mochamadeleines

[mochamadeleines]

they traumatized a man with big brown doe eyes and a slutty waist and they want me to be normal about it ?

[mochamadeleines]

Frost and Leather

The stranger waits for you to shut up, and you being so kind, do just that. He scans your face, and bobs his head. The bits of white were actually greys. And hes definitely old. The deep lines and creases in his face tell you a lot. Hes older, and has been through hell.

 “Me neither. Still shouldnt be out here by yourself.”

Your heart pounds loudly in your ears with each word that passes his lips. The southern twang hitting all the right consonants. The softening of his ‘T’s. His voice is soothing and somehow anxiety inducing at the same time. Maybe youre just anxious that it is soothing in the first place. You dont know this guy.

“But, its safe here.” You say, mentally slapping yourself when it comes out more meekly than it was supposed to be.

“But, its cold.” The stranger clarifies. You feel goosebumps blossom up your body. Fuck, it is cold.

tags!! - 18+ meet cute !! fluff! first chapter set in part one/s1 banter, playing in the snow, fix it fic if you squint HAHA,written with game joel in mind but works for hbo joel!! nsfw sneak peak for ch1, smut will be in ch2! reader is like ten years younger, fic mostly set between games/seasons! sort of slow burn but not really, first chapters like all flashback , teasing uhhh more tags later just read it bestie

Your face is melting. Youre melting. Its winter and youre in a sweater but youre scorching.

Joels someone who enjoys working with his hands, so it makes sense, to you, why he wouldnt immediately jump to fucking you. He wants to know what gets you ticking.

One hand unbuttons the front of your jeans, while the other slides up to your waist. You whimper feeling his fingers again. Its too much. Your hands need to be somewhere, anywhere-

Joels voice comes back to you, gruff and affectionate, close to your ear. “How do ya like it?”

“H-How do I like what?” You kick yourself for stammering. 

“Do you like it slow, like i've been doin’,” As if to demonstrate, he slides his middle finger down to the opening of your cunt, teasing the edges of it like it isnt gushing into his hand ever so often. His fingertips kiss your sensitive nub, just barely. “Or,” 

Somehow, through all the slipperyness, Joel swipes a few quick circles against your clit. You try not to let your knees buckle, but his free arm holds you more securely to his chest. 

“Joel- Joel-” You choke out. You can feel his dick, hard and alert through his jeans and against your back.

“Well?” 

You breathe, “Uh- Fast- Please.”

“Thas’ a good girl. Good job for sayin’ please.”

Joel adjusts you in his hold a bit, bucking his hips into your ass with a grunt and holding you up just enough that your boots are barely planted onto the ground. Your hands fly to hold onto his wrists.

If you went back and told your past self you and Joel were fucking in a public space she would laugh in your face.

Oh how things change.

When youre born into this world- This new world- one of the things you learn is how to fight to survive.

Sometimes the fighting isnt even using a gun, or your fists, but with your heart. Sometimes the most valuable thing you can do for someone is let them know you see them. Let them know you care.

And thats how you survived. By getting on peoples good sides. By getting them to trust you. Its a wearing your heart on your sleeve kind of thing. 

Obviously, it doesnt always work. People are assholes. People are monsters. Theyre backstabbers, theyre liars, theyre murderers, theyre thieves.

But you dont regret being as open as you are.

Its always them that do.

So when you sneak up on the FEDRA soldier outside the gates of the zone, cover his mouth with a rag soaked in chloroform, and swipe a blade across his adams apple, you dont regret it one bit. Collateral. You were supposed to escape the QZ in peace. Quietly. But your fuckass “friend” ratted you out and you barely managed to get down the fire escape before the soldiers broke your door down to get you. 

Thats another thing about being nice in this world. People fall in love easy if youre not out to get them. And if you have boobs. 

So after all of that, and you end up in Jackson, you dont know what to do with yourself.

You actually didnt know where to go, and for a second there you thought you were going to die in the woods until a group of men found you. Not ideal. But they brought you to the commune, fed you, and gave you warm clothes. Very ideal.

You spent the next few weeks of winter recovering from a nasty stab wound, and settling in. It wasnt hard at first. Everyone was friendly, people checked up on you. The head of the commune, Maria, gave you a nice haircut to make you feel all brand new. Shes soft spoken, helpful. Her husband, Tommy, is too. Though he provides you with more comic relief than anything.

Its the fourth week in the commune that gets to you. Its like a vacation that lasts too long. You get this horrible anxiety that things have just been too good and that, inevitably, something fucked up is going to happen. Youre in a constant state of feeling doomed.

You fall asleep with this ache in your chest, and wake up with your clothes soaked in sweat. In Fucking. Winter.

You walk around your bare room in your bare makeshift studio home, trying to steady your breathing. You need to get out. Away from these new clothes and this soft bed and these warm walls, and the safety of being inside. You pull your (new) coat on and (new) boots before heading out. 

Youre waddling over the snow, arms awkwardly hovering around your sides. Youre sure you look like a penguin. Sometimes you wish you were a lot older. You would have loved to see videos of penguins sliding on their bellies across the ice. Seeing them in books will never be as good.

The trek further into town is less than ideal with all the snow piling up, and the ice cold wind is starting to hurt your face. But its a good pain. Its keeping you distracted, but awake.

The feeling stays bubbling in the pit of your stomach, and crawls up and down your throat. Feels like the vertical version of one of those pendulum things you saw in school.

Everything looks so clean. No ones been out for a while, so the blankets of snow layered over the houses and streets are untouched. Like powdered sugar over donuts in those cooking magazines you loved to look at once upon a time.

You should go to one of the restaurants, see if they can make you a donut. Just one. A chocolate one. Maybe you could trade for it? You dont really have any skills to offer. You kind of just got here. Maybe you should ask if they could teach you?

Your waddling comes to slow stop, the last bits crunching under the stillness of your boots.

Someone else is out. This late? 

Around the corner, a few houses down, a man is sat on the first step of his porch, one leg arched up on a step while the other stretches, boot and pants catching some of the snowfall.

He has this intense look on his face with a shiny flask gripped in his hand. Maybe hes had a rough day. The stranger has a course beard and short hair, with little flakes of silver peeking through. Probably greys? He looks old. 

For some reason- For some fucking reason, you stay put, observing curiously. How could you not? Hes the only one out here besides you, and everyone else is way more well adjusted than you are. Theyre humbly appreciating the comfort of their beds and their blankets and…Youre out here. You cant sleep. Havent been able to sleep well for a few days now. He cant sleep either by the looks of it.

You watch him take a swig from the flask, then push himself up. Oh shit. Thats youre cue to leave. But the weather makes your escape less than ideal. Okay, it makes it fucked up.

You only manage to penguin away a few feet before eating shit. “Fuck!”

You grunt, long and exaggerated and tired and you fucking hate yourself. You try to push yourself up, and the sting of the snow under your hands pushes you to do it more quickly, which was fucking stupid because you eat shit again. 

Third times a charm, you remind yourself, and push yourself up one more time. 

“Probably shouldnt try that one again.” 

You still, and your next few movements are very slow. The pair of big boots still infront of your eyes.

“C’mere.” 

The owner of the boots suddenly has arms, and strong hands wrap around your forearms and pull you up to your feet. Of course its the random you saw sitting on his perch. You didnt expect anything else. Hes just…Different to look at up close. Tall.

The words start rolling off your tongue before you can properly rehearse them in your mind. “Im sorry- I didnt know anyone would be out here- I probably look crazy walking around here like some kind of- Uh- Anyways! I needed- I was out on a walk. I couldnt..Sleep”

The stranger waits for you to shut up, and you being so kind, do just that. He scans your face, and bobs his head. The bits of white were actually greys. And hes definitely old. The deep lines and creases in his face tell you a lot. Hes older, and has been through hell.

 “Me neither. Still shouldnt be out here by yourself.”

Your heart pounds loudly in your ears with each word that passes his lips. The southern twang hitting all the right consonants. The softening of his ‘T’s. His voice is soothing and somehow anxiety inducing at the same time. Maybe youre just anxious that it is soothing in the first place. You dont know this guy.

“But, its safe here.” You say, mentally slapping yourself when it comes out more meekly than it was supposed to be.

“But, its cold.” The stranger clarifies. You feel goosebumps blossom up your body. Fuck, it is cold.

You nod along, feeling a bit dumb. “Thanks for helping me up. Wouldve been stuck on the ground till morning.” You joke, smiling a little.

He doesnt laugh, but the edges of his eyes bunch up a little in amusement. “By mornin’, ya wouldve looked like a big lump of snow. Snowfall’s real heavy right now. You should head on back before you get sick.”

“Cant get sick if im wearing all the right gear.” You pat some of the snow off your coat, a little proud. Youre double layered.

“S’that what you think?”

“Yes. Yes?” 

He cocks his head to one side, eyes flickering down. “Youre not wearin’ gloves.”

Damn him. “Well,” You stuff your hands in your coat, feeling stubborn. “Youre not wearing them either.”

“Been keepin’ myself warm other ways.”

“Oh Yeah? You should share your method then.”

“Go home.” He emphasizes, voice thick and raspy. His voice is low like hes afraid of waking up the entire commune.

“I..I cant. I feel like I’m suffocating in there.” You confess. He doesnt seem very moved.

“Suffocatin’?”

“Yeah.”

“In your warm house? With a bed? Blankets?-” 

“Uhhhghhh. Why did I even bother saying anything.” You grumble, waddling past him, making sure you elbow him on the way. Fuck him, he doesnt get it. You should hurl some snow at him.

“Wait, wait- Don’t start walkin’ away so fast. Youll fall.”

You huff. “Must be fate if I do.”

“What did ya mean when you said that?”

“Said what? I say a lot of stuff.”

Unamused. “That you felt suffocated.”

“Oh now you wanna know. Made it sound like I was an ungrateful brat for a second there.” You stop, carefully turning towards him again. He watches you for a moment, breathing. He looks intense again, still not saying anything. The wind tickles your nose, and you sniffle.

You lick the dryness of your lips, trying to think about how to explain. “It..I felt like I was going stir crazy. I got here a few weeks ago, and I was okay but..Lately..” 

He watches you try to find the words, indecisive by the way youre looking around, like maybe the words are sitting on top of the houses, ready for you to spot them. “Its too quiet- Everyones safe. Nothing really happens, you know? And thats good but Im-Im not used to it.”

You waddle close to a building- The bar- And lean against the hard wall to stabilize yourself. He follows suit. 

“I fought since the day one. Now, theres nothing to fight. Sort of. The adjustment isnt easy. Im used to strangers trying to kill me. Makes me antsy.”

“Antsy?”

“Uh- Paranoid I mean. My first day here- I punched a guy in the face. I was just scared, you know?"

He nods, and you watch his hot breath cloud up in front of him as he stares ahead. “I get it.”

“How?” And the handsome stranger looks as indecisive as you probably did earlier trying to explain. 

Oh shit. Handsome? What are you thinking! Your eyes trace down to his hands- theyre big, rugged and worn with use. Does he build the houses? “Bein’ scared of new things.” 

“Yeah. Thats exactly it. I think my body is used to all the adrenaline, and its getting all crazy without it. Like when youre on drugs.”

“Drugs?” And he has the audacity to really look amused this time.

“What, you interested?”

He snorts, only faintly. “Jesus christ. Should just report you for that alone. There are kids around’ere.”

You grin, puffing into your palms to warm them up before stuffing them back into the pockets if your coat. “Last I checked, Jackson has no law enforcement.”

He looks over, dark eyes squinting at you under the lowlight of the street lamps. “Mm. Does not. But it could. Maybe you jus’ dont know it yet.”

“I think youre just trying to make me paranoid.”

“I think,” And he turns to you fully, blocking out the closest lamp, letting the light halo his silhouette. “Im tryin’ta send you home, little lady.”

He looks a bit too serious for your liking- Almost like he actually gives a shit. Or maybe he is telling the truth about there being secret spies running around. You shrink under his gaze, just a little.

Your eyes stay glued to your boots, and in tandem, his. He has way bigger feet than you do. Youre a little jealous. Itd be nice to be taller and stronger. His shoes are less worn out, like your own. Makes you reconsider that building job. Maybe he hasnt been here before. Or maybe you're overthinking and he just happens to have new boots.

His hand moves into your field of vision, holding something.

A pair of gloves.

“I really-”

“Take ‘em.”

The gloves, knitted and black taunt you with their possible warmth. You look up at his face, meeting his eyes, and he doesnt look like hell back down anytime soon, face all hard and stubborn.

Youre stubborn too.

Just not right now.

“Okay,” 

He relinquishes the gloves to you, hand opening up to let you grab them. You take a glove one by one, pulling them over your fingers. Its warm as hell and you feel a little more cozy and less like your hands will thaw off. Theyre way too big on you.

“Feelin’ better? Not too awkward?”

You get the urge to be snippy because he knows youre feeling better so why does he have to ask!

Thing is, when you look at his face, his head is tilted to one side and his brows are raised. Its a genuine question.

“..What about you? Arent you cold?”

“Nah. Theyre better off with you than me.”

“Mister-”

“Joel.” He corrects. Joel corrects.

“Joel, these are way too big for me.”

“What, cant handle things too big for ya?”

Why the fuck did he word it like that? “Feels awkward.” You open and close your hands, letting him watch how floppy they are. 

“Oh” Joel says, seemingly dumbfounded. “They really are too big.” 

“You didnt notice?”

He makes no comment.

You shift from one foot to the other, and take off one of the gloves. “Give me your hand.”

“Why?”

“Just do it.”

Joel hold a hand out, and you start sliding the glove onto his hand, first pulling it up his fingers. He sighs, somewhat annoyed.

“What the hell are you doin’.”

“Sharing the warmth. Work with me here.”

Joel, who huffs, wiggles around his fingers to get the glove on securely.

“Stop groaning and moaning about it. Youre being ungrateful.”  You pat the top of his hand, and Joel lets it fall to his side for a moment before crossing his arms, face tight.

“I’m groanin’ and moanin’ ? You skipped out on some good sleep to play in the snow.” 

“Play in the snow? I fell!”

“Looked like playin’ta me.” 

You want to beat him with a big mallet. You choose the next best option. You waddle a few feet from him.

“What’re you doin’?” He grunts.

You crouch down carefully, scooping some snow into your hands and smushing it between your palms. “Playin’ in the snow.” You mock, accent and all.

“Miss,-”

You pause to look up, correcting him with your name. Joels nostrils flare, a bit like a bull. If it was a grumpy old man. He says your name slow, letting it roll off his tongue like hes still getting used to the taste.

Your palm stings, but vengeance means more to you than the pain.

Joel idles in place, snow crunching around as he impatiently watches you work.

Satisfied, you stand up again, triumphant. 

“You’re goin’ta fall again-”

You hurl the snow ball at him like a baseball. Joel staggers back with a grunt when it hits his chest, smile lines settling into a deep frown.

“What is wrong with you-” Joel starts to say, tone flat, but youre quick with your next throw. 

“Too quiet around here!”

“Stop throwin’ snow at me!-”

“I need some real excitement!” Joels had enough, now walking towards you, all menacing. You cant help but grin. 

Another snow ball. “Come on! Snowball fight!”

Joel growls, hushed, setting an example of how loud you should be talking considering everyones asleep. “Its past midnight!-”

“Even better!” You were never one to disturb the peace, but this would be a good idea to get the energy out.

“Goddamnit-” 

You dont even think Joel himself wouldve ever imagined hed be having a snowball fight late into the night with some stranger. Its probably more wild than fighting a bloater. Those things are fucking nasty. Still, you watch him crouch down and scoop up a pile of snow, and throw it at you. Lands dead on your shoulder.

“Ow!-”

“Happy now?” And hes so dumb for thinking this is over. Its only the beginning.

“Ill be happy when I win.”

Joels grumbling to himself. “You cannot be serious-”

Your aims a little off, the snowball smacks him right in the face, then crumbles down on his shirt. Your hands fly to your mouth, eyes wide. Shit.

“Joel- Im so sorry- Are you okay?-”

Joel conjures up a fat ass snowball and launches it at you, full force. Its not fair his hands are so big. He has more room to make a bigger snowball. You wobble and fall right back into the snow.

You stare up at the sky, laying in your soon to be grave. There happen to be some stars out tonight, and they look rather pretty. Been a while since you appreciated the view.

You hear Joel crunch his way over, then watch him loom over you.

“How’s it feel to lose?”

“Feels cold.”

“Uh huh. Okay, c’mon now. And quit fallin’. One more time and Ill think youre doin’ it on purpose.” He holds his hand out- the one without the glove-, and you drag yourself up with it. Theyre surpisingly warm. Hard to let it go unnoticed with how freezing it is. 

“Thanks. Can I ask you something?”

Joels eyebrow arches up. “That depends.” 

“Why are you out so late.”

“Guess I couldnt sleep either.”

Youre busy swiping off the snow from your jeans. “Why?”

“I..” He stretches the vowel out, long enough to let you know he isnt sure if he wants to tell you.

“You-”

“Someone I care about is leavin’ tomorrow.”

“Oh. I see.”

“I was ‘sposed to go with ’er,” He adds, looking down at the snow. 

Joel doesnt say much more than that, and the silence between you stretches out for another mile.

You begin quietly, “Why arent you going with her anymore?”

“I dont think I can protect’er. Ive done.. A real bad job of doin’ so.”

“Did she say that?”

“Well, no-”

“So why do you think that?” You push further. Joel chews the inside of his cheek, narrowing his eyes.

“I always put’er in danger. I cant- keep her safe.”

“Mm.” You stroke your imaginary beard. One longer than Joels. Because you like to win. “I'm sure she wants to be with you just as much, Joel. I mean, you have protected her, yeah? That means things can always work out. You should go with. So she'll feel safe.”

You nod, more to yourself than Joel, satisfied with your own advice.

Joel just watches you, brows raised. 

“What?”

“Nothin’” He shrugs. 

“Why are you looking at me like that then?!”

“Im not lookin’ at you like anythin’.” 

“You so are!”

“Jus’ that.. I dunno. That was solid advice.”

“Solid? Solid?” You grumble. Hes teasing you. You fell on your ass four times and hes teasing you! “What? Like you could do better.”

“Jus’ sayin’.” The corner of his lips tip up and with his eyes, pleased. “Solid.”

“Riiiight.” 

You tell Joel about living in Atlanta, and he tells you a bit about Boston. You learn he doesnt like to talk much about himself, but you dont mind, only because hes good at being conversational. You dont need an entire biography. All Joel tells you he was born and raised in Texas, and you fumble around talking about having been allegedly born in a collapsed underground subway. You tell Joel how old you are, and he tells you how old he is. Somehow after all of that, Joel starts to tell you about how when he was a teenager, his dad would send him further down southern Texas during the summer to spend time with his Uncle who was a leather specialist.

You mimick Joel, leaning back against the wall with your arms crossed. “Hmm- Oh- You ever make shoes?”

“No, but-” Joel waggles a finger as he recalls the things him and his Uncle worked on. “We brought ‘em back to life, and lemme tell you,” He huffs, amused at the memory. “It was pretty much like makin’ em from scratch. Some of those boots were on their last leg.”

You grin, shaking your head. “So you guys only fixed the stuff?”

“Well,” Joel clears his raspy throat. “We did make really simple satchels and what not. But really, it was jus’ belts.”

“Oooh. Yeah you know, belts are pretty basic- Not saying that to knock down the practice. Just feel like its straightforward to make.”

Joel nods in agreement, a smirk gracing his lips. “Bit more complicated than that, but yeah. Actually, the belt I’m wearin’ right now, I made.”

“Oh yeah?”

“S’pretty old, though.”

You lift your jacket, looking down at your loose fit jeans. All the anxiety has destroyed your appetite, and you lost some weight.

“You should make another one. Well- You should teach me how to make one and also another. For you.”

Joel holds your eyes, and you kinda regret asking him. You need the belt, but you also want to… Want to… What exactly?

Spend time with him?

Hes probably married. Or something. Youre so lame. You dont care. Hes just some guy. Not a threat. Yet.

“Okay.” Joel says. Simple. Easy. You blink a few times.

“Tell ya what. You go deer huntin’ for the leather. Bring back lots of it. Then, we can make the belts.”

You smile, big, and you dont regret coming out one bit.

“Now run along. Cant shoot a deer if youre fallin’ asleep.”

You roll your eyes, playfully knocking into him. “Copy that.” You salute, and look down the direction you came. The snows nearly done covering your tracks. 

“See ya, Joel.”

“See ya.”

[mochamadeleines]

[mochamadeleines]

silly billies

[mochamadeleines]

guys im thinking about writing a joel fic where hes an unethical therapist........ i rly need to write again

[mochamadeleines]

YEAH, YOU DO

[mochamadeleines]

watching hbo tlou s2e1 im less than ten minutes in and i have very mixed feelings

[mochamadeleines]

name calling

[mochamadeleines]

furrynatural

[mochamadeleines]

what do you mean this wasn't what happened in season 6

[mochamadeleines]

Karaoke night

[mochamadeleines]

Confess my love? The thing that killed my friend Castiel from Supernatural?

[mochamadeleines]

This trend but Destiel

[mochamadeleines]

hey guys! i havent written fanfic in months and i reread this one and tell me why i literally ate . im thinking about actually writing again sooo we shall see

Sins, Two Through Four <3

Javi doesnt do good girls. Literally and figuratively.

Theyre nice, sure. Honeyed voices and beautiful eyes. But theyre just not for him. He prefers to stick with what he knows best. Messy, broken, women who are looking to distract themselves with him and his body. Sharp eyes topped with heavy eyeliner and eyeshadow. Women who know what to do with him.

Hes been soiled by the world, therefore belongs with others whove met the same fate. But, hes okay with that. (3.3k words)

tags!! 18+ javier peña x reader ! one shot! inoccent reader i guess?, no set era just vaguely somewhere in the late 80s early 90s :p, since its like entirely from his perspective hes only referred to as Javi and not javier sorry if that bothers u </3, corruption, religious allegories, steve and connie r there for five seconds, dubious I suppose cuz they be drinking, smut but its not like Good and its also there for about five second lolol.., p in v sex, blow jobs, rough sex, lots of depressing internal dialogue for javi Uhhhhhh, Sus thoughts abt causing harm to u I GUESS?? Toxic javi of course lol. kinda bad boy x good girl concept here but he wants to make u WORSE. mannn idk, some dom/sub dynamics if u squinttt

authors notes!! hi! Ok my first Javi fic LOOOOL been binging narcos and i had to take a break from my joel fic in the works to write this shit. I SPENT THE ENTIRE DAY PUMPING THIS OUT AHHHHH Beinf as that ive been working on it For One whole day it may not b my best work but i still had fun!! i kinda like the religious allegories Uhh IM NOT RELIGIOUS OR SCHOLARYLY OR ANYTHING so take whatever i reference with a grain of artsy salt.. enjoy!!!!

Javi doesnt do good girls. Literally and figuratively.

Theyre nice, sure. Honeyed voices and beautiful eyes. But theyre just not for him. He prefers to stick with what he knows best. Messy, broken, women who are looking to distract themselves with him and his body. Sharp eyes topped with heavy eyeliner and eyeshadow. Women who know what to do with him.

Hes been soiled by the world, therefore belongs with others whove met the same fate. But, hes okay with that. 

That brings him to now, at this crowded bar with Steve, later Connie. And you, he guesses. Hes never met you but hes heard of you. Tonight youre tagging along so thats that.

Anyways, Steve is updating him on his daughter and something else about enrolling her in private school but New York City is wildly expensive. Javis caught the eye of a pretty brunette further away from the bar hes sitting at. Shes in a black miniskirt begging to get taken off.

“Stop eye-fuckin’ her, Im talkin’ to you.”

“Relax, Im listening.” Javi takes another drag from his cigarette, tapping away the ash into a tray.”Youre a hard worker, Im sure you can find a way to move up and earn a little more for Olivias private schooling.”

Steve sighs, nursing his beer as he thinks. “Maybe. Just dont wanna be away from her more than i have to be.”

“Mm.”

The brunette beckons him over, and Javi is already sliding off the stool to meet her. “Ill be r-”

“Steve!” 

Connie is here, and so is her-

Friend? 

Youre wearing a baby blue slip with sheer white tights and a thin, white cardigan. Youre pretty. Its only when you introduce yourself and he meets your eyes that hes sure. Youre good. And he doesnt do good. Youre not his type, Javi decides. Lame.

He moves down a seat so you can sit next to Connie whos also next to Steve, and you seem nervous. He gets the feeling you dont come out to places like this a lot. Its too.. Grungy. People smoke inside and get crazy drunk and dance. Probably not your speed. Youre easy to read.

Steve, “Remind me again how you know each other?”

“From work! Shes a nurse.” Connie smiles at Steve first, and then to you. A nurse, of course. Because youre good and its practically oozing off of you. Maybe hes wrong. He hopes hes wrong. Only because youre so pretty, with pretty pink blush and lipgloss. 

You now, “I work in pediatrics.”

You work with children? Jesus christ.

You help people- help your community and take care of children. Javi had to watch children die, over and over, all too complicit each time it happens. No, youre not his type. Hes not into angels. Javi is far from holy and isnt about to desecrate you.

Then there's this feeling that starts to stir in his gut. An ugly feeling that wants to scratch through flesh and bone to get out.  He takes the final drag of his cigarette before smushing it into the ashtray. Why do you bother him so much? Maybe its because upon your arrival that pretty brunette he was eyeing disappeared. A real shame.

But youre here, and your breasts are softly spilling over the neckline of your dress, and while the length is enough to cover your ass when youre standing, the way it looks while youre sitting is a whole different story. Youre good eye candy. Glass half full thinking.

He clears his throat. “How long-” 

The bartender interrupts with a pearly smile. Hes asking if you want anything and hes obviously into you. Annoyingly so.

While youre ordering, Steve and Connie walk away to dance, and Connie stops by Javi, dipping her head to his ear. “Please, please dont fuck my friend.”

Ironic.

“Dont worry,” He leans his elbow on the counter, finishing the rest of his whiskey. “Shes not my type. Go have fun.”

You order three shots of vodka and apple juice. Its a little cute the way you hold your nose while you down each shot and chase it with some juice. Javis on his next glass of whiskey, watching how some of your drink rolls down your collar bone and into the valley of your breasts.

The sight of you is downright sinful. Its not fair.

“You need another shot or are you good now?”

Youre laughing, batting your hand dismissively. “No, No. Im good. I hate alcohol so I wanted to get this part over with and loosen up a little.”

“You dont have to drink it if you dont want to.”

“I like being drunk, just not drinking.”

“Fair enough.”

You fold your hands in your lap, and spin your seat side to side. “You were asking me something earlier?”

“How long have you been a nurse?”

“Three years now. I was working at a different hospital until recently. Thats how I met Connie.”

“Ah.”

“And you? What do you do?”

Javi lets the silence linger a bit. Fuck it. “Uh, CIA- but im retired now.”

“Oh- Yes! Right! Connie- She told me. Im sorry, you probably dont wanna talk about it.”

This is what makes his gums start itching. Most women- who are just as tragic as him- just bat their lashes and tell him its sexy he works for the government.

But you- Youre good. So you actually care about how hes feeling, and arent just trying to fuck him. Maybe that could change?- Ugh- No- no. Just no. Youll be ruined. Youd get dirty and thatd weigh him down like everything else does. Plus, Connie told him not to.

“Um. Have you done anything fun recently? Aside from all that?” Cute how you try to change the subject to spare his feelings.

Javi breaks open a new pack of cigarettes, slipping one out and putting it between his lips, then flicks his lighter on. Once, twice. A fifth time. No dice. The fucking thing ran out fluid. 

“Fuck,” He grumbles.

“Ah! Hold on!”

An eyebrow is raised.

You dig through your purse, and pull out a disposable lighter. You thumb the sparkwheel a couple times to get the flame going.

“Do you mind?”

Javi hums no and leans forward. You do too, cupping your hand over the flame in case it goes out. It lights, and he gets a good drag in.

“Thank you.”

“Youre welcome.” And youre smiling again and Javi wants to shake you around and see where youre hiding your halo. Hes good at getting information out of people. He could get you to confess.

“Any reason you carry around a lighter?”

“Uhh. For medicinal purposes.”

“Cheeky.”

You spin in your chair once, all the way around then wobble when you stop. Javi shoots his arm out to grab yours and keep you steady. 

“Careful.” 

“Thanks.” A short breath. “Still think I need another shot?”

Javi smirks. “Oh, definitely.”

And youre ordering two shots. Bold.

“To answer your question, I havent done any fun things, no- Oh actually, you know what? I went to the art museum the other day.”

“The MET?”

“Mhm.” 

“I went there a few months ago! Its beautiful isnt it? Do you have a favorite exhibit?”

“Probably European sculptures. The ones under the skylights were my favorite.”

“Yeah, those are beautiful.” You look off, dreamy. 

Youre a childrens nurse, youre bad at drinking, you like art, and Javier feels sick just sitting next to you. Theres so much ugly out there, hes sure youre aware, and yet youre as bright as ever infront of him. Youd probably fit right in with The Triumph of the Church. 

 Theres only one word that can describe that ugly feeling swirling in him. 

Envy. He wishes he could be as untouchable as you feel right now.

Theres a push and pull. He wants to taste your lips and roll up your dress and roughen you up, but he cant- he shouldnt. You dont deserve to get felt up by someone so unclean.

And yet,

Your beautiful smile, one that always reaches your eyes, and your precious laugh, and the way youve been nervously playing with your hands this entire time makes him want to break you. To rip those wings out and keep you from flying. 

Javi really is devilish.

“Okay, shot time!” You push one of the glasses towards him. 

“Im not taking a shot,” He takes another puff from the cigarette, then lets it rest on the ashtray.

“C’mon, Javier! Pleeeeeaaaase?” 

“Javi.” He emphasizes.

“Okay.” You nod, “Javi, please?”

“Fine.”

Alright, alright. It didnt take much, but to be fair ‘please’ and ‘Javi’ just sound so good together when you say it. 

Clink! 

You count to three, and together you take the shot. Javi only grimaces at the taste and youre scrambling for the juice after letting go of your nose. Youre so damn messy about it too. Javi gets the bartender to get some napkins.

“I think I'm done,” You cough.

“I think youre done too.” He smiles, “Do you normally spill your drinks on yourself?” 

You patiently hold still while Javi wipes down your mouth, then your chin, then your collarbone, careful to not get too close to your chest. He eyes the dainty necklace that carries your first name initial. 

“Noooo, it all just happens so fast, you know? Oh! And thank you for cleaning me up.” Youre smacking your lips together, “Ah shit, my gloss.” 

“Yeah, looks like you ate it all in the chaos.” He glances over at the four shot glasses, all stained.

You groan after digging through your purse. “Fuck, I left my compact at home.”

“Being a girl seems hard.”

“It is.” You sigh, albeit dramatic. “Ill be back.”

You slide off the stool and almost eat shit actually. At least Javi is there to catch you. Again. This might be a recurring theme tonight considering how many drinks you had. Must be a lightweight.

“Im sorry- Fuck, Im so sorry,” Youre laughing again, and it gets a laugh out of him too. Back on the stool you go.

“If you fall again Im not gonna catch you.”

“Thats okay, I wouldnt catch me either.” 

Javi thinks for a moment, curious. 

“I could, yknow, put the gloss on you. If you want.”

“Really? Youd do that?”

Your eyes are big and bright, lashes accentuated by your mascara. The way you look at him makes him feel oddly special. Its not sultry, or wanting. You have this natural allure to you. Angelic. That alone makes him want to touch you again. To yank you down from the clouds.

“Yeah, gimmie the gloss.”

You put it in his palm and lean towards him. Javi messes with the applicator, listening to the squish of product inside the tube. Seems easy enough.

Javi situates himself more comfortably in the chair, then holds your chin as he applies it. Youre well behaved the entire time, like he expected, except for the fact that you lost your balance again and gripped onto his thigh to keep you from falling. He clears his throat. There are blaring alarms in his head telling him to put distance between you both.

“Sorry.”

“Its alright. I dont mind.”

You swallow nervously. Any angel would be nervous if they were this close to an agent of hell. Get it? Agent?

Javi tucks away the fly aways first. The applicator swipes across your bottom lip, and hes squinting at the little sparkles in the gloss. Its a nice touch. His thumb rubs away any excess to keep it neat.

“Good job for not falling again.” 

“I had some help.” And youre both grinning now.

“Mkay, all done.” 

You smack your lips, nodding. “Thank you.”

This is the moment where Javi should let you go. He should excuse himself and find someone who isnt you, someone whos filthy just like him, and have them instead.

You tilt your head in his palm, letting him cradle your face.

But youre so pretty, and youre so sweet, and youre right there. 

That feeling from earlier is bubbling up again, the need to ruin you. You might look prettier covered in bite marks and sweat, with your hair messed up and your recently applied gloss all gone. Again. 

He shouldnt.

But then again, what are sinners even good for if not this? Converting others and carrying on the missions of the Devil himself, you know, the works. Fuck, its not like he wasnt doing it anyways. Shout out to the government.

Javi observes you, trying to make a decision. “Hey,” 

“Hiii.” 

“Can I take you home?” 

Its was easy, and you were so well behaved about it too. You did a little nervous yapping on the way to his apartment but it was cute. He learned you had a pet cat, and he tells you about the dog he grew up with. You talk about the shitty weather recently and Javi tells you he got rained on and slipped going up the stairs. It settles your nerves. Good. His phone keeps ringing in the glove compartment, but he just tells you to ignore it. Steve no doubt.

He makes sure to hold your hand on the way up to his apartment, giving it a squeeze before he lets go to open the door.

Javi’s heart never usually pounds this hard bringing any woman to his place, and its downright sinnister how excited he is. 

When the door closes, you both leave your shoes at the door. 

“Want anything? I dont have any apple juice but I can give you orange juice? Water if you want that instead?” 

“Orange juice sounds good.”

You begin to linger about his living room. Youre probably getting a feel for how impersonal it all is. Plain. His room is a bit more interesting, at least. 

Javi hands you the glass and shucks off his leather jacket, draping it over one of the kitchen chairs.

The first time he kisses you, is while walking through to the entrance of his bedroom. One hand gripping your hip and the other cradling the back of your head. He swallows ever whimper, every sigh, every squeak until the back of his knees hit the edge of the mattress. Javi pulls away, watching the string of spit snap and cling to your bottom lip.

“Are you good at following directions?”

“Yes-Yes. I am.” You choke out.

Now sat on the bed, “Great. On your knees then.” 

Tonight, youre going to pray. Youre going to sing.

You hesitate to get down, but do it with no complaints. Javi stretches over to the bedside table, grabbing a spare pack of cigarettes and lighter. 

Your eyes are on him, patiently waiting for another command. 

He continues to smoke at a leisurely pace, petting your head and caressing the apples of your cheeks. Youre leaning into his hand affectionately again.

Youre hit with some of the excess smoke he breathes out, coughing a bit. 

“Javi-”

“No more talking. Understand?”

A beat passes, and you nod again, only shuffling forward to rest your head on the inside of his thigh. Javi taps away the ash.

“Good girl.”

You stay down there for a little while, only squirming and wiggling to relieve the soreness settling into your knees. You dont talk, you dont whine, you dont go grabbing at him. You stay put because he didnt tell you to do anything else. Youre good. Angels are loyal to a fault.

When you do get a command, youre perking up like a dog. Cute. Javis telling you to take his cock out.

You go for it, and he tuts at you. “Do it slow.”

And so, youre doing it slowly now, pulling out the leather from under the buckle, opening it up and then popping open the button to his jeans. Your lips press into a thin line, looking up at him for reassurance.

“Go on.”

His zipper is pulled down at a snails pace, and your eyes widen at the lack of underwear. No surprise there. Javi sighs when you take him your hand. 

He lets you feel him up curiously, your thumb wisping over his flushed tip, smearing along the white beads gathering there. 

“Put it in your mouth.”

You stiffen, unsure. Javis reminded that youre good and you probably dont do this kind of thing a lot. 

“Its not hard, nena. Promise. Want me to teach you?”

Youre nodding now, more eagerly.

“Start by kissing it.”

Tentatively, you kiss starting from the bottom up- That much you know how to do- So its a good start. He sighs out the last bit of smoke and stretches over to the bedside again to put out the cigarette. 

After kissing, youre licking, and after licking, youre finally trying to swallow him. He groans, holding the back of your head and coaxing you to take more.

You gag, backing out to catch your breath then taking him in again.

“Jus’ like that- Fuck-”

And somehow the slight inexperience gives you the upperhand. You want to be good for him, and your  clumsy hands are doing as much as they can to make up for your lack of deep-throating capabilities.

Its when you suck harshly on the head that he hunches forward with a gasp. “Yeah-Yes.”

You do it again, and again, and hes so fucking close now but he stops you. Not yet.

“You did good.” Javi reassures you. “Get up.”

You wobble up onto your feet and hes pulling you into a kiss, hands exploring you all over with urgency. He needs it now, to do what he wanted to do at the bar when he first started talking to you. He needs to drag you down with him.

Javi pulls your cardigan off, and then your dress, and as more layers of your clothing come off the more he cant wait. Youre moaning under his tongue, only squirming when he nips at the flesh of your torso, leaving a trail of blossoming bruises in his wake. He tells you to lay down and you follow accordingly. 

Javi kisses up your stomach, and the junction between your neck and shoulder. You almost speak, almost. And it has his dick harder than he thought it could get. Youre still obeying. Fucking incredible.

He pulls your hips forward, making you whimper. A finger traces through your folds, and he practically gushes with pride just feeling what hes done to you so far. He hasnt even gotten to the best part.

“Talk to me,”

Youre babbling now, “K-Keep touching me- Dont stop. Please, Javi.” There it is again. ‘Please’ and ‘Javi’. He cant say no to someone whos been so reverent thus far.

He rewards you by tracing soft circles around your clit, watching the way your abdomen flexes at the pressure. The combination of nervousness and arousal has your thighs quaking around his forearm. You give in so easy. 

Javi tells you to lay on your stomach, Then, hes pressing kisses up your spine to soothe you. To sedate you. 

You practically crumble when his cock reaches all the way inside you. This is it. Hes going to rip those obnoxious fucking wings out of your back.

“Javi,” You wheeze, clawing at the sheets. His hand sits on the nape of your neck to keep you pinned down. Javi grunts, doubling forward over your back. Its almost like hes punishing your guts just because youre you. 

He grabs your wrists instead, pulling them behind your back and anchoring himself with one hand. The other curls into your hair, yanking your head up from the pillow you covered in drool. 

You sob, trembling when Javi buries himself to the hilt. Hes panting over your neck like a dog, licking and nipping there like one too.

“Thank you,” You sniffle, twisting your neck to get a glimpse of him. Your mascaras running down your face. Humble, even in the face of your own sacrilege. 

Javi shushes you with a sloppy kiss. Hell only accept your thanks when hes finally run you dry.

Tonight is the night you fell from grace. All because of him.

[mochamadeleines]

ogh...OHHHHH STARTS TOUCHIN MY pEENITS

brave girl

summary: you decide to try something new when you believe you're home alone. joke! you aren't home alone. at least joel is willing to help.

tags: 18+ smut, joel miller x afab!reader, dbf!joel (it's mentioned twice,) pillow humping, f!masturbation, sexual frustration, getting caught, crying, insecurity, anxious!reader, softdom!joel (kind of idk,) soft!joel, neighborly!joel, tooth rotting sweetness, clit rubbing, kind of size difference-y, praise, nicknames like baby, sweet girl, sweet one, brave girl, etc.

a/n: yayy i wrote a fic !!! this is VERY birthday girl adjacent btw so if you liked that you'll like this (and vice versa!)

wc: 2.2k (not beta read)

You know this isn’t how he wants you.

No guy willing to fuck around with his best friend’s daughter wants it to be like this, where she’s sniffling and crying into his shirt, pushing herself not to squirm away from him. The normal idea of this would be for him to meet you at a beach, or a barbecue, or something else summer-y and sexy, and then you’d fuck and then oops-wait-you’re-his-daughter!? That’s how this should be, right? 

But no, instead you’re in the midst of your semester off, and sure you had met Joel a few times over the holidays when you came down to visit your old man, but you didn’t think this would be happening. 

Joel shifts behind you, reminding you that the position you’re in sucks for him. You’ve heard him complain about his back before, and now the ridge of your twin size bedframe is digging into his spine. You wish you had the energy to move or help him, but your eyes are bleary and your body is frozen from anxiety, which is better than the embarrassment of earlier. Thinking about the humiliation… a flash of hot red runs up your neck at the memory.

You had been trying something different. After scrolling online for a little while on some forums, you made the decision to try humping your pillow. Penetrative sex wasn’t something that felt good for you, and rubbing your own clit gets boring after the fourth night in a row. So yes, you decided to desecrate the pillow you’d been frustratedly tossing and turning on for the past week. 

It had started out okay. And literally just okay is how you would describe the experience. After being excited at the idea all night last night, and into the morning before your dad left for work, you had basically jumped onto your pillow the second the door clicked shut. Your flimsy undies were supposed to work as some sort of extra friction, and they kind of did, but eventually you just resorted to rubbing yourself while you were hunched over your pillow. The friction just wasn’t right, your pillow was too soft and there was nothing to truly rub against so it just frustrated you more. Your anger peaked when you realized that you had been all excited for no reason and you quickly lost steam on the jerking-off part of your morning, resorting to huffing and puffing into the pillow which pissed you off so bad. 

But when he had found you, or rather, just opened the door, you were crying. 

For whatever reason, you felt embarrassed about the pillow situation. You’re how many years old and you can’t make yourself come? Fingering yourself feels “weird” so instead you humped a pillow? Shame quickly overtook your frustrated feelings and you ended up crying into your sheets, clit abandoned and fingers slightly wet. Maybe you just weren’t meant for something like this, maybe you just weren’t meant to have sex or be sexy. What kind of girl were you? Surely a broken one, surely a stupid one. Nothing could feel worse than this self-created humiliation. 

Except, obviously, Joel finding you. 

“Are you oka– woah,” is what he had said before slapping his free hand over his eyes. Joel was annoyingly quiet sometimes. Without his work boots clomping beneath him he was a quiet guy with quiet movements so long as he was on carpet, so you had no clue he was in your house. He wasn’t there last night, so what the hell was he doing there now?

A little yelp had left you as you tugged your shirt down and shoved your pillow back to its rightful spot on the bed in a flurry of movement. Blush pink had crawled onto your face and shameful red snuck up your spine, seizing your neck to stiffen your posture. 

“What are you doing here?” You had asked, a guilty lilt to your tone.

Joel was standing there, clearly also flustered, with his hand still over his eyes. 

“Your dad kept sayin’ he’d fix the cabinet in the upstairs bathroom but he didn’t,” Joel begins to explain, his hand dropping from your door knob. “He’s back at work now and I uh— It’s my day off so I figured I’d lend a hand. Then I heard you crying or uh, something.”

You decide to stare into the bottom corner of your room, beside Joel’s feet.

“I was crying.” It isn’t a lie. 

Joel nods, almost takes his hand off his eyes, then decides to keep it on. 

“Why?”

And you probably shouldn’t have answered honestly. You should not have told Joel that you were crying because you feel like your pussy is broken, or maybe that your brain’s broken, and that you haven’t come in weeks because you keep getting so in your head about it. But you did, and that wouldn’t have been so bad. Would it have been bad to vent to your dad’s friend about how you can’t bust a nut? Yes, always. But it’s worse because it’s Joel, Mr. Fix-it-Felix himself, who just has to help everyone. 

But you didn’t exactly say no when he offered.

So now, you’re here, with your body cradled between his thick thighs, the denim of his jeans scratching at your lower back while one of his arms cradles the upper part of it. Joel said it was fine for you to put all your weight on him, and so you did. Your head rests on his shoulder, eyes focused on the aging, freckled, skin of his neck. 

You had warned him you’d probably keep crying, but he said it was okay. 

“You bare under the shirt, baby?” Joel asks softly. Your head nods your answer, eyes burning. 

The shirt is draped between your thighs as your knees are propped up but apart. Joel’s hand comes down and hesitantly hovers there, fingers just brushing the fabric before cupping you through the fabric.

“Can I touch underneath?” He asks.

It takes you a second. Humiliation is still coursing up and down the lengths of your arms in little waves of tingles that tickle weirdly. Can Joel touch underneath? You barely know how okay you are when you’re touching yourself, can you really handle him doing that? 

“I don’t know,” you admit. 

His chest moves heavy underneath you, a steady beat of up and down that reminds you of those automatic baby rockers. Joel doesn’t move his hand from where it is on you, and he doesn’t look down at you either, thank God. The anxiety, the unsure tension in the room, it’s stunting you from getting what you need. You don’t know what you can and can’t handle, you don’t know your body anymore. Something about this situation, which is already twisted, is only made worse now. Both of you know that much, but Joel seems to know more.

“Do you want to know?” 

His voice is quiet still, a rumbling noise that still shudders with nervousness as he says want, like he knows you might say no. Joel is someone you can stand saying no to, you know he’s faced greater disappointments than not helping his best friend’s daughter get off. But, you don’t want to say no. You don’t want to say no, but you don’t want to say yes either. 

You just want it to happen. 

One of your hands, the one that was reached up to clutch onto his shoulder, trembles as it comes down to guide his hand underneath. Your shirt drapes still, allowing you some modesty, a shield from his eyes.

“‘M not shaved,” you say apologetically, your voice tight from tears. His hand is just sitting there, motionless, and that sense of frustration is back. You don't want this from him, if you wanted something still you'd go back to humping your pillow. 

Please, you want to say to him, please show me this can be good, that I can feel good still. Take me somewhere I can't.

He's too hesitant, gently cupping over the somewhat trimmed hairs. Deep down you know why he's hesitating, he feels bad about this, but you're already crying so what's the use in anxiety?

“Joel,” you say his name like a reminder, even though you're just as scared as he is. He responds quickly, nodding and saying “yeah, sorry,” before his hand is finally moving.

“M just gonna start like this, okay sweetie?” His voice swims in your ears, quiet as you rest yourself against his chest again. Joel's movements are slow, practiced, as he rubs just over your lips, applying pressure to your clit in a gentle way. Everything he does is him testing the waters, making sure it's still okay. 

“Are you scared?” he asks. 

And no, not exactly. You aren't scared of anything in particular, you're just overwhelmed, but that's a lot of words and you can't find the words to put together a sentence right now. You hum something similar to a “kinda” and luckily he gets it.

Finally, he sinks a finger deep enough to actually feel how needy you are. A puff of breath leaves him, and maybe he’s surprised at how wet you are considering how scared you are. Another weird noise escapes your chest as you push your face higher, nose to his adams apple as you try to disappear beneath his jaw. Slowly, he begins to rub over your clit. It’s only one finger, a little overwhelming, and you squirm at the pressure. “Too much,” you complain. 

Joel, thankfully, doesn’t seem insulted by this, and instead eases up with the pressure. Your knees start to close together subconsciously, everything in you feels so conflicted and you don’t know if having Joel Miller help you was the best idea. But then he starts talking.

“Don’t want you to focus on my hands, sweet one,” he says. It isn’t self deprecating, but more of a suggestion. “Want you to focus on me, okay? It’s just me.”

Your eyes, which had previously been squeezed shut, open. You can see the freckled, tan, skin of his neck. It’s bumpy, and you can see little hairs that stray from his normal beard pattern. There’s a birthmark just below his collarbone that you’ve seen before when his shirt’s neckline slides the wrong way, so you must be tugging on his clothes in some way. You focus on that spot as his voice continues to lull your mind.

“It’s just me, right? Just Joel, you know me, hm?” He asks. It’s as if he wants to keep you in the moment, to keep you as awake as he seems to be. Joel’s head settles down more, his bristled chin resting on the top of your head as his hand works a little more intensely. 

You barely even recognize that you’re still crying as you let out a soft “uh-huh.” Big, hot, tears are rolling down your cheeks as you cling to him. His wrist is warm as it rests between your legs, his hand even warmer, but you try and listen to his words. 

“Yeah, it’s just Joel. I’m just helpin’ you for a bit, okay baby? You gonna let me help you?” It’s working. You can feel your stomach tightening, and even as tears still spill out, you’re nodding yes. If there were any words you could get out of your mouth you’d tell him yes, yes please help me, but unfortunately nothing will come out. Joel isn’t doing anything specifically technical with his movements here, just rubbing your clit slowly, using any of the wetness that leaks out of you to his advantage as he talks in a smooth tone. 

“You’re doing so good, so perfect. You just keep focusin’ on me, alright? I’m right here, I’m holdin’ ya,” he reminds you. Your eyes shut for a moment again, and your hands that were flopped beneath his bent knees are now gripping at your sheets. He notices you squirming and tilts his head down so his cheek rests on your head now. Against your back is his chest, his heart thumping beneath his skin at a steady beat. If he is hard, you don’t know, but you don’t care either. He’s helping you right now, this is about you. It’s about you, tucked under all his warm, soft, body. It’s about how he feels so safe for no reason, and how he’s encouraging this. It’s about how he’s fine with you crying, that he isn’t pulling away or asking if you’re okay. Joel knows it’s okay because he’s making it so, he’s grounding you with words and setting fire with his hands. “Just me and you, me and my brave girl,” he says. 

It’s probably the softest orgasm you’ve ever been brought to. A choking feeling crawls up your chest, choking your noises while rushes of blood bloom up your body to your head. It leaves you dizzy, breathless, boneless, and nearly deaf. You can barely hear what Joel is saying, but he’s definitely realized that he’s helped you plenty.  Your chest is heaving as he presses a kiss to your scalp, mumbling words about how brave you are, how pleased he is. It’s the first real orgasm you’ve had in a really long time, and maybe he knows, because he doesn’t make you move at all. Joel lets you lay back on him, removes his hand and adjusts your shirt so you’re covered again.

“That’s a brave girl now,” he murmurs softly, “you just rest now.”

[mochamadeleines]

Spider-fist is ready to punch!

[mochamadeleines]

aoi mukouuuuu ૮₍ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ₎ა