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awaywith-thefaeries · 2 years

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HANGMAN’S A WHAT NOW!? | j.seresin

pairing: jake "hangman" seresin x wife!reader

summary: after the uranium mission, the dagger squad is assigned more permanently to the San Diego base, so Jake and his wife make plans to move their little family out to SoCal. The rest of the dagger squad is quite surprised to find out that Hangman even has a wife, when she joins them for a beach day, with some little surprises in tow.

warnings: pure, tooth-rotting fluff, Jake being a girl dad

a/n: this is just a little piece I came up with a 4 a.m. last night. reblogs are greatly appreciated. feel free to send in requests for any of the characters on my page, my requests are open!

word count: 2k

main masterlist | series masterlist

“Mama, are we almost there yet?”

You smiled softly at your daughter, cuddling as close to her sister as the seatbelt in the back of the car will allow her.

“Almost, Liv,” you say gently.

“Okay then, Mama,” your daughter sighs, her head falling onto her sister's, where she is snoozing on Olive’s shoulder.

You smile at your twin girls, who had been so good for you while you drove from your old home in rural Texas, to join their father in San Diego, where he has been more permanently stationed after the success of the last mission he had been called back to Top Gun for. The girls adored their father and it has been a hard couple of months without him, for all three of you. You know it has been hard on Jake too. He acted happy for the girls on their frequent FaceTime sessions, but you’ve known Jake too long to not catch the sadness in his eyes as he read them a bedtime story and watched them fall asleep without being able to tuck them into their blankets, smooth their hair back from their faces and kiss them goodnight.

Which is why you had packed up the girls, and all your essentials three days before schedule, so you could finally reunite with your beloved husband. You have been in contact with the only one of your husband's fellow pilots you’ve met, his friend Javy (or Coyote to his team), who let you know that the whole squad was having a beach day today, which is where you are headed now.

You look around at the houses on either side of the street as you follow the GPS to the location Coyote sent you, somewhere called The Hard Deck. He had texted you that you could park your van in the lot, and then go through the bar (which isn’t open this early in the afternoon, he assured you) to get to the beach on the other side.

Passing under a row of palm trees, you pull into the parking lot of the small beachside bar you have heard so much about from your husband and turn into the open spot in between Jake’s truck and a shiny Bronco.

Putting your keys in your bag, you open your door and climb out, brushing your long skirt out as you make your way around the front of the car to open the door your girls are sleeping next too.

Opening it gently, you brush you fingers through Charlotte’s dark blonde hair, so similar to her daddy’s.

“Lottie, baby, it’s time to wake up, we’re here,” you whisper to her. She stirs a little, blinking bleary green eyes up at you as a tiny hand comes up to rub her face. The arm movement jostles Olive, who picks her head up and yawns.

“Come on, my loves, can you undo your seatbelts and stand next to Mama, so I can make sure you look so pretty to see Daddy again?”

With that question, the identical faces of the best gifts Jake has ever given you light up, as if remembering where they are and why they had been driving in the car for two days.

Within seconds, your twins are standing side by side, bobbing up and down on their toes in excitement as you check that their adorable little matching outfits have not been wrinkled too much by the car ride. Once you re-tie Charlotte’s hair bow, which had come undone in the car, you take each of your daughters hands in each of yours and lead them into the empty bar.

Passing through the doors that lead onto the sand, your girls gape at the sight of the ocean sparkling in the late afternoon sun.

“Mama,” Olive says, mouth hanging open, “it’s so big.”

“Yeah, baby, it goes on for miles and miles.”

“Mama, mama, mama, look!” Charlotte bounces in place next to you and squeezes the hand she’s holding onto. “I can see Daddy!”

You turn to look where she’s pointing and sure enough, a tiny ways down the beach, you spot your husband, throwing around a ball with another man in board shorts. The man throws his head back and laughs at something Jake says.

“Mama, can we go! Can we do the surprise now, please?” Olive asks, so sweetly that your heart melts a little bit as you nod at your daughter.

“Go knock him over with the biggest hug ever, girls!” You say as you start walking again, releasing their hands so that they can run ahead.

✯✯✯✯

“Nice try, Bradshaw,” Jake yells to his friend as Rooster throws a particularly hard ball, causing Jake to have to side step to catch it.

“One day man,” Rooster grins, “one day, I’ll get you.”

Jake is just about to come up with a witty retort when he hears something he thought he wasn’t going to hear for another couple of days.

“Daddy!”

Two little voices he knows better than anything. Jake whips around in disbelief, forgetting Rooster and the game of catch in an instant as he spots his little girls running towards him, dressed adorably in little matching outfits.

Jake takes a few steps towards his girls and then drops into the sand just in time for them to come crashing into him, arms going round his neck and bodies thumping into him with such force, he goes sprawling back in the sand with his babies on top of him. He holds them there for a few moments, relishing in the feeling of them in his arms again, their puffs of laughter tickling his neck.

After a few moments, he sits up effortlessly, still holding onto the two five year olds and sets them onto their feet. Pulling out of the hug just far enough to look at their faces, Jake’s right hand comes up to stroke Olive’s hair out of her eyes while his left stays firmly around Charlotte’s waist.

“What are you doing here, you two?”

“We come early, Daddy!” Olive says, her little hand coming up to touch Jake’s cheek.

“Mama said we should surprise you!” Charlotte says, her voice muffled from where she’s pressed her face into her father’s neck.

“Did she now?” Jake asks playfully, looking up just as a pair of legs he knows very well stop in front of him. He lets his eyes trail upwards until they meet yours and he swears, he doesn’t think there will ever be a time where he isn’t affected by that beautiful smile.

“Hi Darlin,” he grins, letting go of his babies for only a moment to get to his feet before putting his hands on their heads as they wrap themselves around a leg each.

“Hey Handsome,” you smirk back, and Jake can’t help but close the tiny distance between you to press a kiss to your lips.

He feels so content in this moment, all three of his girls are finally with him after too long (in his opinion) apart, that it’s a bit jarring when Rooster’s voice breaks through his little bubble of happiness.

“I’m sorry, what the fu….rick is going on here?”

Jake laughs against your lips before pressing one last final kiss to them before pulling away and turning to see the rest of his team, save Coyote, gaping at him.

“What does it look like, Bradshaw,” Jake smirks, as Rooster rubs his ribs where Phoenix evidently elbowed him to keep him from cursing in front of the two little girls still hanging onto their father.

“It looks,” Phoenix jumps in, trying to sound mad, but failing because of the shit eating grin on her face, “like you’ve been keeping secrets, Bagman.”

You’re intoxicating laugh has Jake turing back to you, a betrayed look in his eyes, an over exaggerated pout on his lips.

“Baby?” He whines, purposefully making his bottom lip jut out and quiver slightly. You laugh again, leaning forward to kiss away his frown.

“Oh hush…..now, is your Daddy going to introduce us to the squad, or are we gonna have to report back to Grandma Seresin about his manners,” you say cheekily, leaning down to address the last part of your question to the twins. They both giggle and pull on Jake’s hands, while he stares down at his little family.

“Alright, no need to involve my mama,” he says, grinning, “who wants a ride over?”

Both of his daughters look up at him with matching grins, before Olive reaches up and starts shouting, “Sandwich, sandwich!”

“Oh alright!” Jake sighs dramatically, before taking her hands in both of his and swinging her up onto his back. Once he’s sure her little legs are locked around his waist tight enough that she won’t fall, he reaches down for Charlotte, and lifts her up to carry her on his chest.

With his daughters hanging off him like Koalas, and your hand in one of his, he leads you over to the little congregation of towels the gang had set up earlier that day.

Bob, Phoenix, Rooster, and Fanboy all rise to their feet from where they had been lounging, as Jake approaches with his family. Only Coyote remains on his towel, a fact which makes Jake smirk.

“Everyone, these are my girls,” Jake says, angling his body so that Olive is slightly visible, and Charlotte can see from where her head is back in his neck.

There’s a chorus of heys from the group and Jake feels one of Olive’s hands leave his neck, reaching up to wave at the pilots.

“This is my wife, Y/N Seresin, and these two beauties…..Can you say hi, and introduce yourself, sugar?” Jake asks Olive, bouncing a little so that she holds onto his neck again. She giggles lightly and Jake feels her nod against his shoulder.

“I’m Liv,” she says, “it’s very nice to meet you!”

She mispronounces her v’s slightly, but her greeting is so endearing that Jake witnesses all the pilots melt in front of him.

“And what about you, baby?” Jake asks Charlotte, angling his head so that he can see her face. She shakes her head slightly, her eyes so wide and innocent in her face.

“Are you sure, darlin?” Jake asks. His shy daughter just shakes her head, and turns her face, so that her face is hidden completely in her father’s neck.

“Okay��.,” Jake murmurs to her, running his hand up and down her back in circles and turns to his group of pilots.

“This little one is Lottie,” he says.

“Coyote,” you say, taking the focus of the group off of your shy daughter as you call your friend, “are you gonna stay over there, or are you actually going to get up and and come say hello?”

“Ya know, I think I’m good where I am,” Coyote laughs from his seat, grinning.

“Uncle Javy!?” Olive asks, wriggling around in excitement.

“Yeah Livie!” Coyote grins, finally getting up from the ground and making his way over.

“Daddy, down please!” Olive chirps and Jake obligingly bends until his daughter can hop off his back.

The minute Olive is on the ground, she takes off running towards Coyote, and he leans down as she gets to him, and lifts her up, swinging her around in the air as her laughter explodes from her. After she's been swung around a few times, Coyote p uts her back in the sand and pulls you into a side hug.

✯✯✯✯

As the family reunites with each other, and some of the pilots go and begin chatting with Jake and his wife, Phoenix sidles up to Rooster and elbows him again.

"You good, Roos?"

The pilot turns his head to look at her, and she bursts out laughing.

"Oh come on, Bradley, is it really that shocking that Jake has a life outside of the navy?"

"Kind of!"

Phoenix goes to elbow her friend again, but he's ready this time, dodging out of the way as she goes for his ribs, the two pilots laughing as they join the rest of the group getting to know their newest members.

a/n: thank you so much for reading! Let me know what you think!

#hangman x reader #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #hangman x you #dad!jake seresin #the dagger squad #rooster top gun #phoenix top gun #hangman x wife!reader #awaywith-thefaeries #top gun 2 #top gun fanfiction #dogfight football #maverick top gun

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i-cant-sing · 2 months

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Rei: Baby~ Who’s your favorite person ever?

Reader: Elmo

Rei: See! She said Mama

Enji: No she said elmo. Which means Enji ergo me.

Enji usually never really argues with Rei and goes along with whatever she says cause he still feels guilty for what he did to Rei and the kids in the past, but when it comes to whos the favourite paerent to you? Yeah, Rei will have to kill him before she even reaches that status.

Because u best believe- Enji is going over the top to make sure he becomes and STAYS your favourite parent/person forever. I mean, the day toddler reader babbled "y-youre my favourite, dad! Youre my best friend! I love you forever!" it was over for Rei, who didnt even know about the battle she had lost before it had even started. Enji made sure- he mADE SURE that he stayed your fav. Sure, Rei baked you a 5 tier birthday cake with your fav character on your 3rd birthday, but Enji bought a fucking ice cream truck home to give u unlimited ice creams (well, not unlimited. Rei had to stop u from throwing up). Rei arranged a hello kitty themed birthday for your 6th birthday, Enji had the whole Sanrio park booked just for you and the fam for the day. Rei gifted you a custom Hermes bag on your sweet 16 (customised in the sense that it had gps trackers in it), Enji bought you a fucking luxury car.

And sure, as you grow up, you tell Rei that shes also your fav parent, or that you love them both very much, but Enji knows. Oh he knows. You can lie all you want to please his delusional wife, but he knows the truth. He sees the signs- the way you have his number on speed dial first, the way you come to him first when youre in trouble, the way you use him as a shield against Rei-

You prefer him over her. He's your favourite. Always have and hell make damn sure, he always will be.

You get married to RATsuki? Yeah, well that doesnt make Katsuki your fav because guess what? Its papa Enji who just KNOWS when youre in trouble, when you need help, need HIM (girl, omg he literally has hidden cameras inside your new home, i mean yes Enji does have a sixth sense, but like yeah those cameras and mics also help him a lot).

Enji is your favourite. Periodt 💅

#yandere enji todoroki #yandere endeavour #yandere bnha #bnha headcanons #yandere mha #bnha imagines #yandere todoroki clan #yandere endeavor

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andysorbit · 11 months

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We Can Go Anywhere (M)

idol!Johnny x fem!reader

genre: smut, romance

warnings: car sex, fingering, unprotected sex, daddy kink, semi public sex, sweat kink

Author's note: this has been in my drafts for a while. I was gonna just trash it but what the hell. I tweaked it and now it's yours. also shout out to @multifandomslxt for triggering my sweat kink. it really added a nice touch and helped me finish this off in a way that felt more satisfying. I really hated what i had before.

word count: idek? like 1k?? give or take??

songs mentioned:

sex on fire - kings of leon

UH - fujiya and miyagi

You think you're falling in love with John when he shows up at your door at noon on a Saturday.

His pretty eyes meet yours and he grins at you,

"Pack a bag," he tells you.

It's random and you've grown close enough to stop questioning him. Whatever he has planned, he knows you need it just like he knows you well enough to step in at the right moment to keep you from spiraling.

"How much stuff should I pack?" You ask as you begin tossing your basic necessities in you backpack.

"Three days worth? Remember the old department store that closed down? Price Rite?"

John's fighting an eager smile.

"Yeah?" You say slowly.

"There's one left but it's like... Eight hours from here so if we go now, we can get there before they close and maybe have dinner on the way there. Hurry up,

John's voice is soft yet eager, "I'm gonna make sure my GPS is set up right. I'll be outside."

You pack a throw a few outfits and pajamas then take a quick shower.

It doesn't take you long to get ready and when you get into the passenger seat of John's car, he turns to smile at you, "Okay, you good? Got everything?" he asks.

You nod, "Yeah. I think so. I grabbed an extra phone charger for just in case."

"Perfect. Now let's get going," he says as he pulls off.

"I see you decided to wear a dress... Good girl, baby."

You feel your cheeks heat up and he reaches across to grab your hand and bring it to his lips for a kiss.

"You know at some point during this trip, I'm gonna have my hand in your panties."

"Oh, I know it."

The first hour is filled with music and snacks.

As John drives, you feed him sour patch kids, he dedicates songs to you, and you both play I spy.

It's these moments that you love. He isn't Johnny in NCT who travels the world and is sometimes gone for months at a time, he's John and he's as familiar as the feeling you get when your head touches your pillow at night.

In the second hour, you read fanfictions to John and you both laugh. After coming across a particulatly wild Doyoung story, you both decide to send it to him.

"That one was good... kinda made me a jerk though," John chuckles.

"You said it was a good idea to send the group chat a story about Doie getting a train ran on him by every single one of you guys, baby, you are a jerk," You shoot back.

John laughs and you definitely may be falling in love with him.

In the third hour, you both debate on whether or not road head is safe and ultimately decide against it.

Just into the fourth hour, John's hand eases from your thigh to inside your panties.

He strokes you while Sex on Fire blares from the car speakers and there's just something about the wind pouring into the car and the smell of the trees lining this stretch of highway that make this orgasm in particular the best orgasm John's ever given you.

When he pulls his hand from your panties and brings his fingers to his mouth to taste your release, you think that maybe you two could be like this forever. Raunchy and playful. Gentle and vulnerable. Safe, stupid, and comfortable; knowing that things will only ever get better for the both of you.

In the fifth hour, you stop for dinner at a roadside diner with a jukebox and John plays James Ingram's One Hundred Ways. You chat with a retired truck driver who tells John that he should marry you as soon as he can.

John promises him that he will.

In the sixth hour, Yuta calls to check in on you both and to tell you that Doyoung is spiraling from that story you sent and that Hyuck has been reading that story along with many other stories at full volume in all of the dorms.

In the seventh hour, John can't take it anymore and he pulls into a truck stop and parks way in the back, "Come on, beautiful," he hums as he clumsily shimmies his long frame into the backseat.

UH plays as you ride him frantically and you both know that this could go so badly if someone were to see the car visibly shaking but you're both too caught up in the hunger of this moment to care.

"Daddy!" You whimper.

"Ride daddy's cock like a good girl... that's it," he sighs.

Your thighs burn but you can't stop. John presses hot kisses against your neck and chest, "Need you to cum, baby... cum on my cock," he whines and you know he's so close to letting go.

You take his face in your hands and lick the sweat from his upper lip.

"God, you're so fuckin' hot... Ah! Shit..." he says through clenched teeth.

"Cum, daddy... please cum," You plead.

"Cum with me," he whispers. He licks your neck and slowly drags his tongue up, up, up past your jaw, past your cheek to the sweat on your own upper lip.

You moan and lap at his tongue. To taste him like this makes your body float.

His hips stutter and he cums inside you with deep sigh, "Don't stop yet... get yourself off, baby," he winces. You know he's sensitive and he's too greedy to stop you.

You both share a greedy kiss as you tremble and bounce on him, "Daddy... I'm... I'm close."

John brings a hand down to thumb your clit and you squeeze your eyes shut as you release.

Somehow, he cums again and this time he's throwing his head back and bucking wildly against you. You lean against him and gather yourself.

The words tumble out of his mouth with that same warmth and clumsiness he had when he first asked you to be his girlfriend,

"I love you."

You kiss him, "I love you too, John," You whisper.

You stay this way for a little longer and when you finally get back on the road, John drives with your hand in his.

In the eighth hour, you arrive at Price Rite. It's a nostalgic gift for the both of you and as you walk aisles together, you smile at the familiarity.

"All of their stores really do look the same," John says incredulously.

"At least we don't have to ask where anything is," You say as you look towards the lingerie section.

"Looks like you want a Price Rite Signature exclusive," he says with a chuckle as he leads you into the department.

You both look around until John finds a dusty pink set, "I think this is the one, Y/n," he says.

"Oh wow, that's so pretty," You say with a gasp.

"Come on, let's go get a hotel for the night. It's late," he says as he ushers you out to check out.

"You look like the boy in the group my son likes," the cashier says. You look down at her name tag, her name is Sandra.

"I get that a lot," John laughs, "That's the guy from.. NCT? Yeah, I hear that quite a lot. I met him once. He's even bigger in person."

"Yeah? My son has a thing for tall guys... oh he's gonna love this. You two enjoy your night," she says as she hands John the receipt.

You both bid her a good evening and leave.

"You're so annoying," You laugh as your hand finds his.

John drives along the boulevard until he spots a hotel, "This one looks good. How are you feelin' about stopping here for the night, ladybug?"

"Yeah," You say softly. You feel your body tiring out.

He parks the car and you get out, "I'll get your stuff. You look half dead."

You give him a tired smile and wait as he gets your things from the trunk.

In the hotel lobby, John does all of the talking to get a room.

"Newly weds?" the receptionist asks.

"Yes, ma'am," John says with a nod.

It's when he turns to smile at you that you know for sure that you are in love with him.

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osritsoftware · 2 years

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sarahwroteathing · 5 months

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Giddy

[Steve Rogers x Reader]

Word Count: 2950

Summary: You take Steve on a surprise date.

Request: Steve Rogers, Giddy, Ice Skating

Warnings: None

A/N: I got VERY carried away by your choice of mood word, dear anon. I had a lot of fun with it, and I hope it's just as fun to read. Merry Christmas, my loves!

You don’t think you’ve ever seen a cuter sight than Steve Rogers sitting in your passenger’s seat for a surprise date. He brought two changes of clothes. A tote bag of snacks. A “fancy coffee” that Natasha taught him how to make, presented to you proudly in a giant thermos. Now he was sitting straight up in his seat, alternating between staring out the windows and staring at you with a goofy smile and bright eyes like this was the best day of his life.

“Are you excited?” you asked with a laugh.

“Sorry. No one ever surprises me,” he said, looking faintly embarrassed. “At least not good surprises.”

“Nothing to be sorry about! I’ve just never seen you like this before. It’s really cute.”

From the corner of your eye, you thought you saw him begin to blush, and you wished there was a way to admire it more thoroughly without recklessly endangering you both.

“And you still won’t tell me how long we’ll be driving?” he checked after a moment, earning a narrow-eyed look from you.

“No, Mr. GPS Brain, I’m not telling you how long,”

“Fine,” he said, still smiling, taking a moment to dig through the snack bag. “Here.”

He poked at your bottom lip until you opened your mouth to take the chocolate-covered pretzel he held up for you.

“Thank you, my love.”

“Mmhmm. Wait, you ate breakfast before you picked me up, right? You told me you were going to.”

“Yes, I did.”

You didn’t have to look to know he was eyeing you suspiciously.

“Promise?”

“Yes, I promise,” you laughed, holding out your hand for a pinky promise.

“Just checking… Do you want some apple chips? I got the green ones you like.”

He was holding your pinky hostage now, dropping a kiss onto the back of your hand as he waited for the specific answer he clearly wanted.

“Of course, Passenger Princess Steve.”

“I don’t know what that means,” he said, not sounding particularly bothered as he released your hand to dig for the apple chips.

“You can look it up. It’s not bad.”

He hummed, depositing an apple chip in your mouth before pulling out his phone. You smiled to yourself as he typed.

“I don’t not drive. You don’t let me drive.”

“I let you drive. Just not my car.”

“I’m a fine driver.”

“Steve. I’m not convinced you’ve ever had to pass a driving test. You drive every car like you stole it.”

“Rude,” he said even as he fed you another apple chip.

“I fear for my life and insurance rates.”

“Just break up with me now, I guess.”

You snorted.

“Nah. It’s endearing in its own way. And you’re very good with the motorcycle, at least when I’m on it. Very gentle.”

“Well, yeah. I don’t want you falling off.”

“I appreciate that,” you laughed.

Things continued this way for about three hours as you drove out of the city and the buildings grew more and more sparse, eventually giving way to frost-covered trees and stretches of snow-covered ground. Steve never lost his smile or his excitable energy, choosing songs that only contributed to the mood. The music had you dancing in your seat and singing to him while he laughed and watched you, joining in for a few lines when he got the hang of it.

By the time you turned off the main road, Steve was wiggling in his seat too, craning to see out all of the car windows. After two stretches of tree-lined country roads, you arrived at your destination, a large tract of land with a few large, well-maintained old buildings and wide open spaces.

On one such space there was a decently sized outdoor ice rink, a low wooden wall with evenly spaced high posts fencing it in and rainbow colored twinkle lights upping the charm. Three small sets of wood benches like partial bleachers surrounded it on three sides, with a cheerfully painted food truck taking up the fourth side. The chalkboard menus placed just in front of the window advertised an assortment of hot drinks and pastries.

There weren’t many people here, late morning on a weekday, no more than ten total wandering the scenic walking trails in visual range and braving the ice.

“I’ve never been ice skating before,” Steve said quietly, staring out his window with a boyish grin that set your stomach fluttering. “I never had the money for skates and then…. But that’s what we’re here for, right?”

“It is,” you said, parking in a small dirt lot and shutting off the engine. “If that sounds fun. We can also take some of the trails if you’d rather.”

He turned to you, responding to you with an enthusiastic kiss that had you giggling against his lips.

“Yeah, it sounds fun. I want to try.”

“Fabulous. I bought you some skates. They’re in the trunk.”

Steve’s eyes got wide again, and he scrambled out of the car so quickly he almost strangled himself with the seatbelt. You followed at a calmer pace, watching with a smile as he unboxed your scuffed up old skates and his shiny new ones.

“Thank you so much, sweetheart.”

“Of course,” you said with a shrug. “Let’s go see how they fit.”

You grabbed your coats, scarves, and hats, leaving the skates for Steve to carry as you headed towards the rink.

“You’ve been skating before,” Steve guessed.

“Oh, yeah. I’ve been skating since I was a kid.”

He hummed, smiling at you with a mix of excitement and nerves as you approached a free space of the bleachers.

You took it upon yourself to help Steve into his skates, and he let you, teasing at the way you fussed over the fit and the laces. You got yours on much quicker and guided Steve to the gap in the barrier with one arm around his waist and your other held out for him to grab onto.

He wobbled a little as soon as his first foot met the ice, a panicked little grimace flashing across his face as he reached out to you and the wall on his other side.

“It’s alright,” you said, trying to hold in a giggle. “You’ve got it. Hold on until you feel more comfortable.”

You slid onto the ice seamlessly, gliding along beside him and continuing to steady him until he became a little less wobbly.

“This is hard,” he laughed, jerking both his arms when he overcorrected his balance.

“It is,” you agreed, catching his elbow. “You’re walking on ice with knives strapped to your feet. It would be weird if it wasn’t hard.”

“You’re making it look easy,” he said with a flustered smile.

“Well, of course I am. I’ve had years of practice. Plus, I planned this date very intentionally. I couldn’t show off and perform a super cute romantic cliche if I wasn’t good at it.”

“If you kiss me right now, I’m pretty sure I’ll fall,” he warned you.

“Noted,” you laughed. “Not what I meant.”

You skated out in front of him, turning smoothly to skate backwards. Steve raised his eyebrows, and you grinned at him, holding out both your hands to him.

“Give me your hands. I’ve got ya. I won’t let you fall.”

Steve glanced uncertainly at the wall, which he had been maintaining a tight grip on as he shuffled along the edge of the ice. You shifted your stance, bringing your hands closer so he could more quickly shift his grip from the wall to you. With a quick breath, he made the change, only wobbling a little before steadying again.

“There you go!” you said encouragingly, now holding both of his hands in yours, towing him gently forward as you skated smoothly backwards.

“If I’m about to take you down with me, let go, okay?” he said, with a giddy little smile that made you wish you could kiss him. But he was right. It wouldn’t take much to knock him over at this point.

“Not a chance. We’re in this together. Look how damn cute we are right now,” you said with a smile.

Steve relaxed a little, visibly took a moment to appreciate the moment, the two of you skating together with your hands linked, staring into each other's eyes.

“Are you trying to seduce me?” he whispered to you, squeezing your hands when you laughed loud and carefree at the question.

“Obviously. Is it working?”

“Obviously,” he laughed.

The two of you made two laps that way, earning a few smiles from the other skaters. Steve wobbled quite a few times, but you managed to steady him each time, maintaining a slow and patient pace with him.

“You skate better backwards than I do forwards,” he noted as you began your third lap together. “I almost feel bad for slowing you down.”

“Don’t you dare,” you said, squeezing his hands again. “I’m loving every second of this.”

“I kind of want to see what you can do, though. Give you a chance to show off.”

You didn’t want to abandon him on the wall, but the smile he was giving you, somehow already proud before he’d seen you do anything, was impossible to deny.

“Alright, but just for a minute,” you said, slowly guiding his hands to the wall and helping him find a position where he could see the rest of the rink and stabilize himself at the same time.

“I got it,” he said.

“You sure?”

“Yes,” he laughed. “I got it. Go make me fall in love with you again.”

“Steve!” you gasped dramatically, making him laugh again. “I’m the one who’s supposed to be charming you!”

“You are,” he promised. “Go do it some more.”

You bit your lip, shaking your head fondly at him as you started moving backwards again, picking up more speed before turning around. You were by no means an expert, but your grandma had enrolled you in several skating classes when you were younger, and you knew plenty of moves that looked extremely impressive to beginners and weren’t all that difficult for you to execute. First, you enjoyed a lap at full speed, enjoying the feeling, and laughing as Steve gave a loud cheer when you passed him. It was the encouragement you needed to start showing off a little more, taking care to only pull out the big guns when you were in spaces of empty ice, safely out of the way of the few other skaters on the ice.

You were halfway through another spin when you heard a brief shout and a heavy thud. When you turned back, Steve was in a bewildered heap on the ice. Biting back a laugh, you weaved quickly through the other skaters, crouching carefully as you slid up to Steve.

“Are you okay?”

“I fell,” he said, his eyes still wide as they found yours.

“I see that,” you said gently. “Are you okay?”

“I’m bad at this,” Steve laughed, shock morphing into utter delight.

You smiled hesitantly, reaching for him.

“Did you hit your head?”

“What? No! I just - ” He laughed again. “I fell over. I didn’t get pushed or hit a rough patch of ice I just… Lost my balance and couldn’t save it. And I fell.”

“I’ve literally never seen anyone this happy about falling on their ass in public,” you said, a giggle bubbling up at the sight of that wide, delighted smile still fixed on his beautiful face.

“I feel so normal,”

“I’d maybe up the angst a little if you want to be normal. Bruised tailbone and all.”

“Okay,” Steve said simply, flopping straight on his back on the ice like a toddler and sending you into a fit of giggles in the process.

“That’s not quite what I -” You could barely breathe to get the sentence out, clasping a hand over your mouth in an attempt to get ahold of yourself.

“That HURT!” Steve called out, still sprawled out on the ice. “I’m so EMBARRASSED!”

“Steve,” you laughed, letting yourself drop into a seated position next to him.

“Don’t LOOK at me!” he continued. “Leave me here to DIE!”

“Incredible,” you said through your giggles. “We found him. The most normal man on the planet.”

Steve was laughing now too, eyes sparkling as he discovered you sprawling on the ice beside him. He wrapped an arm around you, dragging you closer to him and muffling his laughter against your skin, pressing cold little kisses to your face.

“Ready for a break?” you asked as you recovered your breath.

“Sure,” he said. “But you’re either going to have to teach me how to get up or drag me to the exit.”

You snorted.

“Alright, come on. Scoot closer to the wall. That’ll be easier for you.”

After a couple of false starts, Steve managed to regain his footing, grumbling playfully at the ease with which you popped up from the ice once he was standing.

You made it to the gap in the wall successfully, and you pretended not to notice the way Steve very intentionally overbalanced as he shifted from ice to snow, falling into you with overly innocent eyes and the fakest apology you’d ever heard.

“You’re getting too confident already,” you chastised playfully, as he hugged you tightly. “You’re not good enough to start fake falling. You’re going to actually knock yourself over again.”

“Wow. Meanest teacher I’ve ever had,” he said, barely audible from where he had his face nuzzled against your neck.

“I’m a monster,” you agreed, tugging on his coat until he at least started shuffling back towards the bleachers with you. “Let's get our shoes back on for a minute so we can get our hands on some pastries and hot chocolate.”

You changed quickly, tucking your belongings neatly under the bench and heading towards the food truck. Steve caught you up in his arms again as you inspected the chalk sandwich board, standing behind you and reading over your shoulder. You swayed slightly along with the music playing from the large outdoor speaker.

“What do you think?” you asked after a moment.

“Trying to decide between a croissant and a cinnamon roll.”

“Easy. we’ll get both. What about a drink?”

He hummed thoughtfully, pointing at the bottom corner of the board.

“What’s this list for? Do you know?”

“I think it’s extra flavors you can add to your coffee or hot chocolate.”

After another minute of quiet conversation, you stepped up to the window. An older woman with bright silvery hair smiled at you welcomingly.

“Hi! Can we get two croissants and a cinnamon roll, please?”

“Of course! Any drinks?”

“Do you have a favorite?” Steve asked.

“I think hot chocolate is the way to go,” she said with a bright smile. “I like cherry in mine, but you can’t go wrong with mint.”

“One of each?” Steve suggested, tilting his head to see your face better.

You smiled and nodded, pulling your wallet out of your purse as the woman rang up your order and read out the price. Steve’s hand disappeared from around your waist for a moment, re-entering your field of vision with his own wallet in hand.

“Hey!” you said, snatching it out of his hand. “I told you to leave that at home!”

“You sure did,” he said, eyes dancing with amusement as you flailed your arm around to keep his wallet out of reach. “Must have forgotten. Oh well.”

“You did not,” you argued, hurriedly shoving it down your sweater before he could get his hands on it, keeping one arm tucked around your own waist to keep it from falling out the bottom.

“Seriously?”

“I win,” you said proudly, shifting awkwardly to fish your credit card from your own wallet with one hand.

The woman in the food truck grinned back at you as she handed you your receipt.

“Oh! Almost forgot to ask. Do either of you want marshmallows or whipped cream on your hot chocolates?”

“Marshmallows,” Steve answered, poking at your sides until you squirmed, trying to dislodge his wallet from your sweater.

“So many you can’t actually see the liquid,” you added.

“My kind of people,” she said approvingly before moving out of view to prepare your order.

“We got a good grade in hot chocolate,” you whispered to Steve, swatting at his hands. “Quit!”

“Give me back my wallet!”

Your dramatic sigh devolved into laughter as Steve kept tickling your side. You unclenched your arm, letting his wallet fall out of your sweater, knowing he would catch it before it hit the ground.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” you said, elbowing him lightly. “Even though you broke the rules of surprise date day.”

“Won’t happen again,” he promised, wrapping his arms back around you once his wallet was safely stored in his back pocket.

“Mhmm,” you hummed, unconvinced. “I’ll believe it when I see it, pal.”

“How about…” He kissed the wrinkle between your brows until it smoothed beneath his touch. “Tomorrow?”

“What?”

“We could do another surprise date day. I’ll leave my wallet at home.”

You laughed, surprised and incredibly pleased at the eagerness and joy in his eyes.

“You really want to?”

“I really want to. It doesn’t have to be - I mean, we could do this again. Or stay in all day. I don’t care.”

You smiled at him, shaking your head in awe at that soft, excited expression on his face.

“I’ll see what I can do. For my super cute boyfriend,” you said quietly, giggling at the way his cheeks grew a little pinker.

“Thanks.”

“Anything for you,” you said. And you absolutely meant it.

*****

A/N: My heart is TOO SOFT HELP! As always, replies, reblogs, and asks are deeply appreciated and provide all the happy writer juice. Love you guys!

Tags: @shifutheshihtzu @internalbullshit @lilasiannerd @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @iwillbeinmynest @scotlandasshole @netflixa @hardcorehippos @singingprincessstudent @sophiealiice @blue1928 @tinuviel015 @a-book-pressed-rose @bbparker @battlebunnyteardropsinthesun @feelmyroarrrr @orangespocks @multifandomgirl-us @majesticavenger @buckybarneshairpullingkink @patzammit @pato-el-cerdito

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers fic #marvel imagine

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friendtechbd · 1 year

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Best GPS Truck Tracking System: Improving Fleet Efficiency and Safety

The transportation industry has become more competitive than ever, and fleet managers are looking for ways to improve operations and reduce costs. One of the most effective ways to do this is by implementing a GPS truck tracking system. A GPS can help you monitor your fleet, optimize routes, and ensure your drivers are safe and efficient. However, choosing the best one can be overwhelming with so…

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#best GPS Truck Tracking System #GPS Truck Tracking System

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etrackingsolution · 1 year

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Get Affordable Fleet GPS Tracking!

Forget about purchasing expensive GPS trackers for your vehicles. We offer Fleet GPS Tracking with an easy-to-use fleet management software that provides a web-based tracking map. There is no subscription, time limits, or other annoyances here - just powerful functionality, and you can track your trucks with Fleet GPS Tracking for less than fuel cost.

#car location tracker #fleet gps tracking #truck gps #Best van tracker #gps live location tracker #trackers #gps

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siempre-bucky · 1 year

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hi!!! i love your writing so much! could i request (for blurb weekend) 12 and 42 from the first prompt list, for hangman?? tysm, hope you have a great weekend <3

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Reader

Summary: The team is traveling to a spring getaway upstate and when you notice the wildflowers in full bloom you ask a grumpy Jake to pull over.

twelve: rolling down the window of the car

forty two: realising their feelings

WC: 964

A/n: I hope you like it!!!!

Join my blurb weekend!

He called him Slow Ride for a reason. Jake had been following behind the bronco for a good five miles with no way to pass on the busy highway. The blond had a grip so tight on the steering wheel his knuckles were turning white; he’d rip the wheel clean off if it weren’t for you beside him. Your giggles weren’t for the video you were looking at, you were laughing at him.

Mav and Ice had the bright idea to rent a cabin or two up north and let their team relax in the fresh spring air. Jake agreed it was a good idea in the beginning; go on a couple of hikes with his best friend, tease Natasha and Callie about the bugs, and shove Bradley into the lake (a few times). He just wanted to get there—not stuck behind Bradshaw.

“Your face is going to freeze that way,” you teased from the passenger seat, shimmying to make yourself comfortable in his truck. You shifted your gaze in time to see him release his death drip, the color returning to his strong hands. A victorious smile graced your lips, Jake frowned deeper. “What’s wrong with you, Grumpy? You were all giddy and shit when you picked me up this morning.”

“Jus’ want to get there,” he sighed, taking one hand off the wheel to scrub his face in an attempt to shake it off.

You rolled your eyes, you’d always thought he could learn a thing or two from Rooster. Stop and smell the roses, the whole nine yards! For as long as you’d known your friend he was always moving at a fast pace, not taking the time to rest. He was just as fast on land as he was in the air. While in your thoughts, you looked out the freshly washed window and watched the lush green hills come toward you. Spring has been kind to them.

The green became spotted with bright purples and oranges as they came closer into view. Your lips parted in awe, it was wildflower season. “Jake!” You exclaim suddenly, jolting in your seat and turning your attention to the passenger side window. The flowers were coming and you didn’t want to miss a moment.

“What!” He gasped, looking down at his gauges. Did he hit something? Was he getting a flat tire? Smoke? The aviator within him switched on, pressing buttons to quickly check everything and not hit the Bronco in front of him. His heart started to thump in his chest, not my baby, he thought about the beloved black pickup. The panic turned into annoyance like he was splashed with ice water.

“Roll down the windows!” You instruct, blindly slapping at his arm.

A long string of curses left his lips but he yielded and soon enough the floral breeze entered the cabin. You breathed it in, turning your nose up to the air. Jake lightly pressed on the brake, giving Rooster more room. Letting out a sigh, you looked over to see Jake looking back at you. You noticed the way his hair blew in the wind without any gel in it and how the sun hit his features just right. His green eyes looked prettier than the hills in the sun. Then he smiled and a sudden pang hit your heart. You never noticed his smile when he was relaxed.

Oh.

You ignored the feelings and memories that all started to connect and looked out at the hills, noticing a flat area up ahead. “Pull over! We should look at the flowers, they won’t be like this for long!”

“We’ll lose them,” he complained, fighting back a childish whine. Your eyes narrowed as did his, locked in a bitter battle.

“We have GPS,” you stated evenly, shifting towards him. “Don’t let Iceman—Admiral Kazanzky, US Pacific Fleet Commander find out you were mean to me on a bonding trip.”

You baited him like a fish.

His eyes narrowed more, “They underestimate you,” he deadpanned before loudly flipping on the blinker and pulling over to the side of the road.

You hopped out of the truck and it felt like the opening to The Sound of Music. You twirled in the wildflowers, letting the breeze hit your face as you stopped in the middle of the small field. There were a few others, lying in the flowers and taking photos. As they should, you thought to yourself.

Jake grumbled to himself as he got out and stepped over the wood barricade dividing the road and the grass. He sent a text to Javy letting him know about the detour as he walked through the field, being mindful of the delicate orange flowers below him. He looked up just in time to see you trip over something and fall onto your back. “Shit,” he whispered, picking up the pace.

He calmed once he heard your giggles, he let out a breath and looked down, covering you from the sun. “How can you fly a plane but not walk?” he teased, holding out his hand to help you up. You rolled your eyes and stood, slightly falling into his space from the pull.

Jake looked at you as you stepped back, noticing your smile and the few blades of grass stuck in your hair. Absentmindedly, he reached and gently pulled them out for you. Your eyes opened wider and your eyebrows creased in subtle shock. His gaze focused, seeing you amongst the beauty of spring. “You’d be surprised at what I can do,” you joked, bending down to pick up one of the orange flowers, holding it out to him as you returned to full height.

His eyes never left you. He took the flower and a rosy blush overtook his cheeks.

Oh.

#siempre buckys blurb night #top gun maverick #top gun #hangman #hangman x reader #hangman x you #hangman imagine #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake seresin imagine

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gasolinerainbowpuddles · 1 year

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A Weight Off Your Shoulders ║ ⒸⓄⓁⓁⒺⒸⓉⒾⓄⓃⓈ

| A WEIGHT OFF YOUR SHOULDERS | part of the A Weight Off Your Shoulders collection ║ series masterlist ║ main masterlist ║ | PAIRING(s): Joel Miller x plus sized!fem!neighbor

| RATING: explicit material | 18+ | WORD COUNT: 7.0k | CONTENT: age gap (Joel mid 40s, neighbor late 20s), cheating, negative body image, negative self-talk, discussions of body image struggles, the savagery of puberty, but mostly just indulgent pussy worship lmao, etc.

| SYNOPSIS: [AU no outbreak] After finding out your fiance was cheating on you with the younger, skinnier intern at his work, you pack up and head home to Texas where you meet your friendly DILF neighbor Joel. He doesn’t seem to mind your fuller physique, but you’re still plagued with insecurities that have followed you for most of your life. Can he make you forget about all that for just a moment or will you stay wracked with self-conscious, negative thoughts? Spoiler: We all know Joel is a smooth talker and is down to do whatever it takes to convince you that you’re perfect just the way you are.

✧this is the first installment of a oneshot collection✧ ✧◦◦║ Part 2 ║ Part 3 ║ Part 4 ║ Part 5 ║ Part 6 ║◦◦✧

The moving van’s AC went out about 75 miles ago, and you can’t bother getting too upset about it. It goes right along with the absolute dogshit spectacle your life has become. The sweat trickles down your back as you keep your eyes focused on the road. The GPS says it’s not too much longer. Your ass is sore from sitting and driving all day, for the past three days.

It should’ve been two at most - more like one and a half at even a leisurely pace - but the engine had started smoking and making an awful clicking sound somewhere in between Colorado and Oklahoma. You waited 6 hours for the moving truck company to meet you and switch out vehicles. At least the van hadn’t gone up in flames and destroyed all your messily packed cardboard boxes.

The string of down-on-your-luck events provided you with some sort of distraction from the reason you were cooped up in this incinerator of a vehicle and heading home to Texas where your parents still lived, a far cry from the life you had carved out with your fiance - ex-fiance, you correct yourself – in Colorado.

Ah, yes. Mike. Michael, you think to yourself bitterly. He always hated whenever anyone used his full name instead of his nickname. You were at that level of petty, insulting him in any way that you could. You knew you’d never get close to matching his efforts at hurting you, though.

It had been a great relationship for the first few years. You had met him at his job where you were logging unpaid internship hours so you’d have something to put on your resume when you graduated with your finance degree. Math and economics had always been easy and interesting to you, although it didn’t make you very popular at parties.

Mike– No, MICHAEL, had been sweet and teased you about how you were “too cute” to be an accountant. You had thought to yourself on numerous occasions that accountants could really use a PR overhaul. Most of your coworkers were nerdy introverts with a dark sense of humor and a penchant for getting ripshit wasted after The Hellfire Summit was over. (That’s what you all called Tax Day.)

But you weren’t “too cute” to be an accountant. Too cute for Michael, maybe, but definitely not some knockout. You had always been on the heavier side starting in middle school. You were vertically challenged, which meant there was a lot less real estate for any additional poundage you racked up through puberty. Your mom had done her best to not give you a complex, but you weren’t stupid and it wasn’t hard to figure out why she was so insistent on you being in sports throughout most of the year. You had taken to soccer pretty quickly, and the endless running kept your weight from climbing into absolute fat pig territory. Not that you didn’t think of yourself that way regardless.

While all your other teammates cried about their boobs not growing - something you had absolutely no way of relating to - you cursed the puberty gods for not giving you a growth spurt of 6” so you could be tall and lean like your friends. By the time college rolled around, you just stuck to running as a stress reliever, but it wasn’t the same level of activity that had kept you smaller throughout high school. The bathtub jungle juice frat parties and 2 am pizza slices didn’t really help matters, either. You put on a respectable “freshman 8,” but your hips and ass delivered it as more of a “freshman 23.”

Michael always talked about how he liked “somebody that didn’t just order a salad,” whatever the fuck that was supposed to mean. You didn’t pay it much mind, though, when your sex life was pretty good together. He made you come more than other guys you’d been with, but it wasn’t hard to exceed expectations when the bar was so low it was in hell. And yet, Michael had found a way to sink it down ever farther.

You should’ve seen it coming. In hindsight it was so painfully obvious that something had changed for the worse. You had chalked it up to him getting nerves after FINALLY proposing to you. You were so happy when he finally asked you to marry him. Even his 15 year old son from a previous relationship had made a remark about his dad “finally growing some balls” and proposing.

A wash of sadness rolled over you at the thought of Ethan. He was such a good kid, and you had become attached to him after being with Michael for so many years. You’d moved in together, and Ethan thoughtfully cleared off a shelf of his video game things so that you’d have a nice spot in the living room for some of your DVDs and books. How on earth that was the child of the piece of shit cheating scumbag Michael was beyond you. Ethan must have taken after his mother more than you previously knew.

Michael had been married before and had Ethan with his ex-wife Patty. They had just “grown apart” as he’d put it. They got together when they were young, and it wasn’t until his 38th birthday party that he realized they just weren’t meant for each other anymore.

You’d been upset at first to learn that Michael had started seeing you before he had “made it official” with Patty that things were over. You weren’t into the idea of being the other woman, and you didn’t blame Patty for hating your guts. Of course she would assume that you knew they were still married and that they had a young son together. You were the homewrecker whore, and it was humiliating to tag along to family events where Patty and some of their mutual friends gave you a not-so-subtle stink eye.

The friends that did readily accept you weren’t exactly top of the line human beings. Luke had clapped you on the back once after having three too many beers and cackled about how he knew Michael wasn’t crazy for switching things up and breaking things off with Patty “for you.” When you shrugged his sloppy hand off your shoulder and asked what the fuck he was on about, his shit eating grin was the icing on the cake when he slurred, “Well’ya knowwwwww what’hey say, dontcha?” You shook your head, nonplussed and not really interested in learning “what they say.” He giggled and leaned in close when he revealed that “gotta be takin’ care’uhhh him ‘cause they say thah big girls give’thuh bes head ‘cuz they’re al-huways hungry.”

Trevor had intervened before you slammed your mojito into Luke’s Neanderthal brain. “Hey man, fuck off. Don’t be saying shit like that. Fuckin’ rude, dude.” Luke had made a fuss about how he was “jusss jok-eeen,” but Trevor wasn’t having it. “Whatever, man. Everybody knows you don’t go around talking about girl’s bodies, you fucking idiot. And you’re watching too much porn if you think she’s fat. She’s normal, man. Real women aren’t walking around like stick figures with tits and ass glued on.”

You groaned while Luke howled with laughter at Trevor’s defense of you. Calling you fat was somehow worse than big girl. Luke hadn’t said fat. Trevor hadn’t either, but his off the cuff remark that clarified what “type of big” you obviously were only drove home the idea that you took up too much space, one way or another.

Michael had taken a while to propose, and he always claimed that, while he loved you with his whole entire heart, he was nervous about getting married a second time. He started getting snippier with you and not wanting to have sex as often. His job was stressful, and he had been working tons of overtime to help pay for his part of the wedding. Thank god you kept your finances separate and never actually did walk down that aisle.

His late nights at the office were verified by his bigger paychecks, and you didn’t have a reason to be suspicious. You did think it was a little strange when he started getting up early to go to the gym so he’d “look nice for the wedding.” But hey, what a breath of fresh air, right? A man being the one concerned about how he was going to look in his wedding photos? Hitting the gym at an ungodly hour just to shed a few pounds? It was kinda like some weird form of feminist allyship, subverting societal body expectations. Right?

When you popped in to surprise him with a late dinner at work one night - you still had your keycard from your unpaid internship that nobody had remembered to disable – you found him balls deep in the tiny little blonde you later learned was the daughter of some higher up in the company that was “following in his footsteps at the company with an internship.”

Michael was such an uncreative asshole that he couldn’t even come up with a different meetcute for the leggy, fit blowup doll he’d replaced you with. At first you were enraged, but that quickly dissolved into despair. You were supposed to be getting married in 8 months. He was supposed to be the love of your life. You had wasted your 20s on this piece of shit, waiting around like a moron for him to decide he wanted to spend his life with you.

So here you were, sweating your ass off, moving your shit several states away, and starting at square one. The dark, moody sky made you roll your eyes. You figuratively and literally had a little black cloud over your head that followed you everywhere. If the impending bad turn of weather could just hold off for a little bit, you could get your “FIRST NIGHT IN NEW PLACE” box unpacked and inside unscathed.

Of course it started pouring buckets about 5 minutes after you’d parked the van in the driveway of your rental. Your new home. Where you lived by yourself. Alone. That’s all you were now. Alone. You dragged in your soggy cardboard box of necessities, only unpacking your phone charger before plopping down on the bare mattress your parents had been nice enough to drop off before your arrival.

You spend the first night at your place crying yourself to sleep.

Texas had gotten hotter since you’d left. No way was it always this hot. You used to play outdoor sports here, for chrissakes. There was no way on earth it had always been the same temperature as Satan’s ballsack in a pair of wool underwear. Maybe it’s hotter because you’re fatter than before your inner voice suggested. You were drenched in sweat by the time 11am rolled around and you’d finished unpacking your small collection of belongings. You never realized how much of your Colorado apartment was mainly Michael’s stuff until you had to clear all your shit out for the move. Humble beginnings, I guess you think to yourself.

Your tank top stuck to your drenched back, and your thighs were slightly chaffed from the hard rub of denim over and over while you moved in. Your stupid, fat thighs and the stupid, fat chubrub they gave you. That unfortunately was something that hadn’t changed about Texas. You always carried your weight in your hips and butt, and your thighs came to join the party shortly thereafter. You had gained a few pounds after dating Michael for a year or so, settling into that comfortable couple space where you sometimes go for donuts when you know you shouldn’t or indulge in breweries too many weekends in a row.

You were fat and happy together, though. Now you were just fat and sad all by yourself.

You stared at the lawnmower and imagined it bursting into a ball of flames. Your landlord had agreed to knock $100 off your rent if you mowed the lawn once a month. It was a no brainer, even if you had never mowed a lawn before. How hard could it be? Turns out, very.

You gave yourself a pep talk through figuring out how to put the gas into the stupid thing, but it had petered out into an irritated chant of “you piece of shit” and “fucking work, goddamit” when you couldn’t get it to start. You’d pulled and pulled and PULLED the stupid chord, but it wouldn’t start up. You wanted nothing more than to finish your chore and head inside before it got way too hot. You’d planned on already being finished by now. Michael had always made quick work of it, and if that room temperature IQ fuckwit could figure this out then so could you. Maybe.

When you pulled back again and nothing happened, something sort of cave woman happened in your brain, and you started kicking the mower in a fit of frustration. “FUCKING-PIECE-OF-SHIT!” you yell, accentuating each kick to the machine with a malice-laden word. When you propped your hands on your hips and took a step back to really give it a good, solid glare, you saw a man the next house over watching you with an amused look at the edge of his property.

“Need some help?” he called out, his smile growing.

“EVERYTHING’S GOING REAL FUCKING GOOD OVER HERE, BUT THANKS FOR THE OFFER,” you quip with way more acidity than this man deserved.

He took your stinging remark in stride and just smirked more. If he wasn’t so good looking you probably would’ve yelled at him for real. You needed a break and didn’t really care for your handsome neighbor to watch you fail at life, so you wordlessly stomped inside and plopped down with a bottle of water in hand. Was it too early for this water to turn into a beer? 11 am. Damn. You were pretty low these days, but you weren’t sure you wanted to take a trip down “drinking by yourself before noon” lane.

You sigh and play with the bottle cap as you try to ignore your growing embarrassment of being so rude to your hot neighbor. The sound of a lawn mower finally registers in your brain, and you scramble to the window to confirm your suspicions. Yep, there was your fine as fuck neighbor pushing your broken lawnmower around your backyard. It was definitely broken. He must have fixed it. It definitely wasn’t that you were entirely clueless about all this.

You groan and muster up some resolve before heading back outside. You wave at the absolute DILF-iest of DILFs you’ve ever seen in your life to get his attention. As though he was expecting you, he calmly turns off the engine and jerks his head up once in your direction.

“What are you doing?” you blurt out.

There’s that smile again. Damn, he must practice that in the mirror because holy shit it is very hard to think right now with him looking at you with it.

“Bein’ friendly to my new sailor-mouthed neighbor,” he drawled casually.

Goddamit. His voice was smooth and deep up close. And his hair, oh my god his hair. Peppery brown and slightly disheveled and wavy in all the right spots. And his eyes? Those puppy dog brown eyes that you thought just gave you a quick once over? You were kicking yourself for not being nicer earlier.

“Look, you don’t have to–”

“Name’s Joel Miller. What’s yours, sweetheart? And tell me quick, ‘cause I really think it might turn into Popeye if you don’t give me an alternative,” he teased.

Popeye? What on earth– Oh. Christ almighty. Right. Popeye. The “sailor man.” Because you have a “sailor mouth.” Okay, now the DILF was knocking out some dad jokes? You needed to find the box you’d packed your vibrator in that plugs into the wall after this little interaction.

“Kinda wanna tell you that you can call me whatever you want if you’ll just teach me how to turn that stupid thing on,” you say, motioning toward the traitor of a lawn mower.

“Hm, anything I want, huh? Temptin’. Maybe next time I’ll give ya a 101, but lemme just finish this up right quick.” Without giving you the chance to argue, he ripped the chord with a salivating flex of his bicep and resumed his task.

You awkwardly walked back up to your porch and tried to busy yourself with something. You didn’t want to go back inside and wait for him to finish. That’d be rude, him out in the sun doing your chores while you cooled off in the AC inside. You gave enough “lazy slob” vibes as it was. Luckily it didn’t take him much time at all to finish, and his sweaty brow was very distracting as he clambered up your steps. You had to keep your jaw shut when he pulled up the hem of his shirt to wipe it across his forehead, revealing a respectably toned middle. He was fitter than you by far. Not that that was a hard feat.

This DILF to end all DILFs had a toned body that shouldn’t have been such a surprise to you after seeing his muscular arms as they maneuvered the lawn mower. You suddenly felt self-conscious in your tank top and denim shorts. You were sure you were bulging out all over the place and looked like a sweaty pig. You hated how easy it was these days to get down on yourself, but seeing the blonde bombshell Michael had traded you for was all you could compare yourself to. The phrase “you can’t compete where you don’t compare” turned over and over in your head.

“See? Easy. Now about that name…” he trailed off, smiling now with a mischievous, friendly look.

“Oh. Yeah, um. Roxanne. But Roxy is fine,” you say.

Joel tilted his head as though he was considering how your name stacked up to how you looked, to see if it fit you or not. Heat crept up your cheeks under his gaze, and a fresh wave of insecurity engulfed you.

“Pretty,” he remarked.

“Huh?” you ask, sounding dumber by the minute.

Joel just keeps smiling at you, no matter how braindead you sound. “I said pretty. Your name’s pretty. Fits you,” he said.

You really wanted to believe this man was flirting with you, but it was wishful thinking.

“Hmm. Th-thanks. Um. Do you want money or?” you clumsily offer. You didn’t want to send him off empty handed after he just did you such a big favor.

“Two beers,” he posed.

You went inside and grabbed two cold beers from the fridge and loped back outside, extending them to Joel. He opened them both and made himself comfortable in one of your patio chairs. He set the second bottle on the arm of the chair next to him and pulled a long swig from his bottle. You watched the bob of his adams apple as he swallowed, and you knew your panties were gonna be absolutely wrecked by the time you finished your beer.

“Thanks.”

“Cheers.” He tipped his bottle towards you and leaned back, comfortable as ever as if this was his porch and not yours. “Didn’t see ya movin’ in. Musta been in the middle of the night to unpack a whole house without anybody knowin’.”

“Eh, not hard to move when you’ve got less than 20 boxes of shit,” you shrug.

Joel’s eyebrows pinched together in confusion. He clearly hadn’t been thinking you’d come into your new place with bare bones belongings. Someone your age would have at least a few pieces of bigger furniture and a couple of boxes of niche hobbies.

“Rest of it comin’ later, or…?”

“Nope. That’s it. Just me and my less than 20 boxes and a piece of shit lawnmower.”

Joel chuckled, and you found yourself giving him a small, shy smile.

“So you the neighborhood watch captain? Keep tabs on all the fresh meat?”

He laughed like heading up a community group was as likely for him as you figuring out that lawn mower by yourself.

“No quite. Just didn’t realize I had a new neighbor, is all. No car in the driveway. House has been up for rent for a few months,” he explained.

“Oh, yeah. I had a moving van, but I had to turn it back in to them a few days ago unless I wanted to pay for more days. They gave me a ride back. My parents are supposed to let me use one of their cars.”

You and Joel chatted back and forth about the neighborhood, how you’d grown up here and were now back - although you dutifully omitted the reason why - and what you did for work. When he told you he worked in construction with his brother in their small family business, it made a lot of sense. No wonder he was so toned.

Joel actually laughed when you told him you were an accountant. He didn’t believe you at first. When you started citing federal tax law addendums, he held his hands up in mock surrender. You laughed at his teasing. It felt nice to just interact with somebody without having to talk about your recent breakup and all the hard changes you’d been navigating.

“Should make you the poster girl for accountants because damn if I don’t imagine a blue haired lady sportin’ a big pink cardigan and goofy lookin’ glasses whenever I hear the word ‘accountant.’ You’d be the perfect brand image overhaul, sweetheart.” He chuckled, and you did your best to not think about how Michael had once told you that you were “too cute to be an accountant.”

“So, you got an accountant helping with your family business? Or are you just cookin’ the books?” you joke.

Joel rubbed the back of his neck with a nervous laugh. “Nah, we got some somebody at H&R whatever, but the bigger we get the more it seems they wanna charge. Lots of confusin’ shit with all kinds of tax laws. Wouldn’t know if we were gettin’ ripped off by ‘em, if I’m bein’ honest.”

You weren’t sure why you offered. Maybe because he had been kind enough to offer you help and then mow your lawn for you even though you had been an ass. Regardless, you offered to look over some documents and paperwork if he really wanted another set of eyes on it. You dismissed him with the wave of a hand when he started talking about paying you for it.

“Two beers is my rate, Joel,” you say with feigned solemnity.

“Two beers? You drive a hard bargain, sweetheart. I know you’re worth it, though. You free this weekend? Saturday mornin’?”

And that’s how you ended up with plans to help Joel go over his company’s financial information in two days time when Saturday rolled around.

Joel was singing your praises when you’d already found two instances where they could save some money by changing a few boxes on their taxes and getting things more streamlined with a different organization method for W2’s. You had applied for a few jobs in the area, but most of your pending applications were for virtual jobs that you could work from home. It was good to keep up practice in the meantime.

Joel made you lunch - a nice turkey sandwich with cheddar cheese. He’d mistakenly offered provolone, which you’d chosen, only to find that he had run out and could only offer cheddar instead. You teased him about being an awful host, but really you were glad to not have your favorite cheese on the sandwich because it would help you not eat as fast in front of him.

You hated feeling like this. You’d spent so many years of puberty pacing your bites with those around you, afraid to eat faster than everyone else. Nobody even gave a shit. You were just so terrified of being humiliated for being the plus sized girl who got that way in the first place because she inhales her food.

“You always eat like a baby bird?” Joel questioned through a large bite of his own sandwich.

“Only when I’m trying to concentrate on taxes and finances,” you lied with a fake giggle. You felt like Joel clocked your put-on nonchalance, but he thankfully didn’t say anything even if he had.

You tugged at the bottom of your shirt, pulling it away from your stomach. You caught Joel watching you do this, but again, he didn’t comment.

He did, however, raise a brow when you insisted you were “too full” to finish the entire sandwich. He played it off with a “damn, you really wanted provolone, huh?” You stuck your tongue out at him but dropped the playful demeanor the second he took the plates to the kitchen. Of course you were still hungry, but you weren’t going to gorge yourself in front of your super attractive neighbor. It wouldn’t kill you to cut a few calories here and there anyway, that familiar voice in your head points out.

Stupid, fat thighs the voice adds quickly, helpful as always.

You’re quick to adopt a smile when Joel comes back, but you aren’t sure you were quick enough for him to have missed the sad, fat, and alone girl’s real expression before flipping the switch.

It’s Saturday number two of your pro bono accounting skills. Well, it was actually a Thursday since Joel had some construction something or other this Saturday, but every day was a weekend when you were unemployed.

You had already hung out with Joel three times this past week and shared a few celebratory beers over your work from home job offer that you’d accepted and would be starting next week. Conversation came easy with Joel. He talked about his daughter, who was away at school for the semester, and you realized he must feel very lonely without her home. At least you could relate to him on that level.

You tell him the reason for your move back to your home town. He actually seemed genuinely pissed off when you told him Michael was cheating on you with a pretty little blonde thing and had been for months. You scoffed when Joel said it was Michael’s loss to have fumbled a girl like you.

“Hey,” he asserted, making you pause from the sip of beer you were about to have. “I’m serious. He’s a dumbass for havin’ let you slip through his fingers. You’re funny and smart and got a good head on your shoulders. Sure, you can’t figure out a lawn mower, but we can’t all be perfect.” His goofy grin was a sweet little addition to his playful teasing.

Maybe it was the beer talking, but you couldn’t hold back. “Yeah, well. There’s something you left out of that list there, and it’s probably the reason he did cheat on me.”

Joel shook his head in confusion. He wasn’t sure what he had left out.

You laughed hollowly to yourself, swirling your beer mindlessly as you spoke. “Funny. Smart. Good head on my shoulders. But not pretty, right? Not attractive. Not skinny enough.”

Joel’s expression shifted into something sympathetic and warm, and you hated yourself for having just let that word vomit happen.

“To be honest, sweetheart, I didn’t wanna say anythin’ that might make you uncomfortable. But I can give you a list a mile long with all the things that are beautiful about you. Inside and out.”

You flush at his appeal to your assets, but you know he’s just being nice. You were pathetic. You were going through a breakup from a relationship that had ended because your fiance was shoving his dick into his coworker. Of course Joel was going to try to boost your self-esteem and give you compliments.

When you didn’t respond, Joel placed his large, warm hand over yours. You looked at it and up to him. He grazed his other hand, a ghost of a curve against your cheek, like he wanted nothing more than to stroke your face and cradle your neck while he drew you into a long kiss and grabbed at your—

No. No he wasn’t. He was just being nice.

“I mean it. That prick is gonna look back and regret losin’ you.”

You wished you could believe him.

When Joel brought you a turkey sandwich for lunch on your second day of helping him, he made sure to point out the provolone. “Got it special for my girl, huh?”

Your tummy flipped at the way he called you his girl, but it was just another one of his terms of endearment that he probably used with everyone. He’d called you angel, sugar, honey, sweetheart, and even Popeye a couple of times. It didn’t mean anything. You weren’t special.

When you pushed your half eaten sandwich away, Joel set his down and waited for you to look at him.

“You don’t like it?” he asked.

“No, it’s great. Thanks for the provolone, by the way. You didn’t have to do that. Really. I’ll um, I’ll just save the rest for later. I’m good for right now.”

Joel’s jaw clenched from side to side before he leaned over in the chair next to you.

“Darlin’, you should eat somethin’. Half a sandwich ain’t shit.”

You shrugged and insisted you weren’t hungry. Joel chewed his cheeks against his molars for a moment before adjusting in his chair and leaning in even closer than before.

“This about that asshole? Messin’ with that blonde?”

You froze at his words. You heart was about to leap out of your chest.

“N-No,” you lie. “I, um, I’m not sure what you mean, Joel.”

“What I mean is you got the idea that you’re not beautiful. That you can’t compare.”

You took a deep swallow to clear the lump in your throat. Your eyes were getting a little blurry. Dammit, you really didn’t want to cry in front of Joel. Not over this stupid bullshit.

“Just leave it, Joel,” you mumble, turning your attention back to the papers on the table.

“Not gonna do that, sweetheart,” he said firmly.

When you looked back at him, there was a dark hunger in his eyes. His usually lax, friendly features were drawn into a stony scowl.

“I meant what I said the other day. You’re beautiful. Everythin’. Everythin’ about you is beautiful.”

“Look, I appreciate you being nice and trying to make me feel better, but you don’t have to–”

“You think I’m lyin’?” he challenged. You swallow hard at his commanding tone, and his words went straight to your pussy. You shook your head, feeling a little more convinced Joel might not be embellishing his opinion of you.

“Jus’ … Hard to think of myself that way, after…” You want to tell Joel every last detail of your life. Every time someone made you feel like you were eating too fast. Every time your friends got flirted with in the mall while you quietly hung at the back of the group. Every time you put something back on the rack after seeing how it accentuated the shape of your body too much to be a cute garment anymore.

Joel turned and was now angled directly at you with a knee tucking itself between your legs. His sinewy, large arm crossed your chest, his hand firmly planting onto the arm of your chair. He dipped his mouth right next to your ear. “You give me the word, sweetheart. Gimme the green light, and I’ll show you just how gorgeous I think you are.”

You’d been here before. The guy begging to show you a good time but only ever ending as a hookup. You were never girlfriend material, but you were a warm, round body for them to get their rocks off for the night. You knew Joel was different. He wasn’t like that. But you still can’t bring yourself to say yes.

“Tell me,” you whisper. Joel pulled back to look at your face. “Just your words.”

“After you let me kiss those sweet lips of yours?” he countered. You nod yes. It was only a kiss.

Joel stood and grabbed your hand, leading you to the couch. He tried to pull you onto his lap, but you knew he’d change his mind about all of this the second your too heavy body crushed his.

He tilts your chin for you to look at him after you sit. His eyes searched for any hesitation or unease. You can’t handle another rejection, so you lean forward. Joel meets you halfway and presses the gentlest of kisses against your mouth. It was feather light in a way that conveyed an intent to go slow rather than a hesitant partner.

His tongue gently flicks against your bottom lip, and you swallow a moan as you let him in. The kiss is agonizing in its slow, mindful pace as Joel makes no rush of exploring every part of your mouth. You suddenly feel very needy. You haven’t been kissed like this in a very long time. You pull at Joel’s shirt, dragging him on top of you as you lay back on the couch. His broad chest easily envelops you, and his large hands twitch with restraint to not smooth over every inch of you.

His grip tightens around your waist as he delves into a hungrier kiss. When he pulls back to adjust his body parallel to yours, the sight of your reddened mouth and blown out pupils almost have him crumbling into you.

“Tell me,” you breathe. “I just-I just want to feel pretty.” You curse the goblin part of your brain that tacked that pathetic sounding plea onto the end of your comment.

“Want me to start slow or you want me to tell you exactly what comes to mind?” he questioned with a flick of his tongue against your earlobe before drawing it into his mouth and sucking.

“Ohhh–ssh-shit– the s-second one,” you manage.

Joel’s deep chuckle sends goosebumps all over your body.

“Thinkin’ ‘bout the first time we met. Wanted you even then. Kept thinkin’ about us sittin’ on your porch. The way you were holdin’ onto that beer bottle? All I could do was imagine how your pretty fingers would look wrapped around my cock,” he murmured into the shell of your ear. “Bringin’ it to those pouty little lips of yours. Goddamn I thought about your tongue on me, baby. Takin’ me in real good in your mouth. Lickin’ this cock that gets hard just for you. That wet, warm mouth just for me.”

Your breath hitches in between Joel’s incredibly specific and detailed account.

“And when you were havin’ that little spitfire spell’uh yours, kickin’ the lawn mower?” he continued, earning a moan from you in half arousal and half embarrassment remembering your temper tantrum that day. “When you kicked it, your tits jiggled all in that little tank top you had on. Had to stop myself from marchin’ over right then and there and shovin’ my dick right in between ‘em and fuckin’ ‘em.”

You would’ve rubbed your thighs together just for the friction right now, but Joel had slotted himself in between your legs and was pushing his hard-on against your clothed pussy in a teasing grind that was driving you insane. Your hips canted at the hint of contact.

“Sittin’ in those cute little cutoffs,” he groaned low. “Your thighs spreadin’ on the seat. Wanted to grab you up and make my face your new seat, baby. Wanted those thighs on either side of my face while you rubbed your pretty little cunt all over my mouth.”

“J-Jesus christ,” you whimper. This man was giving you the dirtiest play by play of all the ways he’d envisioned himself exploring your body. Your pussy had already bottomed out by the time he got to the part about the lawn mower.

“‘N I jus’ know, baby, I just know it. Know your pussy is made to take this cock, baby. I know it’s perfect. Know it tastes so fuckin’ sweet. Know I’d fuck you ‘til you couldn’t think straight. Make you come on my cock over and over.”

Okay, maybe you could let him do more than just describe how much he wants you.

“‘N then after I work my tongue over you, ‘n after you take this cock so good, I’d grab you up, all to myself. Soft skin against mine. So soft, baby. Pull you in close and never let go. Press you right against me, hold you all night, cuddle up real close. Then wake you up with my dick hard against your perfect ass and fuck into that sweet little hole all over again.”

“Joel,” you whine.

“Hhmmm?” he drawled innocently, but you could feel his smile against your skin.

“I-I think I changed my mind. About telling me and not showing me. I think that, um, I think I’d really like for you to show me h-how much you want me,” you mumble against his cheek.

“S’that right, honey? You want a little show n tell now?” he teased. For good measure he rocked himself against the apex of your thighs, causing your hips to jerk up involuntarily to meet the movement. He chuckled at your eager change of heart.

Joel wasted no time nibbling and sucking your neck and his hands snaked up your shirt and under your bralette. The pads of his thumbs circle your pebbled nubs, and you let out a choked sigh. He shoved your clothing off with a few tugs and stopped to marvel at your bare top half. “God, even better than I imagined.”

His greedy eyes raked over every inch of you, a reverential gaze at your curvy figure. Heat spread between your legs when he dipped his mouth to your chest, leaving a wet trail with his tongue and lips in a freeform pattern before drawing your erect nipples between his teeth. Your back curved off the couch in a jerk at the delightful tease.

His hands covered large swaths of your abdomen where he enthusiastically massaged and kneaded into your flesh like he couldn’t grab enough of it at once. You lifted your hips when he pulled your shorts and panties off, and you would’ve been self-conscious about being completely nude while Joel was still fully dressed if you hadn’t seen the way his eyes glazed over with want as he absorbed the sight of you.

“Goddamn,” he breathed. “So pretty. Been wantin’ to drink this pussy from the first time I saw you.” His eyes flitted up to your face with a degree of effort as though he had to tear his gaze away from your heavenly body. He searched your features, checking in and making sure you still wanted this. You nod in consent, and no sooner is his tongue lapping between your folds.

You fist a handful of his hair at the overwhelming feeling of wet heat against you, and Joel groans in a deliciously lewd way that takes you even closer to the limit. He lathes against your heat with the fervor of a devout addict, and you come with a slamming jolt when he simultaneously slips two large fingers into you and sucks your clit.

“There’s my girl,” he coos, working you with a steady drag and push of his fingers as you come down from your high. “Knew you’d look so fuckin’ pretty comin’ undone, baby.” Your first orgasm quickly rolled into a second when Joel drove a third finger into you with a steady thrust. You cry out, clenching around the painfully sweet stinging stretch of his fingers.

You grab desperately at the tent in his pants. “S’about you today, baby,” he murmured into your thigh where he’s planting slow, sweet kisses.

“Please, Joel. Want to see you. Taste you,” you rasp out, still pulsing weakly around his digits. You groan when he pulls his fingers from you and laps all the glistening slick from them before standing in front of you. You sit up in a rush, eager to see more of him. He obliges and unfastens his jeans. His impressively thick

length made you gasp when he sprang it free from his underwear. You don’t hesitate to fit as much of him into your mouth as you can, and he lets out a satisfied hum when his tip nudges the back of your throat.

“Shit, I’m gonna come, baby,” he croaked. Apparently working you over had done a number on him already, and it made you want him even more. You wordlessly released him in a sloppy, wet pop from your mouth and tilt your head back, stroking his length with one hand and fondling his balls with the other. When his breathing picks up and he’s on the edge, you stick your tongue out expectantly and continue to fist him until his hips stutter and jerk, his spend cascading onto your cheeks, lips, and tongue.

You both just sprawled out on the couch like two chalk outlines haphazardly jutting into odd angles on pavement. You giggled when Joel asked you if you believed him now, and you said he had indeed made a believer out of you.

That was the first night you stayed over his place, and just like he had told you earlier that day, he scooped you in close to him, cuddling and shamelessly grabbing at your belly, thighs, and anywhere else he could reach while he peppered the back of your neck with kisses. It was the first time in a very long time that you didn’t once think about how much space you took up.

This one’s for all my baddie thickies out there!

I have hope that one day Miss Thickums® will come to love on herself a bit more because she deserves it, dammit. Also that and the fact that I get down bad for a lil Rubenesque cutie ha ha.

I hope y’all liked this little pairing! I have been working on Endless Night and Feral Woman but couldn’t get this idea out of my head so I just churned it out. I’m a sucker for fluff and praise, so this was a nice detour from my heavier series (but you should def go check those out too lmao).

I have so many more ideas for this pairing. I just know that AU friendly DILF neighbor Joel Miller has always been a “more cushion for the pushin” kinda guy and would love to nibble every pudgy roll on your body. His favorite spot is your lil muffin top. That’s my headcannon, and I won’t hear any differing opinions.

Let me know if y’all want more from these two. :)

Catch ya later,

♥Puddles♥

#fic: a weight off your shoulders #joel miller #joel miller x plus size reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #tlou fic #joel miller hbo #the last of us fanfiction #oneshots

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chaotic-mystery · 11 months

Text

Jaded | J.M.

ꨄ Pairing: bfd!Joel x f!reader

ꨄ Summary: It’s been rocky between you and your secret boyfriend who just so happens to also be your best friends dad, ever since you moved to a new city without him. Surprising him for his birthday probably wasn’t the best idea, for either one of you.

ꨄ CW: established relationship, age gap (Joel’s in his late 40s, reader late 20s) swearing, mean!joel, arguing, Joel saying stuff he doesn’t mean like usual, no outbreak!au.

ꨄ WC:2.6k

A/N: am I an asshole for leaving it the way I did? Maybe. We all knew it was coming though! This honestly broke my heart and I hope it reads how I envisioned it. Let me know what you think! 🖤

🝮Songs to listen to for this🝮

Jaded - Miley Cyrus

Sucks 4 U - Sophie Cates

Complicated - Avril Lavigne

Look After You - The Fray

Over You - Daughtry

About You - The 1975

“Joel..” you muttered with your eyes still closed, your arm extending out to the other side of your bed. Slowly blinking your eyes open and sitting up, you breathed in deeply as you looked around confused. There was no reason you should’ve been calling out his name considering he hasn’t come to see you in weeks. Joel was older, it was unrealistic to think he’d text you many times during the day. He preferred calling or coming to visit when he had the weekend off. The past few weekends he decided to stay home which didn’t bother you, but he didn’t call much either. If he did call, it was short and brief, like it was a chore. Joel used to lay the phone on his bare chest, your voice on speaker while he dozed off listening to how pretty you sounded. That hasn’t happened in months.

You hurried to find your phone on the floor, texting Sarah as fast as your fingers could type.

Hey! Are you guys doing anything for your dad’s birthday this weekend?? Should we drive to see him?

Minutes that felt like hours passed and you bit at the inside of your cheek in nervousness, dying to see her response.

I heard from Uncle Tommy they were throwing a surprise party, but i won’t be able to make it home this weekend, soccer game! Feel free to go tho, I’m sure he won’t mind you taking my place! Love ya xo

Your thumb brushed over the side of your phone as you reread the text about a dozen times, contemplating the idea of going. What if he didn’t want to see you? Could you handle that amount of rejection? You needed answers from him though, what happened to him where he felt comfortable treating you like a stranger? Fuck it.

In a matter of 30 minutes you managed to get every single detail from Tommy, your bag packed and GPS routed to Joel’s house. It seemed a little crazy, a spur of the moment trip to drive 4 hours to confront the man who was trying to ghost you. As you got in your car and your playlist blaring through the speakers, you gave yourself a small pep talk, bracing yourself for whatever was about to happen tonight.

———————-

Finally you arrived at the Millers house, Joel’s truck nowhere in sight. You parked a few houses away so he wouldn’t see your car if he took the same route he always did to get home. Tommy pushed the screen door open and greeted you with his arms open and a grin on his face, a kitchen towel over his shoulder. “Well well well, she does live!” Tommy joked with you and grabbed your bag from your hand, walking up the sidewalk to the house. “Alive and well, just fucking starving and I need a shower before I get dressed.” Your arms wrapped around his torso and hugged him tightly. Tommy knew about you and Joel, he knew not to tell Sarah or lead on to anything going on between you and Joel in front of her. “Well c’mon then! Get your shit and let’s go inside, fix ya somethin’ to eat. Joel’s at work but he’ll be here after. All your shit is still upstairs so go on while I make you something I can find in this god forsaken fridge.” Tommy shouted from the kitchen as you shut the front door. Birthday decorations scattered across the walls and the floor, balloons tied to the lamps. Joel always told you to not make a big fuss over his birthday but you and Tommy never listened. Surprise parties were your thing you did for him, so it was nice to see Tommy continuing the tradition. This would make surprise party number three for Joel since you started dating him, and it stung a little bit you didn’t think to come down and plan one for him regardless if he deserved it or not.

You walked up the stairs to Joel’s room, pushing the door open slowly before poking your head in. It smelled just the same, the cologne you got him mixed with the faintest hint of laundry soap that he swore up and down was the best. Tossing your bag on his bed and sighing deeply, you ran a hand through your hair as you wondered what the hell were you doing here.

I miss you! Can I see you this weekend, maybe grab a bite at that favorite restaurant of yours down here? You hesitated to hit send, your heart racing in your chest.

Too nervous to sit and wait for his response, you stripped and made your way to his bathroom. The hair soap you swore you left was nowhere to be found. There was Joel’s sitting on the shelf, so what happened to yours? They were pretty full and Joel didn’t like to use yours. A pit grew in your stomach, the confusion eating at you. As you stepped under the warm water, your tears started to flow freely. It was like Joel was slowly erasing you from his life, piece by piece. For what?

You washed your hair quickly and grabbed the body soap and your wash cloth. Your eyes couldn’t help but flick down to where your soap bottles used to sit, anger coursing through you. If he wanted to see other people, he should’ve just been fucking honest. As you dried off and started to get ready, your mind replayed everything that could’ve caused this. Your relationship wasn’t perfect by any means, you fought almost daily a few months ago before he stopped calling so much. It would be over nothing, just Joel being stubborn. He’d bring up your age and how you’d get bored of him, how he’s not the man you want, how you resent him for not wanting to move with you, stuff you’d never say about him. He was the one that was embarrassed of you. He never wanted you to meet his friends, and when he got tired of your begging and pleading, he finally took you out with them to the bar. That was a fucking joke you thought to yourself as you recalled that night from a year ago.

“Joel what the fuck was that? Why didn’t you call me your girlfriend when you introduced me to them?” you questioned as you got out of his truck in his driveway. You slammed the door shut and he groaned loudly from inside the vehicle, climbing out reluctantly. “The hell are you on about? I told ‘em we were datin’, is that not good enough?” He loved doing that thing where he’d spin it back on you and make you feel so stupid for even bringing it up. “Oh my god, no It’s not like that! I just wanted to know why you didn’t tell them I was your girlfriend and have been for a year!” you bursted through the front door and threw off your purse, tossing it to the ground. “Well excuse the hell outta me! I thought it was the same fuckin’ thing!” he shouted, following you through the house to his room. “Why does it matter so much to you? If you’re with me, what’s it matter, huh?” Joel's hands grabbed your arms and forced you to look at him, his face riddled with confusion and anger. “Because, Joel! I love you and you’re fucking embarrassed to show anyone that!” The hot tears were streaming down your face as you tried to fight him to let go. His face finally softened and he sighed. “Baby…”

That was so long ago and here you were now in his room, finding out the man you thought loved you had maybe not wanted you anymore. Finally zipping up your dress, you fixed your hair one last time and checked your makeup. Something came over you and told you to open the bedside table you used to call yours, wondering if anything was touched. The cool wood brushed over your knuckles as you grabbed the knob and pulled gently, bracing yourself for whatever could be in there. All of your old pictures of you two were in a pile, scattered like someone was digging through them from time to time. The one that was your favorite was all the way at the bottom. It was of Joel, in the ocean and he looks gorgeous. That was your first vacation together, you both went to go see Sarah’s soccer game and you snuck away together while she was at practice to go swimming. He told you he’d help you learn how to swim so he took you out so far you almost couldn’t touch and helped you get over your fear of drowning. “I won’t let that happen, ok? I gotcha sweet pea. Don’t be scared, I’m here.” You recalled how his arms wrapped around you and you felt so safe. He looked so ethereal, like he wasn’t real.

You closed the drawer and found your phone buried under your towel on the bed, checking to see if maybe Joel messaged you back. Nothing. There was nothing. A sigh of frustration left your lips and you walked out of Joel’s room, looking for Tommy downstairs. He was in the kitchen getting the drinks and snacks out. “There you are! I made ya a grilled cheese but it got cold, thought ya fell asleep up there girl, been almost two hours.” Tommy’s eyes met yours and he noticed you weren’t your normal self. He gave an apologetic smile and rubbed your back softly, “Cmon, we’ve got about fifteen minutes ‘fore he gets here. Help me with the cake?” You gave Tommy a small smile and nodded, reaching to open the box the cake was in. You both were careful not to bump the box on it and set it on the table for everyone to see. His house filled up rather quickly with people while you were upstairs for those couple hours, which to you felt like minutes.

“Everyone get down, he’s here!” someone shouted from the living room and suddenly the lights went out, leaving you standing in pure darkness. Tommy tugged your arm and you snapped out of the transe you were in, crouching down in front of the kitchen table. The front door swung open and there he was, your man. The broad shoulders on the silhouette made your breath hitch and your knees weak. Immediately the lights went on and everyone popped out shouting happy birthday. Joel’s face lit up with a smile and the little confetti poppers went off, small rainbow bits of paper cascading down to the floor in front of him. He was met with many hugs as everyone crowded him, leaving you by the table by yourself. You couldn’t bring yourself to go up there to him, not in front of all these people. Small conversations were forming as Joel was finally making his way out of the clump of bodies, his beautiful brown eyes locking with yours.

“H-happy birthday.” you stated quieter than you wanted. His arm dropped to his side as his smile slowly faded, walking over to you. “What’re you doin’ here?” Joel asked harshly. Was that all he had to say? A lump grew in your throat and your mouth went dry. “Tommy um, Tommy invited me.” Great, now you were stuttering and tripping over your words. Joel was now toe to toe with you, his expression not changing. “Oh” he muttered sarcastically and nodded. Tears stung your eyes at his cold tone and you knew you couldn’t deal with this all night. “Listen, I’ll go if you want me to, just tell me…but if I walk out that door Joel, we’re done. I can’t do this anymore and by the looks of it, you don’t want to do it either. You’ve practically hidden every single memory of me or gotten rid of it and for what?” your eyes were overfilled with tears as they threatened to spill from the outer corners and Joel's head snapped away, his jaw clenching at the silence you shared.

“Yeah, I want you to leave. We’re done.” He didn’t even have the fucking decency to look at you when he said it, when he plunged the knife into your heart. There was nothing more you could say to him to see how hurt you were, how much you wanted him to beg you to stay. You wanted him to tell you why he’d been acting this way for months and why he felt so comfortable acting like you meant nothing to him after three years. You pushed passed him and ran up the stairs to gather your bag. He didn’t deserve you, and that was so clear now. He didn’t deserve all the late nights you stayed up with him and assured him Sarah wouldn’t find out about you two. How many vacations you took him on just to get him out of Texas. He didn’t deserve all the brand new things you introduced him to. Most importantly, he didn’t deserve the amount of patience you had with him. He was as stubborn as a fucking mule, but not once did you ever think about giving up on him like he was doing to you right now.

Mascara was running down your face as you practically sprinted to your car, your bag flailing behind you. You dropped your car keys trying to unlock your trunk and you lost it. You leaned against the trunk with your hands covering your face, sobbing your heart out. You gave him everything, you gave him all of you. “Wait, don’t go..” Joel shouted out of breath as he ran down the sidewalk. You looked up at him through blurry eyes, that burning anger igniting in your stomach once more. “No, fuck you! I’m leaving. I told you if you let me walk out that door we were done and what did you do? YOU LET ME LEAVE!” your voice echoed between the houses but you didn’t care anymore. “You’re nothing but a selfish asshole, Joel. I should’ve known better than to think you wouldn’t break my heart. Fuck you, just go.”

His arms engulfed you and you beat your fists on his chest, crying harder than you were before. Joel’s grip on you tightened as he pulled you in close, shushing you quietly. “Stop, just stop. Shhh” he whispered and petted the back of your head softly. “I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry, sweet pea. I think I just got so busy with work and you with getting adjusted in your new place, we were like ships passing in the night.” Joel’s hands cupped your face, his thumb swiping away your tears. “You don’t just give up and act like I don’t exist Joel! Why would you do that to me?!” you demanded and looked at him through tear clumped lashes. “I thought it was easier for you! Jus’ let me prove to you I can be a better man to you, darlin. Please, I need you. I’ve been so lonely without you.” Joel’s tone softened as his voice cracked, a tear falling down his face.

“This is what I’ve been wanting to hear for months. I need some space. I can’t keep doing this shit, Joel. Happy birthday.” You placed a photo of you and him in his hand that you swiped from the drawer earlier. A croak of your name left his lips before you walked away and climbed into your car. You looked at him one last time in the rearview mirror as he stood there staring at everything he just fucked up. He needed to sit with what he’d done, and you had a lot to think about on your drive back home.

#joel miller x reader #pedro pascal #joel miller #joel miller x you #the last of us #bfd!joel #bfd!joel miller #this killed me #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller angst #pedro pascal characters

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