#the only movie review that means anything
Text
i didn't expect to see a future with you.
summary: it began as another fun and beneficial thing to have. until suddenly, it was about wanting ‘you and him for a very long time’. (in other words, he really didn’t mean to fall for you. really.)
characters: kaiser, reo, nagi.
notes: i tried to write about l word without mentioning it once. i hope i manage to get them right, this is my first time writing reo and kaiser especially. warning: relationships that started as casual and unserious, gacha at nagi's part. i really like fall later and harder troupe recently...
kaiser
months ago, if kaiser knew you got a fever, he would type a message of ‘get well soon’ without much meaning behind it along with a few extra sentences just to charm it all up. he would just cancel the date the two of you were supposed to be having and do anything else. practice, review his performance, or hell maybe have a different date and have fun with someone else. it was written all over the place, how this thing between you and him were anything but serious. he would never ask for your care, therefore he wouldn’t give you anything other than ‘the fun’ either.
and yet, here he sat on your bedside, porridge in hand like a nagging nanny because a moronic idiot—you—thought it was smart to walk through a storm instead of calling him or someone to pick you up. the thought of relationships and definitions and such as became the furthest thing in his mind the moment you called him with your slurred voice. you, being a helpless mush that could only wrap yourself with a blanket, couldn’t exactly protest to both his presence and harsh words. kaiser certainly didn’t shy away from calling you names—incompetent fool, being one of the tamer ones—the moment he arrived at your bedroom with medicines.
after cursing you and your useless outdated static of a brain, kaiser ushered you into the bed as he searched through your cabinets and ordered foods for your empty stomach. under the haze of your fever, you apologized to him and thank him. kaiser just gave you another comment about being stupid and baited a laugh from you. it was raspy and uglier than usual, but kaiser thought it would suffice. then, like a noisy sickly chatterbox, you asked why he choose you instead of his ‘anything else’.
“…it’s because I’m not an idiot,” Michael Kaiser replied to you after a long moment of silence. His back was turned towards you, the tone in his voice unshaken and flat, yet undeniably honest. “I know what I want.”
Your head throbbed painfully not truly understanding what he meant. But for him, you pushed out a chuckle, “’s that so, Michael…?”
“Do you even know what you are saying?” he shot back, his blurry figure walking closer towards you. As the view of his profile became clearer, you realized how you couldn’t quiet put a name on his expression. “Just rest up, you big baby.”
reo
as cruel as it was to say this, reo didn’t exactly begin with seeing you as a ‘person’. to him, you were more of the embodiment of ‘momentary excitements, rest, and escapism’. somewhere for him to have fun without thinking much, a someone who he could interact without any law of cause and effect following him. reo was certain you too saw him the same way. the two of you were a ‘why not?’ that could and would end like a passing breeze. it was nice, but it wouldn’t last long.
then, slowly came the late night chats, the voice notes filled with mundane things and lame jokes. afterwards, long talks about both anything and nothing followed. you came to his match, you were introduced to his teammates, you were a presence that was almost became a constant in every hour reo spent awake. and reo knew more than anyone else that he didn’t hate it when he watched you cry uglily at a movie he didn’t bother to pay attention to. in a way, he knew he was gone.
snotty and messy, your hand blindly reached around his sofa for a box of tissues. reo couldn’t take his eyes away from you as he laughed lightly and pushed the tissues towards you. hearing his chortles, you threw your cold feet towards his lap. you were looking at him with a pissed off questioning look whilst reo could only think how he could do this everyday.
“Is it even that sad?” Mikage Reo asked, teasing even when he slowly shifted your legs to comfortably rest on his lap. When the ‘pissed off’ look on your face intensified, Reo wondered if you would let him took a photo. For what, he didn’t exactly know either, but he certainly would be happy if you would let him.
“It’s about him finally realizing what he should have done, Reo!” you said, as if it answered everything. Reo could only chuckle—because perhaps it did. “Stop laughing! I didn’t laugh the last time you cried at that lame movie!”
He pushed himself closer towards you, a smile that felt like it wouldn’t die down plastered itself on his face. As the space between the two of you disappeared and you slotted yourself on his side like a piece long gone, he leaned his head against yours and didn’t stop himself from wrapping a hand on your shoulder. Still with a feeling he would soon said out loud to you, Reo continued to laugh merrily, “Come on, don’t say that. Here, here, let me wipe off those tears.”
nagi
the two of you started as a pair of gaming buddies simply because he found you funny and became what was pretty much ‘maybe-dating by convenience but still play together every now and then’ because one of his nosy sponsors who would love nagi to date his daughter. you were not troublesome, you did not ask much from nagi, you did not disturb his soccer career, and you seemed to like choki a lot. nagi didn’t exactly understand why you ‘date’ him, but if the comments from his friends were anything to go by, he supposed whatever reason you had were not terrible for him in any way.
the two of you sometimes hang around his room. usually it because you wanted to pull a gacha character and demanded nagi’s hands for luck. nagi didn’t exactly get it, but it wasn’t rare for you to made an interesting expression depending on what you got, so he supposed it was entertaining in a way. and each time the two of you did this, he also found it was fun to sit beside you and had you grab his hand for ‘luck’.
then the sunset came through from the window that day and you grabbed his hand yet again. suddenly, nagi found it unsurprising for him to remember every contour and corner of your hand. his eyes were trained on your face, watching you focusing on your phone screen and it felt like seeing you for the first time. when he intertwined your fingers with his as you cheered, it felt natural.
“Did you get her?” Nagi Seishirou leaned his weight towards you, letting the bed tilted along with him. He let you held his hand tighter as you too pressed your side to him. A grin that was bright and messy plastered itself on your face and Seishirou thought it suited the color of sunset. “You get her, huh? Yay.”
You were still buzzing with joy and excitement, your other hand reaching over him to hug his head to your chest. “Thank you! Thank you! Sei, I owe you!”
“Owe me, huh…?” Seishirou tried his best to think of a respond, but honestly all he could think of was how pleasant it was to be hugged by you, even if you probably weren’t thinking much of the action. Perhaps he really was as lucky as you had stated through big words and stressed intonations. As he returned your hug, Seishirou said, “Then, can I ask something for my payment?”
#bllk imagines#bllk#blue lock#blue lock fluff#bllk x reader#bluelock x reader#blue lock scenarios#blue lock x reader#nagi seishirou x reader#nagi seishirou#nagi seishiro#nagi x reader#nagi fluff#michael kaiser#kaiser x reader#kaiser fluff#bluelock#bllk nagi#bllk kaiser#bllk reo#reo fluff#reo x reader#reo mikage#reo mikage x reader#mikage reo imagines#michael kaiser imagines#nagi seishirou imagines#been trying to write kaiser i really hope i get his character right#like he is so interesting writing wise like the friendly facade??? the smugness that came with self awareness??? the frail ego theory???#and then there is reo who is just something else to write
845 notes
·
View notes
Text
the last great american dynasty
pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller x female reader
rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)
word count: 6.8k (whoops)
summary:
Joel Miller has loved the historic Victorian home in his neighborhood since the first time he laid eyes on it. When the elderly owner passes, he thinks he might get his chance to finally buy it and fix it up.
He doesn’t expect to find you, the granddaughter of the previous owner and trustee of her estate, standing in the way of his dream
author's note:
inspo board
this work is inspired by taylor swift's song "the last great american dynasty" and is part of the folklore album anthology! if you enjoy, please consider reblogging/commenting and make sure to check out the other works by the amazing collaborators on this project.
tags/warnings:
explicit sexual content (18+ minors do not interact), explicit language, no physical description of reader, no use of y/n, work contains journal entries as part of the plot, porn with plot, pre-outbreak!joel, grandma is a named OFC, sassy reader, dirty talk, teasing, praise, unprotected p in v, oral (f receiving), vaginal fingering, paint as a flirting mechanism, mild enemies to lovers, pet names. let me know if there are any missing!
August 20, 1948
I have arrived in Texas. I am uncertain where to go or what to do. For so long I’ve answered only to George, but now I am my own woman and the world before me has suddenly become much bigger, seemingly overnight.
I just hope it will be good for me.
-R
PRESENT DAY
If there’s one thing you never expected, it’s to inherit a mansion from a grandmother that you’ve never spoken to. As far as you were aware that kind of thing only happened in movies, so receiving a phone call from an estate lawyer that had been trying to locate you for a whole year since this mystery woman’s passing was a complete shock.
Now you find yourself with a car full of your belongings driving cross country to a sleepy suburb of Austin, Texas. The first stop is the lawyer’s office, where a secretary eyes you warily as you sit in the lobby of the lush office suite, fingers toying with a loose thread on the t-shirt you’d been wearing for the last eight-hour leg of your road trip.
A voice calls your name from a door just past the secretary’s desk, an older man with white hair and a deeply wrinkled face smiling kindly at you. You stand, shaking his hand as you pass by him into his office. He gestures to the wingback chairs that face his impressive dark wood desk. You take in the diplomas on the wall and the floor to ceiling bookshelves lined with thick, leather bound tomes.
“I appreciate you comin’ all the way out here so quickly. You were quite the tough one to find,” the man says with a chuckle. He pulls out a thick envelope, cream colored with swooping, swirling handwriting across the front reading your name. “Your grandmother was a dear friend of mine. She established a trust in your name not long after you were born.”
“I’m sorry, I guess I’m still a little confused. I didn’t even know I had a grandmother,” you admit quietly. He nods solemnly.
“She never told me all the details, but there had been a falling out between her and her daughter. They kept their distance after that.” When you don’t say anything, mind too busy racing with the questions that you suppose only your mom can answer now, he continues. “Would you like the review the details of the trust?”
“Um, sure. I guess that’s why I’m here, after all.”
He slips a piece of paper from the folder, sliding it across the desk. The same swirling handwriting fills the page.
My Dearest,
You may not know me, but I’ve watched you grow in photographs and letters since you were born. You mean the world to me, even if I could not fit in the world that your mother created for you. I respected that choice, hurt though it may have. She had her own path to forge, just as I did, and just as you will. I am eternally grateful for the parts of her life she did share after she left.
In the event of my passing, I leave my estate to you in its entirety. I built my true happiness in those walls, and I hope you can do the same.
-R
You read the letter twice, eyes stinging with tears. A tissue box slides across the desk, and you pluck two sheets out gratefully.
“In this envelope are the more official documents. The deed transfer that will need your signature, beneficiary statements for her banking and savings accounts, things like that. My office will handle all the paperwork filing,” the man says. A few more forms are laid out on the desk, and you lean forward to read them.
“Holy shit,” you snap, eyes wide as you swipe the beneficiary statement from the wood. “There must be too many zeroes in this, right? Or a rogue comma? That can’t be the right amount.”
“I assure you that’s the correct amount,” he says with a laugh. “And if you’ll sign down there, it’ll be transferred to your name and designated account.”
Your mouth goes dry as you read through the rest of the documents. In addition to the sizeable amount of money about to hit your bank account, there’s a five-bedroom house being transferred into your name, as well as a safety deposit box. You sign each form where directed, sliding them back over to the lawyer.
“I believe this is yours,” he says, holding a house key out to you. He drops it into your open palm. “Good luck.”
“I wish they would just put that place up for sale already,” Joel grumbles from the passenger seat of his brother’s truck as they drive by the out-of-place 1920s Victorian home on their way to a job site.
“You’ve been sayin’ that for the past year since that poor old woman passed,” Tommy says with a laugh. “Give it up, brother. Your dream house is just goin’ to rot away before your eyes.”
“Don’t you say that,” Joel replies. He doesn’t need Tommy speaking his fear into the universe.
The house has already been showing signs of falling apart in the last ten years Joel has lived in the neighborhood. The roof needs work, the shutters need replacing, the lawn is overgrown, and there’s a sizable hole in the wrap-around porch that seems to get bigger over time.
He’s wanted that house since the first time he saw it while he was house hunting ten years ago, a then three-year-old Sarah on his hip as he toured a nice little house that was available in the neighborhood at the time. While the home he’s built with his daughter through long days of hard work is nothing to scoff at, he’s always dreamed of something with more character and story.
He just hopes he’ll get his chance.
You stare up at the old house in front of you, shielding your eyes from the late afternoon sun. It’s a beautiful house, though there’s no denying its seen better days – two stories with large bay windows on both floors, white wood siding and chipped red shutters that are clinging to their rusty hardware, a large wrap around porch that has vines encroaching on the banisters, a lawn overgrown with weeds. You tentatively climb the steps of the porch, peeking nervously into the large hole in the wood to the left of the front door.
“That’s private property,” a gruff voice calls out, making you jump. You turn, finding a man standing on the sidewalk with his arms crossed over his broad chest. “You ain’t supposed to be snoopin’ around.”
“Actually—”
“Why don’t you just head home, sweetheart, and I won’t have to call the cops,” the stranger says, cutting you off. You raise your eyebrows at him.
“This is—”
The man huffs, arms dropping as he digs in the pocket of his jeans, pulling out a cell phone. “Seriously, I’ll give you until the count of three. We don’t need trouble around this neighborhood, alright?”
The nerve, you think, narrowing your eyes at the man. Since he clearly doesn’t want to hear what you have to say, you decide to take a different route. You reach into the pocket of your shorts, pulling out the key that the lawyer had given you earlier that day. You take a sideways step closer to the door, keeping your eyes on the man as you pointedly insert the key into the lock and opening the heavy wood door.
His mouth drops open in surprise and you smile at him.
“You were saying?”
Joel had seen the car parked in the driveway of the empty house when Tommy dropped him off after work. He’d quickly checked on Sarah, newly thirteen and fiercely independent, finding her working on her homework at the kitchen table, before making his way across the street.
He hadn’t expected to find a gorgeous woman snooping around the old house, curves hugged in denim shorts and a tank top that made his mouth water. He also hadn’t expected the woman to produce a key from the pocket of those sinfully tight shorts.
“You were saying?” You ask, lips curved in a smirk and eyebrows raised at him. When Joel doesn’t immediately reply, still too stunned that you have access to the house, you turn and walk through the door, shutting it behind you.
He finally shakes himself of his shock, bounding up the steps and knocking on the door. You pull it back open.
“I’ll buy it from you,” Joel says immediately.
“Excuse me?” You reply, your hands moving to your hips. “It’s not for sale.”
“Come on, what’s a girl like you need all this space for?” Your mouth drops open, pretty lips stretched wide in surprise and Joel struggles to keep his thoughts from drifting to sinful places.
“A girl like me? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’re young, that’s all. You don’t need a house this big and this much of a project!”
“What makes you think I don’t have a big ol’ family I’m moving in here? Four kids and a loving husband?!”
Joel blinks. “You got four kids and a lovin’ husband?”
“No, but that’s besides the point.” You roll your eyes, jabbing a finger at his chest. “It’s not for sale. Now get off my porch before I call the cops on you.”
With that final word, the door shuts in Joel’s face again, the sound of your retreating footsteps signaling the end of the discussion.
November 12, 1948
There’s a gentleman who comes into the diner every Tuesday. He always sits in one of my booths, with his perfect hair and suit and handsome face distracting me until he leaves. Some of the other waitresses try talking to him but he doesn’t pay them any mind. They’ve whispered to me before that he comes from money - oil, or something, not that it matters.
His name is William, and I think he’s trying to steal my heart.
-R
“So, let me get this straight. First, you threatened to call the police on this woman. Then, rather than introducin’ yourself or welcomin’ her to the neighborhood or even apologizin’, you just go straight to tellin’ her she doesn’t need a house that big and that you wanna buy it from her. Did I hear that right?” Tommy says, watching Joel as he throws together dinner the following evening.
“Yeah, that sums it up,” Sarah says. Joel huffs.
“Well, when you put it like that.” He sips his beer as his daughter and brother share a look. “What’s that look for?”
“Nothin’,” they say in tandem. Joel narrows his eyes as Sarah breaks out in giggles. Tommy stands, heading to Joel’s pantry and rifling through the shelves until he finds an unopened bottle of whiskey buried in the back.
“What are you doin’ with that?” Joel asks.
“Welcomin’ your new neighbor like the gentleman I am. Sarah, watch the pasta while I show your dad how it’s done,” Tommy replies, heading for the front door, Joel trailing behind him.
Tommy crosses the street with quick steps, eyeing the porch dubiously as he knocks on the door. Joel stands beside him, hands shoved in his pockets as he curses under his breath about his brother’s stupid antics.
You open the door, dressed this time in a pretty sundress that makes Joel’s mouth go dry. Tommy flashes you a grin and Joel can’t help the annoyance he feels when his brother’s eyes trail over your body.
“Hey there! I’m Tommy Miller, you may have met my dumbass brother over here the other day. I’m certain he didn’t make the best impression, so I just wanted to come over and welcome you to the neighborhood,” he says, holding the whiskey out to you.
You introduce yourself, ignoring Joel. “Thank you so much, Tommy. Would you like to come in?”
“Sure thing,” his traitorous brother replies, stepping over the threshold. When Joel makes a move to follow, you give him a pointed look before shutting the door in his face.
“You want a beer, Tommy?” You ask the handsome man in your kitchen. You can’t help but be impressed by the genetics of the Miller family, both men tall and tan and handsome as hell. Sure, one of them could use a lesson on manners, but you’ll admit that since your confrontation your mind has drifted to thoughts of brown eyes and soft dark hair that belong to the brother you left on the porch out of spite.
“Yes, please,” Tommy says politely. You open the dated refrigerator and grab two beer bottles, popping the caps against the countertop and handing one to him. “This sure is a nice place.”
“Thanks. I just inherited it from my grandma,” you explain. “It’s a little…dated.”
He chuckles. “We call it ‘character’ in contractin’.”
“That what you guys do, then? Contracting?”
“Sure is. Miller Brothers Contracting and Construction.” Tommy scratches at the label on the bottle before saying, “Look, I know my brother can come off the wrong way. He didn’t get the social genes. But he’s a good guy, and he’s loved this house since the first time he saw it. Always wanted to buy it, fix it up, raise his little girl here. Maybe add to his family one day.”
You look around the rundown kitchen. You’ve only been here a day and you know you’ve got your work cut out for you. The electrical and plumbing are all outdated, the appliances need replacing, the floors need to be refurbished, and that’s just the first floor. You could use some help with it all, and maybe the grumpy contractor next door who cares about the house could help you with it all.
“I appreciate that he loves the house but…I never met my grandma. Never even knew who she was or that she was even alive, and it’s the only connection I have to her. I don’t know if this is going to be my forever but…I want to at least give it a shot.”
Tommy smiles. “We could help with that.”
It feels like ages before Tommy’s stepping back out onto the porch, a beer in his hand that makes Joel frown.
“Y’all were havin’ drinks while I sat out here like an ass?” He asks incredulously. Tommy throws an arm around his brother’s shoulders.
“Yes, and if you don’t quit your whinin’ I’m not goin’ to tell you about our lovely conversation,” the younger man says as he walks with Joel back to his house.
In the kitchen, Sarah is pouring the pasta sauce and ground beef over the noodles. Joel takes over and waves her away, mumbling his thanks as he mixes the ingredients together. He sets up two plates, setting one in front of his daughter and sitting down with the other. Tommy makes an affronted sound before fixing his own plate.
“So?” Joel asks. Tommy slurps at his food.
“Was the lady nice?” Sarah asks.
“No,” Joel replies at the same time Tommy says, “Yes.”
Joel glares at Tommy. “You gonna tell me what she said or what?”
“She ain’t sellin’,” Tommy finally says. “But, she wants to fix the place up. Offered our services so you could get your grubby fuckin’ hands in there.”
“Language,” Joel says, eyes flicking to Sarah. The girl rolls her eyes. “Really?”
“Yep. Better start callin’ the guys. From what I saw we’re dealin’ with electrical from the 50s, plumbing from who knows when, not to mention the HVAC and roof will need to be upgraded, too.” He wipes his mouth with a napkin before grinning at Joel. “You up for the challenge?”
“Hell yeah.”
August 23, 1949
William and I have just been married.
I know, I know. I can’t believe it either. But he is truly the light of my life.
The wedding was charming, if a little gauche. I’m still not abreast of all these new societal expectations that surround a man like William, but I’m willing to try. Today he will be taking me around to view houses in the more opulent neighborhoods, the type of homes I used to gawk at but one of them will be mine.
I must be dreaming.
-R
Joel and Tommy start working on the house right away. Every day there’s a line of pick-up trucks parked on the curb and the sounds of construction start early in the morning and continue into the late evening. The electrician and plumber come through first, updating the wiring and pipes through the whole house. The roofers and HVAC come through next, replacing the crumbling shingles and dated central unit with a split system for each level of the house.
It’s not until the big projects are done that you get to have fun with the place, which is how you found yourself methodically painting the front door a muted lime green early one morning.
“What do you think you’re doin’?”
You sigh. Despite Tommy’s assurances that Joel is a great guy beneath the grumpy control freak exterior, you’ve continued to only get the side of the man that grates your nerves.
“What’s it look like I’m doing? I’m painting the door.”
“You can’t paint the door that color,” Joel says, heavy footsteps stomping up your newly repaired porch.
“Says who?” You retort. You smear another stroke of paint over the sanded wood.
“Me, for one. The historical society, for two.” He pulls the brush from your hand and holds it above his head and out of your reach. The movement drags his shirt up, exposing a strip of tan belly with a trail of dark hair that disappears into the waistband of his jeans. “Why are you bein’ a pain in the ass?”
“I was put on this earth simply to make your life more difficult, Joel Miller. Isn’t that obvious?” You reply sarcastically. He mumbles something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like you got that right. “What are you even doing over here? It’s Saturday.”
“We’re goin’ to the store. You gotta start pickin’ stuff out for the bathrooms and kitchen,” he says, tossing the paint brush into the tray. “And then we’re gettin’ a new color to cover this up.”
Joel leaves the porch and you follow behind him to the black pick-up truck idling by the sidewalk. He opens the passenger door for you and you raise your eyebrow at the gesture but climb inside.
January 3, 1950
Our New Year’s party is the talk of the town. There were so many people in the house I began to lose count. William had so much champagne ordered I swear we could fill an entire swimming pool with it all.
The ladies at the club have already begun to ask when we would host our next event. I can’t wait to plan another.
-R
“Can you please focus?” Joel begs, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation. He’s laid out three tile combinations, one for each bathroom in the home, and he needs you to look at them but you keep getting distracted.
“You’re no fun,” you huff. You examine the tiles, pointing to a turquoise blue one he’s picked for the shower in the master. “I love that.”
He looks at you in surprise. “Well, I’ll be damned. She can be reasoned with.”
You giggle and Joel can’t help the smile it prompts from him, the sound of your laugh so sweet compared to your sharp tongue.
“I like the white and blue combinations for upstairs, but in that powder room I want a pink theme,” you tell him. Your eyes search the displays, landing on a blush pink glass subway tile option. “Like this!”
“Whatever you want, sweetheart,” Joel replies without thinking, taking the sample from you and comparing it next to the floor tile he’d chosen for that bathroom. When he glances at you, you’re giving him a confused look. “What?”
“Nothing,” you reply, shaking your head. “What about the kitchen?”
“What were you thinking for in there?”
“Green cabinets. White and black backsplash, the kind with the little hexagons that look like flowers. I gotta pick out appliances now that the electrical can sustain newer ones, too.” You pause. “And how do you feel about wallpaper?”
“It’s the devil,” Joel replies.
Your grin is downright mischievous. “Excellent.”
February 2, 1956
William had a heart attack. It scared me so badly that I haven’t let him out of my sight since. The doctor said he’s been working too hard, drinking too much, and not sleeping enough. Maybe the parties have started to be too much for him.
I’ve been feeling unlike myself. Tired, nauseated. Hopefully my heart isn’t troubled, too.
-R
Joel places a hefty order for all the items you’ve picked out today from nearly every aisle of the store - tile for the bathrooms and kitchen, vanities and plumbing fixtures, countertops, lighting, and appliances. While he’s preoccupied with calculations and measurements and pricing things out, you pick out paint and wallpaper for the projects you’ll be able to do on your own.
He finds you a while later, a cart full of paint buckets and supplies. To your surprise, he grins.
“More paint, huh? You pick a new one for the door?” He asks. You smile back at him, butterflies erupting in your tummy.
“Yep. Does navy blue suffice, your highness? I thought we could paint the trim the same color.”
Joel nods. “Good choice. Look, I’ve kept you here so long for all the orderin’. You wanna get lunch?”
“Careful, Joel. I’m like a stray cat - once you start feeding me, I might never leave,” you reply with a laugh. You push your heavy cart of paint towards the exit.
You miss the soft smile he gives to your retreating figure.
September 23, 1956
Our daughter is here. She’s the sweetest little thing, though she can screech like a banshee when she sees fit. William is so besotted, he keeps looking between the two of us with stars in his eyes like he can’t believe how lucky he is.
I love them both with my whole heart and soul.
-R
Joel takes you to a retro family diner with black-and-white checkerboard flooring and red vinyl accents with a vintage jukebox in the corner. You’re delighted by the themed menu, eyes immediately zeroing in on the classic malt shakes and french fries.
Over lunch, Joel actually opens up to you. He tells you about going into construction right out of high school and dragging Tommy into it when he’d gotten back from serving his tour with the Army. He talks about his daughter, Sarah, and you can’t help the smile that stretches your lips as you watch his eyes light up while he talks about his little girl. She’s at a sleepover this weekend, which gave him the extra time to visit the home improvement store this morning.
In turn, you tell him about getting the call from the lawyer one afternoon that changed your life forever. How you’d packed up everything you owned and driven across the country to find out that you had a grandmother that your mother never told you about that left you her entire estate.
“Wow. That’s…wow,” Joel says when you’ve paused to take a sip of your chocolate shake.
“Excuse me?” A voice asks. You both look up at the elderly woman dressed in a t-shirt with the restaurant’s logo and pressed slacks. She smiles. “I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation and ever since you sat down I’ve been wrackin’ my brain tryin’ to place your face and it’s just hit me.”
She holds out a framed black and white photo of six waitresses standing beneath the same sign that’s still out front, all of them grinning at the camera. There’s one face, however, that looks familiar despite you never having seen her.
“Her name was Rebecca. We used to work together. That’s me, right there,” she says, pointing to the girl standing to the woman’s left. “Rolled up to town at eighteen, fresh off a divorce and hardly a penny to her name. My daddy, god rest his soul, he owned the restaurant and gave her a job when she’d come through lookin’ for work.”
“Wow,” you murmur. “This is insane. Do you have any other pictures?”
She gives you a sympathetic smile. “‘Fraid not, darlin’. Just the one. But I know she kept a lot of journals. Was always scribblin’ in one and spent what little extra cash she had makin’ sure she had a new notebook ready. Maybe they’re still around?”
July 16, 1958
William…
William is gone. My light, my love, my world. The doctor said his heart just…stopped. In his sleep, right beside me.
I have to continue to live with a hole in my own heart, the piece that William stole years ago gone with him.
But I have to be strong for our daughter. Our brave girl, my little bird.
-R
When Joel brings you back to the house, you stare up at the facade, wondering if the journals the woman had spoken about could still be inside. Lost in thought, your eyes land on the little window that sits above the bay windows on the second floor, where the master bedroom is. You’ve been sleeping in that room for months now and you know there’s no window there that you can see from the inside.
“Hey, Joel?” You call out, eyes still fixed on the little window like it might disappear if you look away. “This place is only two stories. How come there’s a window there?”
He looks up at the roof. “Huh. Might be decorative?”
“Or it might be a secret room,” you tell him.
“Okay, Sherlock. Let’s go see.”
You lead him upstairs to the master bedroom, most of your grandma’s furniture still present save for the bed that you replaced upon arriving. You stare up at the ceiling, but it’s smooth - no trap doors to be found.
“If I were a secret door, where would I hide?” You ask.
Joel, who’d been poking his head into the walk-in closet, replies, “Probably the closet.”
There’s a creak of old hinges as Joel reaches up high and tugs the brass pull handle fixed in the ceiling. A descending ladder falls to the ground and you both stare at each other in surprise.
“I’ll go grab a flashlight,” Joel offers, sprinting from the room. You stare up at the hole in the ceiling, anticipation thrumming in your veins.
He returns quickly. “I’ll go up first.”
“Ever the gentleman,” you tease, watching as he ascends the ladder, your eyes shamelessly fixed to his ass as he climbs. You hear the click of the flashlight and see the sweep of the beam through the opening in the ceiling. “Anything?”
“Lots of suitcases. Hang on, let me grab one of the small ones,” he calls down. There’s the sound of something being dragged across the floor before he’s slowly lowering a leather suitcase into your hands.
It’s surprisingly heavy and you drag it by the handle to the bedroom, kneeling on the ground to pop the latches and open the dusty lid. Inside are stacks of leather bound notebooks, edges of the pages yellow with age.
“I’ll be damned,” Joel says, wiping his palms against his jeans. “We found the journals.”
Joel drags the suitcase downstairs, setting it in the living room for you while you order pizza and open a bottle of wine for the occasion. You sit beside each other on the couch and he hands you a journal that you carefully open.
May 17, 1974
We had another argument last night. She claims that I’ve been too overbearing, too protective, too stifling, but what else is a mother meant to do?
-R
May 18, 1974
Her bed was cold and empty this morning. Her piggy bank smashed to bits on the floor and her drawers cleared. Despite my tight grip, my little bird has flown away.
It appears that history does repeat itself. Imagine that.
-R
“Holy shit,” you say, sitting back on the couch with your glass of wine in one hand and one of your grandma’s journals in the other. “She ran away.”
“Who did?” Joel asks, biting into a slice of pizza.
“My mom. She just…packed up and disappeared.” You glance at him. “Guess that’s why I never knew about her.”
“Maybe you should stop uncoverin’ dark family secrets for the night,” Joel suggests. “You know, the dining room could stand to be painted.”
You glance over to the room in question. Joel must have set down the drop cloth on the floor while you’d been engrossed in your discovery.
“Sure. Why not,” you acquiesce.
October 29, 1976
I’ve received an envelope of photographs in the mail, pictures of my daughter holding a little baby. She’s written notes on the back of each one. I’m a grandmother.
My daughter looks happy. Healthy. That’s all I can ask. She didn’t provide a return address.
As for the baby…I love her so much. She takes my breath away. I keep one of the photos on me at all times.
-R
Joel turns on the radio while he works, humming along to the classic rock station selections. He’s been working on painting the wall near the wood molding while he left you with a paint roller to cover the middle of the wall. He looks up at you occasionally, admiring the way your muscles work as you wash the wall with color.
You must sense that he’s watching, turning your head over your shoulder and looking at him curiously. “What?”
“Nothin’,” he says. You smile at him, setting the roller in the tray. He can’t help but look at your ass in your tight leggings as you bend over.
You straighten up, walking over to him. There’s a glint in your eye that has Joel on high alert.
“You got a little something on your face,” you tell him.
“No, I don’t,” he counters. He’s a master at painting. He knows damn well he doesn’t have a drop on him.
“Yeah, you do,” you argue. You reach out, and your fingers smooth across his forehead. “Right there!”
Joel’s mouth drops open in surprise and he lets out a bark of laughter, bringing his fingers up to his forehead. When he pulls his hand away, they’re stained blue and you’re grinning at him like a mad woman.
“Yeah? Well, you got some right—“ He smears his paintbrush across your chest and you try to step back, but it’s too late. “—there,” he finishes.
You rush back to the paint tray and dip your hands in the liquid, brandishing your palms like weapons. He starts to advance on you, smirking as you back up.
“Stay back,” you command. Joel laughs, dodging your swinging arms as he charges, dropping low to press a shoulder into your belly, dragging you down to the ground in a heap of limbs.
He presses his body to yours as he reaches an arm out to the paint tray, covering his own hand in paint. Your eyes go wide and you squirm beneath him, your paint covered palms reaching up under his shirt to press the cold liquid to his ribs. He flinches away, giving you enough room to scramble out from under him.
Joel grabs your arm, paint smearing on your skin as he tugs you back down. You wrestle together, paint getting everywhere as he lets you straddle his waist. His hands grip your hips, fingers pressing tightly as he stares up into your face.
“You win,” he murmurs, voice low. Your lashes flutter, hips canting over the obvious bulge in his jeans. He groans, hands urging you to do it again.
“What’s my prize?”
Joel slips his fingers beneath the hem of your tank top, dragging the paint stained material up and over your head and tossing it aside. His gaze burns across your newly exposed skin.
“You’re fuckin’ gorgeous, you know that?” He says, a hand sliding up your belly to palm one of your breasts. Your head drops back as you moan.
“You’re not so bad yourself,” you reply. He chuckles, a deep rumble in his chest as his eyes grow darker, his gaze more heated. “Come on, Miller. What’s my prize?”
With a growl Joel sits up, wrapping an arm around your low back and twisting your bodies until you’re on your back, staring up at him as his lips stretch in a devious smirk. His fingers curl into the waistband of your leggings, sliding the fabric down your legs. His touch paints your skin blue as he does.
His hands press your thighs apart, opening you up. Your cheeks heat as he stares down at you like he’s trying to commit every curve of you to his memory. Finally, he leans in and you can feel his breath ghosting over your heated flesh.
Joel’s tongue traces through your slick folds, a broad stroke that has you gasping and arching your back. He hums against your sensitive flesh as he repeats the languid motion, his stubble catching on the soft skin of your inner thighs.
You reach your hands down to tangle in his hair, paint catching on the strands as you tug and pull. He groans against you, tongue moving faster as he circles your clit before pulling it between his lips. A hand leaves your thigh, the one not coated in paint, and two thick fingers press to your entrance, sliding inside of you as you gasp out Joel’s name.
“Christ,” he groans as he presses in deep before withdrawing slowly, curling his digits against your front wall, “you’re so fuckin’ wet, pretty girl. That for me?”
“Uh huh,” you reply, breathless as you work your hips to the rhythm of his fingers. Joel watches you, his lips and chin shiny from his efforts. “Joel, please!”
“Please what?” His hand moves faster, fingers pressing harder as his lips spread in a lascivious grin that makes your toes curl. “Come on, baby, ask me real nice and I’ll give you anythin’. Ain’t that right? You know damn well you’ve had me wrapped around your sassy little finger since the moment we met, don’t you?”
You whine, nodding your head quickly. “Knew you were a glutton for punishment.”
“Could say that again,” he says, chuckling as he lands a smash to the outside of your thigh with his free hand. “Now, come on, baby. Follow directions. Tell me what you want.”
“Wanna cum, Joel. Please!”
“Good girl,” he growls, lowering his lips to your pussy to lick at your clit. He hums as he lavishes the sensitive bud with attention and it’s the final push you need over the razor's edge you’d been teetering on since he started. You press your thighs against his head as your nerves light up and your muscles go tight with pleasure, his movements slowing as he works you through your release.
Your muscles go limp, head dropping back to the floor with a thunk. Joel sits up, crawling up your body and trailing kisses across your tummy and chest in the patches of skin not covered by paint. He grips your chin, holding you steady as his lips press to yours in a kiss so deep you worry you’re at risk of drowning.
Your hands fumble with his belt, pulling the leather free of the loops in a frenzy. He stands quickly, freeing himself of his jeans and boxers in one motion before reaching behind his head to tug his shirt off while you admire his labor-toned body.
Joel drops to his knees, pressing his hips to yours and dragging the thick head of his cock through your sensitive pussy, bumping your clit and making you both groan in tandem. His forearms rest on the floor beside your head as he teases you like this, slow drags of his length through your wetness, the tantalizing catch of him at your aching hole. You tilt your hips slightly, hoping he gets the hint, and he chuckles.
“You know the drill, baby,” he says, breathless with his own desire. “Just say the word.”
“Fuck me, Joel, please.”
His cock slips inside of you with little resistance, the stretch of him making you gasp. His eyes remain fixed to yours as he bottoms out and you smile up at him, reaching up to wrap your arms around his shoulders.
Joel gives a small, experimental thrust that makes your eyes roll back with pleasure. He does it again, a sharper snap of his hips making you cry out and dig your nails into his shoulder. He builds his own rhythm, one that has your hips chasing his on every pull from your body, one that has you chanting his name and staring up at him like he’s a god and you’re simply a sacrifice on his altar.
He sits back on his heels, the angle changing as your hips get lifted onto his lap. His hands wrap around your waist, fingertips pressing tightly to your ribs as he uses your body for his pleasure, pounding into you roughly.
“Cum for me again,” he demands, bringing a thumb to your clit in quick circles. “Come on, sweetheart, want you to cum on my cock. Was so pretty on my fingers.”
Tears prick at the corners of your eyes at the near overstimulation but you nod, wanting to give this man whatever he wants if it means he’ll keep touching you, holding you, looking at you.
You cum again with a shout of his name and he groans, deep and visceral as he presses in deep, holding your hips to his as his cock pulses inside of you with his release.
Joel slowly lowers your hips to the ground, withdrawing from your body as he does. He flops gracelessly to the floor beside you, sweat damp chest heaving with exertion. His head turns to yours, grin wide and eyes bright.
“You’re covered in paint,” he comments, reaching out to run his hand across a streak on your collarbone.
“So are you,” you reply, mimicking the gesture against his ribs.
“What do you say to a shower?”
You smirk at him before jumping up and racing to the doorway.
“I’d say last one there doesn’t get the hot water!”
You can hear his curse as you rush up the stairs, making it halfway before a strong arm wraps around you and stops you in your tracks, your laughter echoing through the house.
June 27, 1993
The neighborhood has changed so vastly. Much of the older homes have been torn down and replaced with less handsome architecture. The residents grow younger while I continue to age. Just last week a handsome young man and his darling daughter moved in down the street. He looks exhausted. I remember those days.
Not all the neighbors are lovely. Harold next door has an annoying dog that barks at all hours. He prances her around like a show pony, when she’s just a yappy little creature.
-R
ONE YEAR LATER
The house is finally finished. All the tile has been laid, everything has been painted, appliances delivered, holes repaired, fixtures installed, and wallpaper glued. You go downstairs for coffee in the morning, you take it to the parlor room you’ve made into a study. Floor to ceiling bookshelves display every journal you’d unearthed from the hiding place in the attic, each one read through cover to cover.
When you finally told your mom about what you’d been up to, her surprise and hurt could be felt even through the phone. You mailed one of her mother’s journals to her.
“I’m sorry,” she said the next time you spoke. “So much time had passed and I didn’t know how to fix what I’d broken.”
You don’t begrudge her decisions. Your grandma left you her story, and through that you’ve been able to know her.
Heavy footsteps on the stairs precede Joel’s appearance in the study, his hair messy from sleep and his eyes half shut. He drops beside you on the couch, grabbing your coffee from your hands and taking a sip of it.
“Is it everything you’ve always wanted?” You ask him, tilting your head to his shoulder. You still remember the way he’d been desperate to buy the house from you and you laugh at how the world works, given that he now wakes up in bed beside you and is tasked with the lawn maintenance every weekend. He presses a kiss to your head.
“It’s even better.”
June 29, 1993
I don’t think the dog will be bothering the neighborhood again anytime soon.
Turns out he doesn’t hold as much pride for the dog when she’s been dyed lime green.
Imagine that.
-R
Want more Joel Miller? Check out my masterlist!
#joel miller#joel miller x reader#joel miller fic#joel miller x female reader#joel miller smut#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller x you#no use of y/n#joel tlou#joel x reader#joel the last of us#tlou fic#taylor swift folklore#folklore anthology#joel miller folklore
678 notes
·
View notes
Text
Through My Window. Pt.2
Day 17 of celebration marathon.
-♡Book!older!Percy Jackson x Fem!reader.
-£ this fic was very popular and I have been asked uncountable times to make a part two, some people will be disappointed but I hope I can please some!
-£ Part one.
-£ words: 1.7k
-£ warnings: angst, seeing your ex, crying, reader being rightfully upset, college reader & percy, reconnecting from the past, I had a hard time writing this, so poor writing.
You’d like to say you got over him.
That everything was placed in a box and forgotten and never thought of again. Tragically you couldn’t seem to get percy out of your thoughts. Late at night you’d see him fighting monsters, saw him running for his life, or the past moments you shared. But they were only dreams, and he wasn’t going to come back for you. The college life treated you well enough and even if you couldn’t get him out of your mind the new friends you made helped keep him out from time to time.
You could lied to yourself that the boys you spent time with at parties or your dorm didn’t make you feel special. But they weren’t him and you hated that. Percy was somewhere with someone like him— better for him then you and he was happier. He had it all while you stayed the same girl who longed to feel his love again, to see his smile and brush his hair.
You missed him. Everything about him was stuck in your mind like a constant playing movie on repeat. It was years you both knew each other, he was a friend before anything so your heart wanted him close again. Even though you knew it would sting to glance upon him once more.
Today you had extra time to yourself in between classes so you went off campus to get yourself something to eat. Thankfully the small shop you loved was empty and not overflowing with business. And it was a perfect day to eat outside and review your notes, so you did just that. Sitting underneath a tree at a bench and eating your lunch. It was peaceful. You liked the light breeze on your skin and rustling of the leaves in your ears made you smile.
“You’ve got something in your hair,” he chuckled and pulled out a leaf from your hair making you role you eyes. He smirked at your attitude and leans to press his lips to yours. And you couldn’t stay mad at him after that.
“I can’t believe how beautiful you are.”
Suddenly the breeze made it easier for your spine to feel a shiver as you remembered the feeling of his hand on your cheek. It was like remembering a ghost of your past, making you cold and icy. The last words he ever said to you were him apologizing. It made your skin crawl, he was sorry? Time couldn’t heal you when all he said was “I’m sorry” like it was a simple fix for you. You weren’t enough for him, and you came to terms with that but he lied to you all that time, only to dump you before prom.
Now percy wasn’t happy with himself. He never wanted to leave you, he swore to be by your side even when odds weren’t on his favor and that’s exactly what he didn’t do. He left your side and broke your heart with something that wasn’t true. It was no secret that you were everything to him and he worshipped the ground you walked on. And that’s exactly why he had to leave you, you were his greatest weakness to his enemies. And the lie about annabeth made his head turn with regret and guilt.
But you brought it up and at the time it was a good coverup to make you hate him— which he was right. You did hate him and rightfully so. Each night he went to sleep with you in his mind, and then when he woke he was never left with your voice in his head. Percy knew you probably wouldn’t want him back but he’d never want anyone else. That doesn’t mean he would blame you for moving on, you deserved to be loved and he wanted you happy.
but that was all forgotten when he saw you now. just a perfect as ever.
“Excuse me,” His throat went dry as he approached closer to you. he should have kept walking, leaving you alone because he hurt you.
“Do you had to know anywhere around here that takes golden drachmas?” All the breath in his chest went away when you turned your head to look at him. He knew he missed you but he could cry on his knees right now upon seeing you again but reality reminded him quickly. Your eyes were shocked and wide like he was a monster of some sort only here to hurt you.
“What are you doing here?” You hiss and grab ahold of your notebook to ground yourself. Glancing around the place for any sign of anyone else, her for example. But you saw no sign of the blonde beauty anywhere.
“Honestly, I heard you moved here for college and hoped to run into you,” he spilled and walked closer with his hands sweating. “Which I now believe sounds crazy.” he gives you awkward smile which you don’t return, instead you get up from your seat and pick up your things in a rush. your books starts to fall and papers flying while you groan and try to catch everything. He wanted to help you but you held up your hand to stop him from coming closer.
“I told you,” once you had everything in your bag again you stomped your feet and glare at him, “I never want to see you again.”
Percy remembered those words like they had happened only moments ago. He also remembers the tears rolling down your eyes when you shouted at him to leave. He was haunted each day. What hurt him worse was how you stormed away from him leaving him like a sad puppy…exactly like he left you. But he wasn’t going to leave you thinking any longer that he would choose anyone over you.
“Wait,” he jogged behind you. he knew you heard him when you started to speed up to get away from him. “Please, Baby—” it’s been forever since he called you that and he knew his mistake as soon as he let them slip. You turned quickly with a fire in your eyes that could burn him down to ash with your hatred.
“You have no right to call me that!” Your voice echoes through the air as you point your finger at him. He stopped in his tracks just a few inches before you and his head hung in shame. “Not after everything you’ve done.”
“That’s what I’m here to see you, I never-”
“I don’t care for your reasons or apology— I want you to leave me alone.” And that was the one thing he couldn’t do. Not yet.
“Just give me a chance to explain why I left.” He pleads with begging eyes. You shake your head with no more control over your emotions to say no to him. Tears pool up in your eyes while trying to wave him away from you.
“You left me—even when you promised.” For the first time in a long time he got to feel you but not in the way he dreamed about, but by you hitting his chest. “You said you’d stay by my side no matter what. You said that I was enough.” Even after you continued to hit his chest you sobbed while he watched with tears of his own.
“You promised.” His arms wrapped around your trembling figure and pulled you close and you gave out in the fight and let him. You cried into his chest while he rubbed your back with no care for anything else but you.
“I never stopped loving you. I lied and I am forever sorry to be the cause of your pain but I had to, I’d rather you hate me then watch you die.” you breathe out and pull away from his chest and look at him. he could see the puzzled look at your face. “I lied about being in love with annabeth. I needed you to hate me so you wouldn’t be targeted and-”
“So you’re saying all of it— the constant feeling like I wasn’t enough…was all a lie?” he wanted to deny it but he couldn’t get anything out of his mouth.
Stepping back and throwing his arms off of you, “really? Now that,” you began to laugh and lean over with your hands wrapping around yourself. “is the most pathetic thing I’ve ever heard. I pictured her kiss you, you telling her that you love her- when it wasn’t happening?” it was a mix of crying and laughing now at yourself, even a hint of anger.
“Hunny..” he reached out for you again but you moved out of the way. you whip you eyes of tears and your cheeks with your smile still on your face. It was all too much for you to handle, seeing him again and the him telling you the truth. So your outburst may have seemed crazy but it was natural for your body to be overwhelmed.
“That’s why you came? Go get it off your conscience,” you tilt your head.
“No, I came to tell you the truth…to see you again, make sure you’re happy.” you could tell by his eyes that he meant all the words. A frown on his face and he looked over you like you’d change in seconds again. 
“How could I have been happy without you? You’re a idiot,” you confess. again, there was not a day that has gone by without thinking of him. “Massive.” He agreed with you with his own smile creeping on his face. You missed him after everything he did.
“But if you’ll have me, I’ll spend the rest of my days making it up to you.” His hand grabbed yours slowly incase you wanted to pull away from him but you didn’t. you wrap your fingers around his, moving closer to him.
“You have a lot of making up to do.” it was a peaceful moment between you both as you smile together.
Maybe you shouldn’t have taken him back. Maybe you should have forgive him on the spot. But you knew that he was met to be in your life or he wouldn’t be here now. Slipping through your window with a wide smile into your dorm room and waiting for a hello kiss from you. And he would continue to come to your window until college was over.
“Someones going to catch you coming through my mind.”
taglist: @maria699669 @purplerose291 @itzmeme @ravenmedows @repostingmyfavs
#percy jackson x you#older percy jackson#older percy Jackson x reader#percy jackson x reader#book percy jackson#book percy jackson x reader#percy jackson angst#angst
318 notes
·
View notes
Text
Something to Fight For (series) (PART NINE)
Word Count: 13.0k
Pairing: Dad!Joel Miller x f!reader (no use of y/n, no age or physical descriptions)
Warnings: SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUT
A/N:
1. OVER 13,000 words. I did that. And I did it for YOU. But you can thank Linda and her latest review because its the reason I'm uploading tonight instead of tomorrow.
2. I love Bill & Frank. That is all.
3. Joel Miller is a giver. This is my HC and I will not be dissuaded.
4. NOW: This chapter contains some imagery that non-hornies might find ... intense. What I'm saying is there is smut, and my smut tends to be on the descriptive side. I have tried to tame it down for this M rating, but I kinda don't really know what the difference between M and E is. If smut really doesn't appeal to you (that's fine darlings! I ain't offended - skip to the next chapter when I update).
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
Maria brings you home later that week. She attempts to help you from the car as if you're an invalid but you wave her off with a grumble. "I'm fine."
"I guess if I was Joel you'd let me help, hmmm?" Maria says lightly.
You both move towards the house but this comment causes you to stumble before you right yourself. You dart a glance out the corner of your eye at her. She’s watching your face with a smirk.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"I'm just saying that I told you I would take you to the doctor's four separate times,” Maria reasons. “Joel Miller swoops in and immediately you're in the emergency room?"
"He forced me."
"I've known you since we were teenagers," Maria says with a roll of her eyes as you enter into your suite. "No one can force you to do anything."
"He was very insistent."
"You like him."
You want to say something more but you're stopped, your eyes wide as you enter into your domain.
Twinkling Christmas lights are hanging around your bed frame, the fireplace, your window. A small artificial tree is resting in the far corner decorated with red and gold baubles. The knitted sock with your name stitched on it is hanging off the fireplace mantle.
It's all of your Christmas items decorating your place. And your entire place has been cleaned - even the windows look clearer. It looks so beautiful in here, the kind of beautiful you’ve only seen in cards and movies.
After you'd moved in here, the thought of decorating for holidays hadn't seemed too appealing. You thought the space was too small, that your ornaments and decorations would look out of place. But it makes your space seem so homey, inviting and warm.
"Did you do this, Mar’?"
Maria is grinning widely at your reaction. She looks around the space satisfied with her handiwork.
"Didn't want you coming back to a messy place after being in the hospital. I know how you feel about hospitals."
You blink back tears before you gather her into a tight hug. For the millionth time that year alone you are just so thankful that you have her in your life. If nothing else goes well for you in life, at least you can always count on Maria.
"Thank you," you say through a lump in your throat. You walk over to the electric fireplace, wanting to warm the space up. It smells delicious in here like cinnamon and fresh peppermint.
"Frank and Bill helped," Maria adds as she straightens the stocking on the mantle. "I mentioned you didn't have any Christmas lights and Frank said Bill had tons so, they came over yesterday and helped string them up."
Your heart, already softened, thumps with affection. Imagining the men from next door coming to do that just for you makes you feel overwhelmed with gratitude.
"That's so sweet," you say making a mental note to buy them a bottle of wine or something as thanks. As for Maria, you need to make sure her Christmas gift is perfect.
"Wasn't my idea about doing the Christmas stuff though," Maria adds with a glance over at you, gauging your reaction to the next sentence. "That was all Joel. Called me and said it'd probably cheer you up."
You school your features into a sweet smile and look over to her. She's standing with her hands on her hips, a brow raised and her full lips curled.
"Bless him," you say with a tone of 'aw shucks' and go back to the fireplace.
Before you can say anything more there's a rap at the door. Frank and Bill are whispering loudly to one another as you both draw over to it. Bill is muttering about Frank's cholesterol and Frank is telling Bill to hush up. You and Maria exchange amused looks and giggles before you open the door.
Frank is holding a plate of some divine smelling baked good while Bill just stands looking awkwardly around, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. Just the sight of them makes tears prickle your eyes.
"You two!" you say before throwing your arms around both their necks. Frank laughs, holding you with one arm while Bill just stand there and tolerates the embrace.
"We heard you two coming in and wanted to make sure you're feeling better," Frank says after you pull back.
"Much."
"Thanks to Joel forcing her to go to the hospital," Maria says flashing a meaningful look to Frank that you don't see. You also don't see when he returns it with a subtle smile. Frank can see the way you’re avoiding both their eyes and decides to change the subject.
“We also wanted to tell you both that we’re throwing a Christmas party.”
“Holiday Party,” Bill corrects. “Christmas is nothing but a-“
“Whatever we’re calling it, it’s happening in two weeks so make sure you’re free,” Frank interrupts with a wide grin. "We want it to be a real good one so invite your friends. Maria, invite your man Tommy of course. Oh and invite that brother we've been hearing so much about, and his little girl."
Your stomach flips. Joel and Frank are actually going to meet one another? Frank is the only one who knows about that night. And you know he’s got his suspicions about the two of you.
“Of course!” Maria nods enthusiastically.
“It’ll be a nice one too,” Frank tells you both seriously. “Classy. No jeans and sweaters.”
His look at you lingers, knowing you’re not the best when it comes to dressing up for events. You give a lighthearted push to his shoulder.
“Yeah, yeah.”
They leave a short while later after giving you the dessert (homemade pecan pie!). You and Maria decide there’s no better time than the present to dig in and do so right there, standing in the kitchen with forks in hand.
“Hope Joel can make it to the party,” Maria says casually. So casually you don’t even know you’re being watched and led right back into a discussion you thought you’d avoided previously. You nod, your eyes on the dessert she’s holding between you.
“Mhmm.”
"You know if you did like him it would be okay, right?" Maria hedges, watching you take a bite of the dessert. "That me and Tommy would support it?"
This gives you a momentary pause before you remember exactly why you can't be with Joel. And while some if it is has to do with your best friend standing across from you, the large majority of it is Sarah. You can't do that to her. You can't come into her life just to leave when things don't work out with her dad.
"I really don't, Maria," you insist, internally congratulating yourself with how confident you sound. "He's really nice and I really like being his friend. I adore Sarah. It's just not like that with us."
Maria looks around your suite, taking in the glowing lights that hang all around, the small tree with its colorful baubles. She takes stock of all of this before replying to you.
"Does Joel know that?"
///
Joel and Tommy are on one of the job sites and Joel is in a terrible fucking mood. Sarah is in the corner of the room, sniffling and reading one of her picture books.
“You okay babygirl?” Joel calls over to her. She responds with a big smile and nod before going back to her book. His little girl never complains, even when she’s green around the gills like she is today. According to Tess, Daniel’s also really sick, something going around at the daycare they both attend.
Sarah’s had the cold the last few days and that means Joel has gotten no sleep since then. Because you’re not around he also doesn’t have any reliable child care, so poor Sarah has been carted from site to site all day today because he and Tommy are under a strict deadline from Kathleen.
Despite Tommy living with Joel in his basement, he rarely sees his brother anymore. The younger Miller is constantly off with Maria or he’s talking about Maria or he’s thinking about her (Joel can tell by the far-off look he gets). And most of the time this doesn’t bother Joel.
Lately however? It fucking infuriates him.
Tommy has always gotten what he wants. Joel started this company from the ground up and Tommy had joined when it was already becoming successful. Tommy had spent most of his twenties fucking around while Joel bailed him out time and time again. Tommy got to find the perfect woman and fall in love. Tommy never truly works for anything.
This is in his mind when Tommy’s phone goes off in his pocket and Joel has no patience reserved for his brother.
“Leave it,” Joel growls, intent on finishing up quickly.
“It’s Maria, hey baby,” Tommy greets with a smile. He goes to light a cigarette which Joel promptly scowls at. Tommy frowns at his brother, pocketing the cigarette before going back to the conversation. “Uh huh, yeah. Just finishing up here.”
Joel can hear the chatter of Maria on the other end of the phone but he can’t decipher what she’s saying. He doesn’t care, he has to make sure that this-
“She’s home now? Good, I know you said she hated the hospital,” Tommy says, his hands going to measure the drywall even as he talks. Joel’s own hands still on the wood he’s been cutting, pausing as he realizes what Tommy’s saying.
You’re home.
Joel pretends not to listen as he prepares the drywall, but his head is tilted so he can catch what his younger brother is saying.
“Yeah, pneumonia’s brutal. Uh huh. Yeah, ‘course.”
When did you get home? Today? Should he go over?
Joel cannot think of anything else. He has not been able to get you out of his head and if he's honest with himself he's not trying. He likes you living in his thoughts.
No. Stupid. He shouldn’t want you in his thoughts. You don’t want him.
Why would he go over to see you? He’s got a sick Sarah to think about. Plus what would be his excuse? No, he needs to give you space. You ran from him when he tried to touch you, and that was the clear indication that you two are meant to be friends.
Just friends.
There are worse things to be; Joel decides as he nails the drywall to the plank he and Tommy have raised, he just can’t think of any now. In fact, thoughts of just being your friend are putting him in a decidedly shitty mood.
He needs to stay away from you. He needs to ignore this flame that starts up when he’s near you. He needs to stop pursuing something that isn’t going to happen. He needs to stop thinking about you in the way you will never think of him.
“Jesus, Joel,” Tommy says, lowering the phone to his shoulder. “Enough nails!”
In a daze Joel looks to the drywall he’s hammered, frowning to see it dented in areas from over pounding. Tommy goes back to his phone, shaking his head at his suddenly distracted brother.
“Yeah he’s here, why?” Tommy glances over to Joel, listening before speaking over to him. “Joel, you wanna go to a Christmas party? You and Sarah? Maria’s neighbors invited all of us. Next Saturday.”
Joel frowns and shakes his head. He doesn’t feel like a party right now. He feels like going to sleep. Between the additional jobs Miller Construction has taken on and his sick daughter he can’t imagine doing anything other than sleeping for the next month.
And he knows that if it’s Maria’s neighbors throwing the party then you’ll be there. You’ll be there and he can’t see you right now. He needs a break. He needs a few weeks to just get his head on straight so he can stop thinking about you in a way that makes his pants grow tight.
“Doesn’t look like it,” Tommy says into the phone, his voice dropping. “But yeah ‘course I’ll come.”
“I wanna go to a party!” Sarah shouts from her corner of the room, her little voice raspy. “Daddy, please!”
Joel sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Fine.”
///
You keep replaying Maria’s words in your head.
“Does Joel know?”
No. He doesn’t because it’s all a fucking lie.
You want Joel Miller more than you want most things in this world which includes than the ability to eat heaps of chocolate without gaining weight, and that’s saying something.
But what you want doesn’t matter. It’s not about you.
You need to keep your distance from him. He’s not for you. He’s a lovely man with a lovely daughter. Their connection to you is strong precisely because you are not dating Joel. You can’t risk losing him. Losing him means losing Sarah.
You can’t lose them.
But still, that selfish desperate feeling of connection with him is what you crave. It pulses in your mind, your heart and you can’t stop yourself from calling him later that night. The phone buzzes and you wait, almost chickening out before he answers.
“’Lo?”
His voice is rough and sleepy sounding. You dart a look to your watch to see that it’s almost ten at night. Phone manners dictate that you’re impossibly rude calling him this late and you hold in a frustrated sound.
“Fuck. Were you asleep?”
You hear Joel clear his throat and you can imagine him sitting up on his sofa, his eyes sleepy. “Just napping.”
You don’t believe him, but you’re not going to say it. You’re standing in your kitchen but you walk over to the sofa in front of the fireplace, feeling antsy.
“Hey, so,” you repeat, feeling your cheeks flush. “I just wanted. . . Thank you for taking me to the doctors.”
“Of course,” Joel says as if there was never a choice in the matter. “Next time maybe you’ll listen to me before the emergency room is needed.”
You roll your eyes at his subtle dig but then you remember the initial purpose of your call.
“Also, the place looks great and uh, Maria said it was your idea? The lights and everything?”
“You seem like the type that likes to celebrate things,” Joel replies and you’re convinced you can hear the smile in his voice. “Thought it’d make you smile.”
Jesus, Joel. Stop making it impossible for me not to want you.
“Yeah well… I loved it.”
“I’m glad.”
He sounds glad. He really does and that makes your stomach flip.
“How’ve you been?”
As soon as the words leave your mouth you want to punch a pillow. You sound so stilted, so awkward. You can hear the smile slide from his voice.
“Not great. Sarah caught a cold-“
From you.
You made Sarah sick.
You’ve given that sweet, tiny child pneumonia. Immediately your stomach drops.
“No! Please, tell me not from-“
“No, not from you,” Joel reassures you. “She’s in daycare and about six other kids have the same bug. Getting sick is just part of the deal there. Gonna keep her home the next little bit though. After seeing you in the hospital I’m a little paranoid ‘bout what’s going around.”
“Of course.” You think about her sweet little face. “Is there anything I can do?”
“Stay outta hospitals?”
You both laugh lightly at that and you feel your pulse slow. Hearing Joel laugh has a strange, soothing affect on you. It makes you close your eyes as you lean against the shelf on your wall, feeling warm all over.
“She wants to make sure she’s better for the party,” Joel adds almost shyly after a beat. “The one your neighbors are throwin’?”
“I’m glad you're coming,” you answer honestly.
“Yeah?”
“Of course,” you say quickly. “It’s gonna be fun. Frank and Bill make the best food…”
You continue on like this, enthusing about the party. Joel interjects with his own ideas on what makes for a perfect party and before long an hour and a half has passed and you’ve talked about everything around the topic of parties and Christmas. You hear Joel try to stifle a yawn on the other end of the phone as he tells you about what he’s planning to get Sarah for Christmas and you smile.
“I better let you go. G’night Miller.”
“’Night. See ya at the party.”
///
You knock hurriedly on Frank’s door as you smooth down your hair. Maria and Tommy have already arrived at the party because they are the kind of beautiful, shiny people that are on time for things while you are the kind of woman who stumbles into a party late but waving.
You’re weighted down with bags full of gifts for everyone.
You wait for Frank to open the door, pull you into a tight hug and welcome you in. You're surprised when instead it's Sarah pulling open the door. One hand is on the doorknob, the other in her father's hand.
Universe, please give me a break.
You haven’t seen Joel since the hospital and right now he looks so good it should be illegal. Dark slacks and a deep green button up. He’s forgone the tie, leaving the first two buttons at his throat undone. His hair is brushed, and he's half crouched so he can hold Sarah's hand. He looks up as you enter, his eyes strangely guarded.
“Hey.”
“Hey,” you say softly before remembering yourself and looking down at Sarah. "Hey bug, you look gorgeous as always. I must get the name of your stylist."
Sarah is dressed in a bright red velvet dress. Her hair is in its natural loose coils with tiny red bows at the temples. She looks like an absolute doll come to life.
She smiles shyly; her dimpled cheek a mirror of her father's, before looking over your dress as you shrug off your coat. Frank had made it clear that this party was a fancy one. None of your jeans and sweaters.
So you'd bought an off the shoulder dark green dress that made you feel sophisticated and holiday theme appropriate.
"You look like a princess," Sarah informs you with eyes that are filled with stars.
You smile and murmur your thanks, flushing when you feel Joel's eyes on you. You can’t let your eyes to settle on him so you look past him to the sea of old and new faces gathered around the piano. Some old lady is playing something festive while a group of exuberant party-goers sing off-key.
You reach into one of the bags you’ve brought before producing a parcel with shiny purple wrapping. You hold it out to Sarah who takes it with an excited squeak.
"No opening until Christmas," you insist. When you see her start to pout you hold back a grin, reaching into your bag again and producing a small wrapped item. “But you can open this one now.”
Joel watches as Sarah tears open the paper to reveal a chocolate reindeer in a foil package. She smiles giddily at the treat before holding it to her father and asking him to open it. He does so with a soft smile. Sarah takes a bite as you consider your next moves, wincing and then you reach into your bag and with a deep inhale shove a small parcel at Joel.
"Same goes for you," you laugh breathily. "No opening until Christmas."
It’s nothing that great. Just a pick and a new strap for his guitars. Neither of which he has asked for. Neither of which he needs or probably even wants. He doesn’t even play them anymore.
It’s just that when you were shopping for Sarah earlier that week you’d passed a music shop. Something had given you pause and you walked in, listening to the gentle lull of the shop’s holiday music, letting your fingers trace the pearlescent picks until you’d found one the perfect shade of ochre that just felt like Joel when you saw it.
The strap had been a last minute addition because giving Joel a single guitar pick seemed really stupid the more you thought about it. You’d picked a buttery feeling leather one the same color as his eyes.
“Thanks,” Joel says looking surprised and a little bit uncomfortable. “I didn’t expect a gift.”
You hadn’t expected him to get you anything so it’s not that which makes you uneasy. It’s that the sweet Joel you’ve gotten to know the last few weeks has been replaced by his quiet, withdrawn doppelganger.
You don’t know what else to say so you attempt to move past the two of them into the roar of the party when Sarah stops you with one tiny hand on yours.
"Mistletoe!" Sarah says through a mouthful of chocolate, pointing to the plant above your heads in the door frame. Joel looks stricken and you try to hold in your shock at the sight of it.
"Jesus," Joel mutters. "Where did that come from?"
"Frank," Sarah cries enthusiastically.
You stare at Sarah in confusion at this. "Why-"
"You have to kiss her, daddy," Sarah says clapping her tiny hands in delight and looking from Joel's face to yours expectantly. “You kiss people under mistletoe. Frank told me.”
No fucking way.
You don’t want to kiss Joel.
Scratch that, you desperately want to kiss Joel.
You desperately want to kiss him because his mouth looks so soft and you just know deep in your bones that he’d kiss so perfectly. You want to kiss him because just being in Joel's eye-line makes your body tingle. You want to kiss Joel because you really, really like him.
But Joel looks really, really uncomfortable at the thought of kissing you right now. More uncomfortable that you at this point and for some reason this makes you feel awful, even though you feel the same.
He’s also staring at you with this look you haven’t seen in so long from him. This dark pile of bricked up wall that insists you stay on your side. It makes you physically take a step back, suddenly unsure of whom it is you’re looking at.
"C'mere babygirl," Joel says bringing a squealing Sarah into his arms and pressing a peck to her cheek.
You feel immense relief at this diversion, smiling over at Sarah and backing away from the offensive plant. Sarah is complaining to her dad that he was supposed to kiss you, but you sidle past them and go towards the party.
The music is gliding over the crowd of festive attendees. Everyone is dressed beautifully and not surprisingly Tommy and Maria are stunning. Tommy has left off the baseball cap and he’s clean shaven. He dresses similarly to his brother, but his shirt is a deep burgundy that matches Maria’s slinky dress perfectly.
It occurs to you belatedly that you and Joel have picked similar shades to wear this evening. You will yourself not to cringe over that fact.
“You look stunning,” you tell them both, holding Maria’s hands in yours. The three of you chat for a bit, amazed at the decorations and the food spread of this party. You idly wonder how Bill is handling all this attention and frivolity in his home.
“I don’t know how Bill is surviving all of this,” Maria giggles as if reading your mind.
Frank and Bill’s place is by no means small, but with the group of people it’s packed with and the decorations it feels cramped. You note that the tasteful decorations right out of a magazine.
A few kids a bit older than Sarah are at the gingerbread cookie decorating station (of course Frank thought of that), some are gathered around the piano, and some are watching a holiday movie in the other room.
Frank swoops in wearing the gaudiest green suit covered in candy canes that you’ve ever seen. Strangely enough he pulls it off. He presses a kiss to your cheek and says he’s so glad you came and dressed in something not covered in animal hair. He tells you to mingle before moving onto the couple who has entered after you.
Your eyes fall onto your other host and you hold back a laugh. Bill has been forced into slacks and a black sweater with a snowflake design. His hair has been brushed back and Frank forced him to trim his beard.
When you approach him you realize now how Bill is surviving all this chaos. He's absolutely tanked. His cheeks are red and he's smirking intermittently behind his wineglass.
“Enjoying the party?”
“Yes,” Bill says with a crisp tinge to the ‘s’. “I love strangers in my home eating my food and touching my shit.”
There’s no malice there, only amusement. You watch as the party swells with more people of all ages, the music loud and the night beautiful. Seeing all these happy faces dressed so beautifully in the soft glow of winter decorations makes you feel cozy.
When Sarah enters into the room you take her by the hand and insist the two of you decorate a gingerbread cookie together. She is only too happy to do so, squealing in excitement and tugging you towards the messy table.
Joel watches the two of you and feels a pang in his chest.
Coming to this party was a terrible idea. How could spending more time with you make him want you less? Especially when you’re dressed like that? You’re kneeling beside the child’s table, squeezing icing onto Sarah’s cookie. Joel holds in a moan when you lean forward to place the sprinkles and his eyes are drawn to the swell of your breasts.
He needs to stop wanting you.
He needs to do something drastic.
You and Maria are nibbling on the cheese spread later that night when Joel approaches you, tapping you on the shoulder. You turn, surprised to see him looking at you agitated. He shifts from foot to foot slowly, his shoulders tensed.
Something’s wrong.
Maria seems to sense this too because she tells you both she needs to find Tommy even though you both know he’s over with Sarah and the other kids playing some reindeer ring toss game. You swallow your cracker, wincing as it scratches your throat going down.
“What’s up?”
"I can't accept this," Joel says shoving your gift back into your hand. You stare down at it, the small rectangular gift; a present you had wrapped twice because the first time you had decided it wasn’t good enough.
"Why not?"
"I just - I can't," Joel grumbles.
You feel everything in your body go cold. What happened? What did you do wrong? You take the gift back, holding it in your palm and feeling humiliated.
“I don’t understand.”
“Wouldn’t be right to take it. I didn’t get you anything.”
"I didn’t expect a gift from you,” you insist, trying to hold in the tremor starting in your voice. “You're not gonna make Sarah give hers back too are you?"
"No. Course not."
"Then why-"
A loud cheer sounds from the other side of the room, drawing your attention over Joel’s shoulder because someone has convinced Bill to play the piano.
Deciding that you don’t want to talk about this topic anymore with Joel, you move past him to stand near the crowd gathering at the piano. You watch fascinated as your usually reclusive neighbor taps a few of the ivory notes, gathering everyone’s attention.
“Everyone shut up. I’m going to play,” Bill announces his face pink and his hair going wild at the temples. Frank is coming to stand near you, his face open in wonder at the sight of his normally quiet husband commanding the room. Several voices pop up suggesting songs for Bill.
“Play Jingle Bells!”
“Away in a Manger!”
“The twelve days of Christmas!”
“None of that shit!” Bill insists with a scowl as he places his fingers on the keys. “I’m gonna play you all the song that made Frank fall in love with me.”
You hear Frank take a sharp intake of breath, his hand going to rest at his sternum as he watches Bill. You feel your mouth hitching into a smile as you watch your dear neighbor’s eyes fill with tears at the first notes played.
“Love will abide
Take things in stride
Sounds like good advice
But there's no one at my side
And time washes clean love's wounds unseen
That's what someone told me
But I don't know what it means”
Bill is by no means a professional singer but you can’t explain the spell cast when he sings. His voice normally harsh is more muted when he sings, soft and unsure of itself. It makes the song feel intimate, like it was made for them to sing and hear alone.
“Caught in my fears
Blinking back the tears
I can't say you hurt me
When you never let me near
And I never drew one response from you
All the while you fell all over girls you never knew”
You’ve heard this song before you think. One that your Mom used to play when you were little. But you’ve never really listened to the lyrics and they’re heartbreaking. This is the song Frank fell for Bill over?
Maria is a few steps away from you, shooting you a surprised look. She was obviously not prepared for this side of her neighbor either. Bill continues, his fingers moving deftly over the piano keys in a way that is so graceful and at odds with how you view him.
“Wait for the day you'll go away
Knowing that you warned me
Of the price I'd have to pay
And life's full of flaws
Who knows the cause?
Living in the memory of a love that never was”
You sneak a glance at Frank to see his eyes are wet with tears, some of which have slipped down his cheek. Yet he doesn’t tear his eyes away from the burly man who sings with abandon, his blue eyes shut lightly.
“'Cause I've done everything I know
To try and make you mine
And I think I'm gonna love you
For a long long time”.
Bill’s eyes open to land on Frank as the song concludes and it’s like the room collectively sighs in adoration.
The applause is gentle but warm. You glance around to see a lot of misty eyes, Maria is dabbing the corner of her eyes with a napkin and Tommy is biting the inside of his lower lip so hard you think he might be drawing blood.
Joel is nowhere to be seen.
"Okay, you can all leave," Frank jokes to the room before making his way to Bill.
The crowd laughs and you watch as Frank leans over the piano to press his lips to his husband's waiting ones. Bills eyes flutter shut as he returns the kiss, the corners of his mouth curling into a smile under his beard.
They pull back and the open adoration in both their gazes takes your breath away.
That’s love.
You're surprised to feel your own eyes burning at the sweet sight accompanied by a wave of melancholy that washes over you. It morphs into a selfish, clawing ugliness that makes you back away from the crowd and leave the room, needing to go somewhere quiet.
You need to be away from everyone.
You move into one of the rooms off the hall, quiet and dark and realize instantly that its Frank’s paining studio, a place you rarely venture into. Like Bill, Frank is a bit protective over his things, though he’d never admit it.
An easel with a half-painted portrait of Bill sits in the corner. A wall of well organized oil paint implements greets you as you enter into the space. The floor is wood and your heels click over it as you move to observe the large windows leading out into the dark of the night.
A plain grey sofa sits at the far wall and you collapse into it, letting your head hang. It’s not long before you’re cupping your face in your hands and crying softly.
This is the first Christmas without Paul. Your first Christmas not going home. And while you don't regret either of the decisions that lead you to these ends, you can't help but feel a little sad for yourself.
Poorly paying job, no car, no real apartment to speak of. Single. Last guy you dated was a coke head. Obsessed with a guy you’re pretty sure currently hates you for reasons you aren’t even privy to. The list is looking pretty grim.
Your gift for Joel is placed beside you, only adding to your misery. You don’t hear the half-opened door being pushed completely. You only hear the rough timbre of the last person you want to see right now.
“Are you okay’?”
You immediately stiffen, wiping at your face with your hands when Joel enters the room, closing the door behind him. You don’t bother answering him, hoping that if you twist away from him he’ll get the message to leave.
The room is cloaked in semi-darkness, the only light coming from the glowing lights along the outside of the house. It bathes you and Joel in a softness that belies how prickly you’re currently feeling.
“Is this because of the gift thing?” Joel asks, looking guiltily between you and the present sitting next to you on the sofa.
“No,” you snap, embarrassed at being caught in such a state. “Not everything is about you, Joel.”
He turns to leave, realizing that coming in here was a terrible idea. For some reason something is bubbling within you, an overarching anger that makes you stumble up from the sofa and over to the door that Joel is attempting to open.
You push it closed, squeezing between he and it.
“What is your problem with me all of a sudden?” you demand, your eyes blazing as you look up at him.
“N-nothin’” Joel stammers, looking strangely wild-eyed.
“Then why are you acting so weird tonight?” you insist, not even realizing that you’re moving forward as Joel steps back to get away from you.
“I’m not-“
“You are so! Why won’t you accept my gift?” you snarl. “I’ve always accepted everything you’ve given me with thanks.”
“Not everything.” It jumps out of his mouth before he can stop himself. Your hands are at your sides in angry fists that loosen when he says this.
“What?”
“Gimme space,” Joel rasps out at you, his eyes travelling the entire circumference of your face as you stare up at him in confusion.
You don’t realize when you crowded Joel against the wall, but you have. You step back immediately before you shake your head in disgust, throwing yourself back onto the sofa. His present is there and just the sight of it makes your anger rise again.
“Just keep the fucking gift Joel,” you snap, throwing the parcel at his feet. “Stop acting childish.”
Joel had been about to duck out of the room, his large hand on the doorknob once more. But at the sound of the gift hitting the floor beside his feet and your guttural insult he stops abruptly.
You can almost hear the moment that he goes from concerned to furious.
“I’m acting childish?” Joel counters, throwing himself into a kneeling position on the sofa next to you. One of his wide hands is on the back of it, the other palm on the arm of the sofa that you’re now pressed back against. He’s caged you in and up this close you can see the vein at the side of his throat ticking angrily.
“You’re the one who ran away from me and then never returned my phone calls.”
The shame you feel is immediate. There it is, the truth laid bare. It makes you feel panicked and you realize that you and Joel have swapped emotions seamlessly. Because now you feel cornered and terrified and Joel looks absolutely incensed.
His dark eyes are boring into yours, his mouth inches from your face as he breathes, his warm breath buffeting your cheeks. You can see his teeth are clenched angrily.
“We already talked about this, Joel.”
“No.” Joel shakes his head sharply. “No, we didn’t. I tried to make it easy on us by not pushing it. But I’m done pretending that I don’t want you.”
Your eyes blow wide. Did you hear him right?
“Not as a friend, not as a babysitter,” Joel continues his tone harsh despite the sweetness of his words. “I want you for my own.”
“Joel,” you plead in a whisper.
Fuck. You want him so badly.
“I wanna take care of you,” Joel insists, his eyes morphing from furious to completely undone. “But I can’t do that if you won’t be honest with me. You ran from me that night and I wanna know why.”
You can’t keep looking at his face or into his eyes. It’s too intense. You close your eyes, wincing as you say the words you tried to hide. It’s too late to tell Joel the lie that you just want to be friends. It’s too late to pretend like he doesn’t do something to your insides. It’s all too late.
You have to be honest.
“I was scared,” you admit, your cheeks blazing. Joel’s eyebrows saddle as he looks down at you.
“Of me?”
“No,” you shake your head, tsk-ing that he would ever think that. “Of what it would mean.”
Joel seems to be calming because his jaw loosens and he nods, moving back from his looming over you.
“Sarah.”
“Yeah, Sarah.”
The two of you lapse into silence, unsure of what to say next. Joel has retreated now, just sitting next to you on the sofa in the quiet and you shift to a seated position, your eyes cracking open. Your heart still races though, and you’re unable to stop looking at him. Even now, flushed and defeated he’s striking.
“There is something here isn’t there?” Joel says gently, his imploring eyes turned on to you. “Something strong… I’m not imagining it?”
Your heart literally squeezes when he says that. You have to close your eyes again and steady your breathing because right now anything you say will be a stammering mess. He’s right there is something here, something strong. And it terrifies you. Not just because of Sarah.
"Yes there is," you finally answer, feeling the flush rise through your body. “You’re not imagining it.”
Joel’s eyes read relief at this and you feel a stab of guilt knowing that he’s carried around this confusion for so long.
“But still probably not a good idea,” you finish lamely.
Joel doesn’t reply, but you can see him absorbing this information. Joel’s eyes often give him away, but in the semi darkness you’re not quite sure what he’s thinking. You can’t get a read on if he’s upset and angry or just dejected and accepting.
You can hear the sound of the party raging outside, muffled from the closed door.
“I should get back,” Joel announces quietly, making a move to shove off the sofa and stand. He pauses when your hand flies to his wrist, your fingers pressing gently there. His dark eyes dart to your face, but your eyes are on his mouth.
You don't want him to leave. You want to stay in his space. You want to breathe the same air. You want him to touch you.
I’m done pretending that I don’t want you.
You want him so badly it dwarfs the fears and anxieties you’ve carried with you. This palpable need is so intense that it makes every other emotion seem insignificant.
You can't help it. Joel Miller is just so beautiful and his words keep curling around your heart.
I want you for my own.
You don't even realize you've shifted forward and tilted against him until your palms land on his broad chest for purchase. You hear him take a shuddering inhale before your lips press firmly against his soft mouth.
Immediately his hands are wrapping around you, holding you to him tightly. One hand moves to lie gently astride your neck, thumb resting on your jaw. The other is banding around your waist to pull you closer to him.
The sensation of his lips shocks you, half because you never thought he'd return it so immediately.
The kiss is gentle and sweet and you wish he never had walked into this room because now that you know what it's like to kiss Joel Miller, nothing else will ever come close.
This is the kiss to which all others will be compared.
Then its intensity picks up, and you feel yourself being pushed back to lie on the sofa. His hands are sliding along your body and yours are carding through his curls as he groans gently. Your thighs squeeze his midsection as he moves between them, his body heavy and warm atop yours.
You crack your eyes open to see his staring down at you.
You hold in a whimper. He's just so delicious. Your mouth finds his again, your body arching against his. Your dress has ridden up and you can feel him there lengthening under his slacks, his clothed member pressing directly against your core.
Your eyes blow wide at this sensation and you pull back from his mouth,
Being here kissing him feels so impossibly right but so terrifyingly serious. Like a spotlight shone on you and all your insecurities you've ever had about the two of you together. Every concern you’ve ever had suddenly springs up, overwhelming you. It makes Joel search your face, seeing the anxiety overtaking your features. When the haze of lust is overtaken by a very unwelcome rationality, you feel your stomach hollowing in panic.
It makes you want to run.
"No," Joel insists gently, as if he can read your mind, his wide hand spanning over your sternum and holding you there. "You're not runnin’ again."
Joel wants to keep kissing you. From the feel of your full lip under his fingertip weeks ago to your mouth on his seconds ago, this is all he has thought about. Seeing you in that dress tonight, watching your face go from furious to completely lusty just now? Having you hold him between your legs? It's heaven.
You look so good right now. Your hair is dishevelled and your mouth full and reddened from his ministrations. You look like you're ready to be fucked and Joel desperately wants to oblige but he can also see the wild look expanding in your eyes, like a skittering rabbit.
He can feel your heartbeat under his fingertips and he dips his mouth to yours for what he hopes is a reassuring kiss.
"We don't have to do anything more," he murmurs as he pulls his face back. "I'll stop touching you right now if you say the word. But you're not running again. Not from me."
He's not going to move again until you do.
You didn't really want to run from Joel Miller. Not now, not ever. It's just that wild fight or flight in your brain that insists you close off yourself to the potential hurt. Was it really Sarah this whole time that was holding you back? Or that secret part of you, the one that believes you’ll be abandoned?
You don’t know anymore.
"Joel," you start to say you should stop. That you’ve already gone too far. That this entire thing is a bad idea. Your hands fly to his broad shoulders because you're going to push him off of you.
Except you don't.
Your hands keep grazing up his shoulder and moving to wrap around his neck, pulling his face back down to meet yours. And now with this silent admission of desire, Joel unravels. His voice becomes tight, grainy and he murmurs what you think is: "So fucking beautiful."
You're not sure you heard him right, and if you did you don't know what to say to that. Your eyes are fixed on his full mouth. His lower lip is so full, so inviting you want to nibble on it.
Then his mouth is on yours again and now you're clutching at him, trying to remain calm even as his tongue sweeps between the seam of your lips your thighs tremble around his midsection.
Where did he learn to kiss like this? If it was Michelle I’m sending her flowers.
It's not fair, you decide as he begins licking into your mouth desperately, one hand on the architecture of your jaw, the other spread wide against your lower back. It's not fair that one person should be so handsome, so strong and so good at kissing.
"This is what I wanted to do that night," Joel rasps against your mouth. You moan as his mouth moves to your jaw because you wanted him to do more that night. He’s got you pressed so tightly into the sofa you’re concerned you’re going become one with the cushions.
"Want you so fucking much," he murmurs. His mouth moves to skim along your jaw and you shiver as his wide palms travel along your body, brushing your tits through your dress. You arch as his thumbs brush over the peaks of your nipples through the dress.
Your arms are around his neck and you're clinging to him because you don’t want to let Joel go. Not now. Not ever. He's hovering over you, one forearm holding him up while his free hand goes to cup you through the fabric.
"Christ," Joel moans, his head dropping to kiss along your bared clavicle. His hands are kneading your breasts through the flimsy fabric. A distant part of you is realizing what's going to happen if he keeps going. You’re going to let him fuck you right here on this sofa in the middle of a bustling party.
“Joel, I . . . “ you trail off because you don’t know exactly what you need, you just know it involves Joel and his touch.
"Need to -" Joel's murmur trails off. He makes a grunting noise low in his throat, pulling down the neckline of your dress with ease to expose your bra.
You don't even care if he rips the dress, you'll buy a new one. But then you realize with a wince that he’s now revealed the cheap bra you always wear. A part of you internally screams at your poor choice of underclothes because in them you don't feel particularly alluring but Joel's eyes are almost black with desire.
He tugs down the dress and pushes you up and out of the cups of your bra, his eyes fixed on your bared chest in the near darkness. It causes your arms to go to your side, fixed there by the tight fabric. Joel takes his time, blowing gently on your nipple and sighing when it puckers further under the sensation.
"Fucking perfect," he murmurs before lowering his mouth to begin sucking on one hardened nipple as his fingers pluck and graze the other. The result is electric, like shots of fire going through your body, starting at your breasts. You grip the back of his neck for purchase the best you can, holding back the moan that threatens to escape you.
You arch along the arm of the sofa as Joel's hips hold yours in place. He's grinding against you, the feel of his thick, warm member very apparent even through his slacks.
"Joel," you sigh because that's all you can formulate in the moment. He makes a deep groaning noise before pulling off your nipple with a pop and moving his mouth back to yours. Your hands tangle in his tousled hair as you kiss him back fervently. Your bared chest rasps against the buttons on his shirt.
You love kissing Joel.
God, his mouth, his tongue. His hand is sliding to your throat while your hands are skimming the front of his shirt, your fingers itching to undo his buttons. You want to feel the warm skin of his torso. You want him in your mouth. His hands are going to curl around the waistband of your panties, his breathing erratic.
“Need it,” he moans softly in your ear. “Please let me taste you.”
You are boneless when he says those words. His voice is so low and velvety and despite the fact that he posed the question, it’s you who feels uncertain. His mouth is on yours again and he’s tugging at your panties.
He’s going to fuck you right here on this sofa in the middle of a party. With everything in your power you pull back from his seeking lips.
"W-we should stop. Anyone could walk in."
He pulls back, his body aching against yours. You try to focus on his face but you feel like you're head is swimming. Joel glances at your mouth as if considering kissing you again. But instead he nods and brushes a hand against your cheek before pushing himself up and out from between your legs.
He leans back up and you follow suit, dragging your dress back up over your chest. Joel seems deflated at that. You can’t seem to make your brain work because Joel sitting there with his hair tousled from your hands and his mouth all swollen. You know you wanted to stop but right now you’re forgetting why. It seems like Joel’s handsome face is too impossible not to focus on.
"We need to talk," Joel murmurs. And you know what he means. If this is going to work you need to talk about this. This is a huge step for both of you. It shakes you from your lusty focus and you nod.
"Yeah," you agree.
“Your place?”
“Sure.”
"I'm gonna tell Tommy to take Sarah home."
"Okay."
“And you’re not gonna run?”
You glance up at Joel’s face when he says that, his voice tight and his eyes impossibly vulnerable. There is so much reflected in Joel Miller’s dark eyes, these wide open galaxies that pull you in. Right now they show hurt and concern and this deep, deep need.
Your hand comes to cup his bristled cheek and you hold in a sigh when he leans into your palm, his eyes falling shut. A look of peace has overtaken his usually stern features, smoothing them into the face of a man surrendered.
It makes it imperative to cup his other cheek and move your mouth over his, kissing him gently and reverently, as if you can transfer all your affection and care for him through the action before pulling back.
“I’m not gonna run.”
He smiles at you in a crooked way that makes your heart skip before he quickly stands and moves out the door of the studio, closing it softly behind him.
What just fucking happened?
You sit there catching your breath for a moment before forcing yourself to a stand. Your entire body is shuddering, like you're getting over a fever. You make your way out of the room because you need more of Joel. You need his hands on your body and you need his tongue in your mouth and-
"Not your type, huh?"
You’re immediately startled when a voice reaches out to you. You glance over to see a very amused Frank looking at you from the top stairs of the basement. He's holding a new bottle of wine and looking decidedly too smug.
“How much did you hear?”
“Enough.”
You scowl at him harshly, about to say something when Joel reappears wearing his jacket and holding yours. Your face immediately morphs into a stupid, dazed sort of smile when he grins at you.
“Ready?”
You nod, pulling on your jacket and feeling your heart kick as he takes your hand in his, leading you to the front door.
You don’t even notice Frank holding in laughter before going to rejoin the party.
You’re thankful that the rest of the party is in the main room, leaving you both to escape undetected.
As you walk the short distance to your place the ache between your legs is staggering. You feel giddy and anticipatory as he scissors his long legs across the grass, his eyes fixed on the darkness in front of you, navigating you both safely to your door.
He drops your hand only so you can pull out your keys to unlock your door. Why did you fucking lock it tonight of all nights?
Joel’s arms are crossed loosely as he leans against the door watching you fumble with your keys. For some reason you’re having trouble making your hand and brain move. Those soulful eyes of his dart from the lock to your face.
Cupid's bow couldn't have struck harder than Joel Miller's eyes in that moment. They're glazed with fear and guilt mixed desperately together and you see it mixed up with open lust when he speaks softly.
"Do you still want-"
He doesn't even get the sentence out because you've launched yourself at him, your arms instinctively going to wrap around his neck. His mouth comes crashing into yours, the deep relief of your reciprocation clear in the way he holds you to him.
He's got you pressed against your front door with his pelvis, his broad frame dwarfing you as you fumble with the knob at your spine. You kiss him with abandon, your hand continuing to scramble over the handle before you feel Joel pull back.
You crack your eyes open to see him smirking down at you. (How have you never noticed how impossibly sexy he is when he does that?) He moves his right hand from the side of your neck to the knob, turning and pushing the door open.
You're about to say something self deprecating about how you're normally an expert at door opening, but then Joel's hands are on either side of your jaw and his lips are on yours again and - fuck, you can't think straight, your mind is consumed with this beautiful man kissing you so well.
Joel walks you backwards to your bed, kissing you the entire way as you both discard your jackets onto the floor. When the back of your legs hit the end of your bed Joel is gripping you by the waist, licking into your mouth with such need that your back arches. Your hands are on his shoulders, gripping there to keep from falling.
"I've imagined this so many times," you sigh against his parted mouth. You don't have time to consider if you should have kept that to yourself because Joel's reaction to this confession is electric.
He hits his knees so quickly it's dizzying and before you can think or say anything, Joel is hitching up your dress to bunch at your hips before kissing you there. It's obvious what he intends to do and despite everything in you telling you to stop him, that it's all going too fast, you can't. Instead you arch back, your hips dropping towards him.
You stare down at him, your heart beating like mad as he curls his forefinger around the lace of your panties and looks up at you with a face that asks your silent permission.
You nod without hesitation, your breathing becoming staccato-ed as you watch him pull your already soaked panties down your legs. You step out of them, your hand going to brush his cheek. Seeing Joel kneeling in front of you, his hair tousled and his mouth parted in wanting causes you to shudder all over.
He gently urges the crook of your left leg over his broad shoulder, opening you to him. He's so fucking seductive kneeling there in front of you, his eyes taking in your sex with the look of a man meeting his salvation.
His hands are trailing over your thighs, the back of your knees, your calves, as if he's trying to map your body by touch alone. You can just see the curls of his hair as he leans forward, inhaling deeply and groaning again, his lips trailing over the tops of your legs languidly.
Did you ever think that you would go from yelling at Joel Miller to having his mouth between your legs?
He's murmuring against the soft skin of your hip now, something deep and low. You want to ask him what he's saying but then you whine low in your throat as he brings a hand to your leg on his shoulder, holding you in place as he presses gentle kisses to your silken inner thigh.
"Tell me to stop and I will," he says looking up at you from his place half-knelt on the floor.
Then his mouth descends.
Any reply dies in your mouth at the first swipe of Joel's tongue.
"Jesus!"
You clap a hand over your mouth, suddenly aware that Maria might hear you upstairs if she didn’t go to Tommy’s. But Joel is gripping your hands, pulling them down and making you fist them through his hair.
"Hold," he tells you plainly, urging your hands to tighten in his locks. You're powerless to deny this request as his mouth returns to your aching core. Your hands hold onto his curls for dear life as he begins to taste you.
Joel is so talented at this that you genuinely consider sending Maria a fruit basket along with the flowers. Within seconds he has you gripping his hair as you tilt back, your body trembling.
“So fucking good,” he says between licks and deep, open-mouthed kisses.
Your head tilts forward on your chest, looking down the length of your body and holding in a moan. DaVinci's ‘Mona Lisa’. Michelangelo's ‘David’. Van Gogh's ‘Starry Night’. All beautiful works of art and yet to you nothing comes close to being as exquisite as the sight of Joel Miller moving between your legs.
His eyes are shut languidly, his nose nuzzling your clit as he works his tongue between your folds. Jesus Christ he's a work of art. His tongue is teasing you, flicking lightly. With every passing moment you feel the sparks building within you and you start to feel the familiar lightheaded sensation.
"I-I need to lie down," you gasp, your knee threatening to buckle. Joel nods, coming to a stand and easing you back onto the bed. He straddles you there, his body curled over you as he kisses you. You can taste yourself on his lips and this makes you groan into his mouth.
“Need to keep tastin’ you,” he whispers against the shell of your ear. You whimper, nodding as he begins to push your dress up your abdomen again.
He brings his body down the length of yours and off the bed. He stands there, looking down at you with your wild hair and full mouth and you suddenly feel so exposed. The dress is resting just over your hips and you go to cover your aching pussy. Joel frowns, batting your hands away.
“Don’t hide,” he says gruffly before surging towards you. You give a small sound of surprise as Joel tugs your ankles until you’re at the edge of the bed.
There he kneels again as if in prayer, his hands coming to coil around your thighs before placing them over his shoulders. You watch this moaning softly as Joel’s dark eyes dart up the length of your body.
You expect him to look away or at least close his eyes, but instead he fixes his gaze to you before moving his mouth against your core in silent worship. You can’t keep looking at him there, your thighs parted wide on his broad shoulders, his soft mouth pressing kisses to your cunt before his eyes flutter shut.
“Joel,” you whimper, feeling impossibly selfish. He’s mapped most of your half naked body and he still has his fucking clothes on! “Let me touch you.”
Joel shakes his head slightly before his hands have found yours again, urging them to grip his hair. You acquiesce as his palms push your thighs open wider, so that his tongue can reach deeper.
“Wanna make you come first,” he grunts lazily. “Need you to come on my tongue.”
Joel Miller is a giver.
His voice is low and thick and the desire wraps itself around every syllable.
If Joel just stood there at the end of your bed saying deliciously filthy things like that, never even touching you, you are convinced you could just come from that alone.
You’re about to shakily say something when you see him palming himself through his slacks as he tastes you. His hand is wide and squeezes intermittently, his groans increasing as his mouth devours you. Is he getting off to getting you off?
That’ll do it.
"Joel!" His name tumbles from your lips as you crest, your hands tugging at his hair urging him deeper. He acquiesces readily, fucking you with his tongue and sending you into that sweet, blissful state of release watching you the entire time.
You arch off the bed, your hands going from his hair to clutch the sheets next to you as you come, your body jerking against his mouth. You expect him to stop, to join you in the bed but his eyes have fallen closed and he’s still going.
"Fuck! Joel I-" you can't finish because Joel isn't stopping.
“You can give me another,” he says flicking his tongue lightly.
He’s smiling dreamily, his eyes still closed as he continues to suck on your clit, and now his finger has come to slide into your sopping center. You’re making obscene noises, rutting against his palm as his tongue continues laving at your clit and another finger joins the first; curling in that sweet spot you can’t reach yourself.
Your hips are thrusting shallowly, and you feel yourself tumbling into another orgasm, this one sharper and more localized. You come raggedly calling his name, your thighs trembling along his shoulders.
Only after you come down from this second high does he pull back with his damp mouth curved into a self satisfied grin. You know your eyes must betray their every thought because he climbs up the bed, his mouth slanting over yours.
He kisses you sweetly, his mouth full and warm before he lays himself next to you in the bed, watching as you pull the dress back down over your hips. You roll onto your side to face him, your heads both resting on the same pillow.
He can’t stop smiling at you. It’s a subtle one, one that makes the corner of his eyes crinkle slightly. The kind that makes your heart pound for reasons that have nothing to do with sex. And yet, it sends your body into an internal frenzy and your reaching a hand across the space between you to land on his hips.
“We said we were going to talk,” Joel murmurs when your hands begin to untuck his shirt from his slacks.
“Yeah, you’re right. We did.”
You want to talk like you both agreed, but being in bed with Joel is making logical thought really difficult. Your hand is sliding down his hips, down to palm his heavy cock through his pants before squeezing gently. You watch in fascination as Joel's eyes shutter and how slowly he moves against you, extending the sensation before something in him stops him, his hips pulling from you. Your palm falls to the bedsheet between you.
“So we should talk.”
You can’t help it. You want to see Joel’s face do that thing again. That little brow flick and neck bob. That unguarded way his eyebrows banded when you first squeezed. You find yourself completely taken with how Joel looks when he’s aroused. Your hands are moving back over his slacks and he’s watching it with a look of a man faced with an impossible decision.
“Maybe we can talk after?” you suggest lightly as your hand slides down his pelvis.
“A-after?” he asks in a low groan as your hand slides over the length of his cock, squeezing. You’re rewarded with another eyebrow band and deep swallow from Joel.
“Yeah,” you soothe, starting slide your palm to curve around the shaft the best you can through the fabric and rubbing gently. “After I make you come?”
Joel is fighting for his life, his eyes shut tightly. “We need-need to-“
“You could finish in my mouth if you want?”
Joel makes a strangled sound in the back of his throat before his head falls into the crook of your neck, his hips thrusting into your hand. You smile, feeling something bloom within you when you hear the ragged groans coming from Joel. This strong man who could ask you to do anything and you’d oblige readily and all he wants right now is for you to touch him through his pants.
But just as you’re really starting to enjoy yourself, just as you feel Joel’s fingers digging into your hip you feel Joel shake his head, extricating himself from you gently with a growled “No” while breathing heavily through his nose.
You lean back, a small smirk on your face that he returns.
“You’re a fucking menace.”
You laugh breathily at that, observing with delight that his eyes can’t stop going to your mouth, your breasts, your eyes. He sees your own gaze resting on the vee of his legs, his hips arched away from your still wandering hands.
"I want to," Joel promises you, his finger going to tap your chin so you’ll look at him. "You have no idea how much I want to."
"Good, I think I have a condom," you attempt to shift over and roll towards your bedside table but Joel stills you, holding you by the waist and pulling you back to face him. That strange guarded look is back in his eyes and it makes your stomach jump.
It's so surreal to be laying here beside him. He's looking at you with such a tensing of his jaw you're concerned he's going to crack a tooth. Self consciousness, that insidious beast in the back of your mind makes you curl into yourself.
Did you do something wrong? Did he regret what just happened?
"You changed your mind.”
"It's not that," Joel insists. "Never that.”
When he sees a flicker of doubt cross your features he groans and grabs you by the wrist. You say nothing as he brings your limp palm to the crotch of his slacks. There you can feel the thick warmth of his cock pulsing as your hand grazes him through the fabric.
"Hasn’t this been proof enough all night?"
“Still,” you say warily taking your hand back. “What’s wrong?”
"This'll change everything," he says in a voice halfway between hopeful and worried. You consider his words, your breathing choppy because he keeps staring at you with the kind of eyes that people write poems about, the kind that move mountains and lessen resolve. When you don’t immediately answer him, you can see the flash of indecision cross his features.
“We can stop it all right now,” Joel whispers as his eyes search your face. “We can stop and we can pretend it never happened. I can do that if that’s what you want. It’d be hard but I could.”
“Is that what you want?”
“No.”
His answer is immediate and you feel a shuddering breath of relief leave you. It’s not what you want either. Joel has told you, has shown you how he feels. You need to say something that will make him understand.
“I want it to change, Joel,” you say truthfully. “I want you. Not just in bed. Not just as a friend.”
He’s nodding now, his eyes wide and innocent looking. As if he can’t believe what you’re saying but he’s so fucking happy to be hearing it. You realize that you’ve come this far, you need to say everything that’s been dancing in your mind.
"I want you Joel," you tell him softly, your pupils blown wide. “I want you.”
His reply is whispering your name against your mouth as he kisses you. As he presses his lips against yours, pulling you tightly around him you feel yourself surrender completely. His touch make you feel something you never felt with Paul or James. Safe. He makes you feel safe.
"I think we’ve talked enough.”
The meaning is clear because your hand has come to rest on his belt buckle and your pupils now dominate your iris. You can almost hear whatever restraint was holding Joel back snap like a rubber band.
"I-- f-fuck, okay," Joel nods sharply, and while you undo his belt buckle his hands are coming to unbutton his slacks and bring down his zipper.
You're over-eager, your hand skimming under the band of his slacks and boxers to where his hardened shaft lays pulsing. When your hand wraps around it, sliding gently from base to tip his hips jump off the bed.
“Fuck!
His eyes are slammed shut as his hips thrust into your hand. His teeth are clenched so tightly the dimple in his right cheek has popped out.
“Joel look at me,” you plead, needing his eyes on you. They open a crack, glittering stones shining out at you from a pinched face.
“Just relax,” you soothe, your hand gently stroking him. “We don’t need to rush.”
This seems to get through to him because Joel nods. You watch his jaw unclench, and his fingers release the death-grip they’ve had on your bed sheets. His hand moves to twist in your hair, holding there for purchase. His eyes open fully now, limpid and staring at you while he grunts and thrusts into your hand.
You can’t help but lean forwards, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth before moving your lips to his ear.
“I need you in my mouth, Joel,” you whimper against the soft skin of his earlobe, relishing the shiver that runs through him at the sound of it. Joel is shockingly responsive to your touch, as if he’s gone so long without it.
“You don’t have to-“ he starts but you ignore him because you're desperate to taste him, to just drag your tongue over the swollen head of his cock.
You’re pulling down his slacks and boxers, groaning when his erect cock is freed. It throbs there on his belly, golden and thick with a rosy head that is begging for your tongue. Joel is so fucking gorgeous laying there, his dark eyes wide as your tongue trails over your lower lip. Your hair has drifted in front of your face but Joel’s wide palm comes to brush it back.
“Thanks,” you say huskily as your mouth curves into a smile. “I want you to be able to see everything.”
His cock twitches at that and he makes a choking sound in the back of his throat.
“Jesus.”
It’s a guttural sound, like you’ve ripped it from his chest. You love it. You love that you’re the reason the normally reserved Joel is rapidly unwinding.
A sinful thought breaks into your mind: could you get Joel to whimper for you? The thought of turning a man like Joel into a needful, whimpering mess under your tongue makes you teeter on the edge of orgasm by thought alone. You see his neck bob as he swallows thickly again, his eyes fixed on your face. Your eyes drift towards his cock.
You need him in your mouth, you need to taste him.
And you would have accomplished such a feat if Joel's cell phone hadn't suddenly gone off loudly in his pocket, startling you both.
The beep is loud and sharp and it sends you almost tumbling off the bed as the red-cheeked Joel digs into his pockets looking furious. With a trembling hand he pulls out the phone, reading the message that’s come through before swearing.
“Everything okay?”
You’ve crawled back up the length of him. For some reason you can tell that your night is about to be cut short.
"It's Tommy asking where I am."
You can see the indecision in his eyes and frown at the rapid softening of his cock. You watch with disappointment as he shifts his hips, pulling his clothes back on in a hurry.
"Stay," you insist, not caring that you sound plaintive. “Please stay?”
Joel looks momentarily flustered at the sound of your voice pitched low and begging. You can see him biting back a groan as he turns his gaze on you.
“Sarah’s had a nightmare. She’s asking for me.”
Immediately you sober, knowing that there is no way you’re going to ever make Joel pick between you and his daughter. That’s a battle you were born to lose. So instead you sigh, disappointed but understanding as he pulls on his jacket. You force a smile on your face and tell him you understand.
“Tell bug I said hello,” you offer with a smile.
Despite the fact that she’s a major cockblock in this moment, you still love the kid.
Joel looks over at your form in the bed, your eyes big and sad. You may be okay with him leaving but that doesn’t mean that you’re happy about it. To be fair Joel looks so fucking disappointed, maybe even more than you.
He stands beside the bed, knowing that if he stays a second longer he physically won’t be able to leave. You watch him pull on his jacket, willing yourself not to focus on how good he looks when he’s getting ready to leave you.
"How about breakfast tomorrow?" Joel concedes out of nowhere. “Just you and me so we can talk more about this?”
“Like a date?”
Joel’s answering grin causes something in your heart to gallop. He leans over, his palms pressing onto the bed so he can reach you to plant a full-mouthed kiss to your lips before pulling back.
“Exactly like a date.”
Delight blooms in you and you nod with a grin.
"Yeah, I’d love to.”
Joel stays leaning on the bed for several seconds, his eyes scanning your face. You would ask him what he’s doing but you’re doing exactly the same. You’re memorizing every line, every eyelash. You’ll hold those small fragments of him until you see him next.
Finally with resolve he pushes off the bed and goes to the door, pausing only to turn back and say in the most devastating of low tones:
“And then after breakfast I’d like to come back here and fuck you until you can’t walk.”
He closes the door to the sound of your nervous giggles.
///
It's finally happening.
Joel's heart is pounding against his ribs so brutally that for a moment he considers if he's going into cardiac arrest. When he remains upright and alive minutes later, he continues walking up the path to your door.
You want him.
You admitted it.
You said it.
He can still see it, the intensity in your gaze as you whispered those words: “I want you, Joel.”
He’s still having trouble believing it. Still having a hard time understanding how something went from being so complicated to being so simple. He knows you’re worried about the same things he is – how your relationship will affect Sarah if things go wrong.
Simple, they aren’t going to. He knows this in his gut; he knows that you are his. It has been so clear to him these past few months and he hates that you spent any time at all not seeing it like he did.
He knows he’s smiling like an idiot as he strolls up to your door, because having you in his arms last night had felt so right he never wants to let you go. Never.
He turns his mind to more carnal aims, recalling your body’s response to his. He can’t stop thinking about the way your face looked when you came, the sweet way you tasted on his tongue, the gentle curve of your mouth when you looked at him from between his legs.
After putting Sarah to bed last night he’d thrown himself into his own bed with the sound of your moans and whimpers dancing through his brain like music.
“I need you in my mouth, Joel.”
“I want you to be able to see everything.”
“I want you, Joel.”
He had put off stroking himself no longer than thirty seconds.
He could still smell you on his clothes. The perfume you'd worn, warm and tantalizing, had done nothing to stop the stiffening of his member. Had done nothing but fuel his already ardent desire.
Joel… Joel…Joel…
Just the sound of your mouth and tongue wrapping around those four simple letters had him fisting himself under the sheets, his body trembling with want. A few tugs, strokes and images of your head thrown back as he made you come on his tongue caused him to erupt in his hand, grunting and then gasping out your name.
And when you'd asked him to stay? Your face flushed and your eyes bright? You’d been so beautiful that it actually pained him to look at you. That had been the hardest thing to walk away from.
It's this image of you that he carries with him as he knocks on your door, his hands trembling slightly in anticipation. He hears you shuffling inside and suddenly hyperaware he internally berates himself for not bringing flowers or something to mark such a moment.
And then the door opens and instead of your smiling face greeting him, you’re wearing a face you've never worn before. This one is lifeless with eyes that seem devoid of emotion.
It stops him from pulling you into his arms and kissing you deeply as he had planned to, as he had imagined the entire drive over this morning. Instead he just stares at you, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end.
Something is wrong.
When you speak to offer a very quiet hello, it's with a voice he's never heard from you. Flat and distant sounding. There are dark circles under your eyes that makeup can't conceal. You’re leaning against the door frame as if you can’t support your standing frame. Joel tilts his head, trying to capture your eyes with his.
"Still on for breakfast?" Joel begins, feeling uneasy when you won't make eye contact with him.
He hadn't expected this reaction from you, this chilly indifference.
"I don't really have time for that," you say hollowly to his shoulder. "I'm heading out of town for a bit."
Heading out of town? Joel frowns not recalling you mention any of this. "When will you be back?"
"Couple of weeks," you answer tiredly, still not looking at his face. "Maybe longer. Who knows?"
Weeks? Maybe longer? What the fuck is going on? He takes a step towards you, reaching for you before something catches his eye. The suitcase next to the door, packed and ready to go. When he realizes you’ve had time to think about this, time enough to pack a bag he feels his heart begin to pound for completely different reasons.
A woman he cares for and a packed bag.
How cyclical.
He steps back and feels his entire body shutting down. All at once he feels incredibly stupid for coming here. So incredibly pathetic for sharing everything with you last night. It’s as if someone has taken his chest and squeezed it painfully from the inside.
"Right," he says laughing humorlessly. "Right."
He turns and stalks away from you without pausing. He hopes he’ll hear your snap out of it, that he’ll hear you call his name and you can chalk this up to a weird moment. But he doesn’t because you don’t. Instead he hears your door click shut.
It’s only in the safety of his truck driving home that Joel allows a lingering tear to slip down his cheek.
#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller smut#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#fanfiction#fanfic#smut#dad joel miller#joel miller#pedro pascal#smut smut smut#filth#dirty talk#joel miller fic#the last of us hbo#tlou hbo#tlou fanfiction#tlou fic#joel tlou#Dad!Joel Miller#angsty#angst#angst with a happy ending#eventual happy ending
342 notes
·
View notes
Text
TOS fans, you may want to read this comic series!
Sooo I recently read this series of comics called Star Trek: Year Five, published in 2019-2021 by IDW Publishing; I heard it was good, but I didn't expect it to be that good!
If you haven't read it, I suggest to check it out! (it's also not hard to find it if you get what I mean)
The art overall is great and, more importantly, the characters act like themselves and there are several references to their canon backgrounds, past and future experiences! What I absolutely loved was also seeing a lot of "old faces" from TOS show, as well as mentions of events from the series and the movies.
As the title suggests, the story takes place during the last year of Kirk's five-year mission on the Enterprise. I'd like to tell you more, but I enjoyed the surprise of a lot of things I didn't expect, so first of all I'll post a few pics without major spoilers from the first 11 issues (there are 25, so you still have a lot to discover!):
I especially love how Bones and Sulu are drawn, they really look like them! Scotty and Uhura too, but that depends on the artist. Speaking of them, if you like a little Scotty/Uhura, this series has something good about it!
The joke about Kirk thinking there's something strange with the way the Klingons look now cracked me up. LOL
Also, I'm not sure Chapel would call McCoy "Bones", but she is very right in that panel. :)
The last panel is classical James T. Kirk's ass appreciation lol
Sulu has a love story with an alien who doesn't understand human genders and uses they/them pronouns. As someone who headcanons TOS Sulu as attracted to any gender, that was great to see :D
I'm also posting this "end-of-the-episode" panel because it's just perfection. TOS in a nutshell. Aww, look at Kirk and Spock just looking at each other! <3
I must say, you may be a little disappointed if you expect to see many moments with Kirk and Spock together, BUT the scenes they have together are really good! I won't say anything more, just read until the end and you'll see! :D
By the way, this series has a Valentine's Day extra, which is the only part where Kirk has a love interest (a female original character). Yeah, you heard me: in the main story, Kirk doesn't have new romances with anyone; Sulu is the one who gets all the action! ;)
The Valentine's Day issue is not linked to anything else and I don't think Kirk's female love interest is mentioned outside that story, so you can easily skip it if it's not for you. However, even if I can't say I'm especially happy with that story, I personally found something interesting there, for example this:
I think I saw this out of context once, but I didn't know where it was from, so sorry I'm just going to lose my mind thinking about ladies or GENTLEMEN in Kirk's life and Kirk not correcting her about his sexual preferences. Anyway, I might make a separate post someday about this special from a Kirk/Spock shipper's perspective, because I do have a lot of thoughts about it :)
So, if you haven't read Star Trek: Year Five, I hope I convinced you to check it out! I hadn't been lucky with other Star Trek comics before, so I had almost lost hope to find something good… and then here it was! Something that made me feel like it was really written with a lot of love for The Original Series! I really needed it!
If you decide to give it a try, I'd love to see your thoughts and see your favorite parts! I hope you enjoyed this little review. :)
#star trek comics#star trek the original series#star trek tos#star trek: year five#idw publishing#james t. kirk#spock#leonard mccoy#montgomery scott#nyota uhura#hikaru sulu#pavel chekov
438 notes
·
View notes
Text
☆彡PHANTOM TROUPE RELATIONSHIP HCS ☆彡
(separate)
Disclaimer: Credits to the artists!! I own none of these pictures!
I procrastinated on these for way too long.. still! Enjoy! <3 (these exclude hisoka & Kalluto)
Chrollo:
Chrollo is a lover that takes care of whom he loves!
therefore, he takes care of you!
Any hobbies you have, he’ll indulge in them with you
any supplies you need for said hobbies?
art supplies, ski gear, ice skates, computer, hiking equipment!
The list goes on
even if you never actually use the stuff he buys he doesn’t mind :)
cuz hey! He didn’t actually buy it! 🤪
chrollo will truly do anything in his power to keep you happy
and we all know power is something he certainly does have
he can buy you a luxury house and car all the way down to cuddling in the warm rays of the sunset while having a cookout
i guarantee if your upset, he’ll make you happy within the next hour
chrollo probably never learned how to love properly
but with you?? The definition of love doesn’t matter.
he’s just grateful he has it.
you make him feel like he knows what he’s doing with himself in life.
he’s less lost, if I may say.
he’s found a home, in you.
Nobunaga:
nobunaga was never familiar with love and never even thought about the fact that he wasn’t interested!
but here you are simply having a conversation, chatting.
and yet even with such a simple act he feels so nervous?? While excited and happy at the same time??
he wonders why he even feels so fidgety!
your just talking!!
how on the earth are you making him act a fool like this?!
like yeah your pretty and he likes your personality and you two have the same interests plus all of your interactions have gone good…..man he really is in love huh
WHAT IS THIS SOME SAPPY ROMANCE MOVIE?
now I know it only seems like he has a crush
but you two are actually already in the relationship!!
and yes, he still gets nervous. The feeling never goes away
once he tried to ask if you still get butterflies n stuff and if you said no he’s gonna be so embarrassed!!!!
seriously he brushes it off like it didn’t bother him and never brings it up again
Feitan:
feitan will probably do better with a nonchalant or sadist partner so 1) you can enjoy torturing with him or 2) you won’t care or get grossed out that he does
If your not doesn’t matter he’s still gonna anyway-
he’s not the typa dude to change for love
but that aside
he likes your quiet company
so like reading together (whether it’s two different books or not)
and reviewing to each other
learning new skills from/with each other
actually sometimes feitan teaches you cool human body facts!!
Like how brains are around 60% fat!
or that they weight 3 pounds! ;D
how cool is that?!
yes this is his tastes in topics and humor
and he only laughs if you say stay like “gross!” Or “ew that’s disgusting!”
he will be satisfied if you find it cool too
Long story short don’t go into his library
you won’t find any books you like there unless you like what he does
Machi:
She’s an assertive domestic girlfriend
Plus she’s really caring
but caring doesn’t always mean sweet and happy all the time
while she has no problem taking care of you..
you better either get up and do some things yourself or return the favor !
She expects you to at least be able to get daily tasks done
either that or clean the whole house like she was gonna do. you choose.
your place is probably really simple yet well decorated
Not for an aesthetic but because of just general things you have
like a shoe rack, the pretty furniture and rugs, the dart board she owns, any hobby equipment you own (easel, paintings, hockey equipment, hiking equipment, etc)
it all just makes a really cozy look for your house
and yes you two definitely play darts together
she will win unapologetically and won’t hold back
she wants to genuinely see you improve so she doesn’t go easy on you
“You can’t get better by playing against somebody worse than you”
Phinks:
phinks in a relationship is literally the definition of a guy who could pull more if he was less nervous
but he obviously pulled you and that’s what matters most
he gets flustered easily but tries to hide it
(Spoiler: he fails)
phinks will try to be romantic but it’ll either get ruined by his friends crashing the date
*ahem* shal and fei 😒(😂💗)
or he’ll just be so incredibly nervous that it doesn’t go as smoothly as he planned
he thinks up these brilliant romantic scenarios in his head but can never seem to execute them 🤨😕
it’s the thought that counts 🤷♀️💝
he would truly be such a romantic if he could just stop freaking out
I mean don’t get me wrong it’s not like it never works
when it does, he’s excited in the moment
but as soon as it’s over he’s worrying like crazy about how he’s gonna upstage that from last time
Especially without screwing up and making a fool of himself
little does he know you love him all the same 😂
Shalnark:
is really teasing and playful so I hope your not hot headed
if your aren’t and choose to prank him back instead?
it literally becomes prank wars
at some point the pranks started a real (petty) argument
after it was settled you decided not to terrorize each other anymore
now you target the troupe with your antics! 😆
your main victim is phinks
mostly because his reaction is really funny
Plus he’s the easiest to get mad
LOL
but back to the original topic where your hot headed….
yeah the argument probably ended up happening sooner than not
although at first he doesn’t take it seriously because your always getting mad like this
then you say something that makes him realize your serious
he feels really stupid for not noticing sooner
he’ll genuinely apologize (for literally once in his life)
and direct his pranks to someone else
after that you probably end up watching the victims and find it funny too
so you still end up bonding over it 😅💖
Franklin:
Franklin is not necessarily gentle
he’s just more coolheaded than not
like the time he started fighting with uvogin in the 1999 version
like he’s chill until you say the wrong thing
but that’s just how he is in general
he never gets mad at s/o
his patience is infinity+ for you
You may have secretly tried to make him angry or at least annoyed-
but if it one day goes too far he says “stop.” with a very serious tone/look and you probably stop from there 😀
😗
otherwise if you don’t decide to test the waters from jump, Franklin doesn’t have many hobbies so he’ll literally just indulge in what you like
like it doesn’t even matter if he finds it boring
you’d never know because he’d be so supportive of you doing what you love
but it’s more likely than not he’ll enjoy a few
franklin is also decent at like every house chore ever, cooking, sweeping/cleaning for example
like he knows how to do everything, but he’s just average at it
Shizuku:
Shizuku is very forgetful
she forgets chores, how to cook certain things, favors you asked her to do
But you don’t have to worry about her forgetting things about you solely because she would never date anyone she doesn’t know enough to remember
She probably wouldn’t remember she likes you so why would she?!
Unless like she forgets how long she’s known you-
AND LIKE- MAGICALLY THINKS YALL BEEN FRIENDS FOR YEARS WHEN YALL MET 6 MONTHS AGO
That’s a writing prompt
she’d be remembering memories that never happened and everything 🤦♀️
But we won’t go into that here…
it’s probably low key annoying that you have to do a lot of things because she keeps forgetting
so I sure hope your patient..
“huh? You never asked me to do that..”
”no! Your didn’t, I remember! you never even came in the living room!” (Her saying ‘I remember’ is ironic I know)
With a more motherly and provider mindset reader she’d do just fine
At the very least shizuku will remember your favorite things and gift you them when she can<3
isnt that sweet?!
see?? It’s not like she’s being a jerk!
she genuinely forgot!
Pakunoda:
pakunoda is wife criteria
she can do everything
she is gentle, caring and strong
she can protect and advice you
she remembers all your favorite things—everything about you!
she always cooks your favorite meals
paku loves to relax on the beach together with some wine~
she loves road trips and mini calm adventures
Take her on some!! She deserves it with all she does for you!
and you definitely do!
you guys create lots of fun and heart warming memories together
out in the grass, in the wild life, in forests, in the dessert!
she’s a great cook and a outstanding baker!! 😍😋😋
her signature dish is raspberry pie
ITS SO DELICIOUS
she makes random desserts and pastries for you as a love language
getting up to her breakfast is the best way to start your day possible
you literally can always expect a good meal with her
if you’ve been having a bad day???
at this point a bad day ain’t a bad day no more cuz you already dancing knowing she gon hook you up‼️💃🕺
Bonolenov:
bonolenov is so grateful that you act normal around him
like you have from the start, you never alienated him
before and after he took off his bandages
he can cook but others wouldn’t think so because his tribe’s traditional food is different than the norm
If you tried it and liked it he’s be overjoyed!!
He’d feel much more confident about cooking and do it for you more often
he’d low key question if your from his tribe and wonder if you’d say no to a blood test
(BRO another writing prompt!! Bonolenov finding a reader from his tribe!!)
if you didn’t like it I’m sure you let him down gently since you love him
and he gets it
maybe it was just that one dish though?
he’d want you to try a few more of different types (breakfasts, lunches, dinners, desserts and snacks) before you completely give up on it
if you truly end up not liking it he won’t be angry or anything
it simply wasn’t for you :)
he’s actually a pretty chill dude
Even more so around you
he likes to lazy around a lot and you two might cuddle often
not intentionally but like you just both end up napping together all the time
if you want he’ll teach you his tribes dances and such
as well as traditions
he’ll be impressed if you master the dances fast
(him wondering if your from his tribe again)
Even If you take a bit longer he’s patient :)
he’s open to taking off his bandages around you if your not uncomfortable
if you are that’s fine they’re pretty comfy !
Uvogin:
uvogin is very rough
I mean it’s kinda hard to be gentle at that size-
if he hurts you on accident you’ll get a brief ‘sorry’ but know it’s genuine
don’t worry it doesn’t happen often enough to be concerned
but don’t stand behind him.
you’ve learned your lesson on that….
he squashed your toes once and it was not fun
don’t get me wrong he’s not some monster
he’s just big
so he’s gotta watch out for a bunch of tiny humans you know??
okay put it like this, imagine a grown man/woman is running full speed because they’re late to work and they run into a 3 year old and knock them down
was it intentional?? No. Do they apologize and feel bad?? Yes. Is it a little funny after everything’s okay?? Also Yes.
I will say it is fun to ride on his shoulder and sit in his lap/on his leg
(another prompt could be uvogin with a s/o as big as him..)
it’s fun for him to carry you around
it’s like have a little portable buddy
that idea is kinda wholesome ☹️💗
AND DON’T FORGET HIS BIG SMOOOOOCHIES 💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋
he loves you 😊
FINALLYYYYYY GOT THIS DONE💥💥
I love the troupe :) the police needs to stop hating on they’re emo band fr 🙄✋
#anime#anime and manga#luffyvace#anime headcanons#hxh 2011#hxh anime#hxh#hunterxhunter headcanons#hunter x hunter headcanons#hunter x hunter#chrollo headcanons#chrollo lucilfer#gn <3#x gn reader#gn reader#gender neutral reader#nobunaga x reader#nobunaga hxh#feitan portor#feitan headcanons#feitan#phantom troupe#machi komachine#phinks magcub#shalnark ryusei#shizuku hxh#uvogin#bonolenov#kortopi#pakunoda
158 notes
·
View notes
Text
HELLUVA BOSS DEVIATING FROM ITS ORIGINAL PREMISE FUNDAMENTALLY DESTROYED THE SHOW
So, it has already been discussed many times in HB critical community that HB deviated from its premise after S1 and that anyone with an once of media literacy can tell that you can't describe it in any way other than horrible writing.
Now, I'm going to ask you this for a second - imagine that you haven't seen S1, the pilot or read the premise of Helluva Boss anywhere. Imagine that you watch all (available) episodes of S2 and are asked to write a premise about it on some movie review website. How would you briefly describe what happens in S2?
Oh, you can't or are having major trouble doing it? Don't worry, you are not media illiterate, my friend. That is the case because IT'S LITERALLY IMPOSSIBLE TO TELL WHAT HELLUVA BOSS IS SUPPOSED TO BE ABOUT ANYMORE.
There are many flaws that your writing could possess - inconsistent characterization, too fast/slow pacing and so on. However, they do not automatically derail your work. It is very much possible to recognize those faults, learn from them and do better in the future.
But the premise of your work is its literal BONES. You build up the plot and characters based on it. You just can't expect your show to be good, if you tear out its basis. Of course the pacing, character development and how plot points are wrapped up in HB is horrible - how can anything function without the very thing that holds it all together?
And I MEAN that the premise of HB completely disappears, not shifts or changes. Like, seriously, what the hell is HB supposed to be about now?
Stolitz?
Their interactions indicate zero meaningful development and are tediously spaced out to the point that it's hard to care about their relationship. It is made even worse by the fact that Stolas, just like in S1, still keeps pressuring Blitzo, despite him being clearly uncomfortable.
Blitzo making amends with people he hurt?
Even ignoring S1's nonexistent buildup of this plotline (Blitzo looking at photos on his phone doesn't count, since it's literally the ONLY moment that barely suggests it), there's no buildup in S2 either, when it comes to both Barbie and Fizz. It is certainly not helped by the fact that Barbie just vanishes after Unhappy Campers and Blitzo and Fizz's beef is resolved in a single episode.
Any other plotlines of S2, like Fizz's job, Crimson, Striker, or Stolas and Stella's separation are just too small or insignificant to be considered part of the supposed premise, INCLUDING the assassination business, which arguably takes up the least amount of time of aspects of the show listed.
It's no surprise that Helluva Boss is slowly crumbling. At this point, it's just a paralysed zombie who completely forgot what it once was. And it's damn sad to watch, because the show comforted me during some dark times and, despite Viv being an awful person, I truly hoped for HB to be great.
#vivziepop critical#vivziepop criticism#helluva boss critical#helluva critical#helluva boss criticism#anti helluva boss#helluva critique
281 notes
·
View notes
Text
Gage (Edited)
Been trying to go through my old stories and slowly re-upload them after I give them a review. Anyways, hope you enjoy!
Tags/Warnings: Fag bashing, face farting, willing victim turned to unwilling, asphyxiation by farts, fart torture
Gage is a grade A prick. You pretty much learned that the moment he moved into the house. Your other roommate literally moved out because he couldn’t stand him. The only reason you’ve stayed is because the rent is cheap and the landlord isn’t complete trash. The other reason is that you have a sort of hate crush on Gage.
You understand he’s a prick and he seems like a bit of a fag basher, but dude has a rockin bod. And he has no sense of other people’s personal boundaries. One time when you had friends over, he walked out of his room completely naked to get a beer out of the fridge. Which you didn’t mind too much because you got front row seats to watch his ass jiggle. Your lesbian friends were mortified of course. Especially when he started to shake his hips to make his dick flop around. After that, you’ve all decided to do movie night at their house now to avoid any more incidents.
The other thing about Gage is that he’s a literal gas bomb. The dude is constantly gassy and it may make your dick strain against your shorts when you’re both watching TV and he lifts a leg to let out a massive fart. And look, if you’re secretly there taking quiet inhales of his stinky gas then no one needs to know.
It all comes to a head today though. You keep a journal, and you may or may not have written all your dirty fantasies about Gage in them. Looking back at it, probably not the best idea, but too late to change that now.
You’re in the kitchen making scrambled eggs when Gage comes into the kitchen. “Good morning.” You mumble to him, not fully expecting an answer. He opens the fridge and pours himself a glass of OJ as he plays on his phone. He laughs at something before walking towards the kitchen table.
“Hey fart slut, what’s for breakfast?” You freeze. Did he really just say that? He snaps his fingers a couple of times. “Yo, fag, I’m talking to you.” You slowly turn to look at him.
“Uhm, Scr-scrambled eggs?” You don’t know why it came out as a question.
“Cool, I want cheese on mine.” He doesn’t even look at you as he plays on his phone.
“Oh, uhhh, I didn’t make enough for the both of us.” You look at the pan and push it around.
“It’s fine, just give me yours.”
“What?” He locks eyes with you.
“Let me put it another way. Give me your breakfast and I don’t post your dirty fart fantasies online.” You try to stay calm but you’re freaking out. You turn back around fully and focus on finishing the eggs, throwing cheddar cheese on top right before you finish. Your hands are shaking as you plate the food and bring it over to Gage.
“Anything else?” You say nervously placing the food and a fork down in front of him.
“Tabasco.” He doesn’t look up from his phone, you just do as he says. “Sit.” He says as you go to make yourself more scrambled eggs. “I gotta say, you’re pretty nasty. I mean, to like that shit, you gotta have some serious problems.”
“Fuck off.”
“I mean, to want to get on your knees to sniff someone’s dirty ass. That’s some dog level shit.” You watch as he stuffs his mouth with eggs. “Tell me, how are you any better than a dog?”
“You’re an ass.” Your chair groans against the floor as you get up.
“Sit back down.” Gage says firmly.
“No, fuck you. I don’t have to take this.”
PFFFFFBBRRRFFFFFF
You freeze as Gage rips a five second fart. The smell hits you from where you’re standing. You can hear Gage laughing from behind you and you can’t help the shame that wafts over you. “You’re pathetic. You get one whiff of my ass funk and you can’t walk away.” You take a deep breath and calmly begin to walk to your room. “I have more where that came from, you know?” You squeeze your eyes shut, wanting to ignore him.
PFFFFFF
A high pitched fart hisses from his ass. “See? And they can be up your nose if you ask me nicely.” You’re not even looking at him and you can just see his cocky grin.
“What do you want?” You ask, knowing you’ve already lost.
“Heh, knew it.” You hear his chair scrape against the floor as he gets up. “You just need to beg.” He puts his hands on your shoulders. “Beg your daddy to fart up your nose.” He whispers in your ear.
“You’re an ass.”
“I know.” He turns you around and pushes you down onto your knees. “Beg doggy.” You lock eyes again, completely humiliated on the ground.
“Please, Gage, fart up my nose.” You say without enthusiasm.
PFFFFFFFFFFFTTTTT
“Fuck, that was a big one you just missed out on. Beg.” You sigh.
“Please daddy, please make me your fart slut.” He laughs.
“Better.” He turns around giving you the view of his brief clad ass. “Get your face in it.” You do as he says, getting a whiff of the lingering scent of the last fart. “Just remember you wanted this.”
PFFFFFFFFFFFF PFFFFFFFFFFFF
Airy farts warm your face as your nose gets overwhelmed by the absolutely toxic smell. It’s not like anything you thought it’d be like. “Wait.” You manage to cough out. “Wait stop.” You go to pull away but he holds you firmly in place.
“You’re not going anywhere.” He hikes his leg up slightly.
PFFFFFFFFFFFBBRBRBFFFFFTTTTTT
“Oof, that one’s gonna be bad.” He wasn’t wrong. Your eyes are squeezed shut as you're forced to endure that blast of a ten second fart. It’s absolutely eggy, and your eyes are watering. “Definitely wouldn’t want to be down there. But you’re liking this right fag?” You frantically shake your head no, wanting to pull away. “Aww, I knew you’d love my ass. Here, I’ll blow you a kiss.”
PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF PFFF
Another disgusting fart burns it’s way up your nose and down to your lungs. Your face is extremely warm and you can’t think straight. You strain to pull away from the toxic fumes constantly barraging your face but Gage’s hold is too strong.
PFFFFBRBRBRFFFFFFTTT
“Look, I know my brew is strong, but you’re the one who wanted this. And you begged oh so nicely for daddy to fart in your face. Who am I to get in your way of your dream?”
PFFFF PFF PFFFFFF PFFFFF
“It’s okay, I won’t judge you. Well maybe a little. Only cause you’re a fucked up a fag.”
PFFBBRRRFFFTTT
It’s getting really hard to breathe down here. The only air you’re getting is Gage’s eggy farts. You’ve begun to uncontrollable cough and gag against his dirty briefs.
“Man, imagine if I didn’t have these undies on. There’s no way you would survive that.” He laughs as he pulls his tight black briefs under his naked ass.
PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF PFFFFFFFFFFFF PFFFFF
“Jesus, what did you put in those eggs? I bet you put in some extra fiber didn’t you?”
“I know I’m a gassy guy, but damn, this is way worse than normal.”
PFFFFFFFFBBBRRRRRRBRRRRR
PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFTTTTTTTT
Everything is spinning around you and you’re having a hard time staying conscious.
“Is it everything you hoped for faggot?”
PFFFFF PFFFFFFFF PFFFFTTT PFFFFF
You feel yourself slump further into his musky ass, no longer able to keep yourself upright. You can hear Gage laughing as everything fades to black. A final fart hits your nose as you finally lose consciousness. “Night night fag.” Gage lets your body hit the floor before leaving you there.
When you awake again, you’re still on the kitchen floor. The smell of Gage’s ass still lingering on you.
216 notes
·
View notes
Text
# :: 𝒕𝒆𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 🫧 - 𝒄𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒎𝒂 𝒄𝒍𝒖𝒃 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒆
i could definitely rewrite this with a different mini obsession plot
part 2
charlie was big on making sure that the club always had a big meeting at least once every two weeks
discussing the latest movies and even the classics were an important part of keeping debates going and he always wanted to expand the number of members coming every week
however he only really noticed the numbers climbing in their ranks when a certain girl started frequently appearing at the back of the classroom to quietly sit and listen for the entirety of the clubs period
it took him a couple of visits to recognise the face but it was you
you sit in front of him in a couple of classes and after that day he couldn’t get you out of his brain
the way you fiddle with your hair when writing something down
or the way you cross your legs over each other when someone mentions a particularly gory scene in a movie
he found himself always looking over at you to see your reaction when he was at the front of the room talking
you barely looked up and even if you did it was when he wasn’t looking
always taking notes and smiling to yourself
the increase in cinema club goers after you is what surprised him
to him you weren’t the clique type or even the popular type
you hadn’t spoken a word to him or robbie since you’d started attending
most of the guys that would come to the club only to stare and gawk at you most definitely got grilled by charlie on movie questions he knew they had no idea about
he didn’t want them in here, not when he couldn’t even tell if it made you uncomfortable or not
his life goal for the club was to now ask these guys so many detailed questions and embarrass them so much that they didn’t even want to come back
cinema clubs numbers would suffer slightly but if that’s what it took
anything to just be able to keep you there as long as possible
robbie would mention you a couple of times after the club was out but after he didn’t get a very detailed reply from charlie he figured it was a sore spot
“how come you haven’t even mentioned kirby in a while man, did you get your dick cut off or somethin’? “
after you came in on a particularly hot day wearing a rather short skirt he really had to hide behind the front desk he normally stood in front of
as you started stealing glances at him and catching his back he really didn’t know what to do with himself
that day was the day he started stuttering like no other
after many weeks and most of the unwanted creeps gone from his club or mysteriously kicked out you stayed longer one day
after everyone had mostly cleared out, you stood up and quickly scribbled down a couple of words on a piece of paper and walked towards him
robbie ‘noticed’ before he did but let’s be honest he was just trying to play it cool in case you were just walking past
he didn’t think he’d be so nervous for just a tap on the shoulder
when he turned around all you did was hand him the piece of paper with a rose tint dusted over your cheeks
“I know it’s not a scary movie but it’s really interesting, from a women’s point of view- i mean” you left
charlie wasn’t one to be dumbfounded on more than just movies but you actually just spoke to him
uncrumpling the paper he found the words ‘10 things I hate about you’ and robbie laughed
the note also had a ‘-my favourite movie’ tagged onto the end with a heart
“you’re seriously not going to consider that movie are you?”
charlie facial expression didn’t change “it couldn’t hurt could it?”
robbie didn’t go home happy that day
he ended up going home and watching the movie twice over just so he could do everything possible for the next day
cinema club was concerned for their president the next day as they’d never reviewed a non horror film before why not a cheesy romance
“c’mon charlie what’s up with the film choice”
“hey i take suggestions you guys just never give them”
after the session was over he carefully walked over to your desk
“y’know i actually liked that movie”
you laughed “ you don’t have to lie to me to talk to me”
charlie had never blushed so hard
the club president wasn’t just obsessed with horror it seemed
please request more things so i can get writing again!
#scream#scream 4#charlie walker#charlie walker hcs#charliewalker#scream movie#scream charlie walker#charlie walker x reader#rory culkin
583 notes
·
View notes
Note
For the drabble game could you write fluff with youtuber bf jk ? I am not creative so I couldn’t think of a sentence sorry😭 but maybe he does one of those 24hr streams, I love your writing!
youtuber boyfriend! kook headcanons:
tags/ warnings: none. just a lot of fluff and feelings <3
notes: when i got sent this idea ages ago i got so excited. and i wrote three fics for it but hated them all and then made sure they were to never see the light of day. so my solution is to write some cute boyfriend headcanons instead to make up for it!! simply because i absolutely love this idea and i need to write anything for it to sate the need within me.
notes 2: this got slightly longer than i’d intended LMAO sorry 🕺
𓇻 i feel like jungkook’s channel has a plethora of videos, though he specializes in gaming.
𓇻 its probably one of his biggest passions. though i do see him dabbling in commentary, or even review type videos. maybe he’s a bit of a collector as well and goes on hour long rants about rare items or hauls of what he purchased over the years.
𓇻 i see the both of you probably meeting at one of those second-hand game and film stores.
𓇻 maybe you’re just milling around. more content to browse the movies than the games because you only own an old console (something cute like a nintendo DS) but they don’t really sell the game cards commercially anymore
𓇻 and jungkook loses track of why he was even there in the first place when he spots you. slowly scooting towards the corner you’re in.
𓇻 jungkook might not exactly believe in love at first sight, finds it a little hard to imagine loving someone so soon. but he definitely believes in destiny, even fate. and some small part of his mind had convinced him that surely this was just that.
𓇻 he’d be a bit shy about trying to approach you, mouth opening only for nothing to come out because what was he supposed to say? and maybe he accidentally startles you, offering to pay for the few dvds you had hugged to your chest as a lame sort of compensation
𓇻 he’d be the one to ask for your number, he’d be the first to text. you’d tell him later on it’s because you didn’t want to come off too head-strong. worried you’d scare him off messaging only hours after meeting. and then he’d tell you he had worried about the same thing
𓇻 jungkook wouldn’t straight out tell his audience he’d gotten into a relationship. it’s not that he was embarrassed about you, quite the opposite; he’d love to flaunt you to the world. it’s just he’d worry about the reaction from fans.
𓇻 he’d have a pretty hefty audience, a well established one even. and he wasn’t blind to the mean comments that would occasionally show up beneath videos or social media posts. he, himself, never found much issue in dealing with them, on occasion he’d get a little down but he knew that really he put himself up for this. he chose to show his face online, and with that would come some backlash. however, that didn’t mean he wasn’t worried about you or how shitty comments would effect your well being.
𓇻 definitely the “in a relationship but it’s private” sort of photos would slowly creep their way onto his IG posts. maybe of little date nights— candles on the table with a dinner you’d cooked together (2 glasses, 2 plates and 2 sets of cutlery), or your favorite cake he’d tried to bake himself with the lego flowers he’d spent the previous evening trying to make (because at least you could look at the lego ones forever and they wouldn’t die). or maybe even your hand snuck in a photo or simply your silhouette beneath a sunset.
𓇻 maybe a few of your own collectible items had made their way onto the shelf in his studio. an obvious beanbag in the corner (you’d often sit there and read as he went through emails or scripted videos). valentines cards that he’d never thought to take down, or posters of yours that never exactly fit in the bedroom
𓇻 it would become apparent that he was in a long-term relationship when he’d film a moving video. so much of your stuff mingled with his own, split seconds of the shared rooms he’d add to the video before showing his audience his new office space. the extra shoes and cute little additions to his home; soft cushions on the couch, ceramics you’d begged him to buy. your hoard of plushies that took up half the bed or the stupid amount of skin care products stacked up in the bathroom. all a sure way of telling his fans that he was serious about you, even if they had no idea of your name or face
𓇻 maybe with enough comments he’d make a little announcement at the end of a video.
𓇻 “i know you’ve all probably guessed by now, but i am in fact, in a relationship”
𓇻 and then proceeded to talk about you for 7 minutes because really he wanted everyone to know how much he loved you. and truthfully he never knew when to shut up when it came to you, not when you were what’s on his mind most of the time. he’d tell them how you’d met, and how he had been absolutely enamored by you almost instantly. he’d show everyone the matching bracelets you’d made. grinning as he showed off the receipt he’d kept in his wallet from your first date together at a small cafe in town, mentioning how he kept a baby photo of you in the back of his phone too.
𓇻 the first time you’d show up in a video, he’d plan for the both of you to do some crafts together one afternoon. a hobby you’d been trying over the last couple of weeks, and jungkook liked to indulge you. loved to watch you sprawled across the floor of an evening with glue coating your fingers and way too much glitter imbedded in the carpet.
𓇻 he’d have been worried at first. asking you over and over if it was truly okay for you to be on camera, and after your reassured him with a kiss, he’d settle down slightly. though his anxiety had still clung to him, eyes flitting your way throughout the afternoon
𓇻 he could tell how shy you’d been, and had reassured you that really you didn’t even need to address the audience. he’d do all the silly little things you giggled at him for. and all you had to do was sit there and be pretty for him. you’d been a lot quieter than usual; itching to give him a kiss each time he was just so awfully jungkook. eyes like those of galaxies when he got something right, or the happiest smile on his face when you asked him for help
𓇻 the day he did a 24 hour charity stream would be when his audience sees you the most. milling around the house, making sure your boyfriend was fed and watered. maybe even sitting down and reading the chat when he wanted to shower. or answering questions while perched on his lap. he’d want to smother you with even more love when you’d catch his eye— a silent question if you were doing okay, that you answered all the questions correct. and he’d squeeze your thigh in reassurance, head resting over your shoulder as he listened to your voice, humming to let you know he was still listening
𓇻 you’d startle him at 4am, a little pouty that you’d had to fall asleep alone. dragging a chair from the kitchen to sit on as you watch him play a game you’d never seen before.
𓇻 “go back to bed, baby” he’d coo, “you’ll fall asleep sitting up and get a bad back”
𓇻 and maybe after that he’s a lot more open to showing you on camera. filming you on beaches, eating cakes and ice creams from a million different restaurants or dancing around hotel rooms or sitting on the balcony with the sun warming your skin when he takes you on holiday. short films dedicated to you with your favorite songs playing in the background
𓇻 maybe he even makes a playlist on his youtube channel, titled “my love” for every video that he includes you in
𓇻 idk just very much in love boyfriend kook who wants the world to love you almost as much as he does (because in all honesty, no one would ever love you more than he does)
#bts fanfic#bts fluff#jungkook fanfic#bts#bts jungkook#jungkook#jungkook scenario#jungkook fic#jungkook imagine#jungkook x reader#bts fic#bts imagines#bts headcanons#jungkook headcanons
444 notes
·
View notes
Text
18+ minors dni inspired by this drabble that's making the rounds
so let's switch it up.
thinking about cheating on your boyfriend eddie munson who does nothing but be sweet on you. takes you to all the weird art exhibits you like, tells you how beautiful you are even when you just got out of the shower and there's mascara under your eyes. gives you kisses on the forehead while you wait in line for tickets to the movies or getting coffee. and god those hands when he play guitar, watching his fingers vibrate over the strings. if only he'd use them on you, if only he'd play you like that. if only he'd wrap them around your throat -- but he hasn't felt ready yet -- and that's fine.
so every time eddie drops you off for your shift at family video, steve greets him so kindly that he'd never suspect the bitterness bubbling underneath the 'hey munson, how are you?' every time they cross paths. i mean, of course your manager would be a nice guy, right? it has nothing to do with steve feeling like he lost to eddie when you came in one night with heart eyes after a date. and it's not like steve even made the moves on you to begin with, you'd never said anything before. so eddie smiles and waves, 'i'm good harrington, thanks.' before driving off.
steve harrington never loses.
"you know how to get those points up on your review, honey," he says in a low voice, hand smoothing up your back where he has you bent over his desk, "say it."
your face burns, feeling his hand crack down hard against your fleshy hip. it's all you can hear now that the store is closed and the lights are off. the only source in the store being the line of light under the door of steve's office.
"mm!" you yelp out, jumping at the smack but keening into it. your back arches a little deeper, you hear a low grumble of a chuckle.
"please fuck me."
"god i love it when you beg," he giggles low in his chest, you can feel him push your panties to the side and spread you apart from behind. drilling the spongey head in without much prep at all. if you want that raise, you'll accomdate to him.
"missed this pussy last week," he grunts, "shouldn't have approved that pto." the slick sounds coming from between you make you shiver. his hands come to your waist for leverage -- he doesn't start slow. he wants you to feel this. he does every time.
"so what'd you do, hm?" he asks, reaching up and running a hand gently over your hair while he other grips you so hard you might bruise, "bet you were such a good girl with your sweet boyfriend, huh?"
"y-yeah," you whine, forehead falling down to your forearms where they rest on the desk, "please harder, oh my god."
"sooo filthy," he laughs, "such a dirty pretty whore when you're with me though, right? mmmshit -- not that nice girl in his car?"
"mhm!" you yelp when he picks up the pace. the slap, slap, slap of his hips slamming against your eyes making you drool while the head of his cock bullies your cervix, "so dirty -- oh god, yes -- so dirty for you steve."
he chuckles breathlessly, pulling you up to standing and pulling out. he directs you, he always does. tugging off your panties and easing you onto his desk so the top of your back is against the wall. he looms over you.
"say that again," he demands, looking at you down the slope of his nose. he pushes back into you with force, one big hand on the outside of your thigh to keep you steady. the other encompassing your neck and jaw so you can't look away, "say it again."
"m's-so d-dirty for you," you moan out in punched breaths.
"no, baby, say it again -- say it all," he huffs out with a smirk, lips close to the edge of yours, "say my name." at name he plunges in deep, holding himself inside and working his hips in a deliciously slow rhythm.
"oh my god, steeeeve," you groan, eyes rolling to the back of your head.
"thaaaat's it," he encourages, "say my name, nice and loud. that's who makes you cum, isn't it?"
"yes steve, oh! there! there! just like that!" you shudder out while he keeps this deep angle, speeding up enough to make the desk shake. his hand dips down to slide around your throat and you get dizzy.
"who makes you feel like me, hm?" he coaxes you onward, "who's making you cum?"
"you are, oh fuck steve!" you nearly scream. your fingers trail down between you to tease yourself while his thrusts continue on, relentless.
"ooh, desperate little bitch, aren't you?" he smirks, leaning in to kiss you hungrily, nipping at your lower lip, "why, you got somewhere to be?"
you shake your head no, whimpering.
"’cause i can do this all night," he huffs, grunting while he readjusts your thigh to get deeper. you moan up to the ceiling while your fingers speed up in swirls over your clit, eyes clamped down tight.
you feel steves breath in your ear when he replaces your fingers with his thumb, "does he touch you like this?"
you don't reply, too lost in the pleasure building up in your belly to focus, "i d...unh..."
"i know he doesn't," he smirks, pulling you down so you're flat on your back on the desk. he can feel how close you are, wanting to hold you off a little longer -- he puts his hand back around your neck with finesse, "that fuckin' virgin wouldn't know the first thing about this pussy."
"but i do, don't i?" he asks, hazel eyes boring right into yours, perfect smile grinning down at you while you writhe under him. king steve.
"yes, stevie," you rasp, closer, and closer, and closer, “s’yours.”
“fuck,” he grunts, “that’s right.” he slams into you with abandon, chasing his pleasure with every thrust while his grip gets tighter around your throat.
“you gonna go home and tell eddie what a whore you are for me?” he asks, brows furrowing while breathe puffs from his nostrils, “you gonna tell him what a pretty slut you are?”
you cry out, the pleasure building right to the precipice.
“you’re not, huh,” he huffs, “cause it’s just for me, isn’t it?”
he laughs while your moans get higher and shorter, “c’mon honey, say it.”
“just for you, oh shit, shiti’mcumming,” you say, delirious while you feel your orgasm wash over you, “j-just for you steve.”
“good girl,” he coos, the softest he’s spoken to you since he got you in the office. he spills over onto your stomach beneath your skirt, making sure to rub it in. he never lets you wash it off at the store, “let’s get you home, hm? i’ll add those points to your review.”
you get to eddie’s after steve drops you off, exhausted but glowing, basking in the relaxation of an orgasm well pulled out of you. eddie beams with his shining brown eyes while he comes to greet you, peppering kisses all over your face, "hi pretty girl."
“looks like you had a good shift, sweetheart,” he smiles, “how’d your review go? did you get a raise?”
“oh yeah,��� you smile, “really good one, too.”
“you really deserve it, babe. you work so hard,” he mumbles sweetly, a chaste kiss planted to your forehead, “i’m really proud of you.”
#steve harrington x you#steve harrington smut#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington#steve harrington fanfiction#eddie munson x you#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#stranger things#stranger things fanfction
478 notes
·
View notes
Text
I saw this tweet earlier today saying Karlie is now being shown under the cast of Miss Americana with (voice) beside her name. Note: shes the only one that says (voice). And considering that Karlie’s voice in CIWYW is THE Kaylor lore for the documentary… 👀
So, I checked myself and sure enough, she is!
I also checked the FAQ’s to see if just anyone (aka fans) can change or add someone and that doesn’t seem to be the case, especially with how widely used IMDb is in the industry.
(For some personal context, I’m a massive Kate McKinnon fan, so I saw the Ghostbusters 2016 release and the reactions from the dude bros in real time. Not one person changed anything there. But they did brigade the scoring with 1 star reviews before the movie even came out.)
Now, here’s something even more interesting. I copied the full cast IMDb link into the Wayback Machine website and the last capture was June 16th of this year. Karlie is not listed there.
Which means this was added some time between then and now… and guess what happened in the middle of that? Oh, yeah. Karlie showing up to the eras tour. 🤭
Here’s some videos that show why we 100% believe it’s Karlie’s voice:
252 notes
·
View notes
Text
𐐪♡︎₊˚ 𝐈 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐄𝐋𝐒𝐄 - Hwang Hyunjin x reader
𝗦𝗨𝗠𝗠𝗔𝗥𝗬 - Hyunjin's muscles were tense from the day's efforts, he deserved proper care. || 𝗣𝗔𝗜𝗥𝗜𝗡𝗚 - Hwang Hyunjin x reader || 𝗚𝗘𝗡𝗥𝗘 - established relationship, cute, soft, funny || 𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦 - can be read with idol and non-idol, purposeful suggestive insinuation! It doesn't contain anything explicit, just humor and a cute moment between couples. ;) || 𝗪𝗢𝗥𝗗𝗦 𝗖𝗢𝗨𝗡𝗧 - 1,05k || 𝗔/𝗡 - I have a lot of chapter ideas in my head, but since most of them involve a bit of anguish, I decided to post some cute ones first. English is not my first language! Have a good read, I hope you enjoy <3 - reviews of my writing are welcome ;)
⊹₊˚ʚ❛masterlist❜ɞ
A groan leaves Hyunjin's lips as he raises his arms, his right hand going against his left shoulder in an invalid attempt to ease his pain. His girlfriend watches him lie down on the living room couch while preparing snacks for them to watch movies together. She sighs displeased at the sight of her tired boyfriend.
It's been almost a month since Hyunjin has been coming home very late almost every day, busy with work that overwhelms him and keeps him busy until the early hours. Y/n admired the commitment he had to everything he did, always delivering the best results in his efforts. But when it started to affect him not only psychologically but also physically she had to talk to him.
He just explained with a tired gleam in his eyes that her hard work was paying off and that she didn't need to worry. Of course, she knew she would resist at first, but she couldn't help but worry about him and seeing him fidgeting on the living room couch on what was supposed to be their movie night, it made his bones ache and his heart squeeze in his chest.
Leaving what she was doing in the kitchen, Y/n cleaned the non-existent dirt from her hands by clapping them together before sitting down next to Hyunjin, He lifted her legs so she could settle next to him. "My love, do you want to go to sleep? You're tired and I promise I won't be upset-"
"No, no, no! Nothing like that, I finally arrived early this week and you already want to get rid of me?” His usual playful tone would make her laugh, but Y/n was more worried than anything else. Hyunjin gets up and wraps her in a hug, kissing the top of her head and speaking in a very low tone, his voice almost dragging in tiredness, "I promise I'm fine. I just want to spend time with the most beautiful girlfriend in the world." He laughs, kissing your cheek and then a simple kiss on your lips.
As if in a snap, an idea flashes in your head and a mischievous smile appears on your lips. Y/n quickly gets up, taking Hyunjin's hands as she pulls him towards the bedroom. Still laughing, Hyunjin looks at her confused and curious about where she wants to go. "Honey, what are you doing?" She lightly pushes him to sit on the bed while hovering over him with a loving, cheerful gaze. "Take off your shirt.”
Hyunjin's eyes widen as his voice catches in his throat. He watches her in surprise as Y/n walks towards the bathroom. "What?" He asks quietly, wondering if his tired mind made him hear wrong. "Take it off, I'll get the cream and be right back."
"What do you mean?" He stands up abruptly and feels pain in his back, making him lean lightly on the dresser next to him. His face started to heat up, his ears were red and he put his long blonde locks in front to cover them. His girlfriend enters the room with a smile and a slight expression of doubt as he is standing and clearly a little desperate. "What's wrong? Sit down. I'm sure you'll like it." She rests her hands on Hyunjin's shoulders, forcing him, albeit carefully, to sit on the bed again.
She snorts when she sees his resistance to taking off his shirt and walks around the bed, sitting behind him. She grabs the hem of his shirt, pulling it up. Hyunjin bites his bottom lip, still nervous, but leaves Y/n in control of the awkward situation. After taking it off, the girl ties his hair into a messy bun so that it is not visible from behind.
Hesitantly, Hyunjin waits for what will happen not before he feels something cold on his back, giving him a shiver, soon after feeling small, light hands massaging the area of his shoulders and neck, relief and embarrassment almost completely takes over him, not before being led to lie on his stomach so that he could facilitate the massage being distributed to his back.
He felt his muscles relax with the soft and sure touch of his girlfriend's hands, as if she knew the right spots where the pain presided in his limbs. Some time later, when his eyes were too heavy to keep open, he hears the soft sound of the lid of the jar of cream closing and a weight sinks beside him.
With his sleepy eyes already open, he finds his girlfriend looking at him affectionately with a relieved smile at finally seeing her boyfriend relaxed after days of tension and a lot of effort. He puts the shirt back on but not before pulling it up, where her head rests on his chest now covered by the thin fabric. She breathes in the scent of vanilla and medicinal cream that Hyunjin now exhales, closing her eyes as well, exhaustion finally hitting her.
"Did you like the massage?" She asks softly, hoping for a positive review from her boyfriend. With a low, sleepy laugh, Hyunjin kisses her on the forehead before speaking, "Thank you so much, I loved it. I really needed it, I think I feel a lot better now." He ponders for a moment before confessing quietly, "but I have to tell the truth, I thought it was something else. I'm sorry."
"Another thing? What do you mean" Y/n asks him, confused, but too tired to think about what it could be.
"Oh, my love… it's too embarrassing to say out loud."
A/N - I hope you enjoyed! It was a different style of chapter that I decided to write. I'll try to post the maknae line from the stray kids Headcanons that I posted a while ago! You can access the first part here. Leave your feedback, I will be very grateful <3 like × reblog!¡ original by:: @hyunjinners ^-^
#hyunjin x you#hwang hyunjin#skz#stray kids#skz x reader#hwang hyunjin x reader#hyunjin x reader#hyunjin#hyunjinners#stray kids fluff#stray kids hyunjin#fanfic#funny skz one shot#skz x stay#skz x you#skz x y/n#jinnie#hyunjinnie x reader#hwang x you#hwang x reader#hwang hyujin imagines#one shot hyunjin#fanfic skz#hyunjin fanfic#hwang hyunjin fanfic#hyunjin stray kids#koreanxreader#kpop x reader#jypartists#stray kids smut
233 notes
·
View notes
Text
watching movies w/ the group
the group x gn!reader (sfw)
summary: romantic headcanons of watching a movie with the members of the group.
requested?: no
a/n: i accidentally deleted this once while writing it entirely. second times the charm ig
isaacwhy
You originally pitched the idea of a movie night date to him. He didn't mind the idea and helped you pick something out from the catalogue you had.
You brought the party downstairs to the couch and TV, in which a few of the housemates came down occasionally throughout the movie for a couple minutes of watch time.
You generally stay cuddled into Isaac, sometimes going so far as to have him wrap his arms around you and hold you, since he's such a big guy.
Isaac is generally a quiet movie watcher, hardly ever talking if only ever to make a joke he thought hard about.
Isaac never falls asleep during movies. He's one of the few people around the house that won't.
Isaac watches a variety of movies, but won't pass up on a good romcom. An unexpected choice, but he loves things like that.
Softwilly
Nick saw a bunch of positive reviews on his twitter timeline and brought you over to see and asked, "you like it?"
Instead of going out to the big screen in the living room, the two of you stayed in his room and watched on his TV under the covers.
Nick also doesn't fall asleep hardly ever to movies. He hates missing out on the film.
Nick watches a lot of action movies. Films like Jason Bourne, Mission Impossible, etc. are right up his alley.
Nick also doesn't talk very often during movies, but he'll make small comments and interact with things you say.
He's a little subtler when it comes to cuddling, so you often just wrap your arms around his arm and put your head on his shoulder, he's very warm so it does wonders.
If anyone attempts to interrupt movie time in his room, they get something thrown at them. Nobody interrupts Nick's movie with his s/o.
BigT / Tanner
Tanner actually came running up to you with the idea to watch a movie, all giddy and excited to show you something new or something he already loved.
Tanner's a 50/50 split on watching things in the movie theater and watching things at home in the living room.
Therefore, Tanner is also a 50/50 split on whether or not he stays awake. He loves going to the theater because it's loud enough to keep him awake.
When it comes to Tanner's movie picks, he loves stupid teen dramas and old action flicks. Mean Girls and the Barbie movie are right up his alley, but so is Jaws.
Tanner often clings to you when cuddling during a movie. You'll have one arm wrapped around his shoulders but he'll have both arms clinging to your torso and pulling you in close.
Tanner likes having candies with him when he watches his movies. Red vines are his favorite movie snack.
Yumi
You originally came up with the idea of watching a movie, but by the time you were watching the film, Blake seemed giddier to watch something with you.
He brought you downstairs, but by the time you reached him at the couch, he was laid out and ready to go with all of his snacks. Because Yumi needs a shit ton of them for movies.
You wonder how he consistently eats them all, yet falls asleep before the first third of the movie is over EVERY time.
Worst part, you can't even cuddle with Blake. He hogs half of the couch single-handedly and takes all of the blankets for himself.
Blake also likes action movies, but he's a jack of all trades. He especially loves superhero movies. Though, he'll watch just about anything as long as you want to.
After the movie is over and Blake has woken up (whether it be that night or the next morning), he asks you if you liked the movie with a big ass grin on his face. It almost makes up for the fact that he was asleep the whole time. Almost.
Larry Croft
You often are the one that brings up the fact that you want to watch a movie to Larry, but almost exclusively Larry is the one that picks what you're watching.
The thing is, Larry has the weirdest movie picks. He will either put on a "so bad it's good" old horror flick that the two of you are laughing at the whole time, or you're watching some super serious, peak cinema film that drops your jaw.
Seriously, he's either looking up the top 50 worst-rated superhero movies or he's searching Letterboxd for new recommendations as to what's people's best-rated movies of all time.
Larry likes simple cuddles. Somewhat holding each other, a blanket on top of you, a really nice night.
Depending on what you're watching, Larry either talks and laughs the whole time or is quite silent, watching the movie intensely. It's kinda scary.
Even with these serious films, though, the most Larry can say about a movie after it's done is, "I liked it," or, "that was good".
His favorite movie is Parasite. Argue with the wall.
#the group chat#tgc#tgc x reader#larry croft x reader#larry croft#yumi x reader#yumi#bigt x reader#bigt#softwilly x reader#softwilly#isaacwhy x reader#isaacwhy#the group x reader
354 notes
·
View notes
Note
take this ask as a free ticket to freely hate on elemental (WE SUPPORT THE HATER GRIND WOOO)
ok so to preface. i have only seen elemental once. it was in theaters. i did NOT pay money to see it (my friend worked at the theater and we got in for free). we also saw it in 3D (would not recommend). i chugged a canned margarita beforehand (WOULD NOT RECOMMEND). i sobered up halfway through the movie and had a terrible time. needless to say i am not a fan of elemental (2023)
below is an edited version of the review/rant i sent to the group chat afterwards. BE WARNED IT'S REALLY LONG.
much later edit: personally i think i did a very bad job of critiquing this movie in this ask, and some of the opinions i expressed below are some pretty bad faith takes. i still think this movie is worthy of criticism, but not in this form and not from a guy who chugged a margarita before seeing it.
ok so the big point of discussion with elemental i've seen is usually around the allegory it uses to portray its themes of race, immigration, and prejudice. generally speaking, it's my opinion that trying to portray concepts of this weight and depth with an allegory or metaphor is already a terrible idea*. this isn't stuff that you can make simpler to understand by portraying minorities as fire people or predator animals or whatever great new idea disney is cooking up next, because this isn't stuff that can just be MADE simpler. if anything, allegory makes discussion about race more complicated because you have to explore why racism and prejudice, an inherently illogical belief, exists within said allegorical world. usually said fictional explanation just seems to justify prejudice - for example, the allegory in zootopia is straight up DANGEROUS to compare to real world racism because predators, aka zootopia's minorities, literally used to hunt and eat prey animals (the majority). with this in mind, elemental is already off to a bad start since disney has a bad history with allegories of this kind.
(*EDIT: this is gonna eat me alive if i don't clarify this because i realized too late that i spoke WAY too generally here. to clarify, i'm mostly talking about creating an entire allegorical world that lacks humans here - allegory can be a very powerful way to portray a human experience, and i don't want it to seem like i'm arguing that allegory and metaphor can't be used at all to create a powerful story about race and prejudice. for example, here's a short film that i really like called OverWeight. it's about losing one's culture and identity, and that theme is explored entirely through a bag of luggage. and it's really good! just want to clarify that i'm not advocating for only extreme realism and a lack of magic here, but instead against using huge, non-human allegorical worlds that replace these human experiences. thx bye)
thankfully, elemental never got as bad a zootopia in its portrayal of prejudice (at least in my opinion), but that's not saying much. it mostly just feels kinda confused - as far as i know, fire people are supposed to serve as a sort of "immigrant everyman" allegory which is. not how that works. immigrants of different races and ethnicities are going to have different struggles and experiences, and trying to boil everything down into four different elements that fit every kind of person under an allegorical umbrella is over complicating everything again through a veil of simplicity. it's almost like all of this would be fixed if they just told a story about real human people instead of turning them into water and fire people but i mean WHAT DO I FUCKING KNOW!!!!
oh also the worldbuilding of elemental is. kinda ass. to further explain: fire people are the only immigrant characters really explored in depth, and a good amount of the worldbuilding around them is actually pretty interesting. they have their own language that the characters speak every now and then, they have their own foods, customs, and culture that you can definitely tell a decent amount of thought was put into. which i liked! and then you learn that the country they come from is literally called Fire Land. just Fire Land. i doubled over when they said that because compared to everything else, it’s so out of left field and just. GAHH. it really reeks of "exec in the disney board room wanted to make part of the movie about prejudice easier to understand for The Kiddies" and i hate it. god.
this is consistent throughout the film, a lot of genuinely interesting worldbuilding is intermingled with surface level, bottom of the barrel ideas that just feel. so confusing. like a big theme the movie centers around is gentrification and how the city (called “Element City,” by the way (SCREAMS)) is not built with fire people in mind. i like this concept a lot and they show this in some interesting ways! a main conflict centers about how water is flooding ember's home, and there are multiple moments where high-action scenes are revolved around ember just navigating the city and trying to avoid water, something that most of the city’s residents wouldn’t have issue with. i thought that was really good! it was something that, surprisingly, was very relatable! and then the movie goes full zootopia and just like. has one of the characters call the fire girl a slur (the slur was “fireball”) which, reasonably makes ember mad, but then the character that did the slurring faces NO narrative repercussions for her actions because. ???????????????? i don't know??? you would think that a movie that turns issues of class and race into a fun cutesy little allegory would at least take the time to go "hey kids! let's not call minorities slurs" but instead the Slur Woman ends up helping ember and wade on their shitty little romantic sidequest and never once seems to express any remorse. cool! great!!!! WHO'S IDEA WAS THIS???????
by the way who fucking wrote this who put all these element puns in here. there are so many element puns in the movie i want to eat the writers of elemental. i’m mostly made of carbon but i do not walk around like “wow what a long workday we have fellow coworkers, i guess we have to CARBON diem, amirite?” please kill me
the varying quality in the worldbuilding and allegory of elemental just goes to show that this movie would have likely worked better if it focused on humans on earth rather than elements residing in a confusing elemental world - previous pixar works like bao and turning red show that pixar movies that focus on real experiences told from a human perspective with a magical realism twist can work really well! the allegory of elemental makes its characters and experiences feel distant, i spent more time trying to understand the world of the movie than the characters and their struggle. that could be a me problem, but the world was so goddamn broken in the first place that i felt like i COULDN’T focus on anything else. idk can we just tell like actual stories about actual marginalized people without turning them into The Trope of the Week i’m so tired
and by the way. i do not like the character designs in this movie one bit. ember looks like if you asked a middle schooler to design a fire woman. "ohhhhh we're pixar and we have to give all of our woman characters a pencil thin waist and big feminine eyes and skinny little legs" i want to explode.
ok we're getting into just batshit insane rant territory here now. so with that in mind I FUCKING HATE WADE. from the moment he appeared on that screen i knew i had it out for that motherfucker. the first thing he does is start crying over a situation that HE CAN SOLVE. he’s a city inspector that gets caught in the flood overtaking ember’s home, and the FIRST thing he does is start writing up violations he sees in the basement of ember’s family home. and then. he has the audacity to CRY ABOUT IT because it’s sooooooo tragic that her dad’s shop is going to be shut down because of HIM. the movie frames the water people as overly emotional because they cry alot (because they’re made out of water, of course!!! isn't that so funny!!!!!!!), but wade’s actions make it clear that those tears are FAKE because he does NOTHING to help ember in the first scene they meet. then, only after ember explains to him that there’s LITERALLY NO OTHER WAY her family can survive if the shop is shut down, does wade agree to help her out. kill me
oh btw wade being very emotional and crying a lot is NOT a bad thing and imo most modern stories need more emotional male characters. but. elemental treats wade's crying mostly as a running gag more than anything. which just kinda doubles around to being misogynistic again
wade continues to be a fucking nuisance to my psyche, even after leaving that theater. i did not enjoy the romance between ember and wade because i hated 50% of that duo. ember was ok i liked her enough bUT I WANTED TO KILL WADE. they try to spin him like “ohhhhh hes a little bit clumsy and goofy and a little bit dorky ahah don’t you like him?” as if that doesn’t describe most of the male love interests in every movie released after 1990. the two sit on a beach where ember is on the verge of a meltdown because they haven’t been able to save her dad’s shop, and one of the things wade says to comfort her is “i think you’re beautiful like this tho uwu” HUH????????? who tf is trying to make moves while someone is having an anxiety attack i SWEAR to god. i want to use wade as bong water i hate him so much
and then. ember gives him some glass that she sculpted to look like a flower she likes. it’s a nice sculpture. later in the movie, wade is like “hey ember i have something for you” and then just. gives her the sculpture back. and they treat it like he gave her a gift of his own like bro SHE gave that to YOU WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT????
the one act wade does for ember before the big climax revolves around taking her to see some underwater flowers - it’s a nice sequence, but it’s not a gift that’s exclusively from him. they have to get the cloud lady that called ember a slur to help make an underwater bubble to contain ember. fucking. come ONNNNN
wade dies in the climax of the movie. straight up he evaporates from heat and they’re like “awww he’s gone :(“ and they manage to bring him back but i really wish he stayed dead. would have been worth it if he died. but no. there's so. many weird little things in this movie that make my blood run a little too hot. can the genre of kindergarten racism movies please stop here. i am begging i can't do this again please
completely forgot to mention this at the beginning: my friends and i refer to elemental as "The Movie of All Time" because the concept of "element people" or general element-based characters is such a common story trope within young animators and storytellers (at least in our experiences). the number of pitches we've seen about "this character is made of water/has water abilities and this one's made of fire/has fire abilities and they need to find a way to work together/it's a love story!!!" is uncountable. we could not believe this movie was a real pixar production when it was first announced we thought it was a joke
in conclusion. i wish i had another canned margarita halfway through elemental. might have been bearable that way
#i. cannot stand this fucking movie dude.#like listen. support animation. support animators. im sure everyone worked really hard on this movie. BUT CAN WE NOT DO THIS AGAIN#fernasks
300 notes
·
View notes
Note
hii! could u headcanons of Vox and/or Alastor x Male! Reader who loves to write (poems, novels) and draws most of the time? like, maybe Vox/Alastor is distracted talking to someone else and or doing something and reader is in the back, drawing them?
This is such a good idea! Honestly, I have been meaning to write something for Vox but I love Alastor as well, so why not both?
RadioStatic (separate) with an artistic male! s/o
Alastor:
Alastor has a love for anything creative and artistic and the fact that his boyfriend shared a love for that too? Well, it makes him quite happy
He usually sits with you, sipping on his coffee as jazz plays in the background, enjoying the serenity of it all while you work on your writing or sketches
He also loves reading/reviewing your work. You seeking his advice feeds into his ego, ya know?
Alastor is a great person to go to for honest, yet constructive criticism
I mean, he is an asshole but not that much, ya know? (not me tryna defend this sociopath. The readers and I can change him I swear-)
He was surprised when he stumbled upon your sketchbook, opening to see quite a few drawings of himself.
Some featured him talking to people around the hotel and others captured him hosting his tamer broadcasts.
He'd tease you about it when he finds out, but deep down, he'd be appreciative that you took so much time and effort to draw his likeness
He'd quite sneakily take a page off to keep it for himself
He would advertise your work to Charlie or to other overlords he deemed worthy enough to bask in your expertise, only if you were comfy with it, of course.
If you are shy about showcasing your work to everyone, Alastor would be proud that he is the only one you feel comfortable showing your talents.
He is a total sweetheart behind closed doors. (Don't tell anyone!)
Vox:
He initially didn't care for you or your talents
But hooo boy, when he caught a glimpse at what you could do, you bet this man is all over you.
He likes watching you work when he's free
Since he's in the media biz, he provides surprisingly good critiques on your writing/art. He knows what sells and what doesn't after all.
If you are the shy kind, he'd try to convince you to broadcast your work for all his viewers to see but eventually, he'd settle on being one of the only people with the luxury of seeing your talents.
If you are comfy with showcasing your work to others, you bet he's spending the big bucks on making sure your talents are seen far and wide.
He'd even encourage you to write scripts for the movies he's making, only if you're absolutely ok with it
Vox's screen had glitched slightly when he stumbled upon your drawings of him.
His boyfriend...had drawn...him???
This man is lowkey tearing up, please hold him
The other Vees are kinda fed up with him just chattering on about you and your wonderful writing and drawing skills
You're his pride and joy, after all <3
A/N: Sooo sorry for the late response. I hope this is to your liking! :)
#hazbin hotel#alastor#alastor x reader#hazbin hotel alastor#vox hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel vox#vox#the vees#radiostatic#vox x reader
77 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
jennyacosta34
Coach Integral De Vida
affa-affa
affa💌
beberexhadaily-blog
Bebe Rexha Daily
pastacurls
Abraham Lincoln (real)
