impossible to grab a platter of nachos from the window without him throwing out a wink and calling you sweetheart, telling you you're doing a good job, or even sliding a basket of fries to you with a finger to his lips as a way of saying "Don't tell on me, honey."

Tonight is no different. Eddie has been a total menace all night, flashing you that flirty smile, keeping you from your work with his corny pick-up lines that he insists will get him a date with you one day, making conversation, and giving you extra sides of ranch without making you ring them in first like the kitchen manager does. The second you walked into the back to set your bag down after arriving, he told you your hair looked absolutely ravishing even though it's just thrown into a clip like always, making you blush like crazy. It took nearly 20 minutes to get the scarlet red tint to leave your cheeks, and though you tried your hardest to hide it, Eddie sure as hell noticed, leaving a smile on his face throughout the busy evening.

"Hey sweetheart, I've got those wings for the bar top ready for you." You hear from behind you, snapping you out of your thoughts. You smile to yourself at the nickname and put the glass you've just finished washing upside down on the drying mat.

You turn around to an always grinning Eddie leaning his elbows on the stainless steel of the mini counter under the window to the back of house and holding the ticket in between his index and middle digits. You take the slip of paper out of his hand slowly, letting your fingers touch for a moment before stabbing it through the small metal spike to your right. Every once in a while, you like to indulge in his flirtatiousness, though it makes you nervous. Eddie's fun, he's nice, and dishing back what he gives to you every day isn't hurting anyone. "Thank you, Eddie."

"Any time, sugar." He replies, winking and turning to grab a new ticket and drop an order of potato skins in the fryer. You shake your head, smiling from ear to ear, turning to serve the hot plate to one of your regulars.

The rest of the shift goes great. Your tips are higher than you had planned, nobody had to be thrown out for fighting, and you got to hear a wonderful rendition of "My Heart Will Go On" sang by a very intoxicated older gentleman during the karaoke session. As you clean up the bar for the night, as always, you can't stop thinking about Eddie. You think tonight might actually be the night you ask him to hang out with you outside of work, though he's invited you to go get some late night pizza before, playfully pouting when you have to decline, telling him that you're exhausted and have to go back to the bar to open the next day. You've wanted to say yes, but Eddie makes you nervous. You're feeling bold tonight though, and you're optimistic.

Unbeknownst to you, Eddie is in the kitchen cleaning the fryers, taking out the trash, and scrubbing the floors absentmindedly, almost like he's in auto-pilot because he can't get you out of his head. He wants so badly to ask you out, but he's tried that and you don't seem interested. He realizes you probably just flirt with him for fun, a harmless workplace friendship with some winks and pet names sprinkled in, but over the past four months, he's developed a serious crush on you.

There's just something about you that makes you so different from everyone he's ever dated or been interested in. He doesn't feel like he has to change who he is for you. There's nothing better for Eddie's ego than how easy it is to make you smile, and goddammit what a beautiful smile it is. Every time you look at him through your lashes, blushing at something stupid he's said, Eddie feels like he could lift the entire building up with one hand and not even break a sweat. He fears he's in too deep at this point, the innocent flirting leading to him finding himself thinking about you even once he's gone home for the night.

"Hey Eddie boy, I think you missed a spot." Eddie rolls his eyes at the irritating voice coming at him from his left. Dylan is one of the most insufferable people he's ever met and of course, he has the honor of working beside him at least 3 nights out of the week.

Eddie doesn't turn his attention to Dylan, just continues wiping down the steel counter top. "Bite me, jackass."

"Wow, someone's sassy today, huh? What, you didn't get enough attention from your little bartender tonight?" He smarmily replies, a disgustingly annoying grin on his face. Dylan, to Eddie's dismay, has picked up on the little "situation" between you two, making a joke of it every chance he can in an attempt to piss him off.

Eddie laughs humorlessly, throwing his rag down and turning to the bane of his existence, crossing his arms over his chest. "Dude shut the fuck up."

"Hey look man, I get it! I'm just saying it's embarrassing watching you stare at her like a fucking creep all day. She does look pretty smokin' in those jeans though, so I don't blame you. Hey maybe I'll ask her out tonight, see if I can get some tail. Think she'll give up the goods?" He's smirking while Eddie's blood is raising in temperature. He can practically feel smoke coming out of his ears hearing this sorry excuse for a man speaking about you like you're just a piece of ass and not the sweet, funny, beautiful person you are.

"I swear to God, I'll bust your teeth in." Eddie seethes, trying to keep his cool, at least while you're in the building. You're blissfully unaware of their hatred for one another and the last thing he needs is for you to see him throwing his fist into Dylan's face for talking about you. That wouldn't be very "innocent flirtationship" of him.

"Guys! Come on, finish cleaning and knock it off. I don't have the energy for your cat fights tonight." The kitchen manager huffs, stepping between the two of them with a severely annoyed look on his face. Wordlessly, Eddie takes one more look at Dylan, picks his rag back up, and continues his task of degreasing all of the surfaces. He wants to get it over with and be able to clock in time to catch you before you leave and walk you to your car.

Dylan, the vindictive man he is, takes the opportunity to make his way through the swinging kitchen door and into the main bar area while Eddie isn't paying attention. You look up, expecting to find Eddie standing there, but confused when it's the guy you barely speak to heading in your direction.

"Hey Y/N, you do good tonight?" He asks, leaning against the bar. You smile politely, still wrist deep in soapy water from washing the bar glasses and beer mugs.

"Yeah, better than I expected actually. Did you need something?" You ask, not rudely, but assuming he came for something specific seeing as he's never made small talk with you before.

Dylan takes a breath and rests his elbows on the hard wood of the bar top, shaking his head like he's trying to think of how to tell you what he sauntered up to you for. You begin to dry your hands, getting a little nervous thinking that maybe the manager had sent him up here to tell you something you've done wrong. You're still relatively new and you've never gotten in trouble here before, but you can't think of anything else he would need to say to you. "Look, I know you and Munson are friends, and I see the way you look at him. You like him, and before you deny it, just listen to me."

Your heart starts to race. Did he tell Eddie? Did Eddie say something to him? How are you going to face him when apparently other people are picking up on this? Are you this obvious? You can't take it anymore so you nod, waiting for more information as you toy with your hands.

"You seem sweet, okay and I don't want to see someone like you hurt by someone like him. Eddie and I are cool, but this is what he does. he flirts with the new ones, takes them home, and never speaks to them again. When another newbie comes in, he starts it all over again. I just thought you should know since I'm sure you're a genuinely nice person and I'm certain Eddie is taking advantage of that." Your heart drops at his words. You feared you were being played with, but you didn't want to believe it. You fell for Eddie's charms, and now it's time to face the harsh reality that you had completely misunderstood this whole situation and made yourself look like an idiot in front of everyone.

"Um, wow. Well thanks for telling me, I appreciate it. I'm gonna finish up here and head out. Have a good rest of your night." You say, rushing through so you don't tear up mid-sentence. Dylan nods, not saying another word but offering a sympathetic smile before turning on his heel and going back through the door he came. You pull the plug to the dish sink, gather your signed receipts to shove into the drawer, and give the glazed wood one last wipe down. You hear Eddie say your name through the window but you act like you can't hear him.

This whole thing could have been avoided if you wouldn't have fallen for the good looks and quirks of the fuzzy-headed, wild-eyed line cook. You never should have caught feelings in the workplace; that's like rule number 001 in the service industry. Never, under any circumstances, canoodle with your co-workers. You thought maybe this was an exception but now here you are, proven wrong.

Heading through the swinging door to the kitchen, you avoid eye contact with everyone, especially Eddie, as you walk straight to the back to gather your things. You feel humiliated and giving Eddie the satisfaction of seeing you upset is out of the question so the sooner you can get out of the building, the better. You give quiet goodbyes to the managers and make a quick escape, or you at least try to before a hand reaches out to hold your forearm.

"Hey, wait for me. I'll walk you to your car." Eddie says softly, giving you a soft smile. You can't bear to look him in the eyes, so you gently pull away, shaking your head.

"It's fine Eddie, thanks though." You reply, turning to finally leave. Eddie watches as you throw your bag strap onto your shoulder and hurriedly make your way to the exit. Hurt washes over him and he's more confused than when he learned what a tampon is in middle school. He furrows his brow and slumps his shoulders, going back to his final task before he can leave for the night. He doubts you're still going to be in the parking lot by the time he can get out there, but his heart is racing like he might have a shot at catching you before you leave.

Did he say something? Did his flirting finally make you uncomfortable tonight? He racks his brain trying to come up with some sort of reason why you would be upset with him. Normally, he would suggest that maybe you're just tired but even when you're on the verge of falling asleep where you stand, you can still manage to give him a sleepy smile and a breathy laugh at another one of his terrible jokes. Maybe he took it too far. Maybe he weirded you out or gave you the wrong idea. It wouldn't be the first time he's scared someone off.

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You continue to go to work as normal, doing your best to not entertain anything Eddie had to say. The more distance you can create between the two of you, the less likely you'll get hurt. The time for stepping away from him to protect your feelings ended long ago but now it's time to do some damage control before you get worse. You get attached to people, and unfortunately that includes the bad people too.

You thought long and hard about whether or not you actually believed Dylan. I mean it's his first time actually talking to you and he breaks the news to you that Eddie just wanted to get into your pants? Why would he care? After going back and forth with yourself over it for your entire day off, you don't know what to think but what you do know is that if they really are friends and if Dylan actually does care, then the safe bet is to just stay away. If he's telling the truth and you ignore that to continue growing your feelings for Eddie, you're in for a world of hurt and that's just not something you can deal with right now.

You're not mean to Eddie when you work now; you just treat him like everyone else. You say "please" and "thank you", you ring in your extra sauces when you need them, you greet him just like you greet every other cook, and you don't flirt or bat your lashes at him anymore. Eventually, he is going to ask why but until he does, you can't bring yourself to ask him about it. It's humiliating and if he does have bad intentions, he's not going to be honest about it anyway so what's the point in starting that conversation?

Eddie is trying everything. These past few days have been hell for him and he's grasping at straws. He offers to make you fries, you tell him, "Thank you, but I'm not hungry." He tries to ask you about your day, you apologize and say you're busy. He tries to catch you before you leave at night, but you practically sprint for the door the second you're finished with your side work.

He watches through the window as you smile at your last patron of the night, desperately wishing that smile was for him. You haven't paid him any mind in 3 days and it's driving him crazy. It might be a little better if he actually knew what he did, but he's completely clueless. The awkward interactions are eating away at Eddie, and he knows if he doesn't say something soon, he'll explode. He starts his cleaning and breaking down the line as quickly as possible in an attempt to finish before you do so you don't run away from him again like you have been. If he doesn't get this straightened out, he doesn't know what he'll do.

Your last tab is cashed out and you begin your cleaning, causing Eddie to pick up his pace. He knows it'll take you 20 minutes max now that you and him aren't chatting throughout to slow you down. As long as nobody gets in his way, he's determined to finally be able to talk to you tonight. Not playful banter, no pick up lines, just a real conversation. The sooner he gets back into your good graces, the better.

"Trouble in paradise?" Eddie turns to see Dylan smirking with his arms across his chest. So much for nobody getting in his way.

Eddie laughs humorlessly and goes back to his work. "Fuck off, dude."

"Look man I'm just saying it seems like there's a little riff between the lovebirds lately. I wonder what happened, hm?" Dylan replies, his tone condescending as ever, doing his best to get a rise out of Eddie. To his dismay, it's working.

"You don't know shit." Eddie mumbles, wringing out a sanitizer rag, his fingers already becoming little prunes extended from his hands from the extensive cleaning.

"I don't know about that one, Ed. We had a really riveting conversation, seriously it was interesting, and I'm sure I know a little more than you think." This stops Eddie in his tracks. He breathes hard through his nose and turns on his heel, grabbing Dylan by his shirt and shoving him against the wall.

"What the fuck did you say to her? Huh? Are you the reason she won't fucking talk to me? What the hell is wrong with you, you jealous son of a bitch?!" Eddie shouts. The manager on duty is already trying to break the two of them up and you hear the commotion from the front, peering your head into the window to see what the hell is going on.

"Ooh Munson is mad! I just told her exactly what you're up to, that's all." Dylan says, calm as ever, a disgusting smile on his face. "Punching me won't undo it, so go ahead."

"Enough! I swear to god, I will kick you both out." Eddie reluctantly loosens his grip on the boy's clothing, only pulling away completely when he's certain the risk of getting fired isn't worth hitting Dylan, even though the want to is overwhelming.

Eddie looks to you, his heart breaking at the disappointed look on your face. He decides this ends now. He has no idea what filth and lies have been planted in your head, but he needs to fix it and fast. He gives one last scowl to the man he was just threatening, and backs up, walking out of the kitchen door.

He approaches the bar and you freeze. You don't know what you're supposed to say or do, so you do and say nothing. He has a soft look on his face, one very different than the one he was wearing in the kitchen just a minute prior. It's almost as if his rock hard persona turns to cotton candy when he's in your presence, and if you ask Eddie, that's exactly how that works.

"Look, I know you don't want to talk to me and I'm still not entirely sure why, but please wait for me. Please talk to me, let me figure out what the hell happened, and let me fix it." He pleads. You think it over quickly, trying to figure out of this is something you even want to get into right now. You question his motives, still confused as ever. Helpless, you nod and see the relief wash over his entire body, giving you the same feeling as when you're in the middle of a horrific thunderstorm, and in an instant, the sun comes out of the dark clouds. Whether this conversation leaves you feeling like a sunny summer day or it leads to another crack of thunder, you're unsure but you have half an hour before you find out.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You sit there at the bar having finished your closing work, waiting for Eddie to finish his. Against your better judgement, you're happy to talk to him again but nothing can stop the knot in your stomach from growing tighter. All you wanted to do today was make some money, go home, cook dinner, take a bath, and watch a movie in bed but now, you're sitting here, anxiety building up in your body like a tower of mix-matched Lego pieces.

You're taken out of your thoughts when Eddie exits the kitchen and walks toward you, not looking any less nervous than he did earlier in the evening. "Hey, sorry I took so long."

"It's okay." You say quietly, standing up from the bar stool and pulling the strap of your backpack up onto your shoulder. "Do you want to talk outside?"

Eddie nods, giving you a tight smile. He leads you out of the front door and around to the side of the building to the employee parking lot, not saying a word just yet. the silence is broken by the flick of your lighter, illuminating the tip of a cigarette freshly placed in your mouth, inhaling the smoke and feeling the tiniest amount of tension wash away.

You lean against your car waiting for him to speak, still not really sure what you're supposed to say. He's the one that needed to defend himself, he's the one who wanted this conversation to happen.

"Look, I don't know what Dylan told you but I can assure you it was a lie." He starts. He's fidgeting with his fingers, avoiding eye contact. He's lost every ounce of confidence he once had when he's on the other side of the wall passing you a basket of chicken tenders.

"If you don't know what he said, then how would you know that?" You reply, taking another drag of your cigarette. You're hoping he's being genuine and not just defensive right off the bat, but if someone is lying about you, you'd feel defensive too. Everything is still fuzzy and figuring out this mess is like putting the pieces of a clear puzzle together.

"Because he fucking hates me. He does shit just to piss me off." Eddie shakes his head, pulling his own pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, lighting one between his lush lips.

"Why would he hate you, Eddie? What did you do?" You don't mean to point blame at him but he had to have done something to make someone hate him to the point of making up a lie to make you ignore him for days.

"When I first started, he thought I was flirting with this girl he had a thing for, and she got a crush on me. She didn't want to hang out with him anymore and he thought I just swooped in and stole her. I didn't even like her like that but since then, he's made it his job to make my life a living hell when he's here. That includes fucking this-" Eddie gestures his hand between the both of you, "-up for me."

"He told me you're fucking with me." You say, suddenly fixing your eyes on your sneakers. You almost shudder thinking back at the way your heart dropped to your stomach when Dylan first spoke to you. "Said you flirt with the new ones to get into their pants and then move on to the next one."

Eddie's eyes widen, looking like he's a child being told Santa isn't real. The genuine look of shock is very convincing, and you're close to dropping every allegation from that expression alone. "Jesus Christ. Y/N, I promise that's not what's going on here."

"How can I know that for sure? I felt like an idiot after he told me that. I was humiliated thinking I fell for some sleazy game you were playing." You're trying not to tear up. You can feel the thickness in your throat as you speak, hoping Eddie doesn't pick up on it. Six months of growing feelings for someone isn't something to fuck around about, and you might have taken this more seriously than it was intended, but when you're in that close of proximity with someone for that long, itching for the other to make a move, it's hard to not be heartbroken when something happens to it.

"Sweetheart, I flirt with you because I like you. At first, it was just fun and I thought you were cute, but now I have a big, fat, stupid crush on you and I think about you all the time. I don't ask you to hang out with me after work so I can take you to my van and get your clothes off. I ask you to hang out with me because I like the way you make me feel." Eddie responds, making eye contact with you finally, searching your eyes for any trace of doubt. He wants you to know how serious he is. This isn't just a fling for him, much like it never was for you. You had a feeling this could turn into something special, though it goes against everything people tell you about workplace relationships.

"And what would that feeling be?" You inquire, not breaking the contact between his chocolate pools and your own, finding a boldness in yourself that you didn't know existed.

"You make me feel like I'm the coolest guy in the world. You laugh at my stupid jokes, you compliment me, you're interested in what I have to say.." He trails off with a fond smile on his face. There's a softness about him that balances out the roughness of his edges, endearing you even further. He reaches out to grab your soft hand with his rough one. "I really fucking like you."

"I really like you too. I was going to ask you out the night Dylan dropped a bomb on me." You admit, rubbing your thumb over the skin of his hand.

"That motherfucker." Eddie shakes his head, getting angry all over again at the fact that he finally had his chance and it got ruined for him in an instant. "I'm going to kick his ass."

You pull your hand out of his and smack him lightly on the chest. "No, you can't get fired! Who will I talk to all day?"

"You've been doing just fine not talking to anyone." Eddie jokes, raising his eyebrows and bringing his cigarette to his lips, inhaling the smoke that seems to make this whole thing easier. After having a sick stomach for hours, he skipped his smoke breaks, partially leading to his angry outburst.

"Yeah and it was miserable! Do you know how much I hated having to go through my shift without hearing you call me sweetheart?" You laugh, a sound Eddie missed, even for just three days.

He smiles down at you, dazzling as always. You missing him as much as he missed you is actively washing away his worries one by one like a salty body of water washing away a structurally questionable sandcastle. "I won't deprive you anymore."

"I appreciate that." You grin, taking his hand back into yours.

"Does that mean you believe me? You can ask anyone, I'm serious. I talk about you all the time. The guys make fun of me for my "heart eyes" the entire time you're here. Ask Adam, Levi, Grant, Brandon-"

"Okay, okay." You cut off his adorable rambling. "Yes, I believe you."

Eddie breathes a sigh of relief. You can see his shoulders relax, his jaw loosen, and his posture seems straighter. "Good because I mean it. I'm sorry this was such a mess for you. Hopefully I can make up for it?"

"And how do you plan to do that, Munson?" You tease, giving him the flirty look he had been wishing to see from you again. He can't take his eyes off of the way you look at him through your thick lashes.

He moves closer to you subtly, moving slowly so he can relish in the moment. "Can I start with that date?"

"You sure can." You say just above a whisper. You're lost in his eyes once again, but this time, it's not just playful. There's a brand new feeling getting introduced here and it blows your mind that it was first kindled in a greasy kitchen.

As long as Eddie is here, things are easy. You have your flirty boy back and being at work is a little easier again. With Eddie right behind you serving up winks and pet names just as often as he serves up appetizers, going home smelling like beer and deep fried cheese is worth it.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson x reader angst #eddie munson x reader hurt/comfort #eddie x reader #eddie x reader angst #eddie x reader fluff #eddie x reader hurt/comfort #line cook eddie #line cook!eddie x reader #stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction

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onceuponapuffin · 7 months ago

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Fanatic Intervention Part 2!

I'm so glad you all are as hyped about this idea as I am!! ^_^ So you know, I've been reading every Other Idea, every reblog, and I am going to use your input to inform my choices going forward. This is OUR fic, after all :)

//Edited to include title

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That FREAKING coffee. Your eyes narrow. Everyone is still in shock, no one has spoken yet. You use the hesitation to grab the coffee out of the Metatron's hands and chug it back all in one go. It's the perfect temperature for drinking. Because of course it is. You're vaguely aware of some sounds of protest from Metatron and Aziraphale, but they're monosyllabic, and don't need a response. That can wait till after you finish.

You pull the cup from your lips and exhale in an overly-dramatic fashion, and look at the Metatron. It tasted exactly like almond-flavoured coffee, and you still hate him. YUP. Good.

"I beg your pardon!" The Metatron gasps, his face glaring at you with fury behind his eyes. But, oh, you couldn't care less if you tried.

"Get. Out. Now," You say to him. Your eyes have figurative fire behind them, the rush of caffeine and adrenaline making you braver than you otherwise would be.

"Young person, have you any idea who you are ordering about? I think you'll find that you're of no authority to be making demands and that you would do best to see yourself out. Before you make any foolish mistakes," the Metatron's voice is cool like a spring creek, but you can hear the malice just below the surface; barely contained.

But here is the thing, my dear Reader, this is a self-insert fanfiction. And in this work of fiction you are brave and clever, and you have been grieving for everything this monster put our beloved Ineffable Husbands through for too long not to be very, very angry now that you have come face to face. And you are not about to let this go. Crowley and Aziraphale have spent so much time trying to defend the world, defend humans, defend those they don't even like! You'll be damned before you let them go undefended when you, yes you, with all your love for them and all your knowledge are standing right there. So defend them you shall. Someone has to. And right now no one else will.

"Do you," you begin after a moment, "have any idea who you are speaking to?"

For a moment, the Metatron looks taken aback. But only a moment, before his eyes grow cold again.

"I mean," you continue, "I just fell through the ceiling, and landed in front of you just as you were about to hand over that coffee. I don't know about you, but I can only think of one reason why that would have happened, and it has three letters."

In your peripheral vision you notice Muriel, counting on their fingers. Aziraphale chokes back a gasp. You can't see it right now, but you can FEEL Crowley's eyebrow from here. Metatron holds your gaze, not ready to give up just yet.

"If I were you, Metatron, I would pop on back to Heaven, and double-check a few things. Because, I mean, there must be a reason why I've been dropped here to interrupt you. Seems like your plan hasn't been...approved. Otherwise it would go forward as planned, yes?" Matching his arrogance is key here, and if you mess up, the consequences could be dire. You glance at your cuticles with an air of nonchalance. "Unless, of course, you presume to know better?" And to seal the deal, you raise your eyes in a sideways look that screams smug.

You've spent months reading meta analysis, character analysis, everything you can get your hands on about the final fifteen. You're pretty sure you have a solid enough grasp of the Metatron's character to pull this off. The main thing is to pretend you know what's actually going on, convince him that he doesn't, and buy some time.

Suddenly, your phone in your pocket buzzes four times, and your mouth tastes like salt. But, actually really pleasant salt. Like you just ate McDonald's french fries, or theatre popcorn. Something clicks into place in your mind.

"....Did you...just try to turn me into salt?"

Having spent months learning to read Michael Sheen's facial expressions, you see the Metatron's eyes shift through Surprise, then Curiosity, before landing on what you can only call Calculating.

So YUP for the salt. But apparently he can't touch you. Later, you tell yourself, we'll figure this out later. Get him out, and get him out now.

You take a step forward, herding him towards the door.

"It seems," you say to him, "That you have some things to clarify."

The Metatron huffs, and straightens his tie. "Indeed it does," he says, knives beneath the calm once again. "I shall return, Aziraphale, and when I do, I do hope we will have a chance to chat."

And so the Metatron leaves, as though it was his own idea. You follow him to the door. Oh, you shouldn't, but you just can't help yourself. And honestly, I don't think you should. You call to him as he walks away.

"And be careful with those questions, Metatron! We all know how THAT ONE goes, don't we?" And with that you slam the door.

While you're apologizing (very quietly and lovingly) to the bookshop door, you hear Crowley behind you.

"Nnnyeah, I have no idea what's going on, but I like this one."

You pull out your phone. There are five heart icons. Four that are full, and one that is just an outline. Oh. OH.

"FUCK," you say to yourself.

Now you look up. You're shaking like a leaf, but lucky for you, there's still a metric ton of adrenaline running through your system, allowing you to realize that you need to figure out what comes next.

Vote on This One too please (I'm only able to do one poll per post, so bear with me).

❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ 🖤

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intheshadowsbehindyou · 1 year ago

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The Mercs take Y/N to a nearby carnival in the badlands

WARNING: Chaos ensues. Why the fuck would you take them anywhere?

Scout:

- He’s fine with this. He used to love going to carnivals. It was all him and his family could afford on weekends.

- You’re somewhat bothered by the heat but he’s resilient as fuck. “You want me to grab you some water, babe?” He doesn’t even wait for an answer. Returns in fucking milliseconds with water. You don’t know how he’s so damn fast.

- Sits on the fariswheel with you, he had planned this to be super romantic but he feels awkward. He tries to lighten the mood by standing up in the car and whacking his ball into the poor crowd of people. “Watch this. This is for you, babe.” The sandman ball hits a guy in the face and probably kills him. You’re pretty convinced he’s not alive anymore. “Home run!” He calls out. “Woooo!”

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Solider:

- EXCITED. EXCITED. EXCITED. If he were a dog he’d be wagging his tail. For all the wrong reasons. You know full well you’re in for a ride. It’s not a thrill ride.

- He takes the shooting games way too seriously. Gets mad when he doesn’t get the plush toy prize and pulls out his actual stock rocket launcher to rely on pure splash damage. (Where the fuck did he even hide that?) They’re forced to hand him his prize in fear for their lives.

- If you lose a game, he beats the shit out of the person running the stall. He insists it’s their fault and the game was rigged. Your shot is flawless.

- You leave him alone for TWO SECONDS and he’s already harassing a random bird on the fence he believes to be a Russian drone. Children are staring at him. You can’t take this man anywhere.

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Demoman:

- He’s not used to this. He went to the Highland games as a kid. Never really had a carnival around his village. He experiences a bit of awe and intrigue as you walk the streets with him. He’s still in his vest and the people of Tuefort are heckling him. They know he’s one of those annoying mercenaries. He thinks this is fucking hilarious.

- He hates the food though. Eugh. He discovers pretty quickly he has a dislike for fried chicken. Insults America’s tastes to hell and back. Almost fucking vomits when he tastes the mac and cheese. What the fucking hell is wrong with you people?

- “Err.. Dontae think those rides are a bit dangerous?” He asks, jutting his thumb behind him. He doesn’t notice the kiddy rollercoaster breaking into pieces behind him followed by screaming families. He’s probably too used to that sound to process it coherently.

- Suspiciously eyes the men setting up the fireworks for tonight. He glares at them while sipping the cheap alcohol he begrudgingly bought at one of the food stalls. Nitpicks them for setting them up wrong. He sets them up himself but the fireworks nearly kill everyone. Turns out he made them more efficient. By that I mean deathly. “No, sweetheart. they’re FIREWORKS. FIREWORKS.” you tell his drunken stupid ass.

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Engineer:

- Oh fuck he’s excited. He had good memories going to carnivals as a kid. Eats like a fucking beast and doesn’t hold back. You watch this man consume more than his own body weight.

- Goes straight to the mechanical bull. Asks you to hold his cowboy hat he wore on the way here. “Sit back and let a big man like me show you how it’s done, darlin.” He doesn’t even fall off once. It looks like he’s barely even moving. He stands up on the fucking bull and flips off the last guy who ate shit on it. Embarrassing him in front of his kids.

- As you’d suspect he’s sort of insulting the lack of regular maintenance on the rides. Whilst in line for the Zipper he shakes his head like a disappointed father and scraps the rusted paint off the ride with his glove. Crushing it to dust between his fingers. Shakes his head some more and sighs.

- Congratulations. The state of these rides have broken this poor man. He can’t take it anymore. Take him to the petting zoo with the farm animals right now before he suffers a brain hemorrhage.

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Heavy:

- “What did little baby say about carnival?”

- He’s heard of carnivals in plenty of books but his life of isolation has prevented him from ever experiencing such a thing. The concept is almost alien.

- Well, he goes with you and he hates it. He looks like an incredibly discontent kitten the entire time. As you ride with him in all the kiddy rides, he looks even more pissed as he just so happens to break one of the rides upon sitting in it. The consequences of being a giant mass of muscle are truly unfortunate on this day.

- His face brightens up a little bit as you buy him a footlong sandwich. He’s never seen a sandwich this big before. He eats the entire thing within’ minutes.

- Finally you find a place in the carnival he somewhat enjoys but pretends not to. He hits the high striker so hard the bell fucking breaks and goes flying. He complains that this game is too easy — until he’s handed a cute little toy bunny of course. “I have been gifted rabbit?”

- Everybody is now batshit afraid of him.

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Pyro:

- YAAAAAAAAAAAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

- Bouncing in the car the entire way there. Miss Pauling had to drive you two there because Pyro doesn’t own a vehicle. She sighs in exasperation and asks pyro to“please quiet down, sweetie. Pauling is thinking.”

- You have a massive dog jumping off the walls of the car right now. They can’t sit still. Pauling is miserable. In other words, water is wet.

- Once she drops you off she makes you both swear to not catch anything on fire. It’s bad for business and doesn’t give them a good look. Pyro has no intentions of listening to her and heads straight for the fire eating performance. In their point of view; these people are somehow consuming rainbows.

- They do all sorts of things with you. Allowing you to lead the way to any attraction you felt drawn to. Whether it be trying to get dolls or getting on a ride. They seemingly want to do as much as possible before the sun goes down.

- after you tell them it’s late, they groan in despair but nod obediently. Prioritizing your guys’ shitty adulthood of work was sadly something that had to be done. They held your hand on the way back. Carrying a shit load of plush dolls in the other massive glove.

- “Did you two have fun?” Miss Pauling asks, you swear she puts on a motherly voice just for pyro. He excitedly claps his hands and agrees with her. She blinks though and sees the chaos behind you. You trace her gaze with confusion, wondering what she was gawking at. For some reason the entire carnival was on fire and you didn’t even notice on your way out that it spread to pretty much every corner.

- You both look back at Pyro. They’re holding a match. Of fucking course. Miss Pauling rubs her face. “I’ll call the firemen..” She sighs in defeat.

————————————————————-

Sniper:

- “Carnivals are stupid.” He says, a lit cigarette between his teeth. “Jus’ mediocre entertainment. Not even good. Believe it or not I have standards for my own personal pleasure as well. I’m not going to some stupid thick headed colonel sanders’ freakshow to eat hot grease n’ Emu legs.�� You have to correct him that it’s technically turkey legs. “Whatevea mate.”

- You somehow manage to convince him anyway. But he was doing this only for you. He growls as you drag him by the hand onto the carnival grounds. Wishing he was back in bed. He glares at everybody who even dares breathe in his direction.

- He likes the farm animals well enough but quickly diverts his attention away in slight intrigue upon seeing the shooting gallery. You are thrilled and BEG him to win a prize for you. “There’s no way in hell i’m doing that, love.” You want to see this guy in action and the look of shock upon everybody’s faces as Sniper beats multiple children.

- Well.. Okay. But only because you keep inflating his ego with your compliments. He goes up, gives the person in charge his money, and brings the scope to his eye. Multiple kids are in the gallery next to him and missing every single shot on the fake cardboard animals. He mutters an insult to their ineptitude. He doesn’t even have to look to know they didn’t land a shot.

- Sniper takes down literally all the targets within’ seconds. Including the ones that the poor children were shooting at. Every. single. cardboard animal.

- The person running the stall begrudgingly gives him the biggest teddy bear they have. The Teddy bear that multiple families present were wanting to get in the first place. Kids are complaining and parents are complaining. Life’s suddenly great. Sniper looks amused at the amount of attention and cracks a smile at you. He wonders how you knew this would make him happy.

—————————————————————————

Medic:

- “Ack! what complete nonsense! I am far too busy of a man for such boyish games!” He acts dramatic about it. Crossing his arms and turning up his nose.

- “Yeah but— what if somebody dies on the broken ass rides? That’s like free organs right there.” You say.

- “Hoo. Well, you do have a point. Alright! I’m convinced. But only this once.”

- Medic is actually rather terrible at the gun related games. He can’t aim precisely. At one point you found a crossbow related game and he held his hand over his mouth in embarrassment. Realizing he had managed to hit everywhere but the desired target. You joke that hey— at least a life isn’t on the line this time. He passive aggressively slaps you over the head lightly with his glove and moves to the next game.

- You go to the bathroom and come back to see him dragging a bloodied dead body into his car. “Ah, I’d explain but it’s a rather long story!” he says enthusiastically. Accidentally holding up his equally bloodied ubersaw, and then immediately hiding it behind his back.

- He won’t go on the rides. He’s bold and brash but he isn’t an idiot. He knows full well those things aren’t structurally sound. He stands up tall in his usual thinking pose. A finger to his chin as he takes in the sight of the rides. “What are you thinking?” You ask him. He grins at you. That disgusting, devilish, i’m-making-an-evil-plan grin. You are now scared.

- He steals an entire fucking carnival ride for less than moral medical purposes. The ENTIRE FUCKING THING is in the back of his car and the car is chugging along. Wheezing and trying to get this thing back to the base. He’s going to break it apart and sow the parts onto a Frankenstein-like creature.

_________________________________________

Spy:

- Mother of god, can’t you guys go on a more relaxing date? One with less screaming, noisy music, and people? What about a nice five star restaurant? Or the park?

- He refuses to eat any of the food. At all. He’d rather starve in a ditch than eat such filth. Not even bothering with the alcohol. He avoids people like the plague and you’ll turn to ask him a question and WHOOOOSH! he won’t even be there until you reach your hand out and blink his invis watch by poking him. “Stop cloaking, pussy.”

- He literally begs you to choose another place. PLEASE. End his suffering. You swear you’ll find something here he enjoys though.

- You were standing in line for a ride and once you got to the front he had stepped out of line and said “Oh! after you.” In typical gentlemen fashion. Letting you go on the entire ride by yourself. You glare at him from the ride and he’s smirking mischievously. Waving his fingers to greet you.

- For the rest of the night he takes it upon himself to mess with you. You offer him some cotton candy and he hands it to a little boy in a stroller instead while nobody was looking. You saw that in the corner of your eye. “Im not fucking blind, Spy.” You say. He puts his hands behind his back innocently. “Oh, what? I consumed the wretched morsel like you asked!” “No, you didn’t Spy.”

#team fortress 2 #tf2 #spy x reader #medic x reader #demoman x reader #heavy x reader #pyro x reader #tf2 x you #tf2 x reader #sniper x reader #engineer x reader

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themonotonysyndrome · 6 months ago

Text

You just got Rick Rolled!

I have no excuse.

Watch Max0r videos on Youtube :)

Summary: Bright Eyes is ready to pull a deadbeat dad.

The duffel bag underneath the bed is ready to go. Pockets are stuffed with wads of stolen cash.

All they need to do is swipe an armful of blood bags from the Clan’s cold storage for the long road ahead.

William Solaire standing between them and the milk aisle was not part of the plan. Nor his sad, puppy eyes.

Fucking damn it.

In the grand scheme of things called life, Bright Eyes is not a main character.

Main characters are people like Frederick, who’s worthy of second chances because he vomits out his heart to those who demand it. Vincent, with his flashy smile and equally flashy cars that caters to single simps who dream of being swept away by a set of 2000-era vampiric TV tropes. Sam, who you can’t hate because he’s not just a bitch, no, no - he’s a bitch with a backstory who just so happens to love to pretend that Bright doesn’t exist on a good day and won’t stop bitching why they’re the modern incarnation of Satan on the worst. Oh! We can’t forget the poster child of Byronic Hero which is Tank. They’re a fan fav for a reason.

In a world of main characters, Bright Eyes could hardly hold a candle to the people around them. If anything, they’re an NPC. The glitchiest NPC to ever exist in this Skyrim of a world.

The kind that was brought into the story to be shitted on by the audience because they either don’t meet up to lofty expectations or weren’t the perfect victim.

Is it getting too close to home now?

Bright has no problem being an NPC - hell, they don’t even mind that there was no space for them on the picture wall that consists of Sam, Frederick, and Tank - they still have their pride, as shitty as it is. Why the fuck would they want to stay at a place where no one wants an NPC that fucks up the whole gameplay? Nah, fam - Bright has been preparing for their getaway on the same night they woke up with an angry Sam sitting beside the bed.

The Summit expedited the plan.

While they and Frederick were expected to show up at the undead shindig, being Clan members and all, Sam worried it might overwhelm his Progeny. Apparently, older Vamps enjoy stabbing each other with words and dinner knives after the third course. Sounds like Bright’s kind of people. But because Frederick was benched, so were they. It’s cool, it’s fine. Silver linings and all that. It gave Bright lots of opportunities to pack their meagre shits into a worn-out duffel bag from the store room and steal whatever cash they could find around the house while Frederick was asleep. Vampiric hearing rocks! Sure, they were curious as to why Sam and Tank came back looking like they just witnessed a train wreck, and Vincent seldom came over with his trademark smirks anymore, but since no one tells them anything, Bright chalked it up as another Tuesday. Not their circus, not their monkeys.

Whatever happened at the Summit isn’t their problem. Missing the last bus to Ferris is.

Earlier that evening, they made a show of getting ready for bed after Sam left to meet Tank for something, and they can’t bear to look Frederick in the eyes, knowing that this will be the last time they will ever see each other. Not that he knows, but hey, what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him, right? So they collapse onto the mattress, willing themselves to be calm because anything less will have Frederick peeking his head through the door. So they close their eyes until the bond between Progeny and Maker whispers to Bright that Frederick is unconscious. The rose detergent on the pillows and duvet itches their nose. They hate the smell but they can’t forget how wide Frederick smiles just because they accepted a bouquet of roses from him once. It’s not rocket science that all of the previous lavender scents on linens were replaced with rose soon after that.

Bright Eyes is so exhausted of sustaining themselves on the pitiful sweetness of their once friend turned Maker. Not when the bitterness that comes from Sam is gradually killing them.

They get up and take a good, long bath. It's probably the only one they’ll be getting for a while, so they’re making the most of the soap and shampoo. They continue to ignore the sweet, floral scent clinging to their body. Then they dig through the closet for a jacket covered in patches and a ripped pair of jeans - the clothes their parents bought for their birthday, now worn with time. The clothes that they wore on the night they were murdered. Then they spend half an hour checking everything for one last time. Anyone can tell by a single glance that Bright Eyes is a walking charity case. It’s cool, it’s fine. No one cares about runaway people all the time. They’re statistics.

Their stomach flips when Bright stalks across the hall like a ghost. A part of them wanted Frederick to catch them in mid-act, to convince them to stay so they could work things out for good. The part that loathed Bright, however, hisses to remove the glitch in this game.

Once the front door is locked behind them, Bright wipes their eyes and hoists the duffel bag strap firmly on their shoulder. The abandoned theme park will be their last stop in Dahlia.

Wonder World will forever be a sight for sore eyes.

Like the Clan, the place is a living corpse. It should have been destroyed, put all the bad memories to rest, but instead, it transformed into a hideout for the walking dead. Hah.

Bright keeps a good healthy distance from the Vampires that are on shift, listens well to the chatters in dark corners, and avoids slipping underneath awnings that will collapse on top of them if they so much as breathe. They memorised the schedule for this specific night, and it paid off. No one notices them skulking towards the cold storage. See, new batches of blood will be delivered tomorrow, so no one will find out that a couple of leftovers will be missing. Fingers might be pointed at Bright, but by then, they’ll be long gone. A footnote in their lives.

The fridge greets Bright when they sneak in through the open window, no different than a racoon. Their entry wasn’t as smooth as James Bond’s because their kneecap bumped against the nearby table. Luckily, no one heard it.

“A+, A+, more A+… you’re fucking kidding me? B-? Beggars can’t be choosers, Bright. Food’s food.” They grumble to themselves as the fridge is raided. They stuffed as many blood bags into the bag as they could.

Suddenly, the door gently opens. Bright Eyes turn around. Their eyes widen in horror because -

“Little Bright? Is that you?” William Solaire, the fucking king of every magical equivalent of Schrödinger Cat in Dahlia, tilts his head in question as if to better see them. Standing between them and their freedom. What the fuck, how the fuck, why in the actual fuck!? “I didn’t mean to interrupt your break time. Ah… how are you? Lately, I haven’t had the pleasure of…” Here’s where Bright could only watch in frozen shock when William’s eyes met with the duffel bag and stuffed pockets.

Hubris is the downfall of many great men. In Bright’s case, it’s stupidity. They really should’ve come up with a backup plan for something like this. That’s on them. They’ll take that L like the underdog they are.

The two of them shatter the awkward silence by speaking at once.

“This isn’t what it looks like!”

“Did you just went through the window?”

Cue the stares. Wait. There’s something they need to try.

“Dinosaur in the museum say what?”

“What?”

Bright promptly snaps their mouth shut. Don’t laugh. For the love of Reddit Mods, don’t laugh at the most dangerous grandpa in the world. While Bright manages to avoid death via lectures, their shaking shoulders give William the wrong impression. Thinking that the youngest Vampire in his care is shaking with fear at the sight of him pulled on William’s heartstrings. He had always harboured a sadness for not being able to connect with Bright Eyes the way he does with Frederick. The boy is often quiet but perks like a sunflower when you give him the right attention. Bright, on the other hand, scampers away the moment you turn your back. No gentle words or amount of glitter bombs as presents could entice them to drop the walls fiercely guarding their heart.

William’s heart twists and turns into a knot - more so lately - seeing how Bright Eyes tremble.

“It’s alright, Little One. You’re alright. The blood bags are for anyone who is in need.” William kindly assures them. “It’s unlike Sam to forget and restock for his household. I supposed our recent conversation has put him out of sorts.”

“Wait. You think I’m hungry?”

“Is that not why you brought that bag over - ”

“Yeah, yeah! Pssh, totally! Sam was getting testerical about the lack of bloodshed in the house. Not the fun kind, though.” Bright Eyes fib as they ramble on, their little tell-tale sign of attempting to smother the panic. They refuse to fidget or look away from William’s eyes. Is it a trick of the light? Is Bright high? Why are they wet near the corners? “Uh… c-can I go now? I need to dip to the grocery store for some milk… you know how it is…”

For some reason, that made the Vampire King flinch. What the hell!? Anyone walking by would think that Bright is bullying him!

But William lets out a gust of air, heavy and somehow reluctant. He steps aside to present the open door where the world that allowed Tom Howard to live is waiting for Bright. “Of course, Little One. I shouldn’t keep you from your errands.”

“Lit! So this is me, walking away now…” Bright Eyes warily sidesteps William, who is still giving a strong kicked puppy vibe. Which is insane to comprehend.

Something about it, however, made them turn around to look at him one final time. Due to the hilariously huge gap between a king and his peasant, Bright has only seen William thrice from afar, and that’s during really important events where they can’t fake a seizure and escape -

“Bright, Vampires don’t get seizures.”

“Until now. Quick, pretend you actually care and drag me out.”

“…Low blow, Bright, and you know it. Why do you never listen when I’m - aaand you’re already on the floor. Great.”

- so they’re left with them being sandwiched between a highly amused Lovely and a distracted Vincent because their beau is flashing their ankles or something. Bright doesn’t want to know or care. What they do care about is that thanks to Frederick sulking off somewhere, they are now in the spotlight because the prince of the entire damn clan is holding onto their elbow. Random Vampires snicker when they pass by their group, and whenever Bright flips them off, some of them actually laugh! Bright will never understand these deadbeats. But anyway, because of Frederick, Bright has the front row of William in all his fancy ass clothes, in a shiny crown that blinded Bright and a million-dollar smile that rubs them off the wrong way. Fuckers with a max level on charms give them the hives.

So this melancholic shroud that drapes over his shoulders so heavily that Bright might as well ask if it’s made of lead with how it makes William look so small in the shadows? Yeah, it’s giving red flags.

And since Bright is colourblind with no filter whatsoever -

“OK, why do you look like someone woke you up from a depression nap?” Bright demanded, marching back to William. It’s stupid. It’s borderline suicidal, but hey, Bright was never known to make decisions that align with their self-preservation. That’s something their murderer and both Makers will agree on. Tonight, curiosity wins. “Usually you’re very…” They scrunch up their face, trying to think of the perfect words.

William raises an eyebrow. “Very?”

“Very shiny.” Bright nods, pleased with themselves. “The kind of shiny that’s like fire in Chinese factories after every election.”

“I… see. I’m starting to understand why Samuel complain of migraines every now and then.”

Even as he said that, William began to smile fondly. That threw Bright off a little. He said that without derision and they have no idea how to react.

“Uh, right. So what’s up?”

“Can’t a man be caught in his own sorrow every now and then?”

“But you’re not supposed to be angsty. You’re the King. Your world is supposed to be perfect and all that shit.” Unlike mine, is what Bright didn’t say.

William’s smile turns rueful. He surprises them by admitting, “Would you like to know a secret, Little Bright? My world hasn’t been perfect lately. How can it be when my loved ones are leaving one by one.”

Oh, fuck them, is William trauma dumping right now? Deadass? Is this trauma dumping!? Bright didn’t consent to this!

Wait - leaving? Who’s leaving too?

…Is it any of Bright’s business, though? When they’re doing the same thing tonight?

This scene feels familiar. It’s like the time they steal a sip from a man in his late fifties while he’s in the middle of a divorce and struggling with alimony. Bright was looking for food, not someone’s entire life story that, in the end, they paid for an Uber and sent him on his way. The point is, there’s no fun in kicking someone who’s already eating dirt. That’s not enough room in Wonder World for two miserable fuckers, so Bright might as well do something about it.

“C’mon, let’s go. We’re going on a side quest right now.” Bright demands, and fuck it, they grab one of William’s hands and drag him to the exit. Does it say something that the Vampire King lets himself be led away like a cow? Probably, but Bright couldn’t care less.

The patrolling Vampires stare at them incredulously. None attempted even to approach the duo.

“Is this a kidnapping?” William politely inquires. While Bright might’ve initiated the contact, he finds himself reluctant to let go of their smaller hand. It’s an anchor that he silently needed over these past few days.

“That and robbery too. I’m gonna be needing your wallet since mine are non-existent. Which one is your car? Wait! Let me guess, the one on the right that looks like it just left the showroom a day ago.”

“It’s actually this morning. I enjoy collecting Rolls Royce as much as I enjoy watching those exciting Bond movies.”

“Sheesh, I guess it’s hereditary then. Ok, Goldfinger - take the wheel. We’re going to karaoke. Screaming into a mic is a legit form of therapy. Take it from me.” After dropping that nugget of wisdom, Bright and William enter the car.

Before William speeds off from the driveway, he frowns and asks, “Why can’t I be James Bond?”

Bright Eyes groans into their hands.

It takes William Motherfucking Solaire crying into a microphone, singing Hurt by Christina Aguilera to convince Bright Eyes that something is wrong with the trajectory of their life.

Seriously, what the fuck?

Despite being one of the prettiest men who should be kept in a museum (isn’t he 5,000 years old or something?) William is an ugly crier. It doesn’t make any damn sense, but he sure ain’t got that damsel-in-distress tears like Cinderella. Bright could only grimace as they extended a box of tissues once William finished belting out the final verse. Their duffel bag mocks them from the door, the only exit from this room. The lamentation of Bright Eyes would be a sick-ass song.

“The closest thing I have to a son, child-in-law, great grandson and friend are leaving me.” William confesses after blowing his nose.

“Did I ask?”

Much to Bright’s horror, William continues.

“I wanted to be a leader and a father that I never had. A Maker that mine never was. All I wanted… was to protect my family. How did it all went wrong?”

Oh, geez. William does not give a shit that Bright Eyes hasn’t unlocked his social link. All they wanted was to evict whatever funk was messing with his system like a landlord so they could run away in peace. Not play therapist! Now, the employees are nervously looking through that window on the door because a grown man is depleting their stock of tissue boxes by the minute while Bright is struggling to figure out how to comfort said grown man that doesn’t involve homicide.

By the way, it took precisely ten minutes for William’s words to register in Bright’s crack-concentrated, addled spider monkey brain.

Their eyes widen like the backside of a yogi mid-downward dog. “Time out. Back it up, dump truck. Vincent’s leaving? As in, leaving the Clan? Him and the rest of the main characters?” If Bright was still alive, their heart would beat frantically as their head spins in disbelief and betrayal.

Frederick is leaving them? After everything? To follow what, Sam? And Vincent and Lovely?

…Without even telling them?

Numbness and Bright Eyes always have a strange relationship. Quinn draining their blood down to the last drop didn’t give Bright that all-encompassing numbness. It was only when they woke up again that did it. It feels like their bones just took a dip in a pond in the middle of Antarctica. They didn’t even realise they were crying until William gently wiped the tears with a tissue. It’s a testament to how the shocking numbness rooted Bright to the core because they would flinch away from any physical contact that they didn’t initiate after death.

“You didn’t know.” William summarised with that same melancholy from Wonder World and that same sad smile. They hate it. They don’t deserve it Well! So much for karaoke therapy. Now Bright’s feeling like shit too.

William leans back when Bright Eyes huffs and slumps against the cheap red sofa. They pretend that their nose isn’t itching when they sniffle as they angrily rub their red eyes. “Of course I didn’t know! I get that Sam wouldn’t tell me shit but I didn’t expect this knife in the back from Freddy!” They spit, and then words start to embarrassingly spill from their mouth before Bright could stop themselves. “I fucking hate this! Why can’t I do anything right!? Why can’t I stop making mistakes? Why do I always try for people who never even like me? Fuck, fuck, fuck this! I hate feeling like this! God, I’m so tired of-of everything!” Fun fact: Bright is also an ugly crier. Even more so than William at this point. Not that it matters because they’re too busy wailing and making a mess out of his shirt when he pulls them into a tight hug.

A shirt that has more of a network compared to theirs, and Bright Eyes appropriate it by blowing their nose.

When their crying tapers into hiccups, it’s William’s soothing hand behind their back that grounds Bright Eyes. Exhaustion finally sinks in, and they’re long for the rest in the forever box (coffin) already.

“I’m… sorry, Little One.”

“The hell for?” Bright Eyes scrunches their nose. Although William had released them from his embrace, Bright didn’t actually scoot away. Instead, they play the part of a finicky cat - pressing close to the older Vampire without acknowledging it. “You’re not Sam. I hardly even know you.”

“And I regret it dearly. And I deeply apologised for the suffering that you had to endured under Samuel’s blatant negligence. If I had known earlier that the wounds caused by Alexis run deeper than he would like to admit, I would have intervened. I would have you in my care instead of his in a heartbeat.”

“Alexis?”

Here, William sighs. “My eldest Progeny and Samuel’s Maker.”

“Why does he hate her so much that he took it out on me?” Bright hates how small their voice sounded to their own ears. They needed to know, though. They needed closure, and then maybe, finally, they’ll be able to move on somehow.

William looks torn, clearly debating with himself. He sighed once more, but this time, it was with resignation. “It’s not my story to tell. However,” Seeing the crushed expression on poor Bright’s face, he decides to be honest towards someone who desperately needs it. Especially since they suffered not only at the hands of someone who was supposed to be their caretaker and teacher but also William’s own negligence. After the Adam incident, he should’ve kept a closer eye on his Clan instead of diverting this attention to other Houses. He owed this much to Bright Eyes and more. “You deserve the truth. Do you have some time to listen to an old man’s regrets?”

“I was supposed to clap my asscheeks to Ferris. So much for that. Actually, I guess it’s pretty hypocritical of me to get pissed off at Frederick for booking it since I was gonna do the same.” Bright’s grumbled, causing William to rear back in a start. But they press on. “So why the fuck not? Whose origin are you spilling? Wham Slam Bam Sam?”

“…Yes. Two sins never cancel each other.” Something dark flashes over William’s beautiful face. The hair behind Bright’s neck freezes. “Yet I can’t help but find myself disappointed in Samuel’s behaviours more so than mine after tonight.”

“Spill the tea, spill the tea! My life is already a German bedtime stories and besides, isn’t it so much fun when you focuses on someone’s L instead of yours!?”

William simply rolled his eyes at their cheek, and so Bright Eyes made themselves comfortable as the Vampire King narrated a story of a daughter he dearly loved but could never understand, and in return, she was unable to understand those she loved. It was all very sad, and the tropes that William describes are all too familiar to Bright. Man, no wonder Alexis turned out to be a villainess like those in their favourite Korean romance manhwa. They wonder if reincarnation is a thing in this world. Would they reincarnate as one of Trisha Paytas’s babies, or is that exclusive to royalties? They made a mental note to ask William once story time was over. Anyway, Alexis and Sam’s history could be a Hozier’s album all on its own and Bright supposed they could muster up some form of sympathy for him if they have similar-sized bazoombas/chesticles as the Princess’, but alas, they don’t. For that, Bright can never forgive Sam for his projection.

Frederick and their situation hit too close to home apparently, but just because he can’t dish it out on Alexis, does that justify him punishing Bright in her stead? Fuck that.

Anger buzzes around Bright’s ears like angry hornets. They can’t be around Sam for at least 100 years now that they know the truth. Frederick and Tank can have him for all they care.

They snatch the microphone again, prompting William’s curiosity. “Are we in for the next session of karaoke therapy?”

Bright just searched for Grow A Pear by Kesha and belted out for the next three minutes. Making sure to scream out the verse, ‘but you cry about this, and whine about that. When you grow a pair you can call me back,’ making William wonder if he should’ve used more tact. Once they got it out of their system, Bright exhaled deeply and turned their attention back to William with their hands on their hips.

“If thought crimes were a thing, they would need a new set of the Geneva Convention. So Sam’s a major Soy Wojack. Good for him. Why is he and every one else are packing their shit up now and not ten thousand years ago?”

“That’s my fault. My decisions regarding the Summit were inexcusable, and I fear they will be unforgivable to those I love.” William replies as morosely as a tortured poet in the 1500s. Very apt.

Storytime, part 2! So, while the Summit didn’t go to hell in a handbasket, a lot of the parties that were nearly caught in the crossfire were butthurt, apparently. Trusts were betrayed, and William no longer rests on that pedestal in the eyes of Sam, Vincent, Tank and the furries. Bright doesn’t understand what the big deal is; William is literally an artefact. You can’t live that long with a shiny moral compass. Even now, as William easily takes in Bright’s shenanigans in stride, they could never ignore his capacity for cruelty and ruthlessness. No matter how soft he speaks or how kind he is to Bright. However, stressing out over the assumption that William always has an ulterior motive whenever he opens his mouth would be the equivalent of same-day shipping to God for Bright. Again. Besides, assumptions are nails that could seal a coffin, and Bright would rather use them to build a shelf for Bad Dragons and Lovehoney instead.

So they snap their fingers, switching to Business Mode. “You know what your problem is? Your problem is that you don’t have a Shae to your Sansa. The Garrus to your Shepard. The Soundwave to your Megatron. Get it?”

William just looks like a lost child in Whole Foods. Bright tries another angle.

“Confidants, dude. You don’t have any of those. You’re a King, right? I thought every King has a council of advisers? Ain’t that supposed to be Vincent and Alexis’ job?”

“No. I can’t possibly bear to burden my children with the unsavoury aspects of our world.” William counters with a grimace. Perhaps William and Bright share a lot more in common than they thought. Not the martyrdom vibes coming off William like radiation but the fact that both of them are essentially the universe's way of trying to figure out how much PTSD one man can possibly get. If Bright is an economist, they would vehemently write themselves and William down as bad use of human capital. Oh! Wait, William is still talking. “It was not out of malice that I placed my family in the dark regarding the Summit. It was out of love. I don’t understand why they couldn’t understand that. Porter even served as their shield.”

“It could’ve gone better. It really did.” Bright insists, but judging from William’s stubborn expression, this is an issue that is not going to be resolved overnight.

They thought long and hard about this. Running away is so damn easy it might as well be a cheat code, and isn’t that what Bright and the others are doing? Vincent and the others are probably doing so under the guise of ‘needing some space’ from William, but Bright was planning to run away from their feelings and issues with Frederick and Sam, with no intention of ever talking to them again.

HOWEVER!

Being abandoned fucking sucks. Bright of all people knows how that tastes! The thought that William would be left all alone with a daughter that comes and goes worse than that street cat Priscilla leaves a sour taste in their mouth. William isn’t an evil dude. He’s just dumb.

Slowly, their duffel bag loses its appeal. Bright is going to take a leap of faith here, and only time will tell if this will be the stupidest decision they have ever made, triumph over their jaunt in Wonder World with Frederick. And so they sit beside William and say, “Look. I actually don’t wanna be alone, and I bet you don’t want that too.” “No, Little One. I had enough of it back in the day.” William quietly admits. A Vampire King shouldn’t be able to look like a poor puppy being left out in the rain! Seriously!

“Right. Here’s the plan, Batman. You wanna spare Vincent and the rest about the nitty gritty aspects of what it means to be a deadbeat? Fine. We do it baby steps, then. You tell me before you pull off any shits, and I’ll talk your ear off how stupid it is until we figure something better. Sounds good?”

“No. Absolutely not. You’re family as well, Bright Eyes. I won’t have you suffer the burden of my crown.”

“I am the Alpha and the Omega. I am one of the mods in 4chan. I can handle shits, alright? It’s in my DNA! Look William, you need someone in your corner that you can trust. If you can’t start with your Progenies, start with me. Prove to them that you value their opinions. We’ve got all the time in the world for it, right?”

Finally, after trying to get through William the entire night, he starts to look hopeful and, most importantly, determined. He clutches Bright’s hand tenderly.

“In that case, I have a proposal of my own. If you promise to be my guide, I promise to be your teacher. Allow me to be what Sam was meant to be for you. Perhaps by helping one another, happiness can make its way to us.” As he says this, William feels a lot more better than ever before. It feels like things are starting to look up for him. A rebirth could be just what he and Bright sorely needed.

What a blessing. What a boon to have a great-great-grandchild to be the modern incarnation of Athena.

“Yeah, yeah. So! Never gonna give you up?”

“Never gonna let you down.”

#redacted asmr #redacted audio #redactedverse #fanfic #redacted bright eyes #redacted william solaire #redacted frederick mentioned #redacted samuel collins mentioned #redacted vincent solaire mentioned #redacted lovely mentioned #redacted darlin mentioned #redacted alexis solaire mentioned #warning: sam bashing

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