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cavillscurls · 11 months ago

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daddy next door | j. miller (two)

❝ summer lovin’ ❞

You run into some trouble at the summer fair. Joel is there to help.

chapter warnings/tags: MDNI. no-outbreak!joel. neighbor!joel. foul language. food consumption. age gap (reader is in her 20s, joel is in his 50s). harassment and attempted coercion (not joel). depictions of anxiety & a brief anxiety attack. reader is a sensitive gal!! readers dad is a cop, other side characters are as well. major daddy issues. absent mother(s). reader is a bit prudish to the idea of smoking, but it’s justified. flirting. mutual pining. sexual tension. fluff. angst. no depictions of race or body type, other than reader being shorter than joel. some outfit descriptions. word count: 9.6k

a/n: don’t even look at me i know this took so fucking long. but here it is. thank you for waiting. i know, no smut, cry about it (i joke) but i am in my world building era. thank you to @kiwisbell for beta reading and being my cheerleader. truly one of the best highlights of my days these last few months, that gal. enjoy. 🤍

one. | series masterlist. | three.

You spend most of your days thinking about Joel Miller.

You convince yourself it’s harmless. What possible threat could your imagination pose? You had otherwise kept your distance from him since the day you greeted him at his doorstep two weeks prior. Friendly exchanges of hello when he would pull in his truck from work and you were riding your bike back home. A nod over the white fence while you would read on the hammock and he would tend to something in his yard. He would chat with your father occasionally down by the mailboxes, normally only when the predicament of being there at the same time forced them to. From the pieces of conversation you had picked up, it was usually in regards to sports or the heat. Regardless, you still couldn’t help but feel on edge seeing your father standing next to him.

You have no stake in Joel, no claim. But the idea of him becoming another tainted piece in your father's puzzle makes you nauseous.

He’s not like him, you tell yourself. He couldn’t be.

And in your mind, he’s not. Your rampant imagination paints him as the picture of perfection. A good person. An idea you have long forgotten as a viable quality in a man.

You could spend hours fantasizing about what he’s like. You do.

How he might take his coffee, or what late-night talk show he prefers. Boxers or briefs? You take him for the former, though you certainly don’t mind entertaining the idea of the latter. You presume he’s not the type of person to talk through a film. Prefers the mountains to the beach. Dogs over cats. And if you had the opportunity, you would spend hours discovering every minute detail that made him the type of man worth mulling over.

The type of man worth dreaming about.

But fantasies don’t last forever. And amidst the approaching weekend, you are quickly snapped back into the realism of your world. More so, your father's world, and the predicament it poses for you:

The county fair.

The event of the summer, and how lucky your town is to host it. The fairgrounds are never as crowded as they are this weekend of the year, and ‘everyone who is anyone’ in town makes an appearance. Something that, despite your revulsion to the line of thinking, your father takes very seriously.

He expects you to be in attendance, you know this. To keep a pretty bow wrapped around the family name. The dutiful Chief and his poor, sweet daughter whose mama left her far too young.

It’s a much more entertaining show than reality.

“Meet ya back here at ten o’clock,” your father beckons as he parks the cruiser in the field already packed with cars.

You nod at him, the distant sound of children laughing and the scent of sugar inundating you. He would make his rounds, as he always did. Butter up the locals with his practiced charm and make connections with out-of-towners. It doesn’t matter how useless they are—it’s all part of the façade. And you will trudge along, find a quiet spot to read the script you snuck into your purse, or treat yourself to a funnel cake. You will smile and wave at those who greet you, even those you despise. And you’ll do so without any quips or complaints, kind and compliant as ever, as not to disturb the fragile balance.

It simply isn’t worth the disruption.

The pink cardigan you had wrapped around your waist seems useless now; even in just a tank top and floral skirt, you can feel the unforgiving heat dripping sweat down your skin. You should’ve found some excuse; pretending to be sick never worked for you as a child, and you doubt it would be any different now. Cramps? Your father is hardly inclined to speak with you, let alone about feminine problems. Too late anyway, you think to yourself as you make your way towards the bustling fairgrounds. It takes all of five minutes before you’re left alone, your father already caught up in the likes of Mrs. Wilkins and the rest of her school board posse.

Once upon a time, this used to be your favorite place to come. Distant memories of a woman with a smile much like your own, holding hands and darting towards the ferris wheel with freshly squeezed lemonade and some obscene stuffed animal you had won at one of the various carnival games in hand. There’s laughter and the sweet disposition of summer. There’s joy. There’s peace.

Now, there are only painful reminders.

You find a decently secluded spot just beyond the various game vendors on the outer perimeter of the grounds, the setting sun shielded by thicker patches of trees. There are no picnic tables, but the concrete ledge around some of the landscaping is suitable enough for you to dwell. Your thighs welcome the coolness of the stone when you sit with a huff, taking a moment to catch your breath.

It’s too hot. Too crowded. And you haven’t even had to talk to a single person to already feel properly overstimulated.

You rummage through your bag for the distraction you brought along. A heavily annotated copy of Much Ado About Nothing. Something a bit more lighthearted for such a somber affair, but still, the statements of its profound leading lady speak to you. You run your fingers over the highlighted line on your current page:

I cannot be a man with wishing, she says. Therefore I will die a woman with grieving.

How you envy Beatrice and her cunning. Merry wit and a thrill for independence, using her words to spar with men and women alike. A moment in the Bard’s work that feels ahead of its time, and yet, still couldn’t be any more relevant. Perhaps it’s less envy and more disappointment with yourself for the lack of choices, initiative in your own life.

Fiction and fantasies often have a funny way of reminding you of reality, despite how escapist they are.

You are able to spend a good twenty minutes undisturbed in your thoughts. But just when you think there is a semblance of peace to be found, your name is being shouted across the yard. Once, then twice. Heading jerking up, you have to squint before a sharp shiver shoots down your spine at the realization of who the voice belongs to.

“Fuck,” you mutter, slamming the pages shut and shoving them quickly back into your bag.

Blonde curls and devilishly deceiving dimples. He’s got a beer in his hand. Great. He’s waving and heading in your direction, no escape plan in sight.

Trevor Conrad. The star baseball player of your graduating class, the town's all-American pride and joy who of course went on to be the police academy's top cadet. You suspect he’s absolutely buzzing for your father to mentor him, one reason you assume he wants to be in your favor.

The other may have to do with the handful of dates you regrettably went on with him a couple of years prior. You didn’t consider them anything remarkably serious, never escalating any further than a few stolen kisses and an admittedly uncomfortable make-out session one afternoon when you watched a film at his house. Some boring action thriller. You had been under the impression his parents would be home, a lie for the first hour and a half that, looking back, you realize was a calculated tactic.

He’s with a group of familiar faces who all linger behind. Those you were only worthy enough to be to be seen with when you were seen with him. Superficial friendships, if that. A matter of status and convenience.

You recognize Ashley Becker, former cheerleader, who extends a miffed roll of her eyes, stomping away with the rest of the group when Trevor waves them off. You figure, even after years of less than subtle flirtation, he hasn’t picked up on her interest. Or maybe he doesn’t care, still putting his energy into you. The type of man who thinks because he staked his claim once, he’s entitled to it again.

You rise to your feet in a bit of a scramble when you hear him tell the group he’ll catch up, only a few yards ahead of you now, and put some distance between yourself and the ledge. The last thing you need is him sitting down and trapping you in conversation. You sling your bag over your shoulder, holding the strap taut, and prepare to exit whenever the easiest opportunity presents itself.

“Was wondering if I’d catch you here tonight!” He’s all smiles and pride as he approaches you, his voice just as irritating as you recall. Something about its pitch, you think. Too high for a guy of his stature. For the type of guy who carries himself like a god.

“Well, here I am,” you say with a shrug, forcing a breathy chuckle. Trevor stops just a foot or two in front of you, eyes wide and slightly bloodshot. You wonder what number beer he’s on, the lofty scent detectable and off-putting.

“What’re you doin’ out here all by yourself?” he asks, and you can only presume the curiosity is linked to some ulterior motive.

Keep it casual, you remind yourself. Don’t make a scene.

“Oh, just—just killing time while dad makes his rounds,” you tell him with another shrug, displaying a polite smile.

“Hardly seen you out at all this summer.” He gives you a bit of a once-over. It makes your skin crawl. “Should come by one of the games. We play every Saturday.”

Recreational league. Because the high school glory in this town wasn’t enough to satiate him. It takes every ounce of strength inside of you not to roll your eyes.

“Yeah. Yeah, sure. I’ll try to catch one if I can,” you lie straight through your teeth. “Weekends can be a little busy around the house, though. So…”

Blame it on your father. Blame it on anything else other than the complete disregard you have for engaging with him and the rest of his group.

You can’t quite pinpoint his fascination with you, but you do note the sun disappearing, and how secluded your choice of dwelling is from the rest of the crowds. You’re not isolated, but certainly far enough that the attention is off of you, as people have begun to move away from the games and food and towards the rides and live music. You can’t shake the gnawing feeling of panic that settles in your belly.

He gives you another look over, pursing his lips before taking the finishing swig of his beer. “Should come join us,” he suggests, licking the residue of liquid off his bottom lip. “We’re thinkin’ about heading over to the fields for a bit, you know—”

He lifts his thumb and pointer finger to his lips to mimic smoking, raising his eyebrows at you.

What a gloriously law-abiding citizen, you think sneeringly.

It wouldn’t even matter if he did get caught, and you know that. The amount of ludicrous stories you have heard your father talk about sweeping under the rug often a cause for concern.

Your arms wrap around yourself instinctively, as if to make yourself smaller. “Oh… oh, I don’t know. Don’t really know if it's my thing.”

“Come on, princess,” he purrs, and you swear you feel the bile rise in your throat when he takes a step closer, towering over you. “Can’t stay locked up in your tower forever.”

What the fuck do you want from me? You want to scream it, shout it for him and everyone to hear, but you don’t. You don’t move, you hardly even breathe. The feeling of being zeroed in on familiar and frightening.

“I think—think I’m, uh, probably just better off waiting here for—”

“You know, if I didn’t know any better,” he continues. Like you don’t even exist. Like your words are meaningless to him, and maybe they are. Maybe he’s already deemed his thoughts the right ones. “I would think you were trying to avoid me or something.”

You try to string something coherent along, anything to settle him. “No! No. Look, Trevor, it’s just that I—”

“I’ve been nothing but good to ya since we met,” he continues. “Now I know it didn’t work out back in the high school days but, come on. Give a guy another chance.” He tilts his head at you as if to plead with you. But there is a falsehood to his innocent expression, one you do not realize until the next words continue to slip past your lips.

Why this, why now, you can’t decipher.

“I just don’t think it’s such a good idea,” you try to reason, keeping your voice as patient and temperate as possible.

The less information, the better. But he’s relentless.

“And why’s that?” he presses, arching a brow up at you, mask beginning to falter.

“I don’t… I don’t think we’d be a very good match.”

Wrong answer. You’re certain of that by the way his face falls entirely.

“Why not?”

Because you don’t know the first thing about me!

You really want to scream it now.

Because you don’t care about a word that I have to say. Because you only seek me out when it’s convenient for you. Because I don’t enjoy your company. In fact, I don’t even find you all that particularly attractive. Because I’d be miserable with you, and I’m already miserable as is!

You say none of it, of course.

“We, I mean… we hardly have anything in common, you know?” you stammer, scavenging for an answer acceptable enough to cease him but not to cross him. You have searched for similar words more times than you’d care to admit. “I don’t… I don’t think we’d make good company for each other. I would hate to waste your time.” You’re chewing on your bottom lip as you await his reaction, unprepared.

Something changes in him. A thread snaps. You think you may register the shift even before he does, nostrils flaring and pupils dilating. That’s when you feel it, cold and rough, his fingers wrapping around your forearm with the hand not occupied around the bottle. Your nervous system is shot, entering a battle for fight or flight, but your body remains frozen, rigid. Your breath catches in your throat, and your wide eyes watch his bitter countenance carefully.

“Listen, princess,” he spits, leaning down towards you, voice low and dripping with acid. It’s all condescension now. You feel his breath on your face, the stench of alcohol hitting your nose. “I’m not sure where this superiority you seem to have comes from, but let me tell you something since no one else will. This town? They ain’t interested in you. They’re interested in your father, and that’s about it. You had your chance to do something worth noticing, and you fucking lost it. So, I’d suggest you finally take me up on this opportunity I’m giving you.”

Tears burn at your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall. They emerge from a chasm of places; the inevitable truth, while harsh, his words hold. The current predicament that you feel less and less in control of as the minutes pass. The cowardice in you, searching and screaming for the strength to deny him, but fearing an aftermath so grand, you wonder if compliance would be an easier option.

He’s more than annoyed at your silence. “I really don’t wanna have to ask you again,” he all but threatens, and you feel a yank on your forearm sending you into his chest. “Now, don’t embarrass me by keeping friends waiting.” He tugs on you again, this time, trying to drag you along with him.

“Trevor, please,” you croak, using every ounce of viable effort to try and pull your arm from his grasp. It’s starting to hurt, but you know it’s useless. “Maybe another time, I–”

“What did I just tell you?” he snarls, the sudden lilt in volume making you flinch. “Very least you could do after ignoring me all this time is come by to say hi, now let's go-–”

“M’pretty sure she already said no.”

It comes from behind you, unexpected. Deep and honey-coated unlike the voice in front of you. It resounds your senses, preventing them from coiling in on themselves. A warm, bright light at the end of a dark tunnel guiding you back to safety. You see Trevor’s heated eyes flicker over your shoulder, brows pulling in dissatisfied confusion. The unyielding pressure on your forearm loosens—slight, but enough for you to regain a sense of the throbbing flesh below his touch.

“Can we help you?” he seethes. You’re afraid to move despite the screaming void inside of you begging to turn around, follow the voice. Confirm your desperate suspicions of who it belongs to.

It couldn’t be, could it?

“You can help me by lettin’ go of her.” It could be. It has to be. You wouldn’t forget the sound of that voice even if your life depended on it.

“Listen, old man. I don’t know who you think you are, but this is a private conversation—”

“Doesn’t seem all that damn private when you’re makin’ a scene for anyone who walks by to see.” He cuts Trevor off, just as he did to you. A complete disregard for any sort of explanation or excuse. Though, when it happens this time, you’re overcome with a sick sense of satisfaction; watching as Trevor’s face falls further, twisting into disbelief. “Think you oughta let the lady be.”

Trevor stands up straighter now, releasing you swiftly in the process as if you’re an afterthought in the face of his challenged ego. You feel the air enter back into your lungs, using the opportunity to take a small, cautionary step back.

“Don’t think you speak for her,” Trevor quips, and you eye the way his hands tighten into fists, one still firm around the neck of his beer bottle. You take another step back.

“No more than you do, boy.” It’s a sharp, calculated choice of words, combating the way Trevor attempted to demean him. The emphasis on the final syllable sends a shiver up your arms.

You think you may be reaching the precipice of composure with how your body trembles in anxiety, dizzied, and overwhelmed. But suddenly, the shadow behind you is no longer figmented. It’s tangible and real. You can’t recall if your body continued to carry you backward on its own accord, or if he stepped forward, seeking you. Nonetheless, ever faint, your back is met with the steadying warmth of a solid chest. Trevor hardly notices, too lost in his silent, heated battle of eyes exchanged with the man behind you. Doesn’t notice the distance that separates you, nor the subtle trail of knuckles that brush along the small of your back. An anchor, grounding you back to earth. Blooming you back to life.

Trevor doesn’t like to be challenged, you know that much. The mere realization that his current opponent is not as malleable as others throwing a wrench in the usual, uncivilized manner he enjoyed handling things. He would cause a commotion with you, sure. But not with another man. What would that say about his own masculinity? His strength?

It’s frightening and cynical how quickly he changes. He looks behind you, up and down, and then to you in the same fashion. His eyes still unsettle you regardless of the way his lips begin to upturn into a lax grin, as if he hadn’t just bared his teeth and threatened to eat you alive.

“Listen, man. I think you got the wrong idea,” Trevor coaxes, charm returning to the forefront of his demeanor, and you think you may be sick to your stomach. “Total misunderstanding, we were just… catching up.” You know he’s looking at you, eyes of daggers waiting for their next slice, but you refuse to meet them. Eyes firmly planted on the grass below you, you can make out the tips of black boots at your rear. Despite your defiance, you don’t miss his final remarks before he walks away, knowing the underlying poison embedded in them is only for you: “We can finish catching up some other time.”

You’ve forgotten how to breathe. Ice-cold liquid runs through your veins, yet does nothing to stop your skin from burning in the heat. The familiar sensation of panic burrows into your limbs, and you worry you won’t be able to stop it from ruining you entirely.

But when you finally muster the strength to turn around, long after Trevor’s shadow has disappeared into the vast field, buried back in the crowds, he’s there.

The very masterpiece of your mind, an image your imagination has conjured endless times.

Joel.

He looks different, more relaxed. Lost are the pressed slacks and sleek button-ups; they’re replaced with a pair of dark wash jeans and an olive flannel atop a black t-shirt. His hair is slicked over, damp as if he’s just washed it. His glasses are gone, too. The roundness of his eyes is a bit more prominent without them, lined with age and a furrowed brow as they search you with blatant concern.

“You okay?”

His voice is so soft, so gentle, that you don’t think twice before lurching forward, body acting before brain. You wrap your arms around his torso and bury your face into his sturdy chest. You hear a quiet sound of surprise followed by a beat of hesitation. But then, a strong arm wraps around your waist pulling you flush against him. The other snakes up to the nape of your neck, fingers weaving in between locks of hair to delicately cradle your head into his chest.

“Hey,” he breathes, and you do your very best to only let the first stream of tears stain his shirt. Body beginning to tremble as you try to keep the others at bay. “Hey, s’alright, darlin’. You’re alright. He’s gone.”

Darlin’. Darlin’. Darlin’.

He smells so fucking good. Like rich mahogany and dark coffee; a hint of something fresh from his soap or shampoo. You fill your lungs with it, allowing it to linger and permeate into your bloodstream.

Comfort. Safety.

He beckons your name. Once. Hushed. Not in a manner of rushing you, but checking to see if you’re still with him. Like he knows you need this. And you do.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” you mumble into his shirt.

You’re not sure what you’re apologizing for. For crying, maybe. For inconveniencing him, taking up his time with a situation you should have been able to handle yourself.

He lets you cling to him a while longer before the hand in your hair descends for your jaw, pulling your face out of the comfort of his chest and forcing you to look up at him. The churning in your stomach settles. The pass of his thumb across your cheek sends a new type of coolness over your skin, satiating the heat.

“There you go again, apologizin’ when you don’t needa be,” he mumbles, low and rich, you feel it vibrate through his chest into yours. Only for you to hear, and you’re blinking up at him in awe, disbelief that the image before you is even real. “Are you okay?” he repeats, and you swallow hard, fearful your throat has gone too dry just at the sight of him.

He’s here. He is real. He’s right in front of you. Touching you.

“Yeah… yeah, I’ll be okay.” You nod your head, clearing your throat, embarrassed at the hoarseness. You don’t know which one of you you’re trying to convince.

You realize that you’re still clinging to him, fingers bunched at the back of his flannel, neck beginning to cramp at how far back you’ve tilted it to accommodate his height. Another wave of embarrassment, and slowly, you release him, slinking your arms from around him and hugging them across your chest instead. His hand falls from your face in tandem, and there’s an unmistakable wave of disappointment. Something gone missing.

“Thank you,” you add, remembering your manners. As if there are any right words to convey the relief you feel at his presence, which, you realize, in and of itself surprises you. You furrow your brows at him. “What… what are you doing here?” you ask. Curiosity. An attempt to move the subject off of your undesirable encounter.

Joel huffs a breath, not quite a laugh, but you note the way the corners of his mouth twitch.

“Good to see you, too,” he says, a hint of amusement.

You open your mouth to speak, rebuttal. Tell him he has no idea how good it is to see him. Especially here, especially now. But you figure he can sense that now is not the time to joke, rattled emotions still clear in your countenance.

“Thought it’d be good to make an appearance. Don’t needa be known as the town hermit,” he explains matter-of-fact, and then his eyes are looking after the direction Trevor disappeared in, brows lowering. “Who was that?”

You stare at him, uncertain.

Who was that? You’re confident that if he had asked anyone else in this town that question, they would have entirely different answers. Perhaps far kinder and polished representations.

“Guy I used to go to school with,” you settle on, unable to conjure anything else of substance. “We went on a couple of dates senior year, but… nothing special.” Nothing at all.

“Hm.” He appears to mull over your answer, eyeing you in the way that makes your chest flourish with heat, the spot between his brows twitches as he comes to his own astute conclusion. “He been botherin’ you?”

“That was the first time in a while,” you tell him honestly. “I knew I’d run into him eventually. One of many reasons I don’t like coming here anymore.” The last bit is a careless slip of the tongue.

Again, he takes you in. Processing. There is an intensity behind the way he thinks, gears seemingly turning in his head right before your eyes, both frightening and exhilarating. You can’t anticipate what he’ll say next, something that—on any other occasion, would have your stomach bubbling over with anxiety, but like most things involving Joel Miller, doesn’t—excites you.

“I reckon you came with your pops?”

“Yup.” You pop the p, less than enthused.

“Hm.” Think, think, think. You want to peer inside his brain, know everything about him. The fear of your previous encounter dissipates into nothingness under the presence of Joel. “Well, I don’t know about you, but I think the time would fly by a little faster with some company.”

And there it is, served up right under your nose on a silver platter. Opportunity. To know him, ask him how he takes his coffee, or what late-night talk show he prefers, or if he would choose the mountains over the sea, or if he knew how difficult it was to not think about him every waking moment—

You’re gawking again. You know it by the way his lips move, the indent of teeth in his cheeks while he tries to bite back the amusement. So silly, he must think you are so unbearably silly for the way you behave around him. If only he knew.

“Oh, I—I don't know. I really don’t want to take up any more of your time, I—”

“Got all the time in the world, darlin’,” he shrugs, hands shoved in his pockets. You envy his nonchalance. “Besides,” he steps forward, leans in, a secret, and you hold your breath. “I’ve got quite the sweet tooth, and that ice cream stand’s been callin’ my name. You even know how quickly I finished off those muffins you gave me?”

It’s your turn to laugh, soft and bashful, the rest of the feeling your run with Trevor had sucked out of you returning with vigor. He’s teasing you, he wants to make you feel better, and the realization coats your muscles in honey and light and something so sweet, you simply have to taste it. He’s smiling down at you when you tilt your head at him, this time, flashing his pearly teeth, divulging you in a gut-wrenching glimpse of his dimple.

“You wouldn’t let me go eat it all by my lonesome now, would ya?” Cheeky, unrelenting man. He doesn’t even recognize that the decision has already been made. Giving into him a task that takes very little coaxing.

You do, for a brief moment, feel a sense of worry. It doesn’t stem from him but from those around you; would it be proper to be seen alone with him? The vast nature of the occasion would make it a rare sighting from those you know, but feasible nonetheless. Even worse, what if your father saw? Innocent as it is, you cannot shake the looming fear of a reprimanding. He would find something wrong with it, something to scold you for, tell you you’re selfish or bothersome.

But Joel’s here. He saved you once already. And beneath the worry, you discover something stronger, something uncharacteristic, something you convinced yourself didn’t exist.

You don’t care.

Not what anyone else thinks. Not what your father may say about the matter. You don’t care. Not when there is the bright reassurance of the man looking down at you, and the warmth in your chest, and the need to know, to know him.

You take a deep breath. “We can’t have that, can we?” You give him the same, open-mouthed smile, and he is so clearly pleased, you can hardly handle the warmth now. It’s spread from your chest to your cheeks, your stomach, between your thighs. And you think, if this is what being selfish feels like, you never want it to end.

“Well c’mon then,” he beckons, cocking his head for you to follow as he turns towards the crowds.

You don’t hesitate.

You learn all about Joel Miller on your walk through the fairgrounds.

He tells you about the move from Austin, deciding it was time once he realized he was one man in a house built for two. He has a daughter, Sarah, who moved to New York after college to pursue a career in fashion. You note the instantaneous shift when he begins to talk about her, a perpetual smile plastered on his face. City life was proving to move too fast for him, and with no one around to take care of anymore, he decided to start taking care of himself. He makes it a point to tell you he’s not married, that Sarah’s mother isn’t in the picture. Something about the mentioning of it makes your stomach flip, that he considers it important you know. He doesn’t go into the details, and you don’t ask.

He owns his own company. A contracting firm that he shares the load of with his younger brother, Tommy. He tells you that neither of them finished school, he being a young, single father, and Tommy being quite the “delinquent.” That they got lucky with the hand they were dealt, and nowadays on his end, it’s mostly paperwork and phone calls.

You like the way he talks. Calm, collective, perhaps even a bit serious at times, but you don’t take offense to it. And when it comes to your turn to share, he is an attentive listener. He asks questions only without interruption, keeping the smooth flow of the conversation rolling. You tell him, although rather dreadfully, about community college, and how you have been taking a couple of general courses the last few semesters while you figure out what you want to do. It’s a partial truth.

You wonder if he notices your unease surrounding the topic, as most of his questions end up steering in the direction of your hobbies. You tell him of your love of theatre, particularly classical works, film, music. You share the last one in common, as he admits to playing a bit of guitar himself.

“Well, I don’t know a ton ‘bout that Shakespeare fella, but I think Sarah was in one of his plays once,” he says.

“Oh, yeah?” You eye him through your peripheral, raising a brow in inquisition. “You remember which one?”

He blows a stream of air through his lips like you’ve caught him thoroughly off guard, and you try not to laugh because fuck, is he so handsome. Every peek from the corner of your eye is a perfect little gift, and yet, you’re still selfish for more.

“Twelve somethin’? All I know is she played a boy, and I had no idea what she was sayin’.”

Now, you really do laugh. “Twelfth Night,” you correct gently. “It’s a good one.”

He shoots you a knowing look. “Woulda been better if I could understand half of it.”

“It’s not all that bad once you find the rhythm of the language,” you explain. “It seems a lot scarier at first glance. Or first listen.”

He’s quiet for a moment, pondering over your words. Think, think, think. Taking strides a bit slower. “Well, maybe you’ll just hafta teach me more about it sometime.”

You nearly stop in your tracks, looking over and tilting your head up at him. He’s smiling down at you, closed lip, but prominent enough that the godforsaken dimple pops out at you again. He seems genuine. You realize very quickly it’s something you’re not used to.

“I would love to,” you tell him honestly, voice failing you in a whisper.

But before your emotions can take any more reign over you, you’re both coming to a stop before the brightly lit ice cream stand. The crowds are thicker at the center of the fair, elated screams of children and laughter, music that rattles your ear drums from every direction. But now, you find it all easier to tune out. No longer do you feel the all-encompassing thread of anxiety weaving through you, and perhaps it’s because most of your focus is on Joel; in all his glory, standing with his hands on his hips as he peers up at the menu, different hues of pink and yellow and blue flashing over his face in sync with the lights around him.

“Well, shouldn’t be too hard of a decision,” he’s saying, but you’re hardly listening. Your eyes are trained on his neck, the tan skin that peeks out of the collar of his flannel, a thick vein running down its length. There’s a film of sweat glistening over his jugular, and you wonder just how delightful it would feel, taste, to run your tongue across it. Silly, silly girl.

Now, he’s looking down at you, one arm leaning against the stand’s counter, and you try with great difficulty to blink the haze out of your lust-blown eyes. “Chocolate or vanilla?” he asks.

You have a taste for something you believe is far sweeter. “Chocolate,” you say, despite yourself.

He hums in approval. “The correct choice,” and then, he’s fishing into his back pocket for his wallet, and you’re snapping out of your fantasies and back to attention.

“Oh, I can cover mine,” you tell him, fumbling with the zipper of your purse as the worker approaches the windowsill, asking Joel what he can get for him.

You look up after retrieving the wrinkled five-dollar bill to meet Joel’s unamused gaze, shaking his head. He’s already handing his card over. “Two cups of chocolate, please,” he says to the man at the counter, but his scolding eyes are still on you.

You frown. “Joel—”

“Would ya knock it off? I’m buyin’ you the damn ice cream.” He’s stern, serious with his words. But the smirk that lingers at the corner of his lips keeps everything in earnest jest. He wants to buy it for you, and that’s that—final decision. You’re almost embarrassed at how eagerly the small gesture makes your heart swell. How easy it is to give in to him without fear as a playable factor.

You can’t remember the last time someone bought something for you just because they wanted to, because they felt like it.

“Thank you,” you mutter, arguing no further.

Once you retrieve your cups, you find a vacant picnic table nearby to dwell on while you eat. Joel chooses to sit beside you, both of you facing away from the tabletop and towards the bustling crowds, the limited space of the bench forcing the firm flesh of his outer thigh to press up, ever slight, against yours. You try to focus your energy on the sweet, soothing cold taste of your treat, taking tiny spoonfuls as slowly as possible, a subconscious tactic to keep him here, next to you, longer. Even if just to watch the nameless bodies pass by, the pleasure of mere company a rarity.

“Can I ask you somethin’?” Joel’s the one to break the silence, and you’re grateful. You nod at him, and he eyes his spoon as he fiddles it mindlessly around his cup, brows pulled in focus.

“Earlier… you said seein’ that boy was one of the many reasons you didn’t like comin’ to the fair anymore.” He places his emphasis right where you had. Attentive. Thinking and listening. “Why else don’t ya like it?”

Oh.

It’s not what you were expecting. You stop eating altogether, cradling the cup delicately in your lap and losing your eyes to the passing patrons. You wonder if he can sense your trepidation because he doesn’t repeat the question even after your silence has long extended its warranted amount. Memories bombard you, and there’s that momentary feeling of fight or flight again; you don’t fear him as much as do yourself, and what may become of you, and him, if you are to spill the thoughts that now swirl ceaselessly in your brain, replacing pleasant fantasies with their stain.

You had never recounted the story yourself; it has always been told for you. More opportunity. The chance to reshape tragedy into the tale of your choosing. But no matter how long you sit there, silent, thinking, anything but truth seems like a waste. An opportunity to be honest, brave.

“Um...” You try to form the words, but they’re stuck. Be brave, be brave. You clear your throat, swallowing hard. “Well, my uh… my mother used to bring me here every summer.” Bile rises in your esophagus, the acidic taste a punishment after such a treat. “She left us when I was six,” you explain plainly. “No idea where she is.”

A waiting game. For pity, or sorrow, or some overly dramatized display of grief as a means to be sympathetic. You wait for it, brace yourself for it and the robotic actions that you once trained yourself to follow in response.

But it never comes.

Silence, and then, you find it in yourself to peer shyly at him and discover he’s already looking at you. No pity, or sorrow, or grief. Tenderness. Understanding, even. He turns himself a quarter, setting his half-eaten cup down and leaning his elbow against the table, facing you. You watch his jaw roll side to side, contemplation, before:

“Sarah’s mom… she left, too. Couple weeks before her first birthday.”

Yes, understanding. You feel it all, a tsunami, washing you away from your lonesome shore and back into the vast waters. Anger, sadness, resentment, and understanding. Your heart aches in your chest. For Joel, for his daughter, for yourself, a version then and now. Being brave pays off.

You set your cup down, turning to face him similarly. “I’m so sorry, Joel,” you whisper, sincerity.

He nods slowly. “Yeah, me too.” And he means it. You know he does. “Listen, m’not… pretendin’ to understand your situation, but if there’s anythin’ I took from mine s’that… who we are? It ain’t based on other people’s poor decisions. And it sure as hell doesn’t mean there’s somethin’ wrong with us.”

Words you have waited a lifetime for, and he gifts them to you effortlessly.

The sting of tears is second nature, though you hardly notice them at first with the way he’s looking at you—so much understanding. Only when a drop of liquid slips off your lashes, tainting your cheek, do you attempt to compose yourself.

You blink rapidly. “I’m sorry, I—”

He’s touching you, and suddenly, the weight of the world seems less daunting. Two careful palms cradling your cheeks, a sea of copper boring into you.

“Hey, no. No. Don’t be.” He’s shaking his head, eyes pained, but honest. “Not about this. Never about this, okay?” A rogue thumb swipes away the proof of your despair, and you want to loosen the floodgates, sob into his arms, and relinquish yourself to him with the budding trust that he would take care of you.

But you also want to be strong, be strong for him. Harness the strength he’s giving you. So you nod, a promise that you hear what he’s saying and accept it at face value. You let him wipe the few following tears that slip, let him hand you back your ice cream cup and tell you to eat it, it’s good for the soul, which makes you blow out a shaky laugh. You let the silence wash over you again, less fearful of its presence, while you eat and watch the crowds. You let yourself be brave again, scooting an inch over, and laying your head on the curve of his shoulder. You let him rest his cheek against the crown of your head in return, a subtle intimacy, necessary and calm. You can’t remember the last time you felt so calm.

You stay like this for some time—you could stay like this forever—until he tells you, rather dismally, that he has a work conference call tomorrow morning that he’s dreading.

“On a Saturday?” you question, lifting your head and flashing him a twisted expression.

He smiles tiredly. “Bein’ the boss doesn’t always allow alotta down time.”

You purse your lips, attempting to hide your disappointment. It’s his much too kind way of telling you it’s time to call it a night.

“Well, then we oughta get you home,” you say, forcing yourself to your feet, empty cup in hand.

Joel studies your face for a moment—you still can’t decipher what he’s thinking, a mystery you’re growing impatient to crack—before following suit. He takes the cup out of your hands, stacking it atop his, and nodding his head for you to follow towards the garbage bins.

It’s on your short stroll across the yard that you take a moment to dig into your purse, finding your phone to check the time, only to discover something far worse: two missed calls and three texts from your father.

“Shit,” you curse under your breath, coming to a stop. You’d left it on silent. With shaky fingers, you open messages.

9:57 pm—

Heading towards car.

10:04 pm—

Where are you? Let’s go!!!

10:11 pm—

Leaving. Call a cab.

The last one was fifteen minutes ago.

Joel slows his steps once he realizes you’re no longer beside him. “Everythin’ okay?”

“Uh, yeah. Yes. I just—my dad had to um… he had to leave, and I’ve gotta find another way home.”

Because of course, he couldn’t possibly give you some grace. Couldn’t make the effort to at least look for you before taking off. The bare minimum had never been an expectation from him before. You’re rapidly tapping away at your phone, hoping your nearby option isn’t outrageously expensive, when Joel’s frame steps in front of you.

“Well, here. Let me give ya a ride back.” You hear him say it, but only for a moment do your eyes flicker up to acknowledge him.

It’s a nice offer. Generous. Too generous. If you weren’t so accustomed to self-sabotage, and less panicked, you may have even taken him up on it.

You shake your head. “Oh, no. It’s okay, I don’t wanna—”

He’s touching you again. A swift hand loosely coming up to take one of your wrists between his fingers, any ability to focus on the task at hand lost to his allure. You look up at him properly, the sight of a sympathetic smile and sincere eyes causing your breath to hitch.

“What, put me out of my way?” he muses. His thumb draws a pattern over your pulse point, your ride awaiting confirmation suddenly a tedious afterthought. He has your full attention with a single touch.

You open your mouth to rebuttal but nothing comes. It’s nothing if not sensible. Your neighbor offering you a ride home, inevitably heading in the same direction. Although it isn’t just your neighbor, it’s Joel, and for some reason, the two haven’t solidified in your head as equals yet. Just how attainable he really is.

You realize you would be a fool to turn him down.

You lower your phone, nibbling at your bottom lip. “Are you sure?” you ask quietly, but your stomach churns with excitement at the prospect of your perfect evening not quite having to reach its end.

Joel smiles.

“Positive.”

He’s witty. It’s something you didn’t expect.

You laugh more on the drive home in Joel’s truck than you think you’ve laughed all year. Granted, most of his jabs stem from the ridiculous interactions he’s had with those in town—those you know, have known, their mind-boggling antics less surprising to you now—but you find solace in how honest he is with you. How he confides in you.

He looks good. Meaty thighs spread open in the driver's seat, one hand occupying the wheel while the other arm leans casually against the center console. He takes up the whole seat, a vision, the kind of man who can occupy space without consuming all of it, the inside of the vehicle appearing crammed with his broad body. The front windows are rolled down, a steady breeze whistling through his curls, and you’re grateful for the cardigan now as it’s wrapped around your shoulders, shielding you from the goosebumps growing on your arms. Whether they’re from the wind, or him, you don’t know.

You attempt not to stare too long or too often, regardless of how your eyes hunger to follow the veins across his thick forearm or the strong build of his jaw. Try to maintain some semblance of composure, despite the proximity of him, his scent, his being, intoxicating. And no matter how many times you clench your thighs together below your skirt, you cannot ignore the growing ache that lingers there just upon the sight of him.

You think, however naive, how easy it would be for him to become the end of you. In every fantastic way imaginable.

Still, in those moments of silence, there’s comfort. You find solace in how mindless his presence feels; no worries, no regrets. You can just be. A pleasantry long forgotten, perhaps never fully discovered.

You’re looking wistfully out the window, elbow propped up on the sill, resting your cheek against your palm and admiring the clarity of the stars, when a familiar percussive intro coming from his stereo perks your attention.

“Oh, I love this song,” you tell him, eagerly reaching for the volume knob on the dash and dialing it up a couple notches.

I've been roamin' around, always lookin' down at all I see.

“Whole album’s a good one,” Joel remarks, and you tilt your head at him with faint surprise.

“You know it?”

Painted faces fill the places I can't reach.

You catch him rolling his eyes. “M’not that old.”

“Yeah? Well, you never told me just how old,” you tease.

You don’t expect it to land so unsteady, but there’s a pause, a shift in the air palpable enough that it frightens you briefly. “Fifty-two,” he tells you, less conviction in his tone.

You know that I could use somebody.

Only three years younger than your father.

It should make you uneasy, yet somehow, it only causes your sick fascination with him to blossom.

You only hum in response, nodding. Scared to display your interest too eagerly, but you catch the way he eyes you out of his peripheral at the revelation. Seeming to search for your reaction, he waits until the truck is pulled still at the approaching red light, cocking his head fully over his shoulder to take you in. You return the glance, eyes timid—timid, but not unsure, nor displeased, nor appalled, nor any other reaction you assume he anticipates—and you’re studying one another, seeking common ground in the heavy silence, and you think he must find his reassurance in your eyes for his own soften if only a bit, and you note the way the corner of his lips threaten to upturn, your own mirroring.

Someone like you and all you know and how you speak; countless lovers under cover of the street.

And then there’s the summer night breeze, mischievous and unruly, wafting through the open windows and taking the hem of your skirt carelessly in its path. The fabric flounders mere inches, revealing the tops of your thighs, and his eyes, just as untamed now, falter to catch a glimpse.

You know that I could use somebody.

You suck in a breath, fingers twitching in your lap with the instinct to reach for the fabric, pull it back down to your knees, and allow yourself some semblance of decency. You fight a war with the warmth in your belly, and it wins, too enamored at the way he unabashedly takes in your body. As if he had been holding back before, and only now does he allow himself the indulgence. Fantasy and reality become one. And when he trails his wandering eyes back to your face, your lips part; not for words, nor air, nor sounds, but some hope that he’ll give you a taste of everything you have ever wanted.

Someone like you.

Green flashes across his face. He clears his throat, and then, his eyes abandon you for the road as the engine roars back to life. The loss is agonizing.

No more than five minutes later, he’s pulling into the driveway adjacent to yours. You see your father's cruiser parked in the driveway and your stomach sinks, every muscle in your body returned to its usual tension-coated stasis. Joel cuts the engine, and with it, the music, the breeze, the serenity, all disappear. You’re both silent, still, eyes plastered forward for a while. Lost in thought. Wonder what he’s thinking,

Joel gets out first, wordless, but stalks around the front hood to the passenger side to open the door for you. You flash him your wide eyes, his own as chasmic as the sky in the low light, muttering a soft thank you as you scoot off the high bed of his truck.

He walks you over to your side of the yard. You’re aware it's essentially useless, but neither of you complains. When you reach your side of the fence, you stop before the gate, turning on your heels to face him. He comes to a halt a few feet ahead of you, hands in his pockets, the glow of the moon casting shadows across his face. You take a deep breath, clutching the strap of your purse taut, and finding the courage to speak first.

“I had a really good time tonight,” you tell him, sheepish, peering up with caution. “Thank you.”

He’s looking down at you, expression neutrally unreadable. “No need to thank me, darlin’,” he speaks lowly, as if not to jar the night sky, quiet and intimate around you. “It was real good for me, too.” And you know again that he means it, and you’re certain you won’t be able to sleep tonight with such rampant thoughts.

Don’t just stand here like a freak, the moment��s over.

You clear your throat, eyes falling to your feet. “Well, I should… I should get inside.” Let me stay out here forever, please. “Goodnight.”

“Yeah, me too.” When you look up again, he’s nodding to himself. His expression has changed, brows back to their perpetual knot and stiffness in his jaw. “G’night.”

And it’s so hard to look away, even harder to move. Something that lingers between your exchange of glances is heavy, palpable, real.

“Goodnight,” you whisper, once more for good measure.

And with great difficulty, you peel your eyes off of him and turn toward the gate. Your feet feel like weights trying to depart from him, but you only make it about three paces before—

“Wait.”

Calloused skin grazes you, careful fingers wrapping around your wrist, a bit more firm than before, and halting you in your tracks. The touch is unlike Trevor’s. Considerate, soft. Awaiting permission to go any further. And when you finally muster the courage to turn and face him, you find a dire look in his eyes.

Pained, desperate. Restraining himself from something unspoken.

The gap between you feels vast, only his outstretched arm occupying the space. It’s vibrating, begging to be explored. Uncharted terrain. And maybe it’s the rescue, or the conversation, or the sweet treat, or the ride home, or just Joel and your unyielding fantasies. But you cannot deny what feels like a culmination of every blip in time leading up to this moment, and you’re striding forward, a split second of doubt before trembling fingers reach for the collar of his flannel.

You think he descends towards you in unison, for when you touch lips, there’s urgency. Clambering hands and uneven breath, there is no space to find where you end and he begins. His hands steady themselves at your waist, pulling you flush against his warm body, and if it weren’t for the taste of him enticing you—coffee, mint, and chocolate so sweet—you may have collapsed. But he would catch you. You know this by the way his fingertips dig into you, bits of skin meeting skin where the hem of your cardigan and tank top rise, and you’re on fire. A light you did not even know existed inside of your flourishing, whirling, wild flames.

Your fingers find the skin of his neck, thick and warm, before your arms wrap snug around it. Close, you need to keep him close. His hands, steady and seasoned, explore the slopes and panes of your back, bunching up the fabric of your cardigan between your shoulder blades, a means of restraint.

Don’t, you want to beg him. Don’t hold back.

That’s when you feel it—wet and sweltering and fucking delicious, his tongue prodding at your lower lip, and you waste no time in granting him his desires. Your lips part in a gasp, a deep groan rumbling through Joel’s chest that leaves you lightheaded, as he licks eagerly into your mouth; tongues dancing, lips sheen with saliva and growing swollen from the sheer intensity of it, and your throat releases a faint, uninhibited moan between breaths. He loses a bit of himself then; you hear that same, low sound, this time sending a wave of warmth to your thighs, before he wraps you in his wingspan, pulling you to your toes, as close as he can have you.

And this is it, you think. Everything you’ve ever wanted. Even when he’s pulling away from you to catch his breath, forehead to forehead, breathing each other in. Even when you find the courage to open your eyes and look into his, instantly lost in the allure. More, more, you want more. You would take anything he gave you. Peaceful. Perfect. And nothing could take it away from you. It’s yours now. Nothing, nothing, nothing—something.

You almost miss it. Just out of the corner of your eye, distant and flickering, the light turns on in your father's window from behind the curtains. The bubble pops.

“Oh my god!” you gasp, planting your hands on his chest and pushing firmly, creating distance. You hardly notice the sudden concern on his face, vision gone white, hands sweating, breathing no longer labored by desire, but panic. “I—I can’t—I’m—” You’re unable to find the words, and maybe they don’t exist.

He’s saying something, but you don’t register it. His cheeks are flushed, brows lowered in despair, disappointment, but he doesn't know. He doesn’t know why you can’t be here, why you can’t do this, why you have to break away. And that version inside of you, the one that had always pleaded and cried to be let out, crawls her way up your throat. She pushes tears into your eyes, and like always, just before you can let her out, a greater force shoves her back down, wires your lips shut, and forces you to remain as you are.

You hardly even notice that you’re moving, running. Stumbling your way through the gate and dashing across the backyard. You don’t dare look back, and the sound of Joel calling your name is the last thing you hear before you unlatch the back door, slipping out of fantasy, and drowning back into the den of harsh reality.

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#fic: daddy next door #daddy!joel #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #joel miller #the last of us #joel miller fanfic #joel miller/reader #joel miller fic #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #Spotify

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pinkcaddyconfessions · 2 years ago

Text

Anything for You, Darlin

- - -

Pairing: Elvis Presley x Reader (can be Austin!Elvis if you prefer)

Word Count: 1, 478 words

Warnings: Language, Crying, Fluff(much needed after Chapter 11)

- - -

Chapter 12

August 19, 1977

The day had finally come for you and miss Kennedy to come home. Both you and Elvis were relieved by this news. Since she was born early, the doctor wanted her to stay another day to observe her breathing, feedings, etc. Kennedy passed everything with flying colors. She was a fighter, just like you and Elvis.

Elvis took all the precautions to make sure that his girls got home safe and sound. Security was beefed up and everyone was on high alert. You were used to this by now, but each time it still sent shockwaves through your body. As soon as you and Elvis got into the car, every emotion hit you at once. The joy of bringing home another baby, the fear of not knowing what would happen next; it all hit you like a ton of bricks. You somehow kept it all together on the car ride home. During the ride home, you kept looking at Elvis and sweet little Kennedy. Elvis met your gaze and gently rubbed your head. You could tell by the look in his eyes that he loved you so damn much. He would do anything for you in a heart beat.

When you finally got back to Graceland, it felt so good to be at home once again. Elvis got out to open the door for you, like he always did. The whole Memphis mafia was there to meet the newest Presley. Elvis showed Kennedy off like the proud daddy he was, because being a father was the best prize he has won from the lottery of life. You admired your man holding his newest baby girl; being a dad came just as natural to him as singing.

After the mafia left, Elvis had to go pick up Mallory and Elvis Jr from school. They hadn’t see him or you in almost three days. When they saw him, they took off straight to him.

“DAADDDYYYYYY!” Both Mallory and Elvis Jr yelled.

“Well hello there! How are my sweet babies?” Elvis said to them as Mallory and Elvis Jr nearly tackle him. “Are you guys ready to go see your mama?”

“YESSSSS!” They both yelled.

Elvis loaded them both in the car and off they went back to Graceland. Every time Elvis looked back, he just had to smile. He didn’t know how he got this lucky in life.

When they got home, the kids came running in the house looking for you.

“Mom!!! We’re home!!!” They yelled

Elvis came in right behind them, trying to corral them like cattle.

“Mallory Love! Elvis Aaron Jr! Keep it down!! Someone’s trying to sleep!!” Elvis sternly told them.

They looked up at him puzzled because it was rare to hear him raise his voice at them. Elvis almost never yelled at his babies. Hell, you can count only seven times he ever yelled at the kids. Tears almost filled their little eyes. Elvis walked over to them.

“Come here babies, daddy didn’t mean to yell at ya. I’m sorry,” he softly told them. It broke his heart to see his babies upset. He hugged them both and kissed them gently on the head. Then Elvis took their little hands into his and they all walked up the stairs.

“There’s some one your mom and I want you to meet,” Elvis told them.

When they got upstairs, walked to the nursery and there you were holding baby Kennedy in the rocking chair. You weren’t paying attention to the doorway, so it surprised when you looked up and saw them. Mallory and Elvis Jr tip toed their way over. You smiled from ear to ear seeing your two oldest children.

“Hi Mallory. Hi Elvis Jr.” You said to them softly. “This is your baby sister, Kennedy Grace. She decided to come a little early, so we gotta be gentle with her.”

They both walked over to you and baby Kennedy. Elvis had left the room to get John from his room so he could meet her too.

“Come on little Johnny, your baby sister’s in here buddy,” Elvis cooed to him while carrying him into the nursery. He brought John over to meet his baby sister. The love in that room was overwhelming. Baby Kennedy was already so loved by everyone, including you. You, your husband and all of your babies in one place together, at the same time. It was a beautiful sight. It was all a dream come true for Elvis.

After a while, Elvis put the older kids to bed for you since you were tending to baby Kennedy. You could hear him softly singing to them and kissing them good night. The kids never fought bed time when daddy put them to bed; Elvis had a magic touch when it came to his babies. He walked back to the nursery to find you softly singing “Big Boots” to baby Kennedy. He quickly chuckled to himself. When he recorded it back in 1961 for “G.I. Blues” he never imagined that sixteen years later that his wife would be singing it to his little baby girl.

“Darlin’ that song is always a classic with our kids. I remember you singing it to Mallory when she was just a newborn too.” He said to you while walking over to you. The emotions you held inside of you all day were finally starting leak out in the form of tears. Elvis became concerned and kneeled down next you.

“Satnin, what’s on that pretty lil’ mind of yours,” he softly asked while wiping away your tears. His blue eyes met your (Y/E/C) eyes. You had been trying so damn hard to keep it all in, but in that moment, the dam broke.

“Elvis…. I..I..I.. I don’t know…” You barely got out before softly sobbing.

Elvis knew you were lying to him in order to not to wake up Kennedy. Elvis scooped up baby Kennedy from your arms into his. He gently kissed her little head before putting her in the crib. Then, he gave you his hand to help you up. The two of you walked to your bedroom while he had his left arm around you to support you. He helped you get changed into your pajamas before he got into his. He came back from the bathroom to find you crying into your knee caps, hiding your face so he couldn’t see how red your face was. He walked over to the bed and sat down next to you.

“Darlin’ come here,” he said to you as he was holding you close, “it’s alright baby, let it out. Tell me what’s wrong.”

At this point, the dam of emotions had broke and you sobbed into your husband. He began rubbing small circles into your back while whispering sweet nothings into your ears. Your husband of eleven years knew what to do to help you in every situation. After a little while, you decided to tell him what was going on in your mind.

“Elvis…… a chapter in our lives is closing. We won’t be bring home anymore babies. Life is flying by too… damn… fast. I wish i could slow down time…” You told him as your sobs became less frequent. Elvis looked at you as he held your face in his hands.

“Doll, you know if I could I would slow down time for you in a heartbeat, but God didn’t give me that talent.” Elvis told you making you softly giggle while giving him a soft smile. He knew how to make his queen feel better.

“Satnin, a chapter maybe closing, but our story isn’t over yet. We still have to raise the four precious babies that you gave to me. We still gotta show them what life is all about. There’s so much more that I want to accomplish in life with you by my side, doll.”

Elvis knew exactly what to say and how to say it. You were starting to feel better as he kept rubbing your back and head. When you finally looked up at him, he held your face in his hands and gently placed kisses on your forehead. He saw the tiny little smile that flashed across your face and how your eyes were starting to get their sparkle back.

“There’s the (Y/N) the I know and love. You know darlin’ I love it when your (Y/E/C) eyes start to twinkle like the night sky. You’ve always had the prettiest eyes on this side of the Mississippi River. Now, let’s get my queen covered up for the night.”

Elvis tucked you and him into bed and held you tight. He whispered more sweet nothings into your ear while rubbing your stomach. Both of you fell asleep almost instantly. This was the definition of heaven on Earth.

#elvis presley #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis x reader #austin elvis x reader #elvis fluff #dad!elvis #elvis fanfic #elvis smut #austin elvis smut #austin!elvis x reader #elvis presley x reader #elvis presley smut #anything for you darlin

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astaroth1357 · 4 years ago

Note

request: an MC thats very good w playing games or like,,, is proficiently skilled in all game categories or smrhn

alsp hi xander i love ur writing

and can i giv u a kith? if so: mwah 😚

Well I hate to tell ya, sweetie, but I’m not Xander. I’m Jazzy. Hello! I can see why you’d want something written by Xander, though. He’s mad talented (better at this than I am quite frankly) and he’s on the list of people I wish I could write as well as. I guess we can both take a moment to be sad that I’m not Xander… *sigh*... to be Xander… 😔

Oh well, I am who I am and I don’t begrudge that fact. Meanwhile, I’ve wanted to do more shout-outs so everybody go read @sevendeadlymorons! If you’re not… I mean… why not? He’s more than worth your time. In the meantime, I hope I can entertain you despite my not-Xanderness.

Brothers React to an MC Who’s Good at Games and Stuff

Lucifer

Honestly couldn’t care less about the MC’s game proficiency in most cases. So they’re good at games? Good for them, he’s sure they’re happy.

But when they’re playing against him on the other hand…

Well, Lucifer may or may not be skilled at whatever game you set him on (he’s a very quick learner so never underestimate him), but he’s whole new levels of competitive when he wants to be. ESPECIALLY if he already thinks he’s hot shit at something.

Video games? Not his forte. Table top games? One word for you: Chess.

Lucifer believes that he can and will whip pretty much anyone’s ass in chess. That includes Satan, Solomon, Levi, and even Diavolo. He is at grandmaster level.

So imagine his shock, no, his disdain to have lost a game of chess to the MC… The moment they said "Checkmate" he stared at the board in front of them for a solid five minutes trying to work out where he went wrong…

And he wasn’t having that.

He and the MC now have regular chess matches in which he wins some and loses some so the tally stays pretty evenly tied. Really it’s all good fun... (but if they think he’s going to let them go home when he’s on a losing count, they’re Dead. Wrong. He’ll drag them back to down just to play chess with him until the score is right again. He DOES NOT lose, you hear? 🤨).

Mammon

Guess who’s found his gambling buddy??

No, really. He and the MC can make a KILLING at a Poker or Blackjack table! He’s never seen anyone better at poker than they are!! They have nerves of steel and give nothing away, so he’s lost more than a few hands to them before...

Even past the casinos, they’re perfect for making bets on! He once arranged a Devil Cart competition between the MC and Levi and took bets around RAD for who’d win...

Naturally, everybody assumed the Devildom’s resident Super-Otaku would win hands down, but the MC had this insane last minute save with a blue shell and pulled ahead in the last lap!!

He was like, the only person that bet on the MC and he got soooo much money that MC found HIM crying and hugging a bag of Grimm after the match…

Any time they win a game that gets him money, he’ll treat them like royalty for the next week. Man knows not to bite the hand that feeds him!... and creditors at bay... 😬

It may get slightly annoying that Mammon won't stop telling them about gaming competitions where they can get him more prize money, but hey, at least he's supportive, I guess.

Leviathan

Oh they are either his best friend or mortal enemy… Sometimes both in the same day.

Our boy hates losing, can't stand it any better than Lucifer, you KNOW the second he knows there's someone out there who even has a chance of beating him, he gets serious. This is not a "friendly rivalry," MC.

When they’re playing any game against each other, he'll call them by their gamertag/online persona to keep himself focused (yes, even if they’re playing Monopoly). They can't be his MC right now, they gotta be the person he's going to beat...

He's NOT opposed to dirty tactics to win, either. Saying things that will get them mad or flustered mid-match? Check. Using his tail to distract or tease them? Check. Just being a general nuisance/annoyance in game for the hell of it? Guilty as charged!

He's both a sore winner AND a sore loser, so unfortunately MC, you really can't win here... He'll be obnoxious regardless of the outcome.

However… when they’re on the same team, it's really something special. They don't just destroy the competition, they bulldoze over them like an armored tank barreling through rush hour traffic!

These two are legends in the online gaming community and have even started a streaming channel on the side. Sometimes your worst enemies also make the best allies... Who knew? 🤷‍♀️

Satan

Is surprisingly impressed by their gaming prowess. Are they just supremely skilled or incredibly lucky, you think…?

That being said, he's not the biggest gaming man on the planet so he's not too competitive with them one way or the other.

When Satan plays a video game, he usually goes for story-based, single-person experiences anyway so it's not like he could compete with them even if he wanted to.

That being said, they do share an informal challenge of sorts when it comes to puzzle/detective games (a not so guilty pleasure of his). He likes to try and beat the levels first, so when they start playing a new one they'll both compare time spent and scores.

He even enjoys playing those Devildom-style AR murder mystery games with them! It’s pretty cute to watch Satan get into it, he dips into his inner Levi and cosplays as some of his favorite TV drama detectives for the occasion and insists they dress as his co-star (best just go along with him. It’s not a bad time, even if they have to carry around an old tobacco pipe for a few hours).

Asmodeus

Good at games? That sounds dangerously like they're another Levi… 🙄 What about party games? Oh oh, or drinking games??

Actually scratch that. How about ANY game while drunk? That sounds pretty fun doesn’t it??

Like Drunk Truth or Dare!! Oh that's a favorite of his… 🤭

To be fair to the MC, the booze does diminish their skills somewhat (because that's kind of what it does in general) but not by all that much… It's pretty impressive.

He once challenged them to a game of Drunk Twister figuring that they'd be too unsteady to actually win for once, but no. If anything, the alcohol must have numbed the stretching pains because they bent over him like a pretzel!

Not that he was complaining or anything… 😏

He likes to take the MC to parties where he knows a game or two will be played just to show off to the crowd and brag that they’re HIS lovely, talented human! You go, MC, beat that competition to a pulp! 😌

Beelzebub

Sports count as games too, right? Well, they aren't half bad at those either.

Beel found it surprising that he found a human who could actually keep up with him. His brothers rarely want to play practice games with him anyway so it’s pretty exciting to have a sports partner at home!

He likes to ask the MC to help him train with practice matches or to go over certain moves or maneuvers he’s having trouble with. It’s not uncommon for the brothers to come home and find the two of them tossing a ball around in the front yard or something.

And the both of them on the same team? Forget it. It takes the dream team of Lucifer and Mammon (who aren’t just arguing with each other for once) to even come close to a challenge for them.

He also enjoys playing the occasional video game with them, though he treats it a lot like playing with Levi and just assumes he’ll never win unless he gets lucky - which does happen from time to time.

He doesn’t mind losing that much as long as he’s having fun, and if nothing else he can always win against them in an eating contest… He’s got those on lockdown. Come at’em MC, he’ll pack away an entire fridge before you’re done with your first plate. Try him.

Belphegor

So Belphie enjoys a good game or two - video-based or otherwise - it comes with the lazy-bastard territory. He may not be as skilled as Levi, but he can hold his own in some genres.

But he’s given up on beating the MC looong ago.

Do you know how much practice it would take? How many hours that he would have to use?? The hours where he could be napping instead??? Yeah, no thanks. They can continue to be the reigning Super Smash Devils champion for all he cares.

Buuuut even he has to admit, it’s pretty relaxing to watch the MC play something in the background... There’s a certain sort of satisfaction to watching someone who’s good at a game just play it straight through.

If they’re set up in Levi’s room or the Common area then Belphie may come over, set his pillow up on the floor, and watch them play. He may even throw in a comment or two like, “You missed a health pack,” or “Better save now,” but other than that he likes to just let them do their thing.

The MC has had many an all-nighter with Belphie spectating until about 4am or so. Then he’s dead to the world and they have to work out how to get his not-exactly-light demon ass onto a couch…

Or they can just leave him faceplanted and snoring on the floor. Up to them, really cause he did it to himself. 🤷‍♀️

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me requests #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me headcanons

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rawdogmeharry · 4 years ago

Note

will you write something about reader and harry having a 12 year age gap, but fans and everyone are really supportive of their healthy relationship? like they’re so in love. lots of fluff and maybe a tinge of smut? 🥺 love your writing 🥺🥰

old man

or, the one where Harry’s family loves Y/N and he loves her even more.

]part 2: old bones]

sorry for the wait, hope you enjoy babe <3 and thank you very much, that’s lovely to hear!!

requests go here:)

masterlist

•

“What d‘ya say, baby, red or white wine?“ Harry ponders, leaning one hip against the kitchen counter and holding up the two dark glass bottles in his hands, showing them to Y/N.

“I dunno, I‘d say red but Anne‘s not really a fan of it, so let‘s just take the white,“ she shrugs her shoulders, little animated hearts dancing around in her eyes from watching Harry look so fucking effortlesly hot for no damn reason. His sheer button-up that shows his vast collection of body ink and the way his black jeans fit snugly on his juicy thighs are the reasons her panties are drenched inside out.

Little does she know, he‘s thinking the exact same thing.

She stands in the kitchen doorway, dressed in a tight, sand colored turtleneck, black bell bottomed pants and the pointed-toe nude Louboutin heels Harry had gotten her for her last birthday, looking like Harry‘s next meal. All he wants to do, is take those pants, shove them down to her thighs, bend her over their glass dining table and bury his face in her cunt and ass.

But, they‘ve got places to be and people to see at the Styles-Twist family gathering.

Dead puppies, grandma boobs, cow udders is all that circles his head because nothing else can bring his boner down.

“Hey, where‘d you go?“ Y/N waves her hand in his face, seeing his spaced out face and eyes weirdly zoned in on her tits.

“Huh?“

“Y‘zoned out on me, Har, y‘okay?“ she slowly walks towards him with her brows furrowed, her heels making a really satisfying noise on the gray kitchen tiles.

“Oh, yeah, ‘m fine, kitty, just thinking ‘bout how pretty y‘are,“ he grins and tugs her in close by her love handles, then gradually migrates his hands down to her ass and gives it a firm squeeze once she‘s fully enclosed in his arms. And about how hard I want to fuck you, you fucking Goddess, he thinks to himself.

“Let‘s go then, bub, don‘ wanna be late. Been a while since we last saw your mum, I‘ve missed her,“ she smiles up at him. “And, wanna get home as soon as possible as well, also been a while since we used those handcuffs, huh?“

Harry watches as she bites her bottom lip and feels her dainty hands stroking up and down his back, and just as he‘s about to ram her against the wall to spank her and remind her how daddy doesn‘t like to be teased like that, she quickly slips out of his embrace and spanks his firm bum, telling him “let‘s go, Har“ and giving him a pointed look as if to silently tell him that she knows exactly what he‘s thinking.

‘‘‘

“Oh, yeah, since ‘m on winter break right now, me ‘n Harry started re-watching Friends, but my old man can barely keep his eyes open past 11, so it‘s been goin‘ really slowly,“ Y/N giggles, and that‘s the only part of the conversation Harry hears as he‘s approaching his lovie and Gemma, the two of them talking alone on the outside bench of Anne‘s back garden.

He feels finally free after hearing his uncle talk about the new corn he‘s been growing and how the high fiber content has really helped with his digestion for the past half an hour, and all he wants to do is throw Y/N over his shoulder, go home and fuck the ever living shit out of her. Maybe they won‘t even make it inside the house, he thinks, maybe he‘ll just take her in the car in the driveway.

“Hey, is the old man you‘re talkin‘ about supposed to be me?“ he pretends to be offended with raised brows and mouth open in mock offense, throwing his arm around his lovie‘s shoulders and leaning against the side of the bench in a hunched over sitting position with his bum right at the edge.

“Well, I don‘ really have any other old men watchin‘ Friends with me,“ she shrugs, her eyes regaining the light they get whenever Harry‘s around.

“Better not,“ he says in a stern tone, expression softening once again as he feels her hand on his thigh, rubbing softly in reassurance.

Then, he hears someone else giggle beside his baby, completely forgetting that Gemma‘s been sitting beside Y/N, because all he sees, knows and breathes is Y/N.

“You guys are so cute,“ Gemma giggles again and Harry notices just how tipsy his sister is from the sparkly look in her eyes, no doubt from the delicious wine set out on Anne‘s kitchen island. “Can I tell you a secret?“

“Go ‘head, Gem,“ he chuckles, brushing his fingers through lovie‘s soft hair, “jus‘ don‘ be mad at me if y‘gonna be embarassed by it for the rest of y‘life.“

“Oh, shut up,“ Gemma rolls her eyes, “I may be drunk, but ‘m not stupid, it‘s nothin‘ embarassing. Jus‘ wanted to tell you both how glad I am you two ended up together.“

“We‘re glad too, Gem, thank you,“ Y/N smiles at her, a fond look taking over her face from the realisation at how lucky she got with her sister-in-law. Or actually, Harry‘s whole family, really, and she feels beyond grateful for how accepted and loved she feels in it.

“No, like, ‘m sayin‘ just-just how grateful I am my brother ended up with someone so amazing, so understanding and just—overall such a great person. Really, at first, me ‘n mum were a bit skeptical because of—you know—the pretty big twelve year age difference and all, and Y/N bein‘ only eighteen when y‘met. But over time when we got to know you, you‘re mature beyond your years and I wouldn‘t wish Harry any other person. ‘M really glad that all the negative comments, looks and hate y‘both got at the start of your relationship didn‘t break you up or put any tiffs between you. Y‘gained the fans‘ trust, didn‘t let them overwhelm you. Just proves that no hardships can separate you‘s, you‘re meant to be.“

And Y/N‘s got tears in her eyes at the end of Gemma‘s mini speech, because she couldn‘t imagine hearing nicer words from her boyfriends family. If everyone genuinely thinks all of this about her, she‘s quite literally the luckiest person in the world.

Harry watches as Y/N doesn‘t hesitate to give Gemma a big, fat hug once she‘s done talking and all he thinks is how right Gemma is.

How right she is by saying that Y/N is the most fucking amazing thing to ever happen to him, how nothing can separate them and how they‘re meant to be. That‘s all Harry thinks about all day every day, and to think that his sister and probably the rest of his family have the same outlook on their relationship is like putting in the last missing piece of the puzzle.

Y/N pulls away from the hug and subtly wipes at her undereyes, “thank you, Gem. I just-I don‘ really know what else t‘say except thank y‘so much.“

“No, but seriously,“ Gemma grins at the next part she‘s about to say, “jus‘ the other day me and mum were talkin‘ about the adorable little buggers you‘d make with your good genes and all an-“

“Okay, Gem,“ Harry chuckles and takes the almost empty wine glass from her hand, “thank y‘for the kind words, but tha‘s all for tonight, I think.“

Gemma pouts, “hey, why‘d y‘take my wine?“

“C‘mon, let‘s go find Michal, he‘ll know what t‘do with ya,“ Harry smiles at his sister and helps her up from the bench and watches as she uncoordinately trots towards the door, heading inside of the warm house where the rest of his family are chatting away amongst eachother.

He stays behind and quickly leans down to whisper in Y/N‘s ear, gripping her thighs in both of his hands, “bathroom upstairs. In five minutes. Daddy doesn‘t like to wait.“ And walks away, catching up to his sister and leads her away to her boyfriend. He wants her, and he wants her now, because he physically cannot contain all of the love and absolute appreciation he has for her inside of him any longer.

Y/N just sits there with clenched thighs and an irregularly beating heart.

‘‘‘

“Fuck,“ Harry pants against his lovie‘s neck, keeping her hands pinned to the wall above her head by her wrists, “how are you this fucking beautiful, huh?“

“Fuck, please do something, Har,“ she mewls into his ear, desperately wanting to grind against something and longing to feel his cock lodged deep into her pussy.

“That‘s not my name,“ Harry growls and grips her wrists tighter.

“Daddy. Daddy, please fuck me, just-please, do something.“

“God, bunny, y‘drivin‘ me crazy. Can‘t fuck you here, don‘t want m‘family t‘hear you screamin‘ fo‘ daddy to fuck y‘ass harder. Gonna make it home, first. Or halfway.“ He grinds against one of her thighs and his cock is leaking so much precome he‘s sure there‘s gonna be a wet stain on his dark jeans once they get out of this Goddamn bathroom.

“Just stop talking, Daddy,“ she pants out, not really caring for the consequences of talking back to daddy at this exact moment and slots her lips to his own, immediately sucking his tongue into her mouth.

And Harry thinks he‘s gonna let her off for this one, because they both need it so much that the bloody rules daddy made can fuck right off through the window.

He moans into her mouth and takes his tongue out of it, quickly pulling back and looking into her eyes, “put your hand into your panties and feel how wet y‘are for me.“ And let‘s go of her wrists.

She does as she‘s told, feeling so fucking thankful for the small amount of friction she gets from her fingers quickly brushing on her clit as she passes it to her weeping hole and rubs her her pointer finger at the entrance of it.

Taking her hand out of her pants, she shows Harry her shiny, slick fingers coated in her juices.

“Suck on them like you‘d suck my cock.“ He rasps out with his hands put on either side of her head.

She takes them into her mouth and moans at her own mouth-watering taste, sucking her fingers to the back of her throat and gagging on them like she‘d gag on Harry‘s cock.

Harry moans out from the filthy sight and locks their lips together for a final time, “five minutes to say goodbye t‘everyone and then I want y‘in the front seat of m‘car with your pants in the back.“

#Harry Styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagines #harry-angst #harry angst #harry styles one shot #harry styles one shots #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #fanfic

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the-tiniest-one · 3 years ago

Text

Parenting Rock Lee with Might Guy :)

Note:@xemaliahrssx here ya go! I hope it tastes just like you dreamed it would!

Sitting at the kitchen table, watching Guy and Lee devour the dinner you made, had you feeling nostalgic... You watched with your head rested on your hand. It was the little family moments that you appreciated more than anything else these days. "Yeah! and then I caught him in a cross block!" Lee said, describing their latest mission, his mouth full of food.

"Haha yes yes (y/n) you should have been there, our Rock Lee is becoming a real force to be reckoned with, much like his handsome sensei" Guy said with a wink in your direction.

"Handsome indeed" you said with a grin.

Thinking back to the days when you were a little more of a workaholic made you laugh. If you told your younger-self all those years ago that you would be Konoha's worst helicopter parent in just a few years, you'd have never believed it. Guy was a perfect match for you in that regard. You two were a well oiled machine when it came to parenting.

While Lee could do no wrong in your eyes, Guy was a bit heavy handed in his discipline of Lee's skills as a shinobi. You kissed every bruise and scrape, while Guy was teaching him how to prevent them in the first place.

Rock Lee has had more than his fair share of the short-end-of-the- shit-stick his entire life. BUT One could be forgiven for not recognizing the true level of hardship the boy has overcome in his short tenure as a shinobi. Lee is a true underdog.

Lucky for him, you've always been a bit of a sucker for an underdog.

You thought back to those early days......

Even before Lee evolved to a mini version of your childhood crush, you felt the need to protect him. Watching him fumble and practice jutsu in vain day after day.....early in the morning and into the night. You would watch him from a distance while training your own team. One early morning, you decided to check in on the boy with long black hair. He kicked at a post, counting off as you looked on...10....11.....12.....his kicks were weak even for his young age. As he got closer to 50 he fell back, overwhelmed by the pain of repetitively beating his shins into the wood without chakra to safeguard his bones.

Clearly angry at his situation, the thought occurred to you that maybe he wasn't using chakra because he couldn't....the boy had tears streaming from his eyes. It broke your heart to watch a kid who couldn't be more than 10, cursing his life.

"A kid working that hard shouldn't have to feel that defeated..." you said to yourself.

You felt conflicted. Torn between wanting to step in and takeover his training...but feeling the weight of responsibility that would come with encouraging a child to chase a pipedream that would only lead to disappointment. You knew all too well what happens to weak ninja. The reality was that it would be cruel to encourage the boy to peruse a life as dangerous as that of a shinobi. You were no slouch when it came to taijutsu but ninjas are able to compete with one another because of the advantages that come with developing kakai genki.

Could a boy with no use of chakra stand a chance against the generations of those families of ninja who use fearsome jutsu and tactics like lightning...wind....wood or even hereditary gifts like the dreaded sharingan or byakugen? The real answer was sad and harsh. No. He couldn't.

You wouldn't be so irresponsible as to tell the boy he could be anything but a failure.

If he perused that path, he would die young.

So you stood back, restraining the desire to comfort and nurture the little boy out of what you told yourself was mercy. Day after day, week after week....you watched on....until it became too much. You couldn't sleep anymore, couldn't function on missions the same way. Always thinking back to him still out at those training grounds.....always struggling.

....

One morning it was pouring rain. You called off training that day for your team and headed out to the place you knew he would be. He was there of course. He was doing his best to catch a cold while practicing hand signs to no avail. After watching him for a few minutes you finally asked, "What's your name kid?" speaking loud to project over the rain. Startled he looked up to where you stood, perched on a post a few feat away. "I...Im Rock Lee" he said timidly. You laughed at his shy but sweet face, "Im y/n" you said.

"Your kicks look like they could use some work", holding your palm about chest high, to show him where his blow should be landing. The boy grimaced...clearly angry with his lack of direction in training. You laughed and the both of you worked on his kicks for the duration of the morning.

"I think you'll be a splendid ninja someday" you said as you offered him a bit of lunch you packed. The boy looked up at you with the most heartbreaking fear in his eyes, "I can't use chakra" Lee said barley above a whisper, clearly ashamed to tell you the truth.

You ruffled his hair. "Look kid, life is shitty sometimes. But I can tell you are someone who will never quit. No matter the odds, and that is something worth more than all the talent in the world." He instantly smiled up at you, melting your heart for what would be the first of a million times. Laughing and showing you also first time you saw that shiny smile that you would come to love more that anything on earth.

From then on he was your responsibility. Your chest burned with pride in his concrete determination. Feeling instantly the protective burn and feral instinct to insulate him from anything that would hurt him.

....

It was about a year later when things evolved. You and Lee had become close. He, being an orphan as you found out he was, had taken your invitation to live in your spare bedroom. It wasn't long before you were nagging him to be sure and eat breakfast before class, take baths every night. You were often hearing your mothers voice echo in your own as you guided the child to a structure he lacked.

You even went to his parent meetings at the Academy, much to the surprise of Iruka (because he himself was 2 years older than you and had known you since you were smol) laughed when you asked to see Lee's reports.

----

Then one hot summer day you got the order... your team was dispatched on your first extended mission with your new genin. 3 months on a C rank mission to Suna. Your heart sank as you remembered Lee's graduation exam was in just a few days. Before you left, you kissed his forehead and promised a tearful Lee who had become just as attached as you over the last year, that would bring him back a graduation present.

You just knew he would finally pass.

....

Returning to the village near midnight you couldn't wait to see Lee. After giving report to Lord Third, you quickly made your way home. Quietly cracking the door to his bedroom, you peaked in to see his sweet little face. The snoring boy looked peaceful.

"He cut his hair?" you thought puzzled..."he must have done it himself, it looks a little odd." You laughed at the thought of him using a bowl to cut his hair.

Then your eyes traveled to the headband still around his forehead, "He passed!!!" you quietly celebrated, careful not to wake him up. You placed the promised gift on his dresser, a brand-new set of num-chuks you'd had made in Suna.

The next morning you were up before sunrise making a celebratory breakfast when an extreme round of knocking came from the apartment's front door.

You quickly answered, immediately flustered when on the other side was none other than Might Guy....the same Guy you'd had the hots for over a decade.

"Y/N!, I must have the wrong address! I was looking for one of my students!" Guy said in his familiar boisterous cadence. Laughing nervously you started to respond, when behind you Lee pushed his way through the doorframe. Your eyes widened at the sight.

The haircut made sense now, Lee stood side by side with his sensei. He was wearing Guy's jumpsuit... they could have been father and son.

Looking at the two of them standing side by side in front of you for the first time gave you the most jarring sense of dejavu.

"Guy sensei! Look what Y/N brought me from her most dangerous mission!" Lee brandished the weapon, beaming up at his teacher who laughed and winked in your direction. "Ah, a great choice! Only the most skilled ninja know how to use such a fine weapon! We must enlighten you at once Lee my boy!" With that the handsome jonin and your sweet Rock Lee were off to train.

You had known Guy since he was still struggling to gain entrance to the Academy, you knew that the man who radiated confidence today, only earned that ability through blood, sweat, and tears.

You apprehensively accepted that Might Guy was a good match to be Lee's sensei.

"Be careful!" you called, more than a little apprehensive at the thought of your sweet baby boy training with such an admittedly impulsive man. Feeling a small tug of sadness as you watched the two of them disappear down the street.

"Lee's getting tall..." you though as you closed the door.

....

Over the next few years Lee had grown into a strong young man. You felt such extreme pride in everything he did. Even though you being in your mid-twenties were not nearly old enough to be Lee's mother, he had taken to occasionally calling you mom.

Lee was never embarrassed of you as he grew into a teen like some of the other kids his age. He was always just as willing to give you a hug before a mission as the day you met him.

It would be a lie to say that the relationship you and Guy shared hadn't also matured along the way. Although you weren't Lee's biological parents, anyone would be forgiven for thinking that you were. Everything you had admired about Guy, his hot-bloodedness, his devotion to youthful perseverance, his love of his village had been passed down to your surrogate son.

It was only natural that you and Guy would become a team in raising Rock Lee. Over time after a few years of dinners, training sessions, birthdays, holidays etc...Guy decided to propose to you.

It was a literal dream come true. You couldn't say yes fast enough. But as required when two shinobi become married, when you went to sign the paperwork to make your marriage official, requesting a stamp of approval from Lady Tsunade....she extended to you a folder with a second set of forms.

Guy beamed as you read the contents. Adoption papers with Lee's name printed at the top in bold.

"He will always be our son. Since we are making it official... why not add one more?" Guy said with a laugh. The tears began welling in your eyes. "He's 17" you laughed, "I love you" is all you could think to say in response to the most kind gesture you have ever witnessed.

Guy held his trademark thumbs up high as he replied, "Lee will always need his mom, no matter how big he gets!" His words like music to your heart...

You'd never felt so complete as you walked hand in hand with Guy, on your way home to surprise your sweet son with the news.

Upon telling Lee what the two of you had done, he looked from the papers back to you. Confusion spread across the sweet ravenette's features. "But I do not understand" Lee said with a hand rubbing the back of his neck. "Have you not always been my mom?"

The innocent look in his eye and profound sincerity in his voice made tears well in your eyes for what felt like the tenth time that day. You laughed and swept he and Guy into a hug that didn't last long enough. "What's for dinner?" the two men asked in unison and in that moment you knew you were the luckiest person in the world.

#rock lee #might guy x you #might guy relationship #naruto imagines #naruto #naruto fanfiction #might gai imagine #might guy fanfiction #rock lee fanfiction #parenting with maito #rock lee's mom #maito guy #rock lee imagines #rock lee x y/n #team gai

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jaesvelvet · 3 years ago

Text

precious — park jeongwoo

warnings: lowercase,grammartical error,mention of death,nightmare

words: 1.8k words

pairing: jeongwoo + fem reader

it's nothing strange when jeongwoo stays with your family during holidays or school days. you guys' bonds are really strong, besides your parents are also best friends since high school so that's why both of you are close to each other.

it's usual summer breaks, jeongwoo hanging with you at your house, binging some netflix series. jeongwoo who is already bored watching the vampire diaries for thousand times, secretly glancing at his best friend.

he never thought of having a girl like you as his best friend (beside haruto of course) for him, you're perfect. sometimes he has a thought that he would never bored live in this world with you only. sounds creepy but that's how he loves his friendship with you.

turning 17 is a lot harder than jeongwoo ever imagine, he thought going through puberty is a lot easier. but trust him, it's not.

when he gets older, he realized that he saw you not as a best friend but as a girl he wants to date. he doesn't know when or why he fell for you but for sure he head over heels towards you.

"woo, stop looking at my pretty face"

"am i supposed to look at your damon then?" jeongwoo scoffed, flustrated you caught him looking at her

"um, yea?" you answer, grabbing a handful of popcorn from the bowl and stuffed into her mouth, without breaking the glance from television

jeongwoo let out a small laugh, seeing you, really into that show although this is their thousands time watching it

"im tired of these vampires, i'm bored" he confesses, lean back on the beige couch, once again he glances at you hoping you would respond to him

"you can't get tired of this, we're gonna binge this show until we're old," you said

"old? are you gonna be old with me y/n?" jeongwoo asked

without looking at the brown-haired boy, you nodded

"how about your future husband? doesn't he be jealous when his wife binge her favorite show with her guy best friend?" jeongwoo asked, when he sure his feelings towards you, he can't help but think about their future, if they ended up with someone else, does their friendship will last long? or they're gonna be like a stranger?

jeongwoo's question finally made you pause the show and turns her back to jeongwoo, staring at his relaxed face

"what?"

"i don't want to be married, no-one can't stand if i'm having one of those ruthless nightmares" you frowned and pout at the same time, jeongwoo can't help but smile as a response, he just wanna pinch your soft cheeks.

you suffer from nightmares, although it happens occasionally, when it's happened, you will call jeongwoo, face-timing the sleepy boy until the next morning because you're too scared to return to sleep and spent the rest of the night, crying. and jeongwoo is the one and only who accompany you till the next morning no matter how tired he is.

he never sleeps when you having a nightmare, he will take care of you and calm you down, you will keep apologizing to jeongwoo and treat him with good food the next day, and of course, jeongwoo didn't mind at all, because he hates seeing someone he loves suffering.

"so do you want to get married to me then?" jeongwoo asked, if haruto is here, he will screaming at the top of his lungs cause jeongwoo finally got some brave to make his move.

you let out a big laugh

"nope, i want to marry with damon" you stick out your tongue at jeongwoo, making the boy tickles your body.

the house filled with your and jeongwoo's laughter, although you guys didn't notice you guys are really at your highest of happiness now.

+.*

it's 4 am and you once again woke up because of the nightmare. however, this nightmare felt different, it made you shaking so bad and out of breath, your body all covered with cold sweats, tears slowly falling to your cheeks.

quietly you sobbing in your blanket, although all of your nightmares seem real, this nightmare felt too overwhelmed for you— usually, you would call jeongwoo but today you didn't, it because your nightmare this time is about him.

you never dreamt about anyone else, never! but tonight you dreamt about jeongwoo, you dream that he is dead. his soul left his body because saving you. all the scenarios from your dream keep playing in your heads and you want to forget it but you can't.

and that time you realized,

you and jeongwoo fit together like a puzzle piece.

+.*

you didn't sleep after the long night. you calmed yourself by watching some of your and jeongwoo videos together. you cried when you realized you fell way too deep at jeongwoo. his laughs are loud and annoying, he's too talkative, and he's too clingy. for others, he may be annoying but not to you, you could listen to his laugh, he's never-ending story while he clinging onto you every day and you feel weird if he didn't do that for a day. he also always put others first before him, he always cares about the people he treasure. how can you not fall for this boy!?!?

you grabbed ices cube from the freezer and put it on both of your eyes to get rid of the swollen eyes. although you knew so well jeongwoo would notice your swollen eyes but it's never hurt to try.

minutes later you heard jeongwoo's voice across the living room, greeting your mother. quickly you threw the ices into the sink and wipe your wet eyes using your sleeve.

you grab your mom's morning coffee and greet jeongwoo who already enter the kitchen, smiling widely as he saw you.

"jeongwoo, your voice is so loud my ears hurt!" you said trying to act normal.

jeongwoo grins and side hug you, jeongwoo frowns when he saw you drink a coffee? you hate coffee, even the smell made you mad.

"you drank coffee y/n? are you a real y/n?" jeongwoo look at you with a suspicious look and hit your head

"you ghost, get out from y/n's body, she sleeps and watching the vampire diaries all days it's no hope for you to control her body" he hit your head once again

"ouch! ya, park jeongwoo!" you slap jeongwoo's chest and put down the mug on the counter.

"that was my mom," you said making jeongwoo mouthing an 'o'

you and jeongwoo are now in your study room, studying for your guys' upcoming exam after summer breaks end. the room is so quiet, and it made you nervous. whenever you with jeongwoo, you guys are never this silent. usually, jeongwoo would sing or throw some stupid jokes that could lighten the darkroom.

you glance at jeongwoo, you lowkey surprised seeing the male is so focused on his study, jeongwoo is indeed a smart boy but you never see jeongwoo study so seriously???

"woo, you okay?" you asked

jeongwoo drops his pencil and finally look at you

"why?"

"um, the silence is too loud, you know"

"yeah"

jeongwoo continues his study after the short answer. his short responses making you shocked. never in your life he treat you like this

"woo, are you okay?" you asked again

jeongwoo sighed and his eyes bore into you.

"your eyes swollen, i thought we have no secrets at all? but i think we have now" he said and crossed his arms.

he felt upset when you didn't tell him why you were crying. he saw your eyes red and swollen in the kitchen but he didn't wanna ask, usually, you're the one who would tell him from a to z, what happens.

you bowed your head, you bite your lips. how you're gonna tell jeongwoo about your dream? you start picking your nails, all of a sudden you remembered your dream crystal clear, you recalled how jeongwoo's body full of blood, exited from his chest and his face so pale, mouth shaking while try to said his last words

'be safe y/n'

you shriek when the image of jeongwoo's death felt too real for you. you cover both of your ears and your face buried down between your knee.

"y/n are you okay?" jeongwoo asked, panic, he goes to your back and rubs your back, whispering 'everything is okay. he shocked and clueless since this is his first time facing this kind of situation but he copied everything you do whenever he felt blue.

after a moment you finally raised your heads and look at jeongwoo who worriedly stare at you. your face pale, trying so hard to forget about your dream and the fact that your dream feels too real not to help you at all. you quickly hugged jeongwoo, you buried your face in his chest, crying, and begged him to not leave you. jeongwoo froze at your sudden action but he still ensures you that he would stay.

"i got a nightmare yesterday" you finally speak up, your face still buried deep in jeongwoo's chest, too scared to face him.

"what? y/n why you didn't—"

you make a little space between you and jeongwoo

"the dream is about you woo! i dreamt you died last night and it felt too real! i scared, the dream wouldn't go away so i cried all night, i– still clearly saw your dead body in my dream. it all felt too real woo"

jeongwoo face become soft and his unsettle towards you faded away, he hugs you tightly and kiss your head

"i won't go anywhere, those dreams are devil trying to hurt my precious best friend," he said, rubbing your back to calm you.

you let go of the hug and look at jeongwoo with shy looks

"because of that nightmare, i realized something"

"what?"

"i don't love damon anymore, i love you" you confess making jeongwoo giggles

"finally i beat damon! come here bestfr—"

"no woo! i love you as a boy, man, or whatever it is. i love you not as a friend!" you said

jeongwoo froze, his smile faded

"i,i— you what? y-you love me?" he asked again

you shyly nodded

jeongwoo froze

his brain still processing all of your words. it's kinda strange when your crush has the same feeling as you

"woo, you're making me scared. say something"

jeongwoo looks at your red and swollen face, he smiled at how he is so lucky to have this girl as his girl?

"i love you too, i love you a lot and it's hard to keep it since you're my best friend," he said making you smile and tears falling on your cheeks

"please stay tonight i'm still scared," you said

"of course, now come here precious girl" jeongwoo said, wrapped his hand around you and kiss your head.

#treasure imagines #treasure scenario #treasure blurbs #park jeongwoo #jeongwoo imagines #jeongwoo fluff #treasure jeongwoo #jeongwoo scenario #jeongwoo x reader

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venuscribble · 3 years ago

Text

No open cars, no open bars — Kim Namjoon

A/N: Hello again! Sorry I will do everything but follow the laws of grammar in my writing, I'm working on it... Grammarly hates my guts. Anyways, please do enjoy!

Summary: Joon takes his most favourite person to his most favourite spot in Seoul. He even gains a new friend on the way, too.

Fluff, hints of idol!Joon, gender neutral reader, bullying in a very romantic and charming way

It feels like I’ve lived for this little moment

On the two wheels, everything is just a trivial daydream

“Nearly there!” calls out Namjoon, riding ahead of you with his navy denim jacket billowing slightly behind, spanning out to meet the push of the wind like the wings of a dove. As the same gust pushes itself through your hair and makes waste to the careful styling you had applied to it, you can't help but realise it doesn't treat you half as nice as it does to the man before you. The gentle breeze makes his every movement elegant as he peddles along, head turning side to side to make sure every inch of the scenery around him is taken in. Intently, Namjoon soaks every little detail of his ride up and leaves nothing to be ignored. There’s not a single thing his pensive mind cannot see the beauty in, as his legs continue their steady push of the pedals below him. Nothing is minute, and to Namjoon, everything has its unique charm. It makes perfect sense for Namjoon to demand that the physical embodiment of everything he loves most about biking should accompany him on his next excursion. Despite your feeble argument against it, you knew how much accompanying Joon meant to him, a signal of trust and love which such a small gesture revealed to you. “It’ll be absolutely perfect,” he gushed as you agreed. “My baby and my bike. My two favourite things.”

You’ll do almost anything to see the bright beam of a smile Joon emits when he hears any good news. Even, it seems, deal with the gradual pain in your calves as you carry on peddling your bike along the smooth concrete path. Casting your gaze around, you understand with full clarity why Joon comes here to think - the world around you feels nothing less than idyllic. With the golden light of the sun meeting the greenery on either side of the road which you and your partner now inhabit, it feels like nothing of the cold concrete world you’re used to. Saturated and delicate, the air of perfectness is almost confusing in a sense of unfamiliarity to you. Even the daisies along the path's edge which greet you with a bow as the wind hits them feels closer to a Ghibli movie than your admittedly average life. It feels so unlike bustling Seoul, unlike unforgiving earth, unlike any dimension you could conjure up. This moment between you and Namjoon is so intimate that you conclude the space belongs to both of you and you two only. Only yours and Joon’s reality to feel the sunlight warming your cheeks and to think back on in future days.

“You look so peaceful.” You call out to Joon, hoping your voice carries through the whirring of your wheels and your backpack which audibly jiggles under your peddling. Namjoon smiles to himself, head ducking slightly in bashfulness. Accepting compliments from such a deity as yourself…he knows that will never be his forte. Alas, something his high IQ falters at - the praise of his loved one. He doesn't have a moment to string a reply together when along the path ahead he spots something that has him squeezing his brakes.

“Ah, check it out!” He exclaims happily, dismounting his bike as you brake to find...a traffic mirror? As you settle your own bike out the way to walk to your boyfriend, your head comes to rest on his shoulder from behind, looking up to the circular shape. It gives off an almost fish eye effect, the sky which is gaining an orange hue curving around your interlocked figures. A strong arm moves to hook around your waist, as Joon pulls you into his side. Seizing the opportunity to finally have you close once again, his lips plant a small kiss atop your head.

You give a small puff of a laugh. “Yknow, stopping to look at your reflection is a little vain.”

“Stopping to look at our reflections,” Joon jokes with a soft squeeze to your hip. “Me and my love.”

Your head turns to find where Joon had left his bike - of course, rather half-hazzardly abandoned in the middle of the path.

“You just left your love in the middle of the road.”

Namjoon can only let out a long and disapproving aish at your joke, releasing the hand on your waist only to engulf you in a gentle hug. Your head rests against his chest, finding solace in the familiar deep scent of his cologne. His arms wrap around your frame and rest on your hips, chin resting atop your head as he begins to rock your bodies side to side.

“Stop that.” He whines, rather than scolds. “You know I’d choose you above anything alllll day. Even if it was some kinda super cool mountain bike with an engine built in so I don't have to pedal. I’m still choosing you, okay?”

“Even above a super cool bike with engines?” you pout up at his face. He’s starry-eyed staring down at you, love pouring out of his gaze.

“Even then, and always.”

Content, you allow yourself to settle back into the comfort of his chest. What a sight, you wonder. Two lovers swaying to a melody no one can hear. You hear some chatter in the distance which only becomes a murmur once your senses tune to the soft rise and fall of Joon’s chest. His eyes smile down at you until flicking up to the mirror once more, and the sight of your frame resting upon his as the sunset casts a golden beam over you makes something tug at his heart. "Why me", he puzzles. Why him of all men in this lifetime, granted a gift so precious as yourself. He closes his eyes. His mind spirals into self-reflection. Why should Joon be the sole person granted such a harmonious moment as the one happening in front of his very eyes? What makes him so lucky? He doesn't have too long to analyse what karma he has, as he feels two paws plant themselves above his knee.

“Yeong-Won! We don’t jump at strangers!” ashamedly orders a woman as you turn your head and deduce to be in her mid-30s, whilst she and another older lady pry the golden retriever from hopping up your boyfriend’s leg. Not that Namjoon would care at all. Joon loves animals, and your many days having him give Moni just a few more kisses than you can attest to that.

“Hey, buddy!” coos Joon as he bends to meet the dog’s level. It’s slightly more grown than a puppy yet reaches to kiss Joon’s face with ease as he sinks to greet the boisterous dog. He rakes a hand over its head, running through its golden fur and ruffling his slightly floppy ears. “Nice to meet you, Yeong-wonie. What a handsome boy, eh?”

“He never does this to strangers,” offers the older of the two women to you. “Looks like he needed to say hello!”

You smile in return, shaking your head as Joon and the dog carry on playing as if the world around them has dissolved away. “What a lovely dog, he’s adorable!” You giggle. Joon rises to stand once again, not without ruffling the golden fur one last time.

“So sorry about that, again.” The younger woman adds as her eyes seem to pause on Joon’s face. Not something you're entirely foreign to.

“Wow, I feel like I recognise your face, mister. Dayeon-ah, doesn't the nice man seem familiar?”

The elder, now identified as Dayeon in your mind, furrows her eyebrows together as she thinks. Namjoon all but turns red.

“Ah, my mother tells me I have ‘one of those faces' all the time. It was nice to meet you! See ya, Yeong-wonie!”

After a quick goodbye, you both share an embarrassed laugh together and settle to resume biking once more. The sunset is in full swing now, casting shades of neon pink and blood orange against the cloudless sky like lazy brushstrokes of colour overlapping.

As Joon promised, it only takes a quick 2 minutes of peddling until you rear a corner and the greenery which followed your left side on the path is replaced by the apricot shade of the Han River. The sight makes your stomach stir - it's like nothing you could ever imagine. The setting sun reflects so perfectly, an oil painting brought to life in front of your eyes. You know Joon meets your level of adoration as the wind carries the sound of his small “Wah, so pretty” to you. Joon, your self-proclaimed bike guide during this trip, guides you along the path beside the river further, the atmosphere tranquil with the sounds of birds chirping and your wheels spinning.

“We’re here, babe.” Joon announces, once again dismounting his bike and prompting you to follow, resting your bike beside his. He is, of course, your guide. Your personal guide pauses to stop at a flat square of concrete just aside from the main path, facing the river which grows more and more picturesque by the minute. Your perfect picnic spot, you realise, pulling the backpack off your body and spreading the soft brown blanket kept inside. Joon gives a soft sigh as his body all but collapses down onto the square. The man is uber-fit, almost shockingly buff these days, yet he groans groggily after your short ride.

“Someone tired?” you tease. “Maybe you should be hitting the gym some more than you already are.”

“You're so mean to me. I bring my favourite spot and you make fun of me like this.” Huffs Joon, leaning back with his hands behind him supporting his body. “You’re lucky I love you as much as I do,” he adds with a small laugh.

“I know,” you reply, rapidly. You know you are, you might just be the luckiest person on earth. The one feeling the warmth of Joon’s unconditional love and companionship every single day. You feel like the moon and Joon is the earth itself, only you are blessed to be in his orbit despite the unfathomable size of the universe and countless other people living as you are.

“Hey, you know I'm kidding, babe.” Joon softly argues, hand running through your hair, ruffling it slightly. A blush creeps up to warm your cheeks, nuzzling into the large hand currently entwining it’s fingers into your hair. After a slight pause to collect his thoughts, Namjoon’s voice becomes more gentle as he replies, “Having you...it's like having this one treasure no one else can find. Like, I dunno. Like everything good you’ve done in life is being repaid to you. Does that make any sense?”

“Of course it makes sense, babe.” Your hand pries the one resting on your head to lock your fingers together, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “You feel like that to me, too. I promise. You feel like everything good.” You take a quick look around your surroundings. You catch Joon’s eyes locking onto yours, gazing adoringly at you as if some sort of heavenly body had taken form, moulding into you. “You feel like the sunset and the trees... The wind, the flowers, all of it. You feel like nature to me, Joonie. Just tranquil and loving,” you turn to meet his eyes, “always so loving.”

“Ah, maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. Didn’t think taking you on my ride would make me so…”

“Gross?” you intercut with a smirk.

“Emotional, Y/N. But, this is the most romantic place in Seoul, I suppose. Doesn't help that I'm here with my angel. It’s human nature to be all soppy.”

You shuffle down to rest your head on Joon’s thigh, the extra bulk recently gained there making for an excellent makeshift pillow. He looks down at you with a tender smile which makes your most favourite pair of dimples on earth take form.

“I’m just waiting for someone to pop out that bush and say ‘Hey, got ya! Look at you being all mushy!’” you joke, the laugh it emits from Joon slightly rocking his thigh and your head in return.

“It’d probably be Jin-Hyung. I would go investigate myself if he didn’t have a schedule after we left. Still, not that I think anyone else can be trusted.” He huffs.

“Mm, definitely not.” you agree, nuzzling slightly into his thigh below you.

“I could stay here forever,” Joon begins after a tranquil minute, “just frozen in this moment.”

You want nothing more than for that to happen. For the laws of time to grant you this never-ending memory, to encapsulate it forever and never again worry about the minutes passing you by.

Joon’s lips press another soft kiss upon your head, lingering there for a while, basking in your warmth and the smell of his favourite green apple shampoo you keep using. Above you the sun gives its last fleeting moments of illumination, sinking to be doused in the Han River. He stays there, engulfed in bliss for a short second, nothing worrying him on Earth. That is, until his eyes widen and his head whips from atop yours to rapidly look at your puzzled face.

“How’re we getting home?” He all but exclaims. He’s right, you're both clearly slumped and what little sunlight that is left quickly fades. You think for a second, then, nothing.

“Shit!”

#kim namjoon x reader #namjoon x reader #bts x reader #namjoon imagine #BTS imagine #bts scenarios #namjoon scenario #you guys notice my dog name pun?#i was proud

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marvelouspeterparker · 4 years ago

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A small imagine where singer!reader is dating tom and releases a really sexy song about him and tom watches the music video and he's like 🥵🥵🥵 plsss

this took me forever to respond to but i feel like with ari’s new album the timing is perfect now

18+ under the cut u know the vibes

i took a page out of @hollandbaby‘s book and used an ari song for this, but the music video concept is fictional! listen to ‘nasty’ while you read this if u want :)

–––

he didn’t even know you had filmed a music video recently, and he hadn’t even heard the song yet. he was in for quite the surprise.

your music video was dropping at 12pm est and it was currently 11:55pm. you were currently on your way to his house for the next few months to spend the weekend. he was about to film the next spider-man film and luckily you had some spare time before work took you elsewhere. you were ten minutes away from his house and smiled as you felt your phone buzz with a notification, knowing exactly who it was from.

when you reached a red light, you opened it.

tom: ‘so excited to see you love :)’

you smirked as you typed out a response.

y/n: ‘you have no idea how excited i am to see you too tommy’

as the light turned green you set your phone aside and stepped on the gas. you smiled as you looked up and noticed a billboard with your album cover on it. you were excited for the fans to hear your new music, but especially tom. the entire album was essentially dedicated to him anyway.

when you hit traffic you looked at your phone and realized it was already 12pm. you sent the link to tom with no comment before posting it to your story and set the phone aside.

tom smiled to himself when he heard the notification, thinking you were telling him that you were close by but his brows furrowed when he noticed what you had sent. when he noticed the title of the song, he shook his head, that little minx. he decided to search it up on his tv instead, wanting to see it as clear as possible. he’d never pressed the controls on his remote faster.

as the video started up he could feel his heart pounding.

you got me all up in my feels in all kind of ways, i be tryna wait

the song started and the camera panned up your legs slowly to show you walking along a hallway in a house, your body shining thanks to some body glitter, a beautifully revealing gown on you, with two slits on the side to show your smooth legs. you glared into the camera lustfully and tom felt his pants tighten as he clenched his jaw, his mouth suddenly feeling dry but somehow salivating at the same time.

i just wanna make time for ya swear it's just right for ya

the way you were singing the song was so sensual, it felt like you were singing right to him. and the way you were looking into his soul through the camera, he could tell you really were.

like this pussy designed for ya

you got down on your hands and knees and crawled to the camera slowly, like a predator alluring it’s prey. “christ––”

don't wanna wait on it tonight, i wanna get nasty (yeah, yeah)

he licked his lips, his eyes completely entranced by you and the way you were moving. the camera panned to you laying on a bed in the prettiest lingerie he’d ever seen but then again, anything would look that pretty on you.

what you waiting for? what you waiting for?

you were staring up at the camera, mouthing the words as your hands ran up and down your body and tom could barely contain himself, he wanted to pick up his phone and ask you where you were because he was getting impatient but he didn’t want to miss a thing on the screen.

don't wanna wait on it tonight, i wanna get nasty

for the whole rest of the video, tom’s mouth was wide open, his eyes completely hypnotized as he watched you, wondering how on earth he got so lucky.

you slowly made your way to his house, unlocking the door quietly with your own key as you heard the song playing through his speakers. he felt blood rush to his heart and his cock when he saw the dedication at the end, ‘dedicated to my love.’ you chuckled to yourself when you stepped into the living room behind the couch and saw tom wordlessly replay the video.

you stepped back and took your phone out to record him, enjoying the way he was completely focused on the video, sitting up with his elbows on his knees as he leaned forward to see everything as much as he could.

after you posted to video to your story, captioning it ‘my inspiration approves of the song ;)’ you couldn’t keep in the laugh anymore. you set your phone and jacket aside before taking your shoes off and walking over to tom. he perked up instantly, looking at you in awe, almost as if he couldn’t believe you were real.

his hands reached out for you and pulled you in to sit in his lap, your arms going around his neck as you looked down at him lovingly. “you gonna replay it for a third time?” you teased.

his eyes lit up playfully, “i think i deserve to, it is about me, after all.”

you nodded, a bright smile on your face as you leaned in to kiss him. he moaned into the kiss, his arms squeezing around your waist as you arched into him.

he pulled away for a few split seconds, between kisses, not wanting to lose your lips or your taste. “that––” he licked his lips, trying to contain himself, “that lingerie you were wearing in the video––” he looked up at you hopefully.

you interrupted him, amused and nonchalant, “oh you mean the one i’m wearing right now?”

you’d never seen his gaze darken so fast. he stood up immediately and you squealed as he practically dragged you to the room, one thing on his mind.

he stripped you down and when the lacy fabric came into his view he traced his hands over your skin softly, memorizing the look and the feel of you under his hands. he pushed you down to lay down on the bed and the way you were looking up at him, just as you were in the video made him curse as he tugged his shirt off.

“you don’t have to give this back do you?” he asked as he played with the waistband of the bottoms.

you bit your lip as you shook your head, “nope. it’s all mine.”

he grinned, “good, cause i’d really like to fuck you in it.”

he positioned himself between your legs, slid the fabric to the side and swiped his thumb between your folds, pleased to see how wet you were. seeing him all riled up because of a music video of yours did wonders to your ego and your sex drive.

he spread your wetness around, making a proper mess between your thighs, before rubbing his thumb over your clit. you sighed and rolled your hips into his touch, yearning for more. when you became too needy, he slid a finger in, then when you begged for it, a second one. he was giving you everything you wanted, you more than deserved it after the treat you gave him.

soon he was pumping two fingers into you, rubbing against your g-spot just the way you needed as his thumb rubbed your bundle of nerves. you gasped, your eyes fluttering shut, your body arching and tensing as you tipped over the edge, your thighs trying but failing to shut closed.

“that’s it, such a good girl.”

when you came to again, your eyes opened to find tom scanning your body, his two fingers inside his mouth as he cleaned your wetness off of them, clearly enjoying the taste and the sight of you.

he shrugged his sweats off, along with his boxers all in one go and quickly made his way back over to you. his hand rubbing your thigh soothingly as he positioned his cock at your entrance. he slid in easily, the two of you fitting like puzzle pieces and he bottomed out instantly, the both of you moaning into the sultry atmosphere of the room.

his hands held onto you tight as he thrusted into you, eyes never leaving your body for a second. you looked like a goddess lying there underneath him, your body covered in that intricate lace design. he would never be able to get enough of you.

“had me bulging through my boxers since i started the video, love. you know that?”

you looked up at him, your eyes bright as you pulled him down and locked your lips together. “couldn’t wait for you to see it. was thinking of you the whole time we filmed.”

he bit your lip smugly and turned his attention to your neck. he wanted these marks to last even after you left in a few days. “all mine,” he mumbled into your skin and your breath hitched as he sped up his movements.

“gonna make me cum tommy, want you to cum with me.” your fingers gripped his curls, your other arm tightening around his back as he pounded into you.

“yeah baby? i’m close too, please cum with me, darling. that’s it.”

several thrusts, moans and curses later, tom was panting on top of you, the both of you trying to catch your breaths, as you lied there sweaty and satisfied.

he pulled out and lied next to you, staring up at the ceiling in disbelief. “that video was really something, love.”

you smiled cheekily, “wait until you hear the rest of the album.”

he let out a loud breath of air before pulling you closer to him by your waist and leaving a kiss on your forehead. “you’ll be the death of me, darling.”

you giggled but sat up when he got off of the bed. you tilted your head as you watched him, “where are you going?”

he turned to you, a mischievous glint in his eyes, “gonna go get the speaker. think i have the perfect album for us to listen to while we...” he looked you up and down, licking his lips teasingly. “get nasty, as you put it.”

#thanks for the inspo ari <3 #hope you all enjoy #queue tell em #tom holland #tom holland smut #tom holland fluff #tom holland ask #tom holland blurb #tom holland x reader #tom holland x singer!reader #tom holland x famous!reader

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juminsmysticmc · 4 years ago

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Hi! I'm reading your works since long time and today is the first time I turned anon off to request something. Can I have RFA + minor trio as MC's best friends helping her to pick her wedding dress? Thank you. Love you and stay healthy please

RFA + Minor Trio as MC's best friends helping her to pick her wedding dress

Ahhhh please tell me what you requested as an anon! I am soooo curious!! AND I was crying while writing this, like, someone else is marrying her except the RFA, Rip….I will make it a bit sad cause it’s their POV and I think it’s the first time I am doing something like this, yes? Please tell me if you like it, OKAY? love youuuuu

Jumin

I sat on the white couch as white dresses surrounded me.

Four years had passed since Mc joined the RFA and four years had passed since I found out that the woman I fell in love with was engaged to a man who didn’t deserve her.

She was so beautiful; too beautiful for him, well, not that she was perfect for me. Even for me she was way too beautiful, but I was sure that I knew how to treat her well.

,,Jumin,’’ she called. Her soft voice was music in my ears as she made me look up.

Back then, I should have confessed my feelings, but on the other hand, if I would have told her that I loved her and liked her more than just a best friend, today I wouldn’t be able to sit here…

,,Yes?’’ I asked her, smiling at her. She looked stunning. This was her fourth dress and each one looked good on her, but this one… this one was her dress.

,,Are you okay? You’re so red… did you drink too much champagne?’’ she asked me and chuckled.

I smiled back and nodded. I couldn’t tell her that right now I wished to be the groom.

,,This one… is your dress,’’ I whispered.

Mc looked around and watched her reflection. ,,I hope he likes it,’’ she mumbled and suddenly teared up. ,,I’m really becoming a bride,’’ she smiled.

She was so happy.

,,He will love it. You’re the perfect bride,’’ I whispered and put her veil on her hair.

Zen

Nervously, I began to fumble with my fingers as I waited for Mc to come out of the room.

My best friend’s wedding. Was it bad that I wished to be the groom and not the friend I was being right now?

,,You’re the best at this,’’ she said. The fitting room was keeping us apart as she said these words.

,,You look so good, have style, and you know what men like,’’ she laughed.

I smiled at her, but didn’t answer.

Mc stepped out in a white big dress with a lot of glitter, her shoulders free with little flowers all over the dress.

She looked at herself in the mirror and she wasn’t looking happy. ,,This one? I think he likes big clothes more,’’ she mumbled.

,,I want to look good for him,’’ she kept on saying.

Couldn’t you feel this for me?

,,This looks good, but if you were more confident in it, he would like it better… Shall we try something different? Maybe a mermaid dress,’’

Mc nodded as she took the dress. The woman helped her to change again and when she finally stepped out, I felt as if the air was missing in the room.

My heart began to beat quicker as I watched her eyes glow. This was her dress. ,,I should take you with me for shopping… This is it. I will take this dress,’’ she said and smiled thankfully at me.

At least she was happy...

Yoosung

,,Woah. This is a luxurious shop, isn’t it…?’’ I asked her and gasped as she walked in front of me.

,,Yes, he made an appointment here. Like I said, he was supposed to come but couldn’t and since you are my best friend… I thought I could take you with me to show you how difficult these things are,’’ she laughed.

I smiled. She was so happy…

A woman approached us and explained a few things before I was asked to sit down and wait for her.

The first dress was a mermaid one. It was looking good on her, but it wasn’t what she was looking for.

The next one was one with long sleeves. It was stunning, but too warm for a wedding in summer... and then she stepped out.

The most beautiful Cinderella dress; the heart shaped neckline was filled with glitter and my mouth was left open when I saw her.

It was a ball gown wedding dress, at least that was what the lady told us.

Mc’s lips began to tremble. ,,It’s my dress, it’s the dress….’’ she whined and looked at me.

I got up, took the crown on the table, and put it on her head.

For a short moment, I could feel her soft hair.

,,You look like a perfect princess. That’s your dress,’’ I agreed with her.

Jaehee

I watched my best friend as she looked at all those dresses.

,,I bet everything will look good on you,’’ I smiled at her.

,,Mh, I don’t know what theme I should go for,’’ she whined and began to fumble with her hands.

I rubbed her back and asked her to sit back and close her eyes instead.

,,Okay, now try not to open your eyes and try this dress on,’’ I told her.

In my opinion, the best dress for her was a vintage one that was not completely white, but not beige either.

It would have puffy sleeves, embroidered flowers, and patterns on her dress.

She did as I said as I sat on the couch and waited for her to finish.

As soon as she stepped out, I had to gasp for air. She looked so beautiful.

,,Okay, open your eyes now,’’ I told her.

Her reaction was just like mine.

She looked at herself in the mirror and then turned her eyes to me.

,,You know me the best,’’ she nodded and began to laugh happily, spinning around and humming her wedding song.

Saeyoung

,,I could have ordered a few dresses from Amazon,’’ I joked and watched her.

She rolled her eyes as she ruffled my hair and walked along the racks full of clothes.

This shop was… kind of creepy. There were so many dresses at once…

,,Ya, this is scary. Can’t we go eat instead?’’ I asked her again.

,,If you don’t shut up, I will try on some dresses for six hours,’’ she hissed at me.

God no… but I figured that this would be a hard fight, especially because everything looked good on Mc…

,,Too short,’’ I commented, making her agree with me.

,,Too long,’’ I said when she stepped out.

,,Is that too puffy?’’ she asked me, making me nodd.

,,Gosh, you look- please take it off!’’ I laughed when she showed me the dress she was wearing. She was laughing so hard that she was almost crying.

Two hours later, she sat on the couch with me, her legs up on the footrest and her head on her seat.

,,I should just get married in jeans?’’ she joked.

,,Maybe naked?’’ I told her and looked at her face.

Suddenly, I saw the dress and made her try on a dress one last time.

From the fitting room, I could already hear that the dress was a good choice and as soon as I saw her, I knew that I was right.

,,If I could bring you to a space station, I would marry you immediately…’’ I whispered. However, she never heard the words I had said.

Saeran

I walked next to Mc, who couldn’t stop smiling.

Three days had already passed since her now fiancé asked her to marry him.

The wedding wasn’t supposed to be until March next year, but she still wanted to get her dress now.

I thought back on how she asked me to come with her. ,,You are my best friend, of course you have to come with me!’’ she whined.

And so I did.

But I wasn’t sure if a best friend had these thoughts and feelings I had.

I was hoping that maybe she would realize that I would miss her terribly once she was married.

,,I will try this one on,’’ she told me, making me look up.

I nodded and saw her disappearing into a fitting room.

,,Are you the groom?’’ the lady asked me and asked me to sit down.

I was too puzzled to answer, but my answer wasn’t even needed since Mc was quicker than me. ,,No,’’ she giggled, ,,he’s my best friend. He’s almost like a brother to me,’’ she responded and came out.

A second lady in the dress shop had to help her because the dress was so big.

I observed her. She was in a totally white dress and maybe I also blushed because my cheeks felt so hot…

,,It’s not my style,’’ she mumbled and looked at the glitter.

,,I think that you look good in it. You look like a princess,’’ I gasped.

Mc laughed and shook her head. ,,It’s not THAT dress, you know?’’ and as quickly as she came out, she entered the fitting room once again.

She came out with a dress fifteen times more before she finally found her dress.

And indeed, all the other dresses didn’t mean anything as soon as I saw her in the one she was currently wearing.

,,That’s the one,’’ we both said at the same time, out of breath.

Jihyun

In the two years I was rehabilitating Saeran, Mc found her happiness.

Of course, I didn’t expect her to wait for me without knowing if I would be back or not, but maybe deep in the bottom of my heart, I hoped that she would wait for me and that I wouldn’t be in my position today, but in the position of the groom.

But now I couldn’t change the fact and I just had to go with it.

She was so happy after all…

,,What do you think of that?’’ she asked me.

I pressed my lips together. She did look good in that dress, but this wasn’t it… it wasn’t her dress.

,,Good, but not your dress,’’ I said honestly and observed her as she spinned her body in front of the mirror two times.

,,You’re right. I am so lucky that I brought you, my best friend, my photographer, and my biggest supporter,’’ she laughed and went back to change.

I crossed my legs and waited for her to come out.

Yes, I also was her photographer. This was my wedding present.

Suddenly, Mc came out again with a long dress. The sleeves were a bit longer and the dress was totally white with a little bit of glitter at the bottom of the dress.

The heart shaped neckline shown on her chest in the most beautiful way and as if she wasn’t pretty enough, the lady gave her a crown and the veil.

Mc looked at me and she was already tearing up.

I imagined how it would look to take a picture of her in nature. She looked perfect.

,,This… this is perfect. It’s as if it was made for you,’’ I told her.

Mc nodded and bit on her lips. ,,Yes, it’s the one…’’ she said and looked so happy…

Vanderwood

We walked towards the second boutique when Mc suddenly turned her body towards me and smiled.

,,You know, I never expected you to come with me today, I’m so happy!’’ she laughed and entered the shop.

,,Of course!’’ I laughed a bit louder, ,,you asked me after all…’’ I shook my head and opened the door to follow her.

Like the other shop, this one was filled with clothes and a little couch in front of a mirror.

,,Hello, welcome, how can I help you?’’ the shop assistant said. Honestly, this was the dumbest thing I heard that day. What else would we search in a wedding dress shop, but yeah, she was just doing her job…

,,Hello, thank you for having us, I’m searching for a wedding dress for my wedding. The wedding will be held in…’’ Mc started to give the details as I walked through the shop.

Honestly, this all would probably look good on her, but even though people wouldn’t think that about Mc, she was so picky…

,,Here we go again. I would like a glass of champagne, and I think you’ll need two,’’ I joked and made her laugh.

,,Aish, stop teasing me!’’ she laughed and changed into one of the four dresses she chose.

We were quicker - fortunately- and even found her dress.

,,The sleeves and the shape the dress gives you, is perfect,’’ I gasped as I saw her in the mermaid dress.

She wet her lips and looked herself into the mirror. Then she walked towards me and took the champagne I was drinking.

I smirked. What was she doing?

,,Yes, this is my dress,’’ she nodded and laughed.

,,Thank you, Vandy…’’ she whispered and walked towards the fitting room to get changed again...

MASTERLIST 1

MASTERLIST 2

MASTERLIST 3

25.04.2021 // 21:16 MEST

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