#so yesterday I had 11 hours of nothing but work talk

[aefensteorrra]

Normally I go to the office like fortnightly, if that, but this week I have to be there 4 days in a row and don’t get me wrong I’m thankful this isn’t the norm but I really think working from home is where it’s at because I have had zero time to cook or clean this week (because we’re also having to work till 7pm… screaming crying throwing up) and also can’t sort out any of the admin stuff with my energy provider which is really stressing me out

[strawbabycowboy]

every day.. i deal w fuck shit at my job and it’s so annoying to deal with

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Day 11: suddenly severed communication

Masterlist flufftober 🎃

Reblog if you liked it!

You knew that sometimes Spencer could have cases that kept him busy all day and, understandably, he barely had time to check his phone. But that didn’t stop you from anxiously waiting for his response every day.

You never thought you’d be able to handle a long-distance relationship, as you’d always believed it was silly to love someone from so far away. However, when Spencer came into your life, things were different. He had such a brilliant mind, a charming charisma, a beauty that seemed perfect to you… how could you not fall in love?

So, you decided to give it a try, hoping that a couple of months would be enough to determine if he was worth it. After almost two years together, you hoped that was the case.

“Do you have service on your phone?” you asked your coworker, trying to find some excuse for your boyfriend’s silence. When she said yes, you felt a little disheartened.

Why isn’t he answering? you wondered suddenly, starting to worry that something might have happened to him. The night before, you had talked late into the evening, and everything had been perfect, right? And you wanted to believe he wouldn’t deliberately ignore you.

You figured he was in one of those areas where the reception was terrible and tried to calm yourself, telling yourself that the lack of response wasn’t a big deal. After distracting yourself with work for a few hours, you checked your phone again, hoping to find something, but once again, there was nothing. Not even an indication that he had received your messages.

You spent the entire day trying to ignore it and not overthink the situation, since there was no misunderstanding between the two of you that would make him decide not to talk to you. It was likely a technical issue, in any case. But if that was the case, you started asking yourself when night fell, then why hadn’t your boyfriend used a public phone? Maybe he could have even called you from someone else’s phone to let you know he’d be unreachable and spare you the worry.

It probably wasn’t his fault, of course, and you tried to sleep, finding comfort in that thought while your phone rested on the nightstand closest to your bed.

Just in case, of course. Just in case he called.

And when you woke up, there was still nothing.

You didn’t have any of his coworkers’ phone numbers, and you thought calling the FBI office would be too alarmist, so you just tried to wait. You mentally replayed whether you two had had any disagreements, but there hadn’t been any at all, and your boyfriend wasn’t the type to handle things that way anyway. On the contrary, he always tried to resolve issues.

Needless to say, your concentration was completely affected at work due to the lack of communication with your boyfriend, and you sent a couple more messages just to see if he was still not receiving them, and that was indeed the case.

By the afternoon, you came home feeling disheartened, trying to search for any news of an accident, hoping he wasn’t involved. Thankfully, there was nothing, but you still had that slight discomfort in your chest as you went about your evening chores.

During dinner, you heard your phone vibrate on the kitchen counter, and you nearly tripped over yourself running to it, eager to see who it was. However, the screen displayed an unknown number, and when you pressed the button, you did so cautiously. Spencer had always told you that in such cases, it was best to let the other person speak first, but it wasn’t necessary because you recognized the voice immediately.

“Angel? Are you there?”

“Spencer!” you cried out happily, feeling like your soul had returned to your body. “Oh my God, what happened to you? I haven’t heard from you since yesterday.”

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart, really. We were working on a case on the coast, and my phone fell into the sea, so I was completely cut off. Also, the reception is awful in that area, and none of the others had signal either, and there were no public phones, can you believe it? I had to buy this phone as soon as we got back just to call you. I’m really, really sorry.”

“But you’re okay?”

“Yeah, in one piece. Just a little mishap.”

“Oh, I’m so glad. I thought something had happened to you, and I was really worried,” you murmured, your voice nearly breaking.

You hadn’t realized just how much the thought had affected you until that moment.

“No, no, I’m really sorry for making you worry,” he insisted, with that guilty tone you couldn’t stand. “But I’m completely fine, I promise.”

“I hope so.”

“Are you okay?”

“Now that I’ve heard from you, yes,” you whispered, pouting, even though he couldn’t see it. You heard him laugh on the other end of the line.

“Is there any way I can make it up to you?”

“Maybe you could teleport here so I could hug you,” you exclaimed, in a better mood than at the beginning. “And then I could shower you with kisses and you could fuck me as many times as you wanted.”

Your name came out of his mouth like a scolding, but with a playful tone. You were sure he was blushing.

“Do you really want that?” he asked.

You hummed a yes in response, smiling to yourself, and suddenly you heard a few beeps in your ear, as if he had hung up.

You were about to call him back when a knock at the door startled you. Through the glass, you could make out the silhouette of a man, and completely puzzled, you walked over.

“Who is it?”

When the stranger spoke, you recognized the voice instantly. Although you didn’t know how he was there, a second later you were already opening the door to throw yourself into your boyfriend’s arms. You nearly knocked him backward, but he managed to hold you firmly.

“Surprise,” he laughed, clearly satisfied with the reaction his presence had caused.

You pulled away only to look at him and touch his face, trying to figure out if he was real or just a hallucination. His hair had grown since the last time you had seen each other, and though he looked tired, he also radiated happiness.

“How are you here?”

“After this case, we got a few days off, and I thought I’d drop by to say hi.”

“First you keep me on edge with anxiety for two days, and then you just show up! What kind of boyfriend are you?”

“One who loves you very much,” he resolved sweetly. Then he leaned down to give you a soft kiss on the forehead, as had become his custom for some time now, and whispered, “I missed you so much.”

You were still standing on the porch, so you didn’t hesitate to take his hand and pull him inside enthusiastically, only to rise on your tiptoes and kiss him fervently. Spencer didn’t complain—on the contrary, he maneuvered to drop his luggage on the floor and then leaned you against the wall to keep kissing you.

At first, his hands rested on your waist, but they soon slid beneath your shirt, caressing your skin with clear passion and even a touch of desperation.

“When you asked me what you could do to make it up to me, I didn’t think you meant it seriously,” you whispered at some point, when you both paused to catch your breath. You felt a wide smile against your lips.

“And I’m pretty sure you mentioned something about making love to you…”

“In more vulgar words but yes, that's the idea” you said in a flirtatious tone, reaching out to bite his upper lip and he let out a sigh.

Without wasting any more time, your boyfriend lifted you off the floor, and you wrapped your legs around his waist, surprised by the initiative he was taking. Laughing, he managed to walk to your bedroom, and once there, he made sure you forgot all the worries you had been carrying.

[endlessthxxghts]

Joel Nye, The Science Guy

no outbreak!Joel Miller x afab!reader || W/C: ≈4.6k

"Is he really choosing coffee right now over having you? I mean, not to toot your own fucking horn, but seriously. Who would delay an orgasm for some coffee? Apparently, Joel fucking Miller would."

Summary: Joel stumbles across an article online about the effects of coffee on the body. Determined to uncover the truth, he tests the hypothesis with you as his subject.

Contents/Warnings: Any physical description of reader is neutral (no size descriptions). Joel is bigger than you though (but he’s fucking huge in general, so…). No age mentioned for reader or for Joel. Implied established relationship. No matter what age, Joel is a grandpa when it comes to technology. Mentions of Amazon LMAO. SMUT 18+ MDNI (mutual masturbation on the phone, touching yourself in the workplace, dirty talk, sexting [kinda], ..kitchen activities…reflections…, finger fucking, lots of liquids, squirting, cumming untouched, drinking coffee with an ulterior motive!, allusion to further sexual endeavors). Please let me know if I missed anything!

A/N: Happy New Year, my loves! I just got done rewatching TLOU for the millionth time while drinking some coffee, and for some reason, this was born. I have no idea wtf this is, so don't ask me.💚 Also let’s thank @javierpena-inatacvest for titling this silly thing for me hehe. Fucking iconic. I love you, bestie.🥹 Here's to my first fic of 2024, and to many more! I hope you enjoy.💚

MASTERLIST

Joel’s number one favorite sensation every morning was when the first drop of the bitter, black liquid met his tongue, consuming all his senses into nothing but pure coffee. It was one of his favorite things—past tense—because then he got to experience what it was like waking up to you every morning, what it was like tasting you every morning. The first drop of you blessed his tongue one year ago, and he never looked back.

That is, until now. 

You had work today and Joel had the day off, a rare occurrence. You forgot to set your alarm this morning, so you broke from his hold in a rush, leaving him nothing but a sweet kiss to last him the day. 

Usually your mornings together are spent tangled in his sheets until he leaves you with less than twenty minutes to get ready for your day. Too addicted to the way he makes you feel, you mastered the art of quick change, using the rest of your time to do your morning skincare routine. This, you’ll never skip—subjecting yourself to a few scoldings by your boss because of it.

Joel allowed himself a few more hours of sleep after you left, his body needing extra rest from his unusually crazy day at the job site yesterday and from the way you pounced on him as soon as he came home. You promised him it would be you doing all the work, but like the addicting little thing you are, he couldn’t help but take charge so he could watch you fall apart over and over and over again. 

Joel pulled himself out of his bed, a chill running down his body from leaving the trapped body heat of the sheets. He was hard, of course, and usually you’re there to help with his morning problem, but apparently today’s full of rare events for Joel. He grumbles to himself as he makes the way to the bathroom, not wanting to take care of himself without you, not anymore. He could wait for you to be home, but he knows he’d be a leaking, grumpy mess all day—God forbid he has to interact with another human in that aroused, frustrated state. He checks the little clock you bought for his bathroom counter when you moved in—so I can watch the time when I get ready for work, you scolded him when he made you late for the first time. 

11:48 the clock displays; twelve more minutes until your break. He can wait twelve minutes. You usually close your office during your lunch, don’t you? Maybe he can call you. He might as well do his own morning routine while he waits. Joel’s old morning routines consisted of brushing his teeth, then washing his face with soap and water. Though, upon witnessing his wretched routine the first morning you two spent together, you were utterly appalled at his actions, forcing him to the store and spending the first half of your morning educating him on proper skincare. His morning routine went from four minutes to fifteen with your influence, but because he didn’t want to be a minute late in calling you, he shaved three minutes off from his task. 

As soon as the clock hit twelve, Joel plopped himself in bed, leaning against the headboard, and reached for his phone, immediately dialing you. 

Two rings later, and your sweet voice fills his ears. “Hi, baby,” you say. He can hear the small smile on your face. 

“Hi, darlin’,” Joel rasps, his voice still groggy from the lack of use. 

“You just wake up?” You jokingly scold, knowing damn well what the answer was. You like when he sleeps in. He deserves the rest from all that hard work he does. 

“Maybe,” he tells you. You can hear the smirk on his face now. “How’s work goin’? On your break now?”

“Work is… definitely going,” you huff. “And yeah, I’m on my break now, which means I’ve got an hour to counterproductively stress about these reports that have to go out.”

“I’m sorry, honey,” he tells you softly. But then he’s smirking again. “Can I help?”

“Help?” you repeat.

“Yeah,” he states like it’s the most regular answer ever. “Lemme help de-stress ya,” he adds, his voice dropping an octave. 

A heat consumes your face, but you remain calm. “Yeah?” You breathe. “And how would you help me, cowboy?” You ask him as you swiftly stand from your desk to lock your office door and close your blinds. 

“I reckon you just locked that door of yours, huh?” He asks rhetorically, knowing you better than you know yourself. Not even your past lovers would be able to pick up on the slightest of changes in your voice when you’re aroused. Joel picks up on it instantly. 

“Maybe,” you repeat his sentiment from earlier. 

“If I’m remembering correctly,” Joel says as he rubs his hand over his tenting bulge in an attempt to ease his ache. “You’ve got a couch in there, baby?”

“Yeah,” you whisper.

“Well, you know what to do next, babygirl.” 

Glancing at your door to make sure it’s really locked, you make your way to your couch, unbuttoning your jeans in the process and shucking them down as your ass meets the cushion. Fuck, you’re already soaked. 

“Where are you?” You ask him, your fingers ghosting your core over the wet patch on your panties.

As soon as the words leave your mouth, your phone buzzes. Joel sent you a text. An image. Clicking it, a breathy little whimper escapes you. “Fuck.” He’s leaning against the headboard, legs pushed open, his thick thighs on display. He’s just wearing his boxers, and his hand is inside, gripping onto his length. His leaking, angry tip is showing from the top of his boxers. A little circle catches your eye, and- oh. It’s a live photo. You hold down on the image, and you see his hips jerk into his hand. “Fuck,” you say again, your pussy twitching in excitement yet frustration that you can’t have him inside you right now. “I need you so fucking bad, Joel,” you whine into the phone as your fingers finally dip inside. 

“I need you, too, baby,” he groans, “I’m fuckin’ dyin’ over here.” He sounds so pained. It riles you up even more. Your fingers speed up at his words, breathy moans escaping you. You circle your clit a few more times before reaching lower and dipping your middle and index finger inside of you. Joel hears the faintest sound of a squelch, and the grip on his cock tightens. He pulls his boxers completely down over his thighs, his cock completely free, and he tugs at a slow, teasing pace in an effort to build himself up the way you normally do for him. “Let me hear you, baby, let me hear you touch yourself for me.”

Lord, you hope your room is sound proofed enough because without any hesitation, you’re putting him on speaker and setting your phone down near your cunt, pumping in and out of yourself faster and deeper for him to hear. “J-Joel, f-fuck,” you stutter, “I- I’m-”

“You’re close, baby, I know,” he says soothingly. You can hear the slick sound of his hand speed up. Your other hand falls to your clit as your fingers continue inside. “Let go for me, mi amor, soak those fingers as if it were my cock fuckin’ you,” he rambles. “Just like I know you can, baby, atta fuckin’ girl.”

With the help of his filthy mouth, your body seizes up and you’re seeing stars, your eyes falling to the back of your head as you remove your hand from your clit to slap it over your mouth in an attempt to stop the high-pitched, purely pornographic moan of his name from escaping the walls of your not-so private office. You can hear the moment Joel cums, too, a painful groan roars from his throat as you hear the movements slow but get slippier with each pass over. 

You’re on the phone for a few moments more, listening to each other’s breaths, slowly fixing your clothing as you let your heart rate return to normal. 

“Joel,” you finally have enough strength to say. 

“Yeah, darlin’?”

He hears a faint knock on your door. You pull the phone away to lessen your volume on his end. Just a moment, he hears you call out. “Gonna need more of you when I get home.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” Joel replies more than happily.

After your phone call, Joel cleans and dresses himself up and heads to the kitchen. 

Joel can’t help the way your words bounce around his head. Gonna need more of you when I get home.

“And I’m definitely gonna need a fuck ton of you today,” he mutters to the bag of Colombian coffee grounds he pulls out of his kitchen cabinet. He refills the machine with water, inserts a filter, pours two heaping spoonfuls of the ground beans into the compartment, places a mug, and hits start. He goes to put the coffee away, but it’s then he feels how lightweight the bag is starting to feel. 

Genuinely, he begins to panic. He needs to order more, and he needs to do it now. He cannot go a day without his precious coffee. The brand he orders is online only, and usually he would wait for you to help him place the order, but he doesn’t want to risk hitting the cutoff for same day delivery. 

Joel isn’t that old, and he certainly grows with the time period, but when it comes to technology, he’s worse than your 97-year-old grandmother who attempts to group FaceTime both of you every night. Sure, he knows how to send you pictures, but that’s the extent of his ability. Truly. With his coffee in mind, though, he puts on his bravest face and opens Safari. He searches for the website you’re always on. A, he types. M. A. Z. 

There! Amazon. He clicks the website, not knowing the app is already installed on his phone. He sees the smiling logo, and, proud of himself, he smiles back at it. 

The smile is quick to fade, however, because the intricacies of working the website is giving him heart palpitations. He sets his phone down and reaches for his reading glasses in his pocket and slides them on. He picks up his phone again. 

The thing about using Amazon on a phone through a search engine, though, is that the website is constantly glitching. So when he types in the word coffee, he has zero idea how he ended up on a completely different website, his original search lost in the complicated webs of the internet. 

It takes him a moment to realize what he’s reading, but once it registers, it’s way more interesting than his original task. 

Women reporting intensified orgasms after drinking coffee, the headline read. His eyes begin to scan lower. Researchers concluded there was a “correlation between caffeine and sex” after testing its effects on rats.

Oh, yeah, he’s intrigued. 

After reading the article, Joel restarts his original task and ends up ordering a larger amount of coffee than he normally would. In the name of science, he rationalized with himself.

Satisfied with his accomplishments, he grabs his mug and takes the time to enjoy his cup of pure caffeine. He needs the energy after all.

You get off promptly at 4pm, not wanting to spend any more time in your office—especially with the way you’ve been buzzing with need ever since your noon phone call. As soon as you park, you see an Amazon delivery person dropping off a box. They don’t ring the doorbell, and you know Joel doesn’t pay attention to the delivery notifications.

You get out of your car, leaving your things to get later. You reach the front porch and unlock and open the door first, bending down and picking up the box second. 

Joel greets you at the door, immediately cursing himself for not paying attention to the door, resulting in you doing the heavy lifting. He knows you’re more than capable—Hell, you could probably handle his job better than he can—but his Southern upbringing is too deeply rooted into him to allow anything less. 

“Hi, my love, I’m sorry, I coulda brought that in, baby,” he tells you as he takes the box from your grasp, giving you a forehead kiss as a trade off. The warmth of his lips physically relaxes you. 

You two walk towards the kitchen, Joel sets the box down on the counter. “I just parked as they dropped it off, honey, it was no biggie,” you reply softly. 

“I know, baby, but you know I-” he starts. You don’t let him finish as you grab him by his biceps and pull him into you, your arms finding their home wrapped around his neck as his grip completely wrapping your waist. Your lips slot together in a slow, needy embrace—your tongues slowly breaching each other’s mouths. You swallow the groans escaping his throat as you pull away from him. 

“I know,” you say breathily, eyes as dark as his morning coffee. “Won’t do it again, promise,” you smile, knowing this is the only false promise you’ll ever make. At the rate of how hard you work him in other things, carrying a few heavy boxes is the least you could do every now and then. “Now, please undress me, baby,” you whimper, your hand skating down the front of his body, your deft fingers sliding into his waistband. 

With one arm around your waist, another claws at your top, untucking it from your jeans to lift it over your head as he kisses and nips all over your jaw and neck. He turns your body so that your ass meets the counter, pushing his hips into yours, silently telling you to jump up. 

Too eager, you don’t realize the trajectory of your jump, and your ass smacks the package, causing it to almost slip off the edge. The impact to your rear surprises you enough to pull away from Joel and look back. Apparently, your brain is already turned to mush because you completely forgot about that box’s existence. 

However, now that you’re looking at it, you’re confused. You haven’t ordered anything recently. Did Joel order something? But he doesn’t even know how- 

“You okay, darlin’?” Joel asks, pausing all his movements. 

“Did you order something?” You ask.

His cheeks go red. “Yeah.. we were runnin’ out of my coffee ‘n I didn’t want to not have any for tomorrow or for later ‘n I wasn’t sure what time you’d be home to help me-” 

The bubbly sounds of your giggles are what cut him off. “What?” He asks, slightly defensive and slightly giddy at the sweetness blessing his ears. 

“You ordered something!” You exclaim. “You ordered something! And you were successful with it!” You’re gasping for air, speaking your excitement into his chest as you wrap yourself around him. 

“Don’t make fun a’me,” he pouts, grabbing your chin with his thumb and forefinger, giving your face a little scolding shake. 

“Oh, baby, no,” you coo, your laughter calming down because of the pain in your cheeks from smiling so wide. “I’m not making fun. I’m so proud!” your voice raises back up, as if you were talking to a baby who hit their first big milestone. 

He rolls his eyes. “Baby, don’t be like that,” you say as you lean in to give him a soft kiss. He gives in, of course, and he deepens it. “I really am proud,” you say as you attempt to pull away. 

He doesn’t let you. “Yeah, yeah,” he says sardonically in between kisses. 

Your hand drags up and grabs at his jaw, pulling him away so you can speak. “Now you don’t have to ask me to order things for you anymore,” you say with a smirk.

“Mmm, I don’t think so,” he breathes, trying to push against your hold on him. “Worst experience ever, I even-” 

He cuts himself off because he was so caught up in you when you got home, he forgot about the little detour his internet experience took him on today. 

Women reporting intensified orgasms after drinking coffee. 

“Actually,” he redirects. “Can we have some now?”

Your eyes pop out of your head in astonishment. “Right now?” you ask in disbelief. 

He gulps. “Y-yeah, right now. That okay?”

You don’t see why not besides the fact that his erection has been perched right against the soaked fabric of your panties for the last fifteen minutes and you’ll probably go mad if you don’t actually get relief in the next five minutes—but yeah, sure. Why not?

“I guess?” You say. Or ask? You really don’t know anymore. 

Is he really choosing coffee right now over having you? I mean, not to toot your own fucking horn, but seriously. Who would delay an orgasm for some coffee? Apparently, Joel fucking Miller would.

You’re not really a coffee person. Sure, you have a cup here and there—mostly iced and from your favorite local shop on your way to work—but compared to Joel, you are nowhere near the level he is. 

“How do you want it?” He asks, his back turned to you as he prepares two mugs. 

“Rough,” you mutter, slightly annoyed. You can feel the slick in your underwear start to get cold—and dry. 

Joel briefly turns around catching your eye; he points to his ear. “Say that again, sweetheart?” 

Fuck. Okay, maybe you’re being a little too bitchy. You rise from your seat at the counter, perching yourself right beside him, reaching your hand into his curls to give him a little head scratch. “I’ll do it, baby,” you say. “Thank you.” With your hand still at the back of his head, you guide him to look at you as you stand on your tippy toes to give him a soft kiss.

The coffee, honestly, wasn’t that bad. Yeah, you put your usual creamer and sugar, but you put slightly less—curious to get a glimpse of the natural flavor Joel loves so much. You could get used to it like this, you think. One thing is for sure, though: the brand Joel buys is fucking strong. You’re on your last sip, and you are struggling—you can feel your heart pumping out of your chest, and you swear you feel like your entire body is pulsing. Like you can hear your blood coursing through your veins. You don’t tell Joel because you don’t want to sound weird, so you shrug the feeling away and take your last sip. Perfectly in sync with you, Joel finishes off his coffee and reaches for your mug to also bring to the sink. 

Quickly letting the faucet run into the mugs so the coffee doesn’t stain, Joel speaks up. “How was it, darlin’? I know you don’t really enjoy coffee the way I do,” he notes. 

“Actually, baby, I really enjoyed it,” you say with a genuine smile. 

“Yeah?” He asks, a boyish grin sneaking past his lips.

“Yeah,” you reassure. “It was really strong, though,” you add. 

“Strong?” he asks, eyebrow quirked. 

“Yeah, um-” you start, unsure of how to describe it. “I don’t know, I just- I’ve never had coffee make my entire body feel like- like it’s buzzing or something. I don’t know,” you ramble. 

“Huh,” he says to no one in particular. “I mean, it is one of the stronger roasts,” he tells you. Is this because you were already severely worked up beforehand? It can’t be the placebo effect—he didn’t even tell you about his discoveries. 

Guess there’s only one way to go from here. 

Not giving you a chance to respond, his hands find your waist, pulling your back flush to his chest. He kisses your jaw, trailing his lips down the juncture of your neck and shoulder. Your head falls back onto him, your eyes fluttering shut as you give him full access. His fingers skate across the front of your jeans, your shirt already untucked from his earlier attempt. Your hips buck into his hands in response, a whiny little please leaves your mouth. 

“Shh, I got ya, sweet girl,” he rasps in your ear, his drawl licking a heat up your spine. He adjusts himself so he’s the one leaning against the kitchen counter, your body entirely relying on his support to keep you standing. 

He’s unbuttoning your jeans and right away you’re reaching for the zipper, helping him pull your bottoms down in one go. 

You’re shaking in his grasp, too pent up with a need your body doesn’t know what to do with. “Relax, baby, I’ma take care a’ya,” he says with a nip to your shoulder, his middle and ring finger already finding their place running through your soaked folds. 

Your eyes shut at the sensation, your breathing erratic and vocal. He drags your slick up to your throbbing bundle of nerves, circling with a precision only he knows how to provide. “F-fuck,” you moan. His other hand slides down to your sex, his two fingers going straight for your entrance and sliding in with ease with how much is pouring from you. “Fuckfuckfuck-”

“Gonna cum on my fingers, babygirl?” He’s pumping in and out of you at a languid pace even with the squirm of your hips. The stimulation on your clit never falters. “I can feel that pretty pussy flutter ‘round me, darlin’, I know she’s close.”

“J-Joel, please,” you let out, your head bobbing back and forth, unable to keep its heavy weight up.

Before he even realizes what he’s doing, he’s using his foot to kick your legs further apart, settling yours on the outside of his, and then both of you are dropping to the ground. His back is to the wall of the kitchen island while you land perfectly spread open atop his lap. Not worried about his or your balance anymore, he fucks into you harder, applying more pressure on your clit—the kind that makes you want to force your legs shut but you can’t, not with the way his own legs are keeping you open. “Open your eyes, sweet girl, need ya to look at yourself when you fuckin’ soak me.”

You open your eyes immediately and cast your eyes downward to his hands on you. “Nuh uh,” Joel tuts. His hand working your clit comes up to your jaw, your slick dampening your jaw as he guides you to look straight forward. Your reflection stares back at you from the dark oven window. Even in the dull image its showing you, you can see the way your pussy is glistening in the fluorescent kitchen light, the sweat dripping down your temples, your fucked-out face with Joel’s dark gaze ravaging every part of you. 

Everything—all of your senses—is completely Joel, Joel, Joel, and before you know it, you’re gushing into his hand; his newfound liquid gold ever since he met you, collecting into the depths of his palm, all while you’re roaring and thrashing out in pure bliss on top of him. 

The sight, sound, the feel, everything—just like you—consumes him whole. His lust takes over now, and his hands aren’t stopping. They continue their pace—their assault—on your sensitive core. He peers down over your shoulder, and his cock grows impossibly harder at the messy, slippery sight before him. “Christ,” he mutters under his breath. “Gimme one more, c’mon,” he breathes in, your scent beginning to linger into his nose, crawling into his skin and finding its home there. “I know you can gimme one more, baby, always such a good fuckin’ girl f’me.”

Your head is nodding furiously as you fight with your eyes to stay open and locked on your reflection. Your babbling, spit thick and coating every inch of your mouth as you try and respond. Mhm and one and more and fuck break free from your mouth, giving all the green light Joel needs to know he isn’t going too far. 

You turn your head to face Joel, your hand flying to the back of his curls and pulling him for a kiss that’s all teeth and tongue—an intermingling of each other’s spit as you swallow the other’s coffee-tinged breaths. 

He feels the flutter in your cunt once more, but this time it’s stronger, tighter. The way you’re clamping down on him sends him into a frenzy, his hips rutting his erection into your lower back at the feel of your warmth wrapped around him. “C’mon, baby, let go, I feel you,” he encourages. 

“Fuck-!” A high-pitched gasp turned whine comes out of your mouth as your entire body goes rigid, your pussy uncontrollably fluttering and spasming as Joel fucks you through your high. All you see is white, your body is engulfed by a tingly feeling that only describing it as TV static could do it justice. Your breathing is deep and shallow all at one, but more notably, you feel wet. Completely and utterly soaked, you can feel liquid pooling at your asscheeks and on the hardwood floor. 

You finally gather the strength to look down—Joel too, and he steals the words right from your mouth. “Holy. Fuck.”

You two stay there for a moment, trying to gather your thoughts on what the fuck just happened, and finally, you speak first. 

“I just-” you start. 

“You did,” he finishes, equally as shocked. Amazed. 

“How are we gonna-”

He rubs your thighs. “Can you stand?” 

You think for a moment. “Yeah, I think so.”

“I’ll get up first. Then I’ll pull you up. Just don’t move, I don’t need ya slippin’ on-”

“Yeah, okay,” you stop him, feeling slightly embarrassed about it all. 

He stands up, avoiding the little puddle below; then he pulls you up, kneeling to pull your underwear on for some sense of emotional comfort. “Hey.” He nudges your face with his hand to look into his eyes. “That was fuckin’ incredible. Ya hear me?” Heat washes over your entire face. You say nothing. “It was so fuckin’ hot and sexy and so so beautiful, I’m fuckin’ lucky to have witnessed somethin’ so heavenly, darlin’.” He pulls you in for a kiss. “Ya hear me?” he repeats his question, softer this time. 

The embarrassment washes away in an instant. “Well,” you look into his eyes, a flash of trouble dancing across your orbs. “Felt fuckin’ incredible, too.”

“Yeah,” Joel says, grabbing and guiding your hand down to his cock. “It did feel mighty incredible,” smugness written all over his face. 

He dips your hand inside his pants, and you're met with his half-hard, sticky length. “Joel, did you-”

“That I did, baby, that I did.” 

A moment passes, and you burst out into laughter for the second time tonight. Only this time, Joel joins in, completely taking advantage of how sweet the comedown always is with you.

“I think I oughta drink more of that coffee,” you say out of the blue, taking Joel completely off guard as he finishes wiping up your… spill. 

“Why?” he asks, trying to maintain a normal tone.

“I swear, Joel,” you whisper as if there’s other people listening in. “I swear that coffee is the reason I finished so… intensely,” you finish, your eyebrows raised in intrigue and curiosity. 

“You really think so?” Joel asks, a victory smile threatening to escape him. 

“Yeah,” you tell him. “I think we should test it out. You’re off tomorrow, yeah?”

“Well, I am now.”

End note: The article Joel stumbled upon is a real article LOL. Here it is, in case any of you were interested. The article is from 2023, so by all means, picture 56 year old Joel. I’m imagining him a bit younger in this lil AU, but there’s no explicit age description, so imagine whatever the hell you want😘. And in case you were wondering: yes, he ends up telling you about his intentions behind wanting to drink coffee first. Let's just say... you both end up getting hyperfixated on trying to "prove" this theory even though you both damn well know what the result is. ;) All my love, I hope you guys enjoyed.💚

Be sure to follow @endlessthxxghtsnotifs to stay up to date with my stories!!

Utilizing my taglist a few more times just to have a slow transition to my updates blog! @katiexpunk @janaispunk @farmerlarrry @mellymbee @jobee403 @soavenuepenguin @rainbowcosmicchaos @untamedheart81 @lilynotdilly @babygal-babygal @pedritoferg @pedrostories @akah565 @getitoutofmymind @axshadows @survivingandenduring @joels-shitty-puns @its-nebuleuse @axshadows @yorksgirl

[veethewriter]

Monty x reader! Requested by @ifyouwontlistenwhowill

Summary: reader starts working at pizza plex to earn money for college, works at montys gift shop, Monty slowly starts falling in love with the reader.

Day one: 11:31 A.M.

You stood outside the pizza plex nervous for your first day. I mean your job was easy, just selling stuff at the gift shop for Monty's Gators Golf, handing out any prizes if they had been won by people. People ugh that's the thing you were most worried about, was the large crowd. Taking a deep breath you walked in looking for the person that was supposed to show you around. Noticing someone waving for your attention, you quickly walked over, going through the crowd of people checking into the pizza plex.

The person in front of you quickly introduced themselves, quite cheerful for being at work. He grabbed your hand shaking it, "Hi! It's so nice to meet you! I'm Dave I'm the manager of the side of the building that the gift shop you will be working in is at!"

Smiling nervously shaking his hand back, introducing yourself also, "Hi it's nice to meet you too, I'm y/n."

Dave let go of your hand and smiled, "Well then let's get started with the tour then."

Day 1: 2:28

After having gone through the tour of the half of the building you would be on, you finally got to Monty's Gator Golf. He quickly showed you around the gift shop and how to work the cash register before looking back at you, "Okay one last thing before you can start, I need to introduce you to Monty since you are working in his attraction. You're gonna see each other often."

Before you could respond he gave you a serious look, probably the most serious one you've seen on him all day before saying "I will warn you though, Monty has anger issues. He usually doesn't show it until after hours but still be careful."

Now you were even more nervous than before, I mean you thought it would be easier to talk to the animatronics than other people but one with anger issues you had no idea what would happen. Dave started to walk away so you took that as a clue to follow after him. Finally finding Monty, who had just finished talking to a group of kids about the rules in Monty's Gator Golf. Dave had waited until the kids walked away before walking up with you to him.

He nervously smiled at Monty who had already started basically glaring at him, "Hey Monty I came to introduce you to the new person who will be running your gift shop."

Monty looked at you from over his sunglasses before making a scoffing-like sound and starting to walk away while talking, "I don't care what you do, just do your job."

Dave looked back at you and smiled, "Don't take it so rough, he's usually like that towards most people."

A little upset about how the first meeting went, you just nodded to Dave before he lets you go to open the gift shop.

Day 3: 8:03 A.M.

You sighed as you were opening the gift shop, your first day went okay, nothing really happened. You had your second day yesterday which also was uneventful besides Monty keeping a close eye on you. He didn't seem to want to interact with you though, just make sure you weren't up to anything bad. You were setting up all the stuffed animals using a ladder that had been in the back. Even with the ladder, it was hard to hook the small straps that kept the stuffed animals from falling.

Having to reach up higher, the ladder started to shake underneath you before giving up. With a quick scream and closing your eyes as you fell instead of feeling the ground, you felt metal. You opened your eyes and realized Monty was the one to catch you. He quickly sat you down and growled softly towards you "Be more careful about what you're doing."

Before you could respond Monty had started walking away and some other employees had swarmed around you to make sure you were okay. You thought maybe Monty was nicer than everyone said he was.

Day 11: 4:07 P.M.

You sighed looking at the time, noticing the shop was empty at the time you decided to go ahead and stock up on some small things that were out. Going over the shelves you noticed that the Monty pens were completely out and you knew from this morning you had stocked the last of them that were out in front this morning. Which means you would have to go in the back to grab a whole new box of them.

Now that you thought of it, your and Monty's relationship had gotten a little better, with small conversations here and there but it was mostly with you just talking. He would make small noises here and there to tell you he acknowledged what you said though. Shaking your head, you head to the back to look at the boxes. Only to your disappointment when you noticed the box you needed was at the very top.

You can't use the ladder, in fact you haven't seen that ladder since you almost fell off it that one time and since then all the plushies have been hooked up when you got to work. Climbing the shelf would only make it fall over on you. Standing on your tippy toes you could almost reach maybe a bit- suddenly you felt cold metal touch your back as a hand reached over you to grab the box you had been reaching for, feeling what felt like breathing on your neck for a second before it pulled back. You turned around seeing Monty as you tried to calm down the blushing on your cheek from how close he was a second ago.

As you were about to thank him, he handed the box over to you, "Next time ask for help, no need to get hurt over a box."

You nodded quickly and stuttered to him "Ri-ight thank you again for the help."

He just nodded and left heading back into his attraction. Wait what was he doing back here now that you thought of it, was he looking for you?

Day 26: 6:08 P.M.

The gift shop was closed for the next hour for you to restock items and clean up since they were too lazy to hire extra staff to do that while it was open. As you were cleaning you found a discarded club for Gator Golf. Picking it up you had decided to go ahead and return it but you didn't know where they went so of course your best choice was to give it to Monty himself.

Now you two were able to have full conversations with each other with him actually talking, well at least a sentence or two here and there. You two would talk about small things though mostly about instruments and hobbies. Making sure the gift shop was locked up while you were out you had started searching for him. Looking around you finally saw him watching over everyone near a wall, probably having just gotten back from one of the bands night performances.

Walking over to him you spoke up "Hey Monty, I saw this club at the gift shop and thought I would bring it back to you."

Having heard your voice Monty looks over at you and sees the club that you reached out to hand him but seeing that, he also saw the slightly torn-up bandage that was on your hand, "What's that?"

Noticing that he was looking at your hand, you looked down and remembered what happened this morning, "Oh um I hurt my hand moving around some boxes this morning, just scrapped it a little It's nothing bad."

Rolling his eyes he takes the golf club in one hand before grabbing your uninjured hand with his empty hand. Putting away the golf club nearby and continuing to walk you stop to ask "Um where are we going?"

Growing softly at you in a non-threatening way of course, "To a medic station your bandage is ripped and with you working plus sweating so much you're gonna get it infected if it's not wrapped the right way."

You smiled to yourself as the both of you continued to walk. You knew they were wrong, Monty was just a big softy after all....

Well um, you can tell Monty is my favorite... 😃🤭 Anyways I didn't know what to do with the room thing so I didn't add it but I still hope you like it!

[talaok]

Hi🌻

Can you please write a pedro×reader where they are fighting really seriously and suddenly kisses the reader and things get spicy...

And if it's no bother can you please make it long

Pairing: Pedro pascal x reader

Warnings: angst and allusion to smut

11:32 pm

Another day, and another night alone.

Something was playing on the tv, but you had stopped paying attention a while ago.

The streetlamp across the street felt more interesting than anything a screen had to offer.

The road was deserted, and the house across from yours had all the lights off,

It's a Friday night, they're probably out. You can almost picture them at that cute bar in town, holding each other's hands while talking about their respective days. 

It must be nice, to be a perfect couple, to have someone to go home to every day, to not wake up and go to sleep in an empty bed.

But there you were.

Yes, you knew what you had gotten yourself into, you knew about the long hours, the need to move every six months, the hectic lifestyle, you knew about all of it... but still, nothing could have ever prepared you for the loneliness that came with it.

And what angered you was that maybe it wouldn't have been that bad, if he only talked to you once in a while, a real talk, a conversation starting with a simple "how are you doing?"

So that you could tell him how you were really doing.

But no, every time you were together now, you either had sex or both of you were too tired to finally have that conversation.

It had been a whole month now of that god-awful routine, and you were sick of it.

Tonight you were gonna talk, whether he wanted to or not

A click sounded to your left as the door opened.

"Hi," he said more like a question, a clear hint of his confusion.

You were never awake when he got home.

"Hi" 

"what are you doing up?"

You stood from the couch, as he took off his jacket and tossed it on the hanger.

"I was waiting for you"

"yeah?" he smirked, his eyes glinting with a suggestive tint.

"We need to talk"

"oh" he breathed, clearly disappointed "about what?"

You were now in front of him, taking in the scruffy beard that had just recently gotten some streaks of white matching his hair. 

The evidence of the years passed could be seen all across his face, except his eyes, of course, the same big hazel ones you fell in love with.

"Scarily expressive" you had told him the first time you met, and never a day had gone by that you hadn't stood by it.

You were sure that he could stop talking any day and his eyes would do the rest without any problems whatsoever.

And now, now what they conveyed was tiredness, mixed with confusion.

"You're never home Pedro" 

there, plain and simple.

He sighed now, getting where this was heading, he could have acted clueless all he wanted, but he too, knew this conversation was long overdue.

"Y/n I'm tired, can we do this another time?"

"When?" you scoffed "We never see each other! It's like I live alone Pedro, how do you think that makes me feel?"

"Listen it's not my decision, I have to work" he muttered, walking to the bedroom and leaving you behind like a useless piece of trash.

"I know it's not, but do you even try? How long has it been since you've taken a day off? Hell, even a morning off?" You trailed behind him.

Once again: You were gonna talk today.

"What would you rather I do? Stop working?" he asked, condescending as ever, turning to face you as he took his shoes off.

"No! I'm just saying you could try a little harder to be home more often"

"I was home yesterday!"

"Yeah at 5:30 pm and you invited Mike over"

"what's wrong with Mike being here?"

"Nothing just- we never have a moment to ourselves anymore"

"Well I'm sorry if I want to see my friends too"

"I'm not saying that you shouldn't, just- God, you never listen to me!" you snapped, throwing your hands to your sides

"When was the last time that we had breakfast together? Or that we went on a date, huh?"

This time he stayed silent

"exactly" you sighed "We're supposed to spend time together Pedro, for fuck's sake we're a couple!"

"Once again y/n, I have to work"

"Are you kidding me!?" you closed your fists by your side as you shut your eyes trying to calm down "Pedro have you listened to a fucking word I sai-"

What the fuck?

His lips were on yours.

"what are you doing?"

"Did you know you're really hot when you're mad?" he smirked, holding your waist

"shut up. I'm trying to have a serious conversation"

"nobody's stopping you" he murmured sultry, his mouth founding your neck.

God, you hated the whimper leaving your mouth

"A-All I'm trying to say is that you could try to be home more o-often"

"Mh-mh" he hummed against your neck, his beard scratching it ever so deliciously.

"Y-you're not-" you let out a sigh as he began sucking the skin beneath your ear "You're not listening to me"

"I am. go on" he urged, biting at your earlobe and causing a gasp to your throat.

"fuck-Pedro..." you warned 

"What sweetheart?" 

"I know what you're doing, t-this is not going to work"

And at that, the bastard chuckled, the vibrations of his voice going straight to your core.

"Funny you say that, baby," a wicked grin pulled at his lips as your eyes met his "'cause I think it already has"

"No it hasn't"

"no?" he whispered "Then how do you explain this?" he asked as his fingers reached the wet patch on your panties.

"God you're really..." you gritted, a mixture of anger and arousal coursing through you.

"What angel?" he ghosted your mouth "What am I?"

"you're an asshole"

A huffed laugh fled his mouth "And yet, you're gonna let me fuck you"

You bit your lip, trying to clear your mind

"We're still gonna talk later"

"Sure, sweetheart, whatever you want"

... 

(I just proof-read this and I realized I might have interpreted the request kind of wrong. You meant an enemies to lovers kinda thing didn't you? If you did I'm genuinely sorry)

[sinner-sunflower]

A HH Lucifer-centric AU 4/?

PART 1 , PART 2, PART 3, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8, PART 9, PART 10, PART 11, PART 12, PART 13, PART 14, PART 15, PART 16, PART 17, PART 18, PART 19, PART 20, PART 21, PART 22

Thanks to your support, I am so committed to this. When I finish this, I plan to make it into a long, proper, one-shot- better format and everything!

I've been doing these chapters in the middle of work lmao, so if you see a typo or some edits, it's me rereading it after work.

I'm trying to include more Alastor but he's pretty hard to write.

I used Velvette so much here cos I love her as that bitch you love to hate. She is obviously the spokesperson of the Vees

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

The hotel lobby is filled with unbearable silence as hell's overlords and high members of the Ars Goetia arrive one by one.

Just a few hours ago, Alastor heard from Carmila Carmine that the king had called a meeting for the top ruling people of hell. Charlie doesn't know why her dad called for it in the hotel.

The Ars Goetia (minus Stolas) were whispering among themselves and shooting the sinner overlords dirty looks every now and again. The overlords were good at pretending they couldn't hear anything. Apparently, they at least have the sense to know that that would be a fight they cannot win.

The hotel's residents collectively claimed it as their spot. Husk is talking with Angel quietly, keeping him distracted and out of view of Valentino, Vaggie is holding her spear as she keeps a close eye on the strangers in their home, Nifty is obsessively cleaning a corner of the bar (Husk keeps telling her that it is still dirty just so she won't venture elsewhere), and Cherri is playing with an unlit bomb in her hand.

Rosie and Stolas decided to approach Charlie and Alastor at the bar at the same time, both slightly bowed to her.

Charlie: Prince Stolas. Rosie.

Stolas: Hello, princess.

Charlie: How's Octavia?

Stolas: Via misses your outings together. But she is fine. She's with her mother today.

Rosie: Not that I'm not happy to see ya, Alastor. But why exactly are we here? Our Carmila has not stated a reason why.

Alastor: You know as much as me, my dear.

Stolas: It must be dire. His majesty rarely calls for the Goetia's presence. He is not here yet?

Charlie: No. He went down in Sloth earlier. I'm worried. After what happened yesterday, I..

Rosie: Yesterday? Did something happen, sweetie?

Charlie realizes the slip up and backtracks.

Charlie: Nothing, Rosie!

Rosie gives her a look that tells her they're going to be talking about it later. She gives the overlord a weak thumbs up.

Meanwhile, Velvette decides enough is enough and they have wasted too much time waiting.

Velvette: Ugh! Vois, let's go. This is a fuckin' joke.

Carmila: Velvette, calm yourself.

Valentino: Why should she? I had very important shit to shoot today and me being here is making me lose money.

Alastor: Then perhaps you should step down. Having to attend the bare minimum duty of their title must be so difficult for someone so... undeserving.

The Radio Demon has a giant patronizing grin plastered on his face. Alastor's comment prompted Vox to speak up.

Vox: Oh, you timely piece of shit! Fight us right now, Alastor!

Alastor: How unbecoming. Throwing tantrums in front of royalty!

Velvette: I for one, don't want to sit here waiting for a no-show fossil

Charlie's demon side flares as the demon insults her dad.

Charlie: How fucking dare you?!

Random Goetia: You shall know better than to disrespect your king, insolent pest.

Velvette: Ha! You think we're scared of a bunch of birds?

Alastor: Should have known you three cannot behave for a simple meeting haha!

Soon everyone was yelling obscenities at each other, filling the hotel with chaos. Before a proper fight could break out, the door opens with a bang, silencing every demon.

Lucifer has arrived, following him were the other Sins. They were arguing amongst themselves from behind him. Charlie can only catch glimpses of what is being said as voices overlap each other.

Beelzebub: Bel-

Mammon: Are you fuckin-

Satan: Wrath is-

Leviathan: We cannot-

Asmodeus: Evacuation-

Belphegor: Grown another mile-

Lucifer says nothing the entire time and just takes a seat in the middle of the semi-circle table he conjured up. With the way the table was placed in front of everyone else, Charlie gets the feeling of deja vu of her hearing in heaven. But now her dad will be the one passing judgment.

Most of the sinners in the room back up as the Sins continue to argue with their full form.

Lucifer sits back and raises a hand and the yelling stops.

Back then, she never really understood why demons were afraid of her dad. He was always a silly and happy guy when spending time with her. But one time, she sneaks into his rare meetings with the Sins and sees why he was called the devil.

The anger she saw then could have given her Uncle Satan a run for Uncle Mammon's money.

Lucifer: Thank you all for coming on such short notice. I will cut to the chase. I have called you all here because something is brewing at the very depths of hell. Something that may affect us all.

Stolas: The Ars Goetia is at your disposal, sire. But may I ask what is this about?

Belphegor: I can answer that. A few months ago, an anomaly appeared at the edge of Sloth. It was not a problem until-

She pressed her touchpad and a hologram screen appeared showing the infected ground.

Not a single demon didn't widen their eyes.

Angel: What the fuck is that?

Belphegor: We wouldn't have called you all here if it was not this severe.

She taps and shows a mutilated demon pig.

Belphegor: This is Patient Zero. An animal on a nearby farm made contact with the anomaly. It instantly infected the whole body, controlling the creature whilst killing it slowly. If it can affect an animal like this, we fear what it may do to-

Velvette: And what do you expect us to do about it exactly? Why the fuck would we care about some old place we can't even go to.

Belphegor is briefly stunned by the interruption but ignores the sinner's disrespect.

Belphegor: Because you would have to be naive to think that it will stop in Sloth. We cannot be too careful.

Velvette: So you think we would risk our lives? Yeah. No thanks. How do we even know that it will affect us? It's just a pig. The worst we can get is horrible floor decor.

Lucifer stands up and moves silently towards the middle for everyone to see.

Lucifer: Free will does not mean you are free from consequences.

The king starts to remove his shirt to everyone's panic, except Belphegor.

Mammon: Woah woah, mate. The fuck ya doin?

Lucifer shrugs off the last piece of clothing to reveal the glowing, infected marks. It has not been a day since he touched it but the veins are already covering the entire right half of his torso.

Charlie: Dad!

The princess attempts to go to her father's side but Vaggie holds her back.

Lucifer: Shall we proceed without any more interruptions?

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

What to look forward to in Part 5:

the rest of the meeting

more dialogue from the other Sins. Cannot decide what personality to give to Leviathan.

My HC for Satan is he's like one of those old butler types but has a jacked body (I know he has that workout app, but I'm leaning more of the liver king type of a gentle strongman with anger issues. I don't want him to be a fuckboy gymbro)

more badass lucifer

the Vees getting scolded like the children they are

[bensonsbobblehead]

The Village it Takes 

pairings; Spencer Reid x Mom!reader (ft Daughter!oc)

Spencer fakes his death ( basically how Emily did) leaving you and your 11 year old daughter behind.

Content Warnings; angst, sadness, talks of death and grief.

a/n; Hiii, I am working on a taglist and how to make one for the future im so sorry im still fairly new to this.

wc; 1.0k [ first ]

Spencer was always better with her, you were her best friend but Spencer was her diary. He encouraged her to do things he knew he would never be able to do. She was so outgoing, thanks to you, even though he was shy Ronnie brought out another part of him. After he died everything changed for the household. It was harder for Ronnie to adjust specially as she’s approaching womanhood.  

The two of you had argued almost everyday just for it to end with her breaking down in the end. You knew this was just her way of dealing with her father being taken from her. That didn’t make it any better for you though. Seeing Cameron like this was the hardest thing ever.

“I’m sorry I’ve been so mean mom.” She spoke after two hours of silently watching tv, “I just miss dad so much I want to scream. Some days it hurts to breathe and it makes me so angry. I miss him” she said randomly as you both watch tv together.

Thirteen was suppose to be a fun age where you begin to learn who you are or could be. Camerons chance was taking from her now she’s consumed with this grief. The same grief you were dealing with in your own way. It hurt you so much he was missing his beautiful creation grow up. 

You pushed her glasses up off the bridge of her nose, “I know its so hard, I miss him so much it hurts to breathe but I have you and you have me, this is how we get through it.” Kissing her on the temple.

You pulled you daughter into your side rocking her until she fell asleep. You were both abruptly awoken by the sound of your phone ringing. A call from Aaron Hotchner, which wasnt rare but why was he calling so late? He said in a few words that you needed to head to the BAU. 

You gathered your things wondering what in the world this could be about. You held Ronnie’s hand as you headed up to the office. Your heart was ponding reminding you of the last time you were here. You had came to clear out Spencer’s desk and collect his badge. You remembered it like it was yesterday. All the sad eyes watching you attempt to pick up the pieces of what was abruptly left behind. 

“Do you think something bad happened again?” She asked squeezing your hand harder. 

“I’m not sure Rons” you tried to reassures her also wondering the same thing. You all were led to the bullpen with Cameron opting to sit at her dads old desk. The room was filled with your husband family, Jennifer, Aaron, Emily, Penelope, Rossi, and Luke.

“As you all know Dr.Spencer Reid was pronounced dead three years ago.” Confusion spread across everyone’s face and Aaron continued, “Three years ago I made a decision to keep the identity of Dr. Reid and I take full responsibility.” 

“What do you mean keep the identity of him a secret?” You asked still completely confused, 

“Mr.Scratchs son was caught and killed by the fbi a few hours ago. Three years ago he couldn’t know Spencer was still alive and neither could any of you. Once again I say I take full responsibility” Your face cringing at the name of the man who caused you and your family so much pain. 

Then it hit you Spencer was still alive?

“Aaron what are you fucking saying to me? That my husband is alive?” If this was true all those days spent talking to his grave meant nothing. The picnics or visits to the grave after Ronnies competitions were nothing. Spencer was walking this earth while you were here going through the worse pain in your life. Asking with glassy eyes, you were pulled out of your thoughts by Penelope head snapping toward the door. 

“Oh my God” she said with tears falling from her blue eyes. 

There he was Spencer Reid, the love of your life, the man that made you a mother, he’s alive after three years. He stood tall and a bit bigger with his long curly hair. 

“Y/N I’m sorry, all of you really.” He walked in giving hugs to everyone in the room. You hadn’t even moved, you didn’t know rather to be happy or angry at him. For never saying anything for letting you believe he was gone. 

“Y/N, can — can I hug you?” He asked sincerely not wanting to startle you. Before you could even think your hand was moving to slap him across the face, your angry completely took over. 

“THREE YEARS SPENCER?!?, you left me and your own DAUGHTER and still slept at night?” You yelled causing the entire room to become silent. Spencer stood there with no response which only made you more upset. 

“Say something! Say why you did? Just fucking give me a reason to put us through this” you were hitting him in the chest causing Hotch to grab you. 

“YOU don’t fucking touch me!” You snapped toward him, the man that watched you break down silently after putting your daughter to bed every night. Aaron had been there for you and Cameron since he “died”.

Jack and Cameron were always friends before her dad passed and were even closer as time went on. Most of the time having Ron distracted helped you deal with your grief with Aaron by your side, he was one of your husband’s closest friends.

“Daddy?” You heard Ronnie’s voice from the door, you completely forgot you even brought her. 

Everyone turned toward the teenage who stood tall just like her father. She was even wear their matching converse they decorated together. Spencer turned taking in his daughter, immediately regretting everything . She grew so tall and looked so mature, he missed it all. 

“Cameron I’m so sorry honey, I never meant to hurt you sweetie” he didn’t move allowing her to feel whatever emotion she needed. Her eyes filled with tear with a small weep escaping her lips. Her breathing became uneven, she was gasping for air. 

“Dad? You’re alive?” She asked grabbing her stomach looking for some sort of comfort.

“Yes, I’m here sweetie.” Spencer said walking toward Cameron causing her to step back while shaking her head.

“No, No, I—-I, Mama I can’t —-” she said falling to the floor, gasping for air. you pushed pass Spencer immediately hoping into mom mode. Spencer stood still unsure of what to do to help his own daughter. His heart shattering seeing the pain all of this has caused.

“Im right here baby, just keep following my breathing.” You told her as you sat on the floor with her, Emily coming to sit with her too. 

“In and out” you guided her as her breathing evened out, “I’m right here with you love” you pulled her into a bear hug while looking back at Spencer.

You all got up from the floor as you headed toward the elevator with your daughter not saying a word to Spencer as he silently followed behind.

[quietlyimplode]

ignite your bones

After the fall of General Dreykov, and the remnants of the Red Room still at large, Natasha first year at SHIELD is anything but healing. Labeled a traitor and a turncoat, Natasha tries to find her footing in a strange new world.

Whumptober 2024: Day 11 - loneliness

Warnings: red room nightmares, light stabbing, taunting

Word Count: 2k (gif not mine)

Summary: Clint and Natasha get sent on their first mission together. As usual, nothing goes right.

Masterlist

Whumptober Masterlist

.

Natasha lays with her wrist cuffed to the bed.

As far as things had gone, the day was a good one.

If approved, she could be going to Romania to see an old friend. It had been years.

The promise of leaving the compound gave her something to look forward to. Amongst the stagnant landscape and muted feelings, she recognised a good thing when she saw it.

Eyes closed, Natasha breathes deeply, focusing on sucking in, then expelling breaths.

Lately, she has felt so heavy, every action costing immeasurable effort. Even climbing into bed felt like a chore.

So much has happened this week.

Olivia.

Debrief.

And now a potential mission.

Three months at Shield, and she was only now seeing it for what it was.

Even then, it was just the tip of the iceberg, of that she was sure.

Breathing evenly, she recounts the day. She hopes it won't give rise to new nightmates and for once she’ll get a good night sleep.

Eyes closed, she gives thought to the upcoming mission and all the week had held, drifting into an uneasy sleep.

.

Gagged in a chair, she feels hot breath on her ear.

She suppresses a shudder, but barely.

Her face impassive, the rope that loops around her neck tightens as she moves her arms.

“Fun, isn’t it?”

The man smiles, coming round to face her.

“Get out of that.”

Natasha can’t move her arms without choking herself.

Her whole body hurts.

Fingers wiggle, but that’s about all the movement she has.

It feels hopeless.

She feels so sore, so sorry for herself. All she wants to do it give up.

.

Natasha wakes with a gasp.

First touching her throat, then her lips, she takes a breath.

Another night.

Another nightmare.

So many old memories and old wounds brought to the surface.

At least she didn’t throw up.

Closing her eyes, she knows only an hour has passed.

She unlocks the handcuff and pulls it off her wrist.

She has so many hours to go.

She knows she needs sleep.

It just feels so unappealing.

She tries to erase the bomb maker and all his tests from her mind, and counts her breaths in hopes it works.

.

Clint yawns.

His computer on, he glances quickly at Natasha’s cameras and watches her sit in the middle of the room in a yoga pose, soles of her feet together.

His coffee isn’t strong enough.

Her despondency is taxing.

He takes a sip.

He didn’t sleep.

Not after the imagery of yesterday's debrief; Natasha being choked, spat on and forced to break her own hand to accomplish a mission for the KGB.

“It’s fine,” she had said, “I was used to it, and I was the best.”

The hint of pride at accomplishing her mission had made him feel like hitting something.

She’d asked why they were questioning her about Oleg, the arms dealer. Clint had considered how to respond. They always seemed to walk a fine line between telling her things and putting truths in omissions.

Sitting across from each other, he'd handed her a file.

The man had been in prison and now he was not; and whilst times had changed, he continued to make and sell bombs without impunity.

Olivia had presented the mission.

With Natasha, they could approach him under the ruse of the Red Room. Have her talk to him, about his current projects.

Olivia has argued that it would put Natasha in a situation where she would need to play both sides and prove loyalty.

Natasha rebutted this, arguing that she had already done that by killing Dreykov.

She'd conceded though, after reading through the mission debrief, especially when it dawned on her that a mission would mean she'd be allowed to leave.

Clint swallows, remembering how their last mission together went, as they took the life of Dreykov’s daughter.

He needs a break.

Constant worry of her survival was wearing on him.

He promised safety and a new life and all he’d given her was this.

Cages and reliving trauma.

He thinks of it often.

The shooting range could only do so much, and his energy was limited these days.

He sips his coffee.

Opening his emails, both Fury and Olivia have emailed and he sighs heavily.

Mission approved, it reads.

He stands to tell Natasha the news.

He wonders when his life will go back to normal.

.

Clint runs his hands through his hair as he passes Sharon on his way to Natasha.

He inquires about how things are going.

There are still murmurs of derision when it comes to Natasha. But, she states, it seems to have calmed for now.

Gossip had decreased and there were other things for SHIELD to talk on.

Clint is glad. He doesn’t think he could cope with yet another thing.

The starkness of the cell always saddens Clint.

Not that she would be allowed much, and not that they had given her much, but it was so spartan and cold.

She’s been here for just over 3 months and the lack of personal effects in a space, that is supposed to be her own, makes him sad.

She still has his watch.

He’d let it go, made it a point that he had another one.

He likes to think it helps her.

The handcuffs too, he’d let her keep.

Natasha stands looking at him.

He thinks she’s lost weight.

She has his watch on her wrist and the cuffs in her hand, and Clint looks around to find no other traces of her within the room. It’s stark and minimalist and agrees with Olivia that something needs to change.

“It’s been approved,” he tells her.

Natasha’s face is grim.

“When do we leave?”

.

Oleg looks old, Natasha thinks, watching him eat.

His face aged and scarred, the hair loss marked since she saw him last.

There’s a hatred that’s in her body, long dormant and curled for revenge.

She’s going to kill him, even if that’s not in the mission parameters.

If they’re going to test her, she’s going to test them too. Let them see what the real black widow is; not this traumatised quim, of what she’s become.

If there’s any time for it, this is it.

Killing Dreykov allowed her entry.

Maybe killing Oleg will support her in moving forward.

She wants to be alone. It’s been so long since she was truly alone without someone watching, and the loneliness it invokes is starting to get to her.

The boat just off the coast of Sulina was more like a passenger ferry. It was big enough that he could be thrown easily from the stern and just maybe have the rotary blades dispose of him further.

Get out of that, she thinks.

She’d left a message with the wait staff to give him a note, signed by her, and she watches as it gets delivered.

He puts on glasses and his face morphs to a smile.

Maybe she had laid it on too thick.

Natasha adjusts her dress, knives in her hair ready, as the dress really left nothing to the imagination.

“He’ll be here in five minutes or less,” she tells the ear piece.

Clint’s voice returns.

“We have you. We want to know about Ukraine and Paris. And see if you can ask about—"

“I know,” she growls. “I know.”

Clint is quiet.

The comms switch and Oleg approaches, holding up his hand for her to take.

“Natalia!” he croons, using Dreykov’s pet name for her.

“What a wonderful surprise!”

He pauses as she smiles, the evening air filtering his aftershave that evokes memories of the rope around her throat.

“Under new management? First the FSB, then the Red Room, what do the KGB have to say for themselves? Have they been good masters?”

Natasha kisses his ring, the customary greeting and continues to regard him with a smile.

She’s glad she has knives.

“Not as good as the old days, Oleg.”

The answer seems to please him, and she motions for them to sit on the bench to her right.

“You’re right Natalia, those were the days, when you were younger and I was at my prime.”

She thinks she hears Clint growl.

Ignoring the words, she hands him a diamond.

“They need some help,” she starts, wondering how to compose her words.

He nods and takes it.

“But first they need some information.”

She hands over another diamond, and he takes that enthusiastically as well.

Natasha holds up a third, but waits.

He eyes it, looking down at his other two.

“Of course,” he starts, “what do they want to know?”

He puts a hand on her leg, and Natasha turns her body into him.

Her skin feels hot under his hand and she hates her body for reacting to it; that in her loneliness unwanted touch is touch all the same.

She asks first about Ukraine, and he confirms information that Shield seems to already know, Clint only prompting to clarifying a few details.

She hands him another diamond.

“Tell me, Natalia, how has the transition to another master been?”

Natasha’s face flushes, she hopes he’s alluding to the KGB, but she fears he’s not.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, a little voice tells her to run.

“Not as easy as I’d hoped,” she manages, “tell me about Paris?”

He smiles in a somewhat kind way, moving his hand away.

“Ah Paris. Do you know the outskirts of Goussainville? The cemetery?”

She laughs.

“You didn’t?”

He smiles.

“I did.”

A small joke that she knows will be lost on Clint.

“They can find it there, but if they take it, the cost will be more than this.”

He holds up the diamonds and offers his pudgy hand for more.

They’re cut off by his phone ringing, and she allows him to move away. His new position close to the edge of the boat is more tenuous and she likes the angle.

Edging to the side of the seat, Oleg frowns and gives her a quick glance.

It could mean nothing.

She decides against it.

It never means nothing.

Natasha stands as Oleg finishes his phone call.

“Did you also want to know about Budapest? What else have you told the Americans Natalia? Did you know in the organisation, they’re all working for us? You have the same masters, just under a new name.”

Natasha’s stomach drops.

There’s a mole in SHIELD.

It’s all Natasha needs to know she’s been compromised. A knife comes out of her hair as quick as the gun he pulls from his jacket.

She’s just faster.

The knife slices into his side, and then in quick succession, her hand becomes bloody, a look of shock and anger crosses his face, and he spits blood onto her.

She takes a certain amount of pleasure pushing him overboard.

In his last breaths, he grabs at the knife, forcing it back against her, slicing the top of her hand.

Pushing him back, he makes a loud splash, and the cacophony in her ears becomes startling.

.

<3

[concreteburialplot]

VIRALITY // 11

11 - Peak Fashion

pairing: noah sebastian x fem!oc [vallie] 👀

masterlist: here | crossposted: ao3 | word count: 5k

warnings: angsty? but cute?, jealous nicholas, sassy but goofy noah, something revealed, very short time skips, 18+ MDNI

summary: vallie abruptly wakes to a million texts to meet for a last minute music video. upon arriving she discovers that the band is not at all prepared which sets her and noah on a mission.

Reminder: This contains the very mild crossover with Christian 'Kras' Anthony from Chase Atlantic ...... and introduces another extremely mild crossover 🫣 they are both merely for side character/reference purposes. Nothing huge, don’t worry lol just for fun

Disclaimer - This story is semi-AU since it does not follow actual timelines or events. The band is still fairly small & does things entirely on their own with no other support.

don't like it don't read it. don’t be mean for no reason & let others enjoy things thnx :)

VALLIE

Sunlight warms my eyelids and gently lulls me awake. My eyes shoot open at the realization that I have once again fallen asleep somewhere that isn’t my home – well my pseudo-home anyway. It seems that anywhere else feels homier than my showroom-esque Airbnb.

This time I don’t wake up in a panic, the smell of Christian’s woodsy cologne reassures me that I’m somewhere safe. The last time stamp I saw on my phone last night was 4:30 am. We had spent the whole night catching up, watching our favorite comfort shows, and binging all his favorite American snacks that he can’t get in Australia.

I reach over to the nightstand to grab my phone. A groan escapes me when I see that the time reads 8:47 am. My brows curve up at the ridiculous amount of notifications that fill my screen. While my job doesn’t really have “days off”, I had no specific plans or meetings booked for the day. So, it’s unexpected.

Most of them were from Bryan, the Omens’ photographer that I met at the warehouse with Noah. The messages flood my screen with missed calls and texts.

Bryan: Warehouse. 8 am.

Bryan: Hello? Are you awake?

Bryan: Music video. Today.

Bryan: I think you should be there.

Bryan: Hey!!! Music video !! Today !! 8 am !!

Bryan: Dude

Bryan: We’re starting. Show up whenever, if you want.

Fuck.

Kras continues to snooze next to me and I know that not even a plane crash could wake him up. So, I press a quick peck on his cheek before I roll out of bed and quickly begin gathering my belongings.

I’m rushing because well… Bryan seems like the only Omen who wants to cooperate or include me in any actual band activities. So, I have to be here. And I’m already an hour late.

I leave a small note on Christian’s dining table, saying how nice it was to see him, thanking him for the pep talk, and that I’ll see him and the rest of his band in a zoom meeting next Monday morning.

I’m still not sure if saying yes to his job offer was the right choice. I’m already stretched thin enough between my main client and now Omens, adding Chase might be more than I can handle. While my main client’s fanbase is much more… intensive, Chase Atlantic is still larger than both of them. And that swirls a terrifying pit of anxiety in my stomach because I’m not quite sure I’m equipped with enough experience to handle it all.

Gravel cracks beneath my tires as I pull up to the warehouse. I gather my bed head hair into the closest thing to a bun I can get it and try to rub off the slept in mascara smudged under my eyes.

My engine isn’t fully off for half a second before I’m out and locking my door.

I smooth out the exact same outfit I wore to Christian’s yesterday since I didn’t have time to stop home. Usually, I would never show up to a work event in sweatpants, a cropped cami, sneakers, and a flannel, but here we are. It’s not like the band is particularly formal anyway.

I see Folio and Jolly first, who both give me strange looks, like they’re surprised I’m here. Then, Noah and Nicholas once I get to the entrance. They seem equally as shocked too.

“What are you doing here?” Noah asks, lined with his usual snarky tone, seeming almost offended by my presence.

“I invited her.” Bryan speaks up from the background, adjusting the camera around his neck. “And you’re about an hour late by the way.”

Regardless of his criticism, he gives me a smile and a side hug – which surprises me.

Aside from Nicholas – for…obvious reasons – Bryan is the one who meets me with the most warmth out of the five of them.

I offer a closed lipped smile and a small awkward wave to the band. I wasn’t prepared to accidentally crash a music video shoot.

“Nice outfit, you just get out of bed?” Noah quips.

I roll my sleep-deprived eyes, “Nice to see you too, Noah.”

The rest of the band disperses into whatever they were doing before I arrived.

Nick walks up to me and I can tell he’s trying his best to act casual.

“Hey.” He says simply but quietly between us.

“Hey.” I match his somewhat awkward tone.

My gaze reluctantly meets his and I immediately regret it. His hair is pulled up into a fluffy ponytail with his hair flat against his head and he looks so good.

This was going to be more difficult than I thought.

“Val?” He asks trying to get my attention.

“Huh?” I shake my head from the fuzz sitting in my brain.

“Oh, I just said it’s nice to see you.” He says demurely. “I’m glad you’re here.”

I take note of the dullness of his normally bright eyes, and the dark bags beneath them. It makes me wonder if he got as little sleep as I did.

The energy of this whole ordeal is so… odd. It makes me feel as though I’m once again missing parts of a puzzle that I’m not aware of.

His gives me a once over and lingers a bit on my flannel.

“Oh! Right!” I set my bag down on a nearby table before slipping the flannel off my arms, giving it a lazy fold, and offering it over to him. “Here have it back.”

He instinctively takes the folded garment, looking at it like I just handed him the wrong Chipotle order. His brows furrow, initially in confusion then into something much different.

Before he responds it hits me.

I fucked up.

Fuck

Fuck

Fuck

“This isn’t mine.” He states in a slighted tone.

“Oh- Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t get much sleep last night–“ I immediately realize that probably wasn’t the best thing to follow that up with. “I just need a coffee.”

“Right.” He lands the flannel back in my hands. He goes to pass me and stops as he’s grazing my shoulder. “And who’s ever it is, has shitty taste in cologne.”

My eyes widen.

Did I just put Kras’ proposed scheme into action by accident?

It’s fine.

It’s perfectly fine.

I’m fine.

I discreetly shake out the tips of my fingers and glance up to finally take in my surroundings fully. The floor is covered in a massive tarp, covered in… dirt?

I steal the phone from my tote pocket and carefully walk over to where Bryan is messing with some equipment. I shuffle right up next to him and whisper, “What…exactly is happening here?”

“I don’t know. Noah just woke us all up at the ass crack of dawn and said we needed to do this today.” Bryan shrugs, not stopping his actions for me, and continues walking carrying a large umbrella light.

“…and you all just went along with it?”

“Listen. I just work here man.” He sets down the heavy light and sighs dramatically.

I can’t help but chuckle at his verbiage.

“Okay… and why did you have to drag me into this?”

“Well, you have a job to do, don’t you?” He questions as if he doesn’t know the answer.

“I mean y-“ I begin but he cuts me off.

“Exactly.” He walks back over to a pile of equipment on a plastic table, and I follow him around like a puppy while he talks. “And you want them to like you, yes?”

“Well, I mean,” My eyes glance over at Nicholas who’s sat on a stool tuning a teal bass. The memories of our bodies entwined graze over my tongue and his working fingers sends a tingle between my legs.

Well, one of them likes me.

Is my first reflex to say.

But I’m not even sure if that’s true, especially not now. I should know better than to trust band boys anyway. I manage them, I’ve been around them since the start of my career. I’ve been best friends with Kras for nearly a decade. I’ve seen what band men do. How they treat the women they use to get off, even the ones they love.

“Look. They need you.” He says, his tone more serious than before and leans against the wall beside him with crossed arms. “Whether they believe it or not, they need you. You and I both know that. If Noah wants to be an arrogant, stubborn asshole, then let him. But don’t give up on them. They just need time.” His eyes drift to the four of them messing around with their instruments. “You’re stuck with them one way or another. And they’re not a bad bunch to be stuck with. Trust me.” He gives me a half smile before nudging my arm. “Loosen up a little, you might find that you like ‘em.”

Bryan pushes himself off the wall going to find some other task and I’m left with this peptalk I wasn’t expecting, especially from him.

I take the time to watch them, really watch them. Noah is well … Noah, so there’s some grumpy tension that follows him – but the rest of them, even while grumpy and irritated, flow together effortlessly.

Noah ripped everyone from their sleep and yet, they’re still all here. Sure, you could write that off as good work ethic, but I think it’s more than that. As unpredictable as he is, they let Noah lead them. At least for the most part.

They all showed up for him today and the whole time I’ve known them.

‘This band is all he has.’ Nicholas’ words echo in my ears from that rainy night in his car.

Maybe they all know that, and maybe they all honor it.

They all love him enough to show up and keep showing up.

Christian is right. I can’t let my feelings cloud this. If not for me, then for them.

As I clear from my dissociation, I realize I must’ve hyper fixated on their bustling about because the only thing I see now is their attire… or the lack thereof.

“Wait, wait, wait.” I cautiously step around the piles of dirt on a brown tarp to reach Noah. “Is this the whole outfit? This is what you’re wearing for the video?”

Noah sighs in exasperation and drops the corner of tarp he’s holding to face me. “Yes? Do you have a problem with it?”

“Problem with it? It is the problem.” I give him a once over, just black jeans and plain grey shirt with a faded CocaCola logo on it. I reach to his sides and give the seems a small tug to pull the logo taught against his thin chest. “You see that? What does that look like to you?”

Noah raises a snarky brow at me, “A Coke logo?”

“Wrong. That-” I drop the edges of his shirt and stab his sternum with my finger. “That is unpaid brand advertising.”

I can tell he immediately wants to roll his eyes but doesn’t when he realizes I’m right.

The rest of the boys wear similar outfits, jeans, t-shirts, hoodies.

“Okay, well this is all we brought last minute, and the house is like an hour away, I’m not driving back there.”

There’s no way I’m letting them shoot an entire video in dirt with such casual outfits. I tug at my lip and tap my fingertips on my arm in thought.

As if a lightbulb appears above my head, a possible solution crosses my mind.

“I think I saw a thrift shop in that strip where the bar is.” I shrug, “I can try to find something there. But I can’t just let you play around in dirt like this.”

Noah raises his brows and crosses his tattooed arms across his chest, “Well I’m sure as fuck not letting you pick out outfits for us.”

I walk over to my bag, picking up easily and walking towards the warehouse opening. “Then you better hurry up and get in my car.”

Noah and I had been looking through racks of dusty clothes for about 10 minutes without speaking to each other. I knew a thrift shop was somewhat of a risky choice, but after not seeing anything worth shit for a bit had me nervous.

I’m not sure why I’m nervous – but I shouldn’t be making risky bold decisions with them.

Across the racks I catch Noah picking up a thick peacoat. At first glance, I find it absolutely repulsive, but for a music video? It could be exactly what we need. At least it’d be better than a Coca-Cola shirt. For the vibe I think he’s going for, it might be perfect.

He lifts up the hanger and flips it around, his brows knitting intently at it. He likes it.

I haven’t known him that long, but he’s pretty transparent, no matter how mysterious he thinks he is.

I quickly divert my eyes back down when he goes to return the coat to its place on the rack. I know that if I say I like it, he’ll immediately be against it, so I keep my mouth shut.

“So, what kinda vibe are you going for?” I ask casually.

He glares over at me, “What do you care? Changing our clothes was your idea remember?”

“Whoa.” I put my hands up in defense. “I’m just trying to help.”

“Well, I’m sure you wanna put us in the same preppy clothes you put your other big mysterious client in. Which I’m still convinced is Harry Styles by the way.”

I roll my eyes knowing which “client” he’s referring to since I haven’t mentioned that I took on a third one yet. He means the first one, the one that landed me here in the first place, my ‘big success’. At least that’s what they kept telling me when sitting in meeting after meeting getting pitched different ‘next big artists’. And somehow, I got stuck with Noah & friends™️.  

“No, it’s not Harry and I don’t put them in preppy clothes.” I reply absentmindedly sifting through hangers.

“Them?” He picks up on my slip immediately and my eyes widen slightly. “It’s a band?”

I clear my throat and shake my head. “No – no that’s not what I–“

“It is, isn’t it?” His brows lower at me. “It better not be a conflict of interest, that would be a breach of contract and I-“

“Relax. I’m not stupid, I wouldn’t have signed contract if it was a conflict of interest.” I glare over at him with annoyed, tired eyes.

I sigh then allow my tense shoulders to roll back. “Yes. It’s a band. But they aren’t a heavy band they’re ehm…. more classic rock, hippie-ish?” I shake my head. “And trust me, I would NOT put you or the rest of you in any of their clothes.”

I press my lips together trying to stifle a giggle that threatens to escape at the thought of Noah in a glitzy jumpsuit.

“What’s so funny?” He furrows his brows at me in offense. “You don’t think I could pull off some hippie clothes?” He asks seriously, but I can tell he doesn’t believe it either, he’s just trying to be difficult.

Then it occurs to me that this reverse-psychology defiant behavior may work to my advantage.

“No, actually. I don’t think you could.” I shrug, sliding some clothes over. “Just like I don’t think you could pull off that hideous peacoat.”

His brows rise higher than I’ve ever seen them. “Oh really? Maybe that’ll be the one I choose then.”

Checkmate.

I ignore it to not put too much emphasis on it. “You never told me what’s the vibe you want.”

“Hm.” He pauses, maybe he doesn’t even know. “I’m not sure. Cult-y? Business-y? Underground elite secret society-y?”

“Wow.” I say with wide, surprised eyes and exaggerating my mouth around the word. “That’s… specific. And you planned to achieve that with graphic tees?”

“Shut up.”

“Right.”

“Would I know your other band?” He inquires, the curiosity obviously eating at him.

“Shut up.”

“Right.”

We continue to mind our own business in our individual searches while early 2000’s pop plays through the small, dingy shop.

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Noah lifting up an obviously homemade PitBull t-shirt.

I can’t help but let out a loud laugh.

He snaps his head over at me with a goofy grin, “What you don’t think Mr. Worldwide is peak fashion?”

I shake my head laughing, “No, I definitely wouldn’t say he is.”

“I think this might be the most badass piece of clothing I’ve ever seen.” He seems half serious and half trying to hold back a cackle.

“It’s a… choice. But you know what? It might be perfect for you.”

He feigns offense, “Why because you think I’m so badass?”

A laugh erupts from me. “Yeah. Sure.”

“Well, I’m getting it. I might wear it in the video.” He throws the white shirt into his cart.

“Great.” I reply sarcastically.

The search seemed to be going a bit better the further we dig. I found a couple pieces that might work for the rest of the band to fit into Noah’s vaguely hyper-specific theme. He’s done the same, just not as successfully.

Across the aisle I notice his hands grasping the sides of a hideous white puffy jacket with patches of sherpa all over it and an oversized hood. The nylon material rasps as he rubs it between his inked fingertips. My brows curve at how he looks at it like it’s some lost treasure.

He pauses before turning to me, lifting it up to showcase its entirety.

“What do you think about this?” He asks genuinely, which throws me off. It sounds so authentic, so real, and not hidden behind any sort of sassy, crude walls, or ulterior motives. I don’t know if he’s ever truly talked to me like that before, especially not sober.

I’m still cautious since he’s fooled me before, so I stay neutral by lifting my shoulders to a shrug. “I don’t know. Why don’t you try it on?”

He eagerly scoots past his cart that takes up the entire aisle and walks to the mirror. The thick zipper hisses at how quickly he undoes it, like he’s been waiting his whole life for this moment.

I watch him in some form of awe, maybe it’s more curiosity of his behavior. The more I get to know him, the stranger he seems.

He slips his skinny arms through the sleeves, and it fits him loosely but just right, like it’s made for him – though that doesn’t detract from how it still looks a little ridiculous, just less so now that it’s on him.

He turns back to me and spreads out his arms like a child showing off a Halloween costume.

“Well?” He questions.

“I mean the jacket is still pretty silly.” I chuckle. “But it looks nice on you.” I compliment honestly.

A toothy grin spreads across his mouth and turns back to the mirror, “Yeah, I think so too.”

Quiet falls between us again and we move on to different sections. I get so focused on rifling through the clothes that I realize I’ve lost track of Noah. I scan the small store and can’t spot him.

“Noah?” I call and as if right on cue, I feel something dropped around my head followed by a scurrying Noah.

“What the hell?” I reach up and catch the edges of the large hat pulling it off and finding that he’s dropped a massive sombrero on my head. “Hey!”

He chuckles and pulls his shoulders to a shrug, “Might be perfect for you.” He mocks my words from before about the Pitbull shirt.

“Ha-ha very funny.” I roll my eyes playfully. “I’ll get you back.”

“Bring it on.”

What follows is a series of us trying to find the most ridiculous shit to throw on or at each other.

First, I got an ugly, dusty, grandma shawl that I threw on Noah’s shoulders as best as I could before quickly walking in the other direction.

Then, when I wasn’t paying attention and with great stealth, he was able to drop a yellowing Disney rain poncho over my body.

Now, he’s stood in front of a full-length mirror holding up various different pieces of black clothing. In my stroll through the hat section, I found a leopard print fedora perfect for his big head. I sneak up behind him, making sure not to get in frame of the mirror. I reach up on my tip toes to somewhat reach his head, tossing the hat up to bridge the rest, hoping that it would land.

It does land, crooked atop his head.

I cover my mouth to hide a chuckle before backing away slowly. Before I can make my escape, he snaps his head over in my direction, jostling the hat to fly off his head. In a swift move, he catches it with fumbling hands.

“Hey that’s not fair! You’re tiny and fast!” He plops the leopard fedora back on his head and anchors a fist at each hip playfully.

The goofy sight of it all makes me double over nearly cackling. “It’s not my fault you’re big and clunky!”

He pulls the flimsy hat off his head, squishing it thin between his fingers pointing at me. “You better watch your back, Thornhill.”

“Ooh, you’re so scary, Sebastian.” I tease with raised hands feigning fear.

“You think you’re so funny huh?” He speaks directly at me probably trying to distract me, but I catch him snatching another random hat off the rack while he slowly makes his way towards me.

My eyes glance at down at his actions and I make a run for it. I don’t know what I expected but, he chases me around the thrift shop like we’re little kids in a toy store. I stealthily weave through metal racks full of musty clothes trying to lose him, giggles pouring from both our mouths.

I ignore the judging looks from the employees and the few patrons shopping around us. It’s a blessing that I can’t hear the murmuring around us. My ears are full of only my own heartbeat and the sound of his playful and competitive laughter.

It’s then that I realize I hadn’t fully heard him laugh before, not sober anyway, and it’s so… endearing. It’s one of those laughs that’s contagious and only makes you laugh harder. Which isn’t something I expected from him. None of this is really what I expected.

He finally corners me in the scarf section. I spin around in the tiny space between us and within that split second he’s snatched a bizarrely colored thin scarf and throws it around my neck like a towel, keeping hold of each end.

Just as fast, I grasp a similar scarf and match his actions, throwing the scarf up around his neck. With the speed and rush of the motion, I accidentally tugged him closer and lower to me.

My eyes flutter up and the edges of his laughing grin shorten when his eyes meet mine. Unexpectedly, my breath hitches in my throat. I never noticed just how chocolate-y brown his eyes were until now. Normally his eyes are so serious or angry or… drunk, but right now, they’re wide and warm and just as confused as mine. His eyes shift side to side seemingly searching mine for something I’m not quite sure of.

Being this close to him really emphasizes just how tall he is, the top of my head barely meets his shoulders and for some reason, that realization makes my heart thump harder against my ribcage.  

I’m frozen where I stand, I should pull away, but I can’t. I shouldn’t enjoy the butterflies that run rampant in my tummy. It’s just Noah after all. The asshole that somehow always ends up drunk on the floor. The one that tells me how to do my job and how not to manage him. The one that told Nick that I’m a ‘stuck-up corporate bitch’.

But, that’s the same Noah that’s chasing me around this store like we’re playing tag on a playground.

My tummy twists and my breath sharply lodges itself in my throat when I catch his eyes dart to my lips – once.

Twice.

He moves closer, just marginally, and then again – eyes, lips.

I mimic his actions, my eyes flicker from his brown eyes to light pink lips.

Then he’s even closer – so close I can feel his exhaled breath brush past my nose.

Again.

Eyes, lips.

I feel his knuckles just graze my shirt where he’s still holding the scarf at either end and it sends electricity down to my fingertips.

Then, a strand of his long brown hair falls from behind his ear, and it seems to snap him from our daze. He lets out an awkward chuckle, steps back and slides the scarf off my neck by one end.

“We should probably wrap up here… I’m sure the guys are sick of waiting for us.” He scratches the back of his neck and diverts his eyes from me.

It seems like the right thing to do, but for some reason it leaves me a little disappointed.

Disappointed in what exactly?

What the fuck just happened?

I pull the scarf off of him in the same manner and hang it back up on its hook. “Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.”

Checking out is hushed and awkward as we stand next to each other in front of the workers that had to watch us nearly destroy the store.

We walk out silently until I notice that he’s walking out with the leopard print fedora proudly plopped on his head.

“You really bought that stupid hat?” I chuckle calling after him carrying 2 heavy, giant bags full of clothes.

“Yeah duh-“ He begins looking back but trips over his feet across the exit door frame.

I bring a plastic bag-occupied hand up to cover my mouth to hide a giggle.

“Shut up.” He directs me with a pointed hand even though I hadn’t said anything.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re kinda goofy?” I laugh, shaking my head and clicking my key fob to unlock the car.

“Goofy?” He gasps as if he’s offended. “Valerie this is peak fashion.”

I chuckle and roll my eyes, “Get in the fucking car, will you?”

He laughs and matches my actions of throwing the heavy bags in the backseat. He slides in the passenger of my blue Mercedes rental and the clunky weight of his lanky body shakes the small car. He stuffs his legs into the tiny, allotted space for them. I would make a comment about how large he is, but I’m not in the business of boosting men’s egos.

I press the push-to-start and begin navigating my way out of the parking lot. It takes a bit for my phone to connect and begin playing music, but when it does it fills the car with a familiar tune.

Noah reaches over and spins the dial to turn up the music. It doesn’t fully register in my mind what song it is until Noah speaks up.

“Is this the hippie rock band you’re representing?” He asks, a bit of sharpness to his voice.

“I-I well, no, I just-“ I’m caught off guard and stutter. I’m new to handling more than one client and having them not know about each other seemed like the best course of action. But I particularly didn’t want Noah to know since I knew he’d compare what I do with others with what I do with them.

“It is, isn’t it?” He snaps. “You manage Greta Van Fleet?”

“I… well,” I pause then sigh out of pure exhaustion. “Yes. I manage them.” I say flatly, somewhat annoyed. “I don’t really think that’s any of your business though.”

He’s silent for a moment, seemingly just taking in the song – Lover, Leaver.

“You’re right. They’re nothing like us.” He announces simply. “The voice on that singer is insane though.”

I can’t stop my brows from furrowing, and from one abruptly propping up.

He’s not upset.

He’s not upset?

“Yeah… I know.” I reply cautiously, glancing over at him to decipher the unbothered look on his face.

“Well, don’t look so surprised, they’re good. I can appreciate good music, can’t I?” He lets a few moments pass. “I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t this. They sound so familiar…” He trails off in thought.

“I know, you were expecting Harry Styles.” I joke. “But it’s not, so you can chill.” I tap my fingertips across the leather steering wheel.

“I knew it wasn’t Harry.” He shifts in his seat, crossing his arms across his skinny waist with his hands draping over his sides. He rests his head on the door looking out the window. “If it was, you wouldn’t have taken us.”

“I bet you wish it was Harry Styles then huh?” I say as a somewhat half joke and glance over at him while mindlessly tapping my fingertips on the steering wheel. He stays silent, just watching the trees go by. I can’t tell if the silence is intentional or if he’s just zoned out.

Some time passes before he returns to the conversation.

“Well, I don’t care if you represent them. Just know that I’m not dressing up like some wizard man like your other singer.” He warns firmly with a playful pointed finger.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Sebastian.”

Next Chapter -> 12 - Liar, Liar*

tag list; @ladyveronikawrites @kingdomof-omens @persuasivus @strawberryruffilo @thebadchic @the-hell-i-overcame @sinkingteethinwhitenoise @cncohshit @dominuslunae [comment if you'd like to be tagged?]

A/N: Thank you if you've made all the way to chp 11! lol thank you for reading anything i write. thank you so much for every like, reblog, ask, or comment. It means the world to me truly. Thank you.

i love hearing your thoughts so feel free to share! (i'm really bad at responding to comments/asks but i still love them 🥺)

[re--laaaaaxer]

11:50

Yesterday was a struggle—a day that felt like a failure before it even began. I had mapped out my Monday with the best of intentions, envisioning a marathon of words pouring onto the page. My plan? To write and write and then write some more. But reality, as it often does, had other plans.

Instead of diving into my work, I barely dipped a toe in. I spent a measly 10 minutes at the keyboard, producing a pitiful four lines. After that, the hours seemed to melt away into a blur of meaningless tasks and distractions. Eight hours slipped through my fingers like sand, and not a single substantial word was added to my work.

It was as though a thick fog had settled over my mind, clouding every thought and stifling any sense of clarity. I couldn’t think straight, let alone write. By the end of the day, my mind was utterly spent—so exhausted that I could barely keep my eyes open when my sister tried to talk to me that evening. I fell asleep mid-conversation, worn out by a day that had yielded nothing but frustration.

Today, though, I’m choosing to be kinder to myself. I’ve realised that this journey, this academic pursuit, is bound to have its ups and downs. There will be days when the words flow effortlessly, and days when they don’t come at all. The days when I can’t write, can’t think, can’t find a solution, or even muster a glimmer of hope—they’re all part of the process.

So, I’m giving myself permission to breathe, to accept the ebb and flow, and to embrace both the good days and the not-so-good ones. After all, this is the path I’ve chosen, and every step, every stumble, is a step forward.

As much as this post sounds slightly melodramatic, it did feel like my day was severely unproductive. Hihi! I thought I'd add a bit of drama to the ever-so-mediocre day and the happenings surrounding it.

Btw, has anyone else ever felt this way? I’d love to hear your stories, too.

Have a good one, everybody!

[dual1pa]

20 years later

joel miller x reader (use of she/her pronouns)

content warnings: language, terror, smut, p in v sex, oral (f receiving)

A/N: Might not line up with the plot of the series, not proofread, enjoy!!

2003

They felt like the talk of the town. Everyone they knew was encouraging them to get together already.

She spent most of the time with Joel and his daughter, Sarah. When she wasn't working, she picked up Sarah from school and helped make dinner for her and Joel when he had long nights at work.

She made sure to stay with Sarah until she fell asleep, then sat down on the couch to catch up on her reading. Each night around 10 or 11 o'clock, Joel would come huffing and puffing through the front door—soon discussing the events of his day to her.

She loved Joel—not that he would ever know. He treated her well. He would always call to make sure she got home alright, zoom straight over to her house to fix anything that went wrong, and overall cared about her.

However, the two of you have never kissed. She definitely had thoughts of her lips connecting to his, moving in with Sarah and him, marrying him, sleeping with him. She wanted all of that—but was too afraid to tell Joel her feelings, so she kept them to herself.

"Rough night?" she asked.

"Usual," he plopped himself down on the couch next to her, "Thanks for picking Sarah up. I know how much she hates walking home or taking the bus."

"It's no problem, Joel," she said, "I like helping you guys out."

"Don't know what I'd do without you," he smiled.

The two of them stared at each other for a few moments, when she spoke up to break the silence, "I better get going. Got an early day at the hospital tomorrow."

She worked as an ER nurse. Yes, she had weird hours at first but the pay was good. She finally gained the courage to ask her boss for 8-5 or 7-4 positions instead of overnights. It was really getting to her head.

"Okay," he said, getting up from his spot on the couch and opening up the door for her.

While watching her walk towards her car, he noticed that she was shivering due to the cool air.

"Hey, wait a minute," he said, quickly running back into his house and quickly reemerging with a flannel.

"Here, keep it. You need it more than I do," he chuckled.

"Thanks, Joel. I would freeze without you," she joked.

He loved her and he knew it.

They were both so naive.

2023

It was all a nightmare.

After that late night in September of 2003... nothing was the same.

She still remembers that night as if it happened yesterday.

When she got home from Joel's place, she did her normal nightly routine: wash her face, brush her teeth, put pajamas on, and sit in bed to watch some TV. When really focusing on the news, things felt... off.

She thought nothing of it and went to bed.

She was rudely awakened by the noises of people outside. She took a look outside to see chaos. Things were on fire, and people were panicking in the streets. She watched as people ran from other people. However, she backed away from the window in fear after witnessing one person eat another....almost like zombie behavior.

She quickly ran to check to make sure every door and window was locked in the house—they were. She grabbed the phone and began calling everyone she knew: friends, family, and co-workers. None of them picked up the phone. With shaky fingers, she dialed Joel's home phone.

Nothing.

She was in tears. The apocalypse was among her and she was alone.

—

She jerked herself awake—another nightmare.

She rubbed her eyes and did her best to forget about the horrible dream she had.

After September 2003, she found herself a group of people that ended up calling themselves "The Fireflies," which helped to find a cure for the infected. At first, she was terrified of the future. Now, with the help of the organization she's a part of, she has hope. Hope in finding a cure.

She does think about Joel from time to time. Wondered what could have been if things went right. She did regret not telling Joel how she really felt. To this day, she still loves him. Nothing will ever change that.

However, What if she stayed with Joel that night? Where would she be? Safe? or Dead? She didn't really care... as long as she was with him. If she ever came into contact with him again, she would tell him how much she loves him.

She also wondered how Sarah was—oh how much she would have grown by now... had to be at least 30 years old.

She was located in Detroit, Michigan: the unofficial official headquarters of the fireflies. Her job was pretty simple: keep an eye on her patients. Since she had a medical background, she is able to give people shots and can help with questions that anyone may have.

She put on a pair of her least dirty jeans along with Joel's flannel she kept after all those years. She missed him so much and it was the only thing that had her thinking that he was with her.

The dusty air filled her lungs as she walked out the front doors of her apartment building. While on the way to the firefly tent, she smiled and waved to everyone she knew. Since their little town was so small, everyone knew each other. All of the newcomers were quick to become noticed.

As she walked into the tent, she walked toward her friend, Erica, to tells her what she has to do for the day.

"You got a new kid today, just came in early this morning actually," Erica said, giving her a clipboard of all of the kid's information—which wasn't much. All they really knew about the kid is that her name is Ellie and she was bitten, but hasn't been infected.

"Thanks," she said.

"Careful. She's kind of an asshole," Erica replied.

"Okay who do we have here—" she walked into the room and instantly dropped the clipboard.

"Joel?" she spoke.

The man in front of her was just as shocked as she was. Before he could speak, she jumped into his arms, hugging him at tight as she could, and he did the same.

Even though he was dirty, his familiar scent that she knew all too well was still there.

"I'm- holy fuck," he kept repeating her name over and over again, not believing the woman that he still loved after all those years was right in front of him once again.

He felt on her flannel, "You still have my flannel? After all this time?" he smiled, resting his hands on her cheeks.

"It was the only thing I had left of you. Oh my god! You're alive," she felt herself tearing up just looking at him.

Ellie spoke, "Um... hate to ruin this special moment but can we just get to the point of why I'm locked up in this chair?"

She stared blankly at Joel's face, instantly coming back down to earth. She turned to Ellie and quickly examined her cut.

After the end of Ellie's examination, other doctors took Ellie in for more testing... which lead to Joel and her alone.

"Oh my god. I can't believe it's really you. 20 years later and you still have the same face. It's like you didn't age," she exclaimed.

"What happened to you that night?"

"I tried to call you," she explained, "No one picked up. Hours later of me just sitting in my house not knowing what the hell to do I went outside and snuck around until I found people who weren't infected. I've been with them ever since. Now, I can officially call myself a firefly."

"Everything happened so quickly," Joel said, "I lost Sarah, darling, I fucking lost her," he cried.

She took him into her arms once again and comforted him. She could feel herself crying once again as she realized that Sarah was gone... forever.

"Ellie is going to be here for a while, do you want to come back to my place so we can talk more in private," she asked

"Yes," he breathed.

For a few hours, the two spent the evening discussing what happened over the last twenty years. When she found the right moment, she was going to bring up "them."

"Joel," she scooted closer to him on the couch and grabbed his hand, "I made myself promise that I would tell you this if I ever saw you again."

He looked at her with a concerned face, waiting to hear your next sentence, "I love you. I've loved you since 2003. I was too big of a pussy to actually tell you. When the outbreak happened and throughout all these years, I've been kicking myself as I never got to tell you my true feelings for you. Every time I picked Sarah up and we made dinner together... it made me wish I lived with you guys. I pictured a life together, wanting to get married. Of course, the outbreak fucked that all up."

She began to cry, thinking about what could have been.

He let out a breath of relief, "I honestly thought you were going to tell me to fuck off and that you had a boyfriend."

His statement made her laugh, "No one could come close to you Joel."

"Well, I guess I'm relieved to hear that because I haven't been able to get you out of my mind either. When I lost Sarah, I was alone. I ended up in Boston, I lost Tommy along the way and I've just been so lonely. Thank God you're safe. I was only thinking the worst," he said.

"In all seriousness, I loved you since I laid my eyes on you. After Sarah's mom passed away, you were always there for her and always knew how to cheer her up when she didn't think it was possible to. You were also there for me too. Obviously, those feelings I have for you weren't there yet, but overtime, they hit me like a fucking truck. I love you so much. I love you," he took her cheeks in his hands and leaned in to kiss her.

It was like fireworks were going off all around them. It finally happened.

At first, the kiss felt innocent. Then, he got more into it. His tongue gently slid over your bottom lip as you opened your mouth for him to explore.

"Taste even better than I imagine," he laid her down on the couch and slid himself between her thighs.

Her hands roamed his back, eventually leading to his chest to unbutton his shirt. As quickly as she could, she ripped off his shirt and flew it across the room. He unbuttoned her flannel for your bra to be on full display. He shoved the cups to the side to unveil your breasts.

"Finally and even more gorgeous than what I imagined," he took one of your nipples into your mouth, lightly biting the sensitive skin. Moments later, he did the same motion to the other one. The assault on your body caused you to moan out a long "fuck."

She felt her way down to his groin, already feeling how hard he was for her. She squeezed his bulge and eventually pulled his pants down enough to let his cock spring free. She removed her jeans. She was desperate for him to be inside her.

As she was lining himself up to her entrance, he stopped her.

"Wait," he breathed, "Just feeling your wet pussy on my cock will make me come. I need to taste you first, baby, okay?"

She sunk her teeth into her bottom lip but quickly moaned out profanities as she felt his tongue circle around her clit. He took his time with her. He wanted her to truly have a great few orgasms. He licked her hole and spit on her clit. As soon as he was ready to make her cum, he sucked on her clit. Hard. He could tell he was going a good job as he felt her pull on his hair tightly.

"Joel, fuck," she said with her loud moans. He knew just how to touch her as if he's been doing it for years.

"Come on, baby. Give me a good one," he wrapped his lips around her clit more. Her voice went silent and her body went stiff as she was up high in the clouds. Her thighs tightened around his head, but his grip was stronger as he pushed her thighs back as far as they could go. Her grip on his hair was trying to pull him off as she was so overstimulated.

Once he was finished, he crawled back up her body. Once his cock landed on her oversensitive clit, it caused her to twitch.

She giggled as she was still coming down from her high.

"My God, Joel. You sure know how to make a woman come," he lazily wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Only for you, baby. You're mine and I'm yours," he whispered in her ear, causing her wetness to return.

He looked down at where their bodies were about to connect to watch as he slowly guided his cock inside her.

She hated to admit it, but it's been a while since she's had sex.

As soon as she felt Joel's cock inside her, it was painful at first, but once he was balls deep, she felt her orgasm on the rise once again.

He gave her some time to get used to his length as he kept a close watch on her facial expressions to make sure he wasn't hurting her.

"Fuck Joel, your cock feels so good," she moaned.

"I've been waiting to be inside you for 20 years," he planted kisses on her chest, "You're so beautiful. I love you."

"I love you too, now move baby. I want to come."

He did as he was told, starting off slow but chasing their highs and going as fast as he could. The couch shook as Joel fucked her, she wanted nothing more.

After a few more thrusts, Joel took himself out of her and came all over her chest. She continued to rub her clit as she was at the height of her orgasm. Before she could finish, he replaced her thumb with his and talked her through her second orgasm. They both loved it.

Joel did his best to make room for the both of them on the couch, but she was pretty much on top of him as they cuddled. She looked down to see his come still on her. He watched as she swiped her finger through his spend and placed it between her lips. He could feel himself growing hard once again.

"Come back with me," he said, "I want to be with you through all this. I want you by my side."

"Joel, I-,"

"I know you like it here and love what you're doing with the fireflies but there's people in Boston who need you. We need more experienced and trained nurses."

She definitely loved what she did, but she wanted to be with Joel more.

"Okay."

"Really?"

"Yes, I love you Joel."

"I wish there was a way we could get married," he joked.

"I think I know someone that can help with that, I know a priest around here that owes me a favor anyways. Let's get married, Joel."

[unknownb0yg1rl]

Didn’t post this yesterday bc I was absolutely exhausted so I apologize, anyways here’s the update of my entire fucking weekend bc it was a tc filled wreck. So as some of yall know my tc has never taught me and never worked in my school however he has helped me with my work before. This starts Friday when I get back from doing something really late. I don’t get home till one and I have work in literally three hours, so being the codependent hoe I am I text him complaining about it. The next day (Saturday) guess who spends the ENTIRE DAY at my work. I am about 99% sure I almost tackled him to the ground when I saw him. So like while we hug he keeps walking us backwards so he can talk to my mom who is behind me (yes I work with my mommy but it is no longer healthy so I’m looking for a new job) he just hold on to me the entire time he’s talking and when I tell yall he smells so fucking good. Anyways I work for a few more hours and my dad picks me up (no I don’t have my license or a car but I’m working on it) when I get home I am in so much pain that literally nothing helps with. I text him crying (again) and he tells me “if I could take away all your pain I would” and I literally fall asleep thinking about that. Sunday nothing major happens but I am supposed to meet him on Monday and I’m so looking forward to that. Monday comes and we open late so I didn’t have to come in till like 11. The first thing I do is walk around and clean things up and guess who tf I see. He ends up spending literally all day at my work again. I get off at 2:30 and go find him and he helps me with a paper I’m writing, there is an entire paragraph about him in there. And when we get to the paragraph about him he goes “aww you’re so sweet honey” well we finish my paper and I ask him if he could drive me home, AND HE SAYS YES. The minute we get out instead of pulling out his cigarettes like he usually does he pulls out a fucking vape (was not happy abt this bc I think vapes look dumb but whatever im still a fiend) I have my cigs in my bag and I wanted to smoke before we got to his car bc he doesn’t smoke in his car but I don’t say anything and js keep walking bc I can js smoke when I get home. Anyways we get to his car and he starts playing music and THE LYRICS RELATING TO ME AND HIS SITUATIONS?!? Anyways we pass his vape back and forth the entire way to my house. I had so much fun w him but I never wanted to leave his car bc it smelled like him and it smelled so fucking good. He drove me home and refused to let me give him gas money. I actually fall more and more in love with him everyday.

Reminders I am an adult who can consent and has the ability to do whatever she pleases and make her own decisions

[sometimes-men-need-help-too]

Men share harrowing stories of abuse at hands of partners at historic conference in Belfast

Psychological and emotional forms of abuse tend to cause a more negative impact and greater feelings of fear than physical aggression.

That has been the finding of many studies, and it was a key theme at Northern Ireland’s first conference focusing on male victims of domestic abuse.

Dr Elizabeth Bates, a psychology lecturer at the University of Cumbria, told guests that female perpetrators used coercive control and gaslighting more often than outright violence, though it should be noted that many men have also been physically and sexually abused by female and male partners.

While most of the guests at the summit were women — possibly because they make up three-quarters of Northern Ireland’s community and voluntary workforce — male victims were also in attendance.

One man who did not wish to be named described how his former partner, who he was with for a decade, took control of his finances, sleep, food and, essentially, his entire life.

“I didn’t know what to do or where to go. I was on the edge of going over the edge,” he told this newspaper.

“I didn’t know there was this support for men suffering domestic abuse.

“To be honest, I didn’t even know if I was in an abusive situation because a lot of people think it’s [just] about physical abuse.

“Call me naive, but I had accepted a lot of things as being normal, and they weren’t.”

He began working 10 to 12-hour shifts, sometimes seven days a week, because he feared going home.

“My job became my safe place. I was getting to the point where I was just going and sleeping in the car because she would come and wake me up, start arguments and tell me I would be getting no sleep that night,” he said.

“That drained me. It was hard. The person I had loved and wanted to spend the rest of my life with was treating me this way, and I just didn’t understand it.”

When the man eventually sought help in 2018, he found support was not as readily available as he had expected.

He went to his GP but found they were not a lot of help.

After that, he contacted Women’s Aid, which referred him to the Men’s Advisory Project NI (MAP), the agency that organised yesterday’s conference.

Through MAP, he was referred for free counselling sessions that he attended for 11 months.

“It was like a weight off my shoulders, just being able to talk to somebody who listened and wasn’t judgemental,” he said.

Coercive control is when a person behaves in a way which makes you feel dependent, isolated or scared.

‘Gaslighting’ is a term used to describe when someone manipulates another person, using psychological methods to make them question their sanity or powers of reasoning.

Dr Bates said many male victims of domestic abuse she interviewed had experiences with these kinds of techniques, particularly around their relationship with their children.

“She was unable to control me physically so instead controlled me using our son and my access to him,” one man said.

Legal systems and social norms can also be manipulated to this end.

One father said: “She [his former partner] regularly disobeys court orders over contact and her and her partner make regular threats to my safety in front of the children.

“The police do nothing and the court orders are not enforced by social services.”

The PSNI received 118 reports of coercive or controlling behaviour In 2021/22.

It became illegal following the passing of the Domestic Abuse Act (NI), which came into force in February 2022.

That same year, 1,297 men reported to police that they had been victims of harassment.

In many cases, a victim’s personal characteristics, such as their age, sexuality or mental capacity, will be targeted by abusive partners.

One elderly man said: “She [his former partner] convinced me I had Alzheimer’s and tried to force me to sign a legal paper to declare me incompetent.”

‘Outing’ — where a perpetrator threatens to reveal a victim’s sexuality to others, or suggests they will disclose their HIV status —is a common form of abuse in same-sex relationships.

MAP reported that 49% of gay and bisexual men have experienced at least one incident of domestic abuse since the age of 16.

Some 70% of the men the charity supports are heterosexual and have faced abuse from an intimate partner.

You can contact the Domestic and Sexual Abuse helpline (0808 802 1414), the PSNI or the Housing Executive for 24-hour support

https://www.belfasttelegraph.co.uk/life/health/men-share-harrowing-stories-of-abuse-at-hands-of-partners-at-historic-conference-in-belfast/15469094.html

[hexenmond]

A friend of mine has her own two hour radio show every Saturday afternoon, on our local free radio. Yesterday she had me on air as a guest so we could nerd out about open source stuff and Linux. And while radio isn't really my medium, she'd invited me before and if you prompt me on any of my favourite subjects I will talk for as long as you let me, so that was quite fun.

The reason she'd come up with this idea was that I had been telling her about my plans to do a series of (in person) workshops on Linux, for un-nerdy, "regular" folks who just want their devices to work for them and maybe save some money or get an older laptop going again or avoid Win 11. Or just find community and support for something they need but are struggling with. So naturally we talked about those plans as well.

And then in the last seven minutes (with another live show coming up right after us), something started to beep. Took us a moment to realise it was the studio phone (a landline that could be put on air), but then my friend went to answer and handed it over to me fairly quickly. On the other end was a person who'd recently installed Ubuntu and who was having really weird errors in their text on screen sometimes.

This is nothing I can diagnose on the phone (if at all) when there's a queue of people waiting for us to vacate the studio so I got their phone number, and later texted them my email address asking for screenshots. But it was just so WILD to me. Somebody is listening to the local radio?? To the stuff we've just been putting out for two hours? Bantering about open source software interspersed with actually quite nice jazz stuff?!? And they are desperate or inspired enough to dig up the radio's phone number and call??????

This is still sending me a little. (Btw I have since received the screenshots, this is really wild shit – my money is on it being a Wayland issue because I've seen that be the source of random strange display problems but if it is, it's still extremely weird, and if it isn't I really don't know what else this could be.)

And then on my walk home later in the evening I happened to meet an old friend who I haven't seen in forever, going the other way on a bike with her younger kid in the trailer, and we chatted for a bit. I told her about the radio show and my plans for Linux workshops, and her eyes opened wide and she said PLEASE let me know, this is exactly what I need right now, so we checked whether our contact information was still up to date and I went home in another bit of a daze. Like, I seem to be hitting a nerve here. I did think in this town there should be enough people interested in using Linux, but for them to immediately start crawling out of hiding holes the moment I say something out loud – wicked.

I'm looking forward to this 🙃

[depressedhouseplant]

More Stats! More Stats!

Today we have some slightly different stats! The Top 10, Bottom 10, & Apocalypse AU entries as of yesterday afternoon.

My criteria were simple: straight up likes. If there was a tie then I’d go to reblogs to break the tie. However, there were no ties in the top 10. What I’ve learned over the past few months is if an entry is going to take off, it’s going to do it within the first 24 hours of being posted. So it’s not like I was necessarily being unfair to entries posted more recently. I’ll get a like or reblog here or there, but generally if an entry is going to succeed (whatever that means) it’ll do it relatively quickly.

The Top 10 JFW Entries (literally no one will be shocked by these results):

Felix Doting Boyfriend Y/N - posted January 26 - 136 likes

Yunho Best Man / Maid of Honor Y/N - posted January 24 - 76 likes

Ateez OT8 Valentine’s Day Y/N - posted February 14 - 63 likes

Wooyoung Next Door Neighbor Y/N - posted February 20 - 48 likes

Yunho Best Man / Maid of Honor Y/N pt 2 - posted February 1 - 43 likes

Yunho Royalty Y/N - posted March 7 - 42 likes

Yungi Youth - posted January 17 - 35 likes (the only M/M pairing to make the top 10)

Hyunjae Strangers at the Club Y/N - posted January 29 - 34 likes

Felix Doting Boyfriend Y/N pt 2 - posted February 5 - 32 likes (over 100 likes less than the first installment)

Juyeon / Aeri Hookup - posted April 24 - 25 likes

Most Popular Apocalypse AU Entry:

Part 4 - not coincidentally the only NSFW entry thus far

Least Popular Apocalypse AU Entry:

Parts 5, 7, 10, & 12 were all tied with only 2 likes & no reblogs. Part 5 is the official worst performer as it has the earliest posting date of the 4.

I also thought it would only be fair to include the bottom 10 entries as well. There were 23 entries tied with only 2 likes and even after weeding out for reblogs there were still 20 entries with 2 likes. I opted for oldest to newest to round out the bottom 10 and nothing that was bonus content for other works.

The Bottom 10 JFW Entries (read: go give these babies some love if you haven’t already):

Namgi Mirrors on the Ceiling - posted January 11 (my birthday you ungrateful heathens) - 0 likes

Jumil Oops Wrong Person - posted January 2 - 1 like (0 reblogs)

Chanlix FWB - posted January 4 - 1 like (0 reblogs)

Juric Just Talk to Me - posted January 7 - 1 like (2 reblogs)

Taegi Caught on Kiss Cam - posted January 8 - 2 likes (I’ll be honest, I wasn’t happy with how this one turned out. It was way better in my head)

SOPE Depression - posted January 25 - 2 likes (this one touches on a heavy subject so I’m not surprised it didn’t do well)

Bbangju Hooking Up with a World Famous Idol - posted February 11 - 2 likes (I thought Chanhee & Changmin were pretty funny here)

JiHope Hobi’s Birthday - posted February 17 - 2 likes (I admit this one was a bit disappointing because it had the potential for a great smutty entry but I didn’t have the energy at the time)

Yeonbin / Female OC - posted February 26 - 2 likes (This only bolsters my belief that female OCs are not a good bet if you want something to do well)

Eric & Jongho Grief - posted March 10 - 2 likes (This one also touches on a heavy subject so I’m also not surprised it didn’t do well)

Honorable Mention:

Sunwoo x Yeji / Yeji x Belle - posted May 10 - 2 likes at the time of this writing. (I’m guessing the F/F pairing was not a good choice. Sorry y’all)

I can’t say I necessarily learned anything new from these results, but more had things I already knew / suspected confirmed:

NSFW is more popular than SFW

Hotteoks (Yunho stans) are collectively the thirstiest, but Pixies (Felix stans) show up in larger numbers

Female OCs or F/F pairings are literary suicide

Y/N will always bring in readers

Sequels / continuations never do as well as the first entry / installment

But Emily I want more of (pairing / scenario / activity) that isn’t popular! Help!

Send in a request! You can either use the AMA function or DM me. There’s very few things I won’t write. I will get around to the Sunwoo / Wonyoung pt 2 that was requested multiple times, but it’s behind several other things in my mental queue right now.

Also don’t be a lurker! Like, reblog, comment, interact! I’m far more likely to prioritize requests from people who regularly interact with me. The AMA defaults to anon, but you can turn it off. Both @m-is-mickey & @theboredsquirrel can attest I don’t bite (and also will recognize you every chance I get because I love my interactive readers 💕).

Thank you to everyone who takes time out of their day to read my silly little stories. I hope it brings joy to your day whatever that day’s entry is. There are 234 days left in 2024 & here’s hoping I’ll get something for at least 100 of them 🤞🏻