#I might draw more of this. I want to anyways

[authorhjk1]

Girlfriend

(SuA X Male Reader) Word count: 2966 words

You watch with open eyes. SuA's hands open your belt agonizingly slow. You let out a shakey breath as she looks up at you. That blonde hair looks good on her and you have to hold yourself back from trying to touch it.

"You don't have to do this. It was just a joke."

"A joke?"

SuA chuckles as she pulls down your pants and exposes your boxers.

The two of you are in the living room of Dreamcatcher's dorm. You're sitting on their couch, while SuA is kneeling in front of you.

"I don't consider this a joke."

She gently places her hand flat on your underwear, now able to feel your cock against her palm through the thin material.

"I was going to set this rule for myself anyway."

She continues to carefully rub your cock while looking up at you.

"I'm going to give my boyfriend head every single day. No exceptions."

You hear your breath hitch and SuA smirks.

"You like the idea? You want me to suck your cock every day?"

You quickly nod, slowly falling into her trance.

"Good boy."

She murmurs as she leans down to give your clothed cock a kiss on the tip. Goosebumps build on your skin as you feel her carefully nudging your cock with her nose, her hands now flat on your thighs.

"Of course..."

SuA interrupts herself to place her tongue on your boxers, right on your tip, before she drags it slowly towards the base.

"You can ask for more if you want them."

She now backs up again, letting her tongue move from your base to your tip. You almost let out a needy whine as you try to control yourself. At this pace you're afraid she's going to make you bust inside your boxers.

"One a day is just the bare minimum I set for myself."

You feel SuA's fingers slowly drawing patterns on your naked thighs as she now delivers small pecks to your clothed cock.

"So, this is just-just purely hypothetic-hypothetical..."

You take a deep breath, to keep it together. But you're afraid her answer to your incoming question might make you cum without her even needing to touch you.

"...if I'd ask you to give me a blowjob ten times a day..."

The pitch in your voice rises as SuA wraps her lips around the tip of your clothed cock. She doesn't let you finish your question by letting her tongue swirl around it. You have to close your eyes. You have to think of something else.

When she finally stops, she looks back up at you as you open your eyes again.

"If you want ten, you can have ten."

Her smile is both assuring and teasing at the same time. As if she's saying that she'd love to blow you ten times a day, but also knew you were gonna ask her for more.

"Are you serious?"

You ask in disbelief, still unable to properly comprehend what SuA is saying.

"Of course, honey."

Her hands still rest on your thigh, so now she leans forward, close toward the waistband of your boxers.

"Anytime, anywhere."

Before you can react, she bites into your waistband and starts to tug at your boxers. You instinctively lift your hips off the couch and SuA uses her teeth to take your underwear off completely.

Once she freed your cock, she wraps both hands around it. Your girlfriend seems to admire your dick as she gives you a couple of gentle strokes.

"I just want you to feel good, baby. But I have to admit it's not the only reason."

SuA places her tongue on your tip and slowly drags it down to your base again. Without your boxers in the way, it makes your head spin.

"I just love sucking your cock. It's so delicious."

She moves her tongue along your dick back up to your tip. While one hand now strokes your base, the other tugs a strand of blonde hair behind her ear.

"I genuinely wouldn't mind giving you head ten times a day."

And with that, SuA finally tales your cock into her mouth. Her wet lips close around your tip and you feel yourself sinking further into the couch. Her tongue teases your tip by gently flicking against it, before swirling around your head. Then she starts to take more. Your head falls back as her lips glide down your shaft. You feel her tongue pressed against the underside of your length while the hand that is not holding your cock is now gently cupping your balls.

"SuA..."

You groan her name, which only urges her on more. When her lips finally meet her hand, you feel your tip just reaching the back of her mouth. Just a little more and she would take you down her throat. The thought of being inside her throat is enough for you to shift around. Silently praying that SuA will go all out.

But instead of moving her hand out of the way and taking you in deeper, she lifts her head off your cock, her lips gliding along your length. Once her mouth leaves your cock, she looks up at you, while she continues to stroke your base.

"You just taste so good. I don't know if I can control myself."

Without giving you time to answer, SuA dives back in. This time a little more aggressive. Her lips wrap around your cock once more and soon her head is bobbing up and down your shaft. Her lips are tightly sealed around you, while her tongue is pressed flat against the underside of your cock. Whenever you are about to hit the back of her mouth your breath hitches, which SuA definitely notices. She moves her hand from her balls to your thigh, gently caressing it as if she's trying to calm you down.

As your girlfriend picks up the pace a little, your head rolls back and you melt further into the couch. You can't believe how good she is at giving head. The prospect of feeling like this every day makes goosebumps appear all over your skin. You wonder what life would be like if you woke up like this every morning. Your just open your eyes and there she is, lying between your legs and sucking you off.

"SuA..."

You groan her name again and definitely not for the last time. You swear you can almost feel her smile around your cock. With your right hand you reach out to her. Some of her hair has fallen in front of her face and so you push back the blonde strands behind her ear. You keep your hand on the side of her face, almost as if you're guiding her movements. But you both know who's in control here. SuA has the power to do with you what ever she wants. Her own hand is now reaching upwards, diving underneath your shirt and exploring the rest of your body.

After a while, she retreats once more, letting your cock escape her mouth. It's now slick with her spit and with a satisfied grin she looks up at you.

"Do you like that? Do you want me to continue sucking your cock?"

You quickly nod your head, which makes SuA laugh.

"How bad do you want mouth, baby? Do you want to feel all over your dick?"

"Yes. Oh god, SuA..."

You groan as she continues to stroke your cock while she talks.

"I love it when you say my name while my mouth is stuffed with your cock. I want to take care of you. Make you moan, whine, beg for my mouth."

It's a mixture of prophecy and empty dirty talk. The thought of you begging SuA to suck your cock turns on both of you.

"Your cock looks so good when it's all wet with my spit. And it feels so good, doesn't it?"

"Yes...Yes, it does."

SuA smiles and then you watch her gathering some saliva in her mouth. She spits on your cock, her warm saliva joining the spit from before. Her fingers immediately start to spread it everywhere.

"Mmmmh. It just looks so tasty."

She hums in satisfaction, her eyes focused on your cock.

Your breath hitches when you feel her letting go of your dick. Both of her hands rest on your thighs and your heartbeat quickens. SuA looks up at you one more time, a knowing smile playing around her lips. She can tell how desperate you are by now and she hesitates just a second longer, before she finally wraps her lips around your cock once more. This time she glides along your length hands free. Her lips travel further and further. She reaches the point she stopped at before, but now she keeps going.

"Oh fuck."

You groan as you feel your swollen tip push against the back of her mouth until it finds her throat passage. It's a soft squishiness. First it's hard, then softer. And then you reach her tighter, more sensitive passage which is her throat.

"SuA..."

This time it's more whine than groan. She continues to take more of you down your throat. You feel her wet tightness around you. Then she stops, right before your base. You barely have the brain capacity to wonder if she is playing with you or if she genuinely has reached her limit. Your head spins either way and you have to hold onto the couch with both hands.

"Oh fuck..."

You feel her sneaky little tongue move against your cock, while SuA still doesn't move back and forth. You hear her breathing through her nose. Your fingers can't hold it anymore. You have to get rid of that relentless pleasure somehow. Your nails drag across the couch, which is almost the only sounds in the room. For just a second her head moves and she lets out a quick gag. You guess she had to laugh at your antics and lost control for a split second. But that gag made her throat tighten even more around your cock. You're breathing heavily by now, closing your eyes while you try to start to fight off your building orgasm.

Finally SuA retreats again. Slow. Painfully slow. Her lips and her tongue are still glued to your shaft as she moves back. She reveals inch after inch of your saliva drenched cock, until she finally lets it fall out of her mouth. Your tip is whiter than usual, probably due to it being in her throat.

"That was so hot."

She says while wiping some of her spit off her chin.

"If you need something to hold onto you can hold my head or grab my hair."

SuA's cheeky comment almost makes you groan in response. Her smirk tells you taht she knows what affect her words have on you.

Then, she lowers her head once more. Her lips glide along your length. She quickly reaches her last point again. Your tip brushes against the back of her mouth, until it finds her throat. You feel her forcing herself further down. SuA takes more of you and then she suddenly gags. The feeling only speeds up your orgasm's build up. But it also forces you back out of her throat. Instead of giving up, SuA dives right back in. She takes you deeper, but more slowly. You hear her choke on her own spit.

"Oh god..."

Your eyes roll to the back of your head and you instinctively reach outh to grab a fistful of her hair. The blonde strands feel like silk between your fingers. It feels amazing, but it's nothing compared to her throat squeezing around the upper part of your cock.

After a few more gags, SuA's lips eventually reach your base. Once more she stays in place. She doesn't move. You hear her breath through her nose, just like before. And once again, her tongue starts to move. She tries to open her mouth even further and you're afraid she is going to break her jaw. But then her tongue slips out of her mouth, almost like she's a snake. Its end brushes against your balls. It's not exactly the feeling of it, but more the act it's that melts your brain. You can't believe your girlfriend is deepthroating your entire cock while her tongue is licking your nuts.

"Oh good...."

You can't stop groaning and your second hand joins the first. You're barely aware that you're pushing her head down, but you expect her to tap your thigh if she can't take it anymore. You feel your orgasm building and building. You know it isn't far off anymore. Your body becomes weak and soon SuA's head pushes against your hands. But instead of entirely retreating again, she only lifts her head, until your tip threatens to slip out of her throat. Then she lowers herself again, until she reaches your base, letting out a gag here and there. Soon she has settled into a steady rhythm. Up and down. Up and down. Your cock is being squeezed tightly by her warm, wet throat. You feel her nails dig into your thighs, but your hands are only loosely holding onto her hair. You don't even have the strength anymore to push her head down.

As she continues to deepthroat you, you feel a familiar knot building in your stomach. Unfortunately, you won't be able to hold on for much longer. Your cock hardens just a little more, which makes SuA moan around your cock in appreciation. The hum of her moan sends shivers through your cock and into your spine. You have to hold yourself back from thrusting further into her throat.

"SuA..."

You groan, trying to warn her.

She listens after going up and down one last time. Then she begins to retreat fully. You let out another groan as you see your so it covered cock. Strings of saliva connect the insides of her mouth with your shaft, until it finally falls out of her mouth again. Your tip is white once more. When she looks up at you her eyes are glistening. A single tear is rolling down her cheek.

"Oh my god, SuA....I'm about to cum..."

She smiles at you, almost devilishly. She wraps her hand around your wet cock once more.

"Where do you want to cum, baby?"

Her voice is slightly hoarse, but that only turns you on even more.

You honestly can't decide for a moment. You're tempted to ruin her hair. Or cum dow her throat. But the way she smiles at you, occasionally glancing at your cock, while she strokes it finally makes you decide.

"Your face."

You manage to say and you watch how SuA's smile grows wider.

"You want to cum on my face, baby?"

You nod, unable to reply when her hand picks up the pace. You can even hear it, due to all of the saliva coating your cock. That wet sound as her fingers move up and down.

"You want to paint it? Make it look pretty?"

You let out a deep, long sigh. You feel your legs shaking a little.

"Or do you want to ruin it? Cover it in your cum?"

You wish you could tell her that her face cannot be ruined. That she'll always look beautiful. No matter how heavy her face is covered in cum. But you can't. Your incoming orgasm prevents you from speaking. But SuA's eyes are locked on yours and it almost feels like she can tell what you want to say.

"Give it to me, baby. Let go of your cum. Don't hold back."

Her pace quickens once more. You feel your cock pulsating under her fingers.

"Oh god..."

You let out a loud groan. Your loudest so far. You force yourself to watch as SuA closes her mouth, tightly pressing her lips together. You wanted to cum on her face, so she makes sure that that's what's gonna happen. Can't be waisting anything for her to taste yet.

Your cum hits her face in several ropes, one after another. It paints her nose, one of her closed eyes and her lips. A particularly long shot even stains her blonde hair. Your whole body is shaking as you watch your girlfriend taking your cum on her face. Like you predicted, she looks so beautiful.

Once you're completely spent, SuA carefully opens her eyes. The cum that landed on her eyelid is now making it's way down her cheek on the path her tear made earlier. She opens her mouth and licks her lips, cleaning them of your cum. SuA moans in satisfaction and then leans forward to capture your tip with her mouth once more.

You groan as you feel her cleaning your cock. You reach out to hold her hair back. You flinch occasionally, your cock now a little too sensitive for her tongue. You expect her to stop, but SuA continues on and on. Only after a minute or two do you realize that SuA has basically started round 2 by herself.

"SuA, what are you doing? You don't have to..."

You get interrupted by your own groan.

Then she finally lets go off your cock.

"You were asking for 10 blowjobs earlier."

You're about to explain to her that it was just a theoretical question. But her smirk makes you realize that she's interpreting your words differently on purpose.

"And it's already 5 pm. It's gonna be tight."

Her emphasis on the word tight doesn't go unnoticed. Your breath hitches involuntarily.

"But I'm sure we will make it."

SuA reaches out with her free hand and pushes you back against the backrest.

"Just lean back and enjoy yourself, baby."

[lowrisemiller]

warm enough ⋆₊˚ ࿔⋆

pre-canon qz!joel miller x fem!reader | masterlist |

1.7k words | joel miller before ellie so he’s distant but not too bad, fwb to lovers, kissing, unprotected piv sex. — still trying to cope with his death:,((

summary- in the Boston QZ, survival comes first—but when you’re sharing smokes, running jobs, and ending up in each other’s beds more often than not, lines blur fast. Joel’s older, guarded, and dead set on keeping it casual. She’s younger yeah, but tired of pretending it’s nothing. It’s not love. Not exactly. But it’s warm.

And sometimes, that’s enough.

It wasn’t supposed to happen again.

It never does.

But somehow you’d ended up tangled in his sheets anyway, your knees brushing his under the thin blanket, the air between your bodies too warm, too full. It was always like this—frenzied, wordless, fleeting. A way to survive the way the world pressed down on your chest like a loaded weapon.

But this time was different.

You hadn’t woken up alone.

Joel Miller, the man who never stayed, was still there.

You stirred first. Sunlight cut through the cracks in the boarded-up window, slicing across his bare shoulder. You studied the soft line of his jaw, the way his brows stayed furrowed even in sleep. Like he couldn’t let go of whatever ghosts lived behind his eyes, even when unconscious.

You turned over, pulling the blanket up. Hoping maybe he’d shift and mumble something. Maybe you’d pretend it didn’t feel real. But then—

Footsteps. The bed dipped. Joel sat up and rubbed a hand down his face.

He didn’t look at you.

Instead, he stood, tugged on his shirt, and wandered into the kitchen—if it could be called that. A hot plate. A kettle. Cans lined up like trophies. You listened to him move, the scrape of the metal lid opening, the glug of water.

And then… coffee.

You blinked.

Joel never made coffee after. Hell, he never let you stay long enough to see what he did after.

When he came back in, he was holding two chipped mugs. He didn’t meet your eyes as he handed you one. “Still hot,” he muttered.

You sat up, blinking at him like he’d handed you a map out of this place. “You made two.”

“Yeah.”

Silence.

You cupped the mug in both hands, let the heat seep into your fingers. It smelled like burned grounds and survival. But something about it settled your heart a little.

Joel sat back on the edge of the bed, hunched forward, watching the floor like it had something to say.

You broke the quiet. “Feels kinda normal, huh?”

His shoulders tensed.

He didn’t answer for a long beat. Then:

“Don’t get used to it.”

His voice had been soft, but it cut through the quiet like a blade. Not sharp enough to draw blood—just enough to remind you where the lines were.

You didn’t say anything. Just wrapped your hands tighter around the chipped mug and took a slow sip. Bitter. Burned. Warm.

He stood across from you, back against the wall, arms crossed over his chest like he was bracing for something.

Maybe your silence.

Maybe the truth.

You glanced at him over the rim of your cup. His gaze was fixed on the space behind you—somewhere over your shoulder, like if he looked you in the eye he might not be able to keep the mask on.

So you tried to keep it simple. “It was good coffee.”

That earned you a flicker of something—wryness, maybe. A tiny twitch of his mouth. “Tastes like shit.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, “but it’s warm.”

Another long silence passed between you. But it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was… full. Like both of you were waiting for something else to rise to the surface.

You caught yourself wishing the moment would stretch out a little longer. That he’d lean back against the counter like he belonged there. That he’d ask you to stay—not just to kill time until the next run, but because he wanted you there.

But Joel didn’t ask for things.

And you didn’t know how to ask either.

So you drained the rest of your coffee, set the mug down gently on the counter, and stepped back toward the door. Your boots scuffed against the worn floorboards.

“I should go,” you said, quiet.

Joel nodded. Still not looking at you.

Your fingers brushed the doorknob, cool metal under your skin. You hesitated.

“Thanks for… letting me stay.”

He didn’t say anything at first. Then, just as your hand started to turn the knob—

“Didn’t mind it.”

The words came out like they surprised him too. You turned halfway, your heart catching.

Joel’s eyes met yours, and for once, he didn’t look away.

“Didn’t mind you bein’ here,” he said again, slower this time. Like maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing to admit.

You smiled, small and warm. “Okay.”

Then you opened the door and left.

But your chest felt lighter.

A Few Days Later

The next few days are back to normal.

At least, mostly.

You go on a few jobs—runners, small deliveries. Joel doesn’t say much, but he sticks close. Always just behind your shoulder, scanning rooftops, watching your back like it’s second nature.

You try not to read into it.

But every time your eyes meet across a crowded alley, or in the back room of Tess’s hideout, there’s a flicker. A pause.

Like maybe something changed that morning, and neither of you knows what to do with it.

You hadn’t meant to end up there again.

You told yourself it was just muscle memory—your boots turning corners like they knew the way. That the pull in your chest wasn’t about him. That the ache wasn’t for him.

But the lights were out in your building. Your neighbor was crying again. And your bed was too cold, too quiet.

So you stood outside Joel’s door for almost a full minute, heart knocking against your ribs, before you lifted your hand.

You didn’t even knock.

He opened it before you could.

Joel stood there in a threadbare shirt and jeans, barefoot, with sleep-soft eyes and stubble smudged along his jaw. His brows furrowed, but not with surprise.

Like he’d been waiting.

A sixth sense.

“You alright?” he asked.

You nodded. “I didn’t wanna be alone.”

That was all you had to say.

He stepped aside.

Inside, the room was warm—barely. The radiator hissed. You shrugged off your jacket while he watched from the other side of the room, arms crossed loosely over his chest.

Joel always looked tense. Even now, under the soft glow of the table lamp, he stood like someone expecting a fight.

Or a confession.

You took a slow step toward him. “You ever get tired of pretending this doesn’t mean anything?”

He didn’t move.

“‘Cause I do,” you whispered.

Joel’s eyes searched yours. There was something rough and unreadable in his face, like he was trying to swallow back something too big for words.

“I don’t know what to call it,” he admitted, voice low, thick. “I don’t even know what it is. But when you knock, I open the door. Every time.”

Your throat tightened.

“I keep tellin’ myself I ain’t got room for this. For you. But you show up and I—” He dragged a hand through his hair. “I want you here. That’s the truth.”

The breath you didn’t realize you were holding finally left your lungs.

You stepped closer. Close enough to see the flicker of hesitation behind his eyes, the war he was fighting with himself.

“But you’re scared,” you said softly.

Joel’s jaw flexed. “Damn right I am.”

You reached up, fingers brushing the edge of his jaw. “Then let me show you something good for once.”

And that broke him.

He kissed you like he needed it to stay alive.

Not hurried or rough like before—this was slow, devouring, like he was afraid you might vanish if he let go too soon. His hands cradled your face, rough thumbs grazing your cheekbones like he was trying to memorize you.

You slid your hands under his shirt, fingertips dragging over warm skin, the curve of old scars and hard muscle. Joel groaned into your mouth, deep and low, and pulled you closer by the hips.

“You drive me fuckin’ crazy,” he murmured against your lips. “Always walkin’ around like you don’t know what you do to me.”

You smiled into the kiss. “I know exactly what I do to you.”

He huffed a breath—half a laugh, half a growl—and walked you backward until the backs of your knees hit the bed.

“Lie down,” he said, voice gone dark and soft and commanding.

You obeyed, heart racing.

Joel stripped his shirt off, slow and deliberate, like he wanted you to watch. Then he knelt over you, kissing a trail down your neck, your chest, your stomach—taking his time, learning every inch of you like it was something sacred.

“Y’know how many nights I think about this?” he murmured against your skin. “Think about you.”

You arched under his touch, eyes fluttering. “Then why don’t you let it be more?”

His hands stilled for a second. Just long enough for you to feel the weight of the question.

Then he leaned up, kissed you again—softer this time. Sadder.

“I’m tryin’,” he whispered. “I don’t know how, but I’m tryin’.”

When he finally sank into you, it wasn’t frantic or desperate. It was slow, intense, real. His forehead rested against yours, breath hot against your lips as your bodies moved in rhythm, like this wasn’t something you stole—it was something you built.

Joel didn’t hide from it.

He kissed your knuckles when he held your hands above your head. He murmured your name like a promise. He stayed.

When you both fell apart together, it was quiet.

No words. Just warmth.

He didn’t let you go.

Later

You rested against his chest, legs tangled under the blanket, heartbeat slowly finding its way back to calm.

His hand moved gently along your arm, over and over, like he didn’t want to stop touching you even if he didn’t know what to say.

You turned your face up toward his.

“What now?”

Joel exhaled, thumb tracing the inside of your wrist.

“Now we sleep,” he said, voice husky.

“And tomorrow?”

There was a beat.

Then he kissed your forehead.

“Tomorrow, there’s coffee.”

yeah yeah im feeding yall ik

[beasangel]

a very bad time p2

⤷ joel miller x fem!reader

💭 “You think it’s hope?” You shrug. “I don’t know what it is.”

Summary: You noticed the signs back at Bill and Frank’s - missed period, morning nausea. You told yourself you'd wait until you found Tommy, until you were somewhere safe. Until Joel was ready. Then Kansas City happened.

part one joel masterlist main masterlist

The silence after Kansas City hangs heavy.

It follows you like a second shadow, quiet and careful, just waiting for one of you to break it.

You hadn’t meant to say it. Not in the middle of a shootout. Not with your back pressed to a rusted-out car and Joel covered in blood. But fear had cracked you wide open, and the words had slipped out before you could stop them.

Joel’s reaction was instant. Unfiltered. The kind of knee-jerk panic you weren’t used to seeing from him.

But he hasn’t brought it up since.

Neither have you.

There have been nights, long, quiet ones where your ribs press into his under the blankets, where the fire dies too early and neither of you says a word, when you almost did. When his fingers brushed over your skin too gently for someone who hadn’t asked a single question about the possibility of a life growing between you.

But the words stayed in your mouth. Stuck. Swallowed down like ash.

You survived the ambush, but barely. Your body still aches from being thrown against the ground. The bruise on your shoulder blooms like ink, sharp and dark, another addition to the collection of marks you’ve gathered from trying to stay alive.

There are more immediate concerns: a place to sleep. The sharp echo of gunfire in your memory. Food supplies thinning. Joel’s shoulder, which he swears isn’t dislocated but still hasn’t moved quite right since.

So you hold it inside. Try not to count the days. Try not to notice the way your stomach swirls each morning, or the quiet weight that’s settled in your chest. Maybe it’s stress. Maybe it’s nothing.

But it isn’t. And it’s getting too loud to ignore.

You find the pharmacy by accident.

A sun-bleached skeleton of a building, wedged between a burned-out diner and a tire shop caved in on itself. The sign is half-gone. Inside, it’s cooler. Still. Dust floats through the air like pollen.

Most of the shelves are empty. Looted long ago. But your feet move through the aisles anyway, like muscle memory.

Joel takes the back. You crouch behind the counter, sleeve pulled over your hand to avoid the shards of glass glittering across the cabinet doors.

That’s when you see it.

Tucked behind a warped stack of cotton swabs. Slightly crushed, but unopened.

A pregnancy test.

You pause. Just for a second. Then you grab it, fast and clumsy, like someone might snatch it away if you hesitate.

Joel’s boots creak behind you.

You don’t have time to hide it.

“What’s that?” he asks.

You turn slowly. It’s in your hand, stupidly obvious, like a bomb with the timer counting down.

His eyes flick down to the box, then back to you.

“You said you weren’t sure.”

“I’m not,” you say too fast. Voice too tight.

Joel doesn’t nod the way he usually does when he doesn’t want to talk about something. Doesn’t shrug it off and shut the door on you. Instead, he says quietly, “You wanna take it?”

You open your mouth. Close it again. Your throat’s dry.

“I want to,” you admit, voice barely above a whisper. “But… until we find Tommy. Until we’re somewhere safe. I don’t think I should.”

He watches you for a moment. Then nods.

“Okay,” he says. “We’ll figure it out.”

Later, you’re tucked into the woods just off the highway. Ellie’s out cold, collapsed like a dropped coat. Joel sits by the fire, sharpening his knife with the kind of focus he only uses when he’s trying not to feel.

You settle beside him. Pull your coat tighter.

“So… you think we’re close to Tommy?” you ask softly.

Joel doesn’t look up. “I know.”

You hesitate. “I just- I want to be somewhere it’s okay to hope.”

He draws the blade down the whetstone. Once. Twice. Then pauses.

“You think it’s hope?”

You shrug. “I don’t know what it is.”

There’s a stretch of silence.

Then Joel says, voice quiet like it’s been untouched for years, “Sarah had this shirt. Blue. Covered in little butterflies. Got too small for her, but she wouldn’t stop wearing it. Said it made her feel like she could fly.”

You don’t speak. Just stare at the fire, the way the flames curl like hands.

“I kept it,” he says. “After. Couldn’t throw it away. Still had it when I met you.”

Your breath catches. He never talks about Sarah. Not like this.

“I haven’t been fair to you,” Joel says. “I’ve been… afraid. That nothing would ever matter after her. That nothing would be more than memory.”

You turn to look at him. Your heart hammers.

“But then you showed up,” he says. “Ran into me in the North Zone. Didn’t flinch when that clicker came at us. Shot it between the eyes. Called me old.”

You laugh, startled by the sound.

“You were limping,” you murmur. “I thought you needed backup.”

“I thought you were out of your damn mind.”

You smile. Eyes sting. “Maybe I was.”

He looks at you then. Really looks for the first time in days. His face is tired, lined, worn down from too many years of surviving. But there’s something steadier beneath it. Something warmer.

“I don’t know if it’s hope,” he says. “But if it’s you… it doesn’t feel like a mistake.”

Your throat tightens. The fire crackles.

“Still,” Joel adds, dry now, “if you ever tell me you might be pregnant in the middle of a gunfight again…”

You groan, covering your face. “Oh my god, can we not-”

“No, we have to talk about it,” he says, lips twitching. “That might’ve been the worst timing in human history.”

“I panicked!” you protest. “There was blood everywhere, I was panicking!”

“Even so. You couldn’t wait five more seconds?”

“I wasn’t thinking rationally! I just-” You hesitate. Your voice softens. “I didn’t want either of us to die without you knowing.”

Joel doesn’t smile. Doesn’t tease. His whole expression shifts, gentles.

“You’re not dying,” he says. “Not on me. Not like that.”

Your chest twists.

“Okay,” you whisper.

He reaches over. Brings his hand to yours. Callused and warm. Steady.

“We’ll figure it out,” Joel says. “Together.”

And for the first time since Kansas City, you believe him.

Your voice barely makes it past your lips. “Joel…”

“Hmm?”

You rest your forehead against his shoulder.

“It was positive.”

He freezes.

Then slowly, without a word, he wraps his arms around you. Holds you to his chest like something fragile and beloved. Like he’s not letting go.

You close your eyes and let yourself feel it.

Just for a minute.

Hope.

[kyri45]

Is it q&a time?

It's q&a time, it is.

✨SBP: Second Star Q&A! 22/04✨

Welcome to the Q&A! A space where I can answer related or similar question about the Shadowpeach Bio Parents AU! If it’s not answered here, worry not! Your asks might have been used for a future comic or just in the queue~

@dezzyboo ha chiesto: Hi kryi I wanted to ask. In the new part when Mac got upset was that because potentially doing the ritual it had weakend him and so when tang spoke it hurt his ear or did he get upset because he could tell the ritual failed

because the ritual failed.

@elle-the-fan1 ha chiesto: okay. Here is me guessing the stone egg name and gender. If it’s a girl her name has to be Yuebei Xing. If it’s a boy it could be Wei-Chen or Pāramitā, (Depending if you wanna go either Journey To The South or American Born Chinese) HOWEVER!! ….If it’s twins there names could be either Jidu and Luohou or the more popular Rumble and Savage. If it’s triplets, it would be Yuebei Xing, Luohou, and Jidu…..any of the ways work. For me anyways.

good guess to all of them except for Rumble and Savage, who are shadow clones in the AU and already made an appearance .

@goldenunicornmaster ha chiesto: Love the update! I love that everyone is getting involved contributing energy to the new egg. Really shows how big the monkies’ family is. Neither are alone anymore. Sandy tearing up really got me, he’s so sweet and he’s gonna be a great uncle. Also Red! I see you! Definitely getting some ideas of a potential kid ideas with MK in the future. I see you ya aren’t slick.

Oh yes, Red is totally thinking of that (but they are too young to even marry, so yeah)

@pan999flo ha chiesto: Ever considered of drawing Ao Bing once? I thought about him because I always see how cool you draw Nezha etc.

Thank you! Maybe in the future, I liked the movie.

@autism-autobot ha chiesto: We've seen how Macaque acts when he's injured and Wukong's response to that, but what would happen if the roles were reversed? Wukong is injured and behaves a certain way because of it, and Macaque reacts to it.

Wukong would be a drama queen about it for the attention. Mac would be both annoyed for that and angry bc he got himself hurt.

@injuvanillafruit ha chiesto: Hey Kyri 👋, Can you share with us your shadowpeach headcannons. The past and present ones to be exact.

I'll give u just 2 cause I'm too tired and I aint got the time:

Past-> The 2 of them had an almost co-dependency at some point, the ones that even when they argued they would come back to the other because they didn't had a healthy way to be able to solve their own issues by having me-time.

Present-> Macaque still goes almost everyday at his dojo, but Wukong sends one of his clones around midday to quickly check on him and give him kisses (although he gets jealous if the clone start to be too touchy.)

@shevijra ha chiesto: Will you ever draw a fankid for Red Son and MK? And maybe their parents (every single one) reaction to them, or to the news that MK is pregnant or smth. Love your art as always!

yes. once

@twilight-bai-he ha chiesto: Do lmk gang ( Mei, MK, Wukong, Macaque, Red son etc) get emotional when watching movies/TV shows ?

Mei not as always, MK literally everytime. Macaque is more composed and Wukong will try to hide it. Red Son once cried watching star wars: the return of the Jedi.

@chernobylcatfish09 ha chiesto: I’m currently reading your shadowpeach bio parent au for the first time bc it seems to be completed now (I may be wrong, I am pretty lackluster in the smarts department), absolutely delicious btw But question, this ain’t an important question this is just for for funzies: If wukong and macaque collected anything together, what would it be? (examples being like figures, different coin types, plushies, discs of something, anything like that)

I think Macaque is one of those who would collect dools. Or statues. While Wukong kids of collects every single kind of his own merch.

@yourlocalclown-emily ha chiesto: Fav Spicynoodles fics?🙏

I guess Happy and Provided For

@stinkyexhaust ha chiesto: Will Kai also inherit MK's monkey powers?

Some. Not all of them. Actually in terms of powers he's much more Red Son than MK.

@internet-grab-my-tumblr ha chiesto: Am I the only one who thinks it’d be really funny if while everyone is focused on the ShadowPeach baby drama, IronBull decided they also want another kid but don’t bother telling anyone and just…pop up in a few months like “hey we made one too” with no warning and everyone freaks out? And then the ShadowPeach baby gets a buddy to grow up with and Red Son is unexpectedly a big brother too …I may or may not have an IronBull OC I could turn into that theoretical baby lol

it would be so much in character of them bc I bet they went "oh our arch-enemies are having a kid? Then we will have one as well and it will be even MORE powerful than theirs and they shall battle once reached the adulthood!"

@drpepperlover545 ha chiesto: Question, if the baby is born will the celestial realm find out?

Eventually yes, they can't hide them forever.

@selein13 ha chiesto: So... how did wukong and macaque react to the courtnapping tie? Also, how long was Mei laughing at them before she was able to get enough composure back to untie them?

they untied them a couple of hours later. Mac already foresaw how it would have happened and Wukong just laughed and told his kid good job.

@pettrainer ha chiesto: Hi just lil curious will you do a spin off of a time-skip? Like thousand or a few hundreds in the future ( whatever you think is far enough ) of the monkey family. Like what’s going on in there live, who doing what, or if Mac/Wuk have baby # 4 or 5, lol I can see them having a big family, but of course if that’s how you want your story to go.

mmmmhhh probably not. Might write something instead.

@weaverpop ha chiesto: Would Nezha ever take over as Jade emperor? I mean, he IS the rightful heir bc he’s the grandkid of the previous Jade Emp.

he is WHAT?

@loverfella ha chiesto: Sooo what would happen if there was a scenario where Wukong gets jealous and what would he do? I've seen so much Macaque getting jealous I wanna know what would happen if Wukong was the one that got jealous. Same goes for Mk, what would happen if he saw someone flirting with Red Son (I ADORE YOUR ART OMG ITS SO GOOD AIEBEJDJWJSJ)

@quesocheeso made a lot of lovely shadowpeach comics featuring jealous Wukong.

@macaquethemoon ha chiesto: QUICKKKKKKK QUESTION who do you ship more with MK outside of the comic? Mei x mk Or Redson X MK Or chimera(forgot how to say it) Redson x MK x Mei ALSO IM SO INLOVE WITH YOUR ART STYLE AND COMIC LOVIES

red son x MK

@epicloversposts ha chiesto: Hiya just wanted to ask would Macaque ever use the secret knowledge of Wukongs and Mk's weakness against them if he ever catches them trying to over train themselves? Or would he just join them instead?

yes he would. (playfully of course)

@sugerstem ha chiesto: About the ShadowPeach Bio Parent AU, I didn’t see Ne Zha at the coronation, was he not invited or not allowed? My guess is that he wasn’t allowed or too busy but I think surely he would’ve gotten an invite (I say hopefully)

He was the person tlaking to Guanyin

@autism-autobot ha chiesto: How'd the honeymoon go? (Assuming shadowpeach had one)

They went to the othe side of FFM and made it every monkeys problem.

@anxiousbb-witch ha chiesto: Thank you Kyri for making this wonderful AU and for introducing me to LMK with it! It was a roller-coaster of emotions and I still blame you for every tear dropped and everytime I almost snapped my phone in half with your wonderful art and storytelling.

aww thank you!

@craftyphilosophercreator ha chiesto: Are we going to see Bai He and Mk interact anytime soon? I'm curious about their relationship with each other.

maybe, I haven't planned much yet

@amc-2-wild ha chiesto: So side question. Who did you get to voice act for the comic finale you posted on YouTube? Also, I absolutely loved your comic, enjoyed the ride and I can't wait to see what else you create (been following the ISAT AU some and everything you do is amazing thank you-)

@hyperwukong012 as Sun Wukong

Ender as Red Son

@sam-i-am-27 as Mei

@wee-dopey as MK and Macaque

@shevijra ha chiesto: Heya Kyri! Did you perhaps watched the latest Nezha? Even if not, does your AU has Ao Bing, Nezha's boyf- I MEAN- best friend? I'm curious what would happen if our celestial monkey, or/and Mei met Bing, what would happen? He is such a sweetheart, I bet he would be happy for Macaque and Wukong about *you know what* Anyway, I love your works, your sense of humor and your gayness. Be well, my friend!

Well, don't know why he would be happy actually but yeah i watched the movies. Glad you like my sense of humor ahah.

@nanayobiznes ha chiesto: can we perhaps see bai he's fit during the coronation? :]

uuuhhhhh I'm so sorry but unfortunately i really don't have the time to draw that as well rn.

[hyuniemyunie]

Clinical Signs of Affection

gregory house x reader

nsfw

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

(ФωФ): domestic fluff, work day softness, kiss sneakery, annoying couple behavior, eventual sex, riding house into oblivion, afab reader. no pronouns mentioned, reader calls themselves a "hot housewife" but is referred to as houses "partner" no prns, just a mention of readers clit n hot housewife🙏🙏🙏🙏

tbh its mostly sfw, the nsfw comes at the end

i love this soggy old man sm.

i might repost this on ao3 too, i have ONE fic on ao3. its a house fic.

⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･

You don’t technically belong here.

You’re not on the clock. You’re not on call. And the front desk nurse definitely gave you the stink eye when you flashed your visitor’s badge and breezed in like you owned the place.

But you do own one very specific thing in this hospital.

Well. One person.

One disaster of a man currently on his sixth hour of ignoring basic human needs like food, water, and common sense.

So you walk through the halls of Princeton-Plainsboro like you’re on a mission, lunchbox in one hand, water bottle in the other, and a familiar devil-may-care smile curling on your lips. You even wore the hoodie he pretends to hate—the one that’s technically his but smells like you now.

A few nurses smile at you. One intern stares like she’s seeing a unicorn. You’ve visited enough times that people know you, but still rarely enough that your appearance turns heads.

Especially when you burst into Diagnostics without knocking.

House doesn’t look up immediately. He’s lounging in his chair, feet on the desk, twirling a pen between his fingers with all the grace of a bored cat. His team—Chase, Cameron, and Foreman—are mid-bicker, voices overlapping, something about liver enzymes and blood cultures and, probably, the meaning of life.

“Tell me someone brought coffee,” House says without looking up.

You don’t say anything.

You just walk in, slow and deliberate, and place the lunchbox right on top of the folder in his lap.

And then the water bottle.

Then, you lean in and kiss the corner of his mouth.

“Hi,” you say.

There’s a pause.

Then he finally blinks, looks up, and sees you.

And for a moment, the mask slips.

His eyes soften—just a flicker—and his lips twitch into something less sardonic, more fond.

“I didn’t order a personal chef with boundary issues,” he says.

“No, but you’re getting one anyway.”

Chase coughs awkwardly.

Cameron pointedly avoids eye contact.

Foreman mutters, “Every damn time.”

You ignore them all and pull up a chair beside House like you own the place. Which, emotionally speaking, you do.

“You haven’t eaten,” you say, flipping the lunchbox open. “I know you haven’t eaten. And if I don’t shove food down your throat myself, you’ll subsist on nothing but ibuprofen and rage.”

House narrows his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitches.

“Romantic,” he says dryly.

You smile sweetly. “Chicken teriyaki. And a granola bar, because I know you forget dessert exists.”

He squints at you. “You’re enabling my childish avoidance of nutrition.”

“I’m preventing your body from eating itself.”

He eats.

Grumbling, mock-insulting your cooking, muttering about sodium content—but he eats. And when no one’s looking, you slip your hand under the table and lace your fingers with his.

He squeezes once, hard. Doesn't look at you.

But he holds on.

You give him his water bottle with your other hand and wait until he rolls his eyes and takes a sip, just to shut you up.

When his team clears out—some excuse about test results, but really, it’s because no one wants to witness this—he finally glances at you properly.

“You know,” he says slowly, like drawing out each word, “you could’ve stayed home. Slept. Watched trash TV. Painted your toenails. I’m not exactly prime lunchtime company.”

You lean in, pressing another kiss to his jaw. This one lingers.

“I know,” you murmur. “But I missed you. And I like bothering you.”

He grumbles something unintelligible, but his arm slips around your waist. Just a little.

Just enough.

“Also,” you add with a cheeky grin, “I thought you might appreciate a few stolen kisses between patient charts.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Are we in a 90s romcom now?”

You lean closer. “Only if you kiss me back when no one’s watching.”

And sure enough, when Cuddy passes by five minutes later, glaring through the glass with a look that screams Gregory, do your actual job, you’re sitting innocently beside him, lips kiss-bitten, cheeks warm, and House is chewing thoughtfully while looking suspiciously satisfied.

When the office empties again, he leans in and kisses you without a word.

Deep. Slow. Almost hesitant.

“You’re disgusting,” he mutters when you smirk.

“You’re making out with me in your workplace.”

“God help me.”

You grin, smug, resting your head on his shoulder. “Don’t need God. You’ve got me.”

He makes a show of groaning dramatically, but his fingers trail lazily up and down your arm. Like he can’t not touch you. Like he needs to be reminded you’re here, real, breathing beside him.

You stay like that until his pager buzzes again.

He sighs.

You steal one last kiss before he pulls away.

“Bring me leftovers tomorrow,” he calls over his shoulder as he limps out.

“Tomorrow’s your day off.”

“Exactly. I’ll be hungry.”

You roll your eyes fondly, but your heart is full, stupid and warm.

You’ll bring him lunch again tomorrow.

And sneak another kiss, too.

Because even if he never says it in those exact words, you know the truth:

He works best when he knows you’re somewhere nearby—keeping him grounded, fed, loved.

..And hydrated.

---

The moment House’s cane tapped against the hardwood of the front hall, you were already in position like a military strategist. He was home. Finally.

You’d spent all afternoon preparing. Not because you were the type of person to wait on him hand and foot—House would’ve teased the life out of you if that were the case—but because you knew the way his shoulders slumped just a little lower after back-to-back shifts, the way his sarcasm came out slightly more biting when he was actually running on fumes. And because, somewhere deep inside his perpetually grumpy self, he would never ask for what he needed.

So, you gave it to him anyway.

He barely got through the door when his nose twitched.

“Something smells edible,” he grunted, tossing his bag to the side and half-stumbling into the living room. “And here I was expecting the usual ‘eat air and cry’ menu.”

You poked your head out from the kitchen doorway, wiping your hands on a towel dramatically. “Excuse me, I’ll have you know I slaved over a hot stove for at least thirty minutes. That’s premium effort.”

“Mm. You must love me or something,” he said dryly, dragging himself toward the kitchen by the scent alone. “Poor taste.”

“Absolutely tragic,” you agreed, grinning.

When he got close, you could finally take him in—creased button-down under his blazer, the stubble that had grown longer over the last few days, the weary creases by his eyes even as he smirked. He smelled like hospital soap, exhaustion, and the faintest trace of antiseptic.

He leaned in without a word and buried his face in your shoulder, the side of his nose brushing your neck. You didn’t even hesitate—your arms were already around him, pressing him close, fingers slipping up under the back of his shirt to stroke over his skin.

“You always smell better than the hospital,” he mumbled, voice muffled.

“I should hope so. I don’t exactly rub against the ICU on the daily.”

“Might be missing out.”

You laughed against his hair, squeezing him tighter. “You’re disgusting.”

“Your disgusting. You love this disgusting. And speaking of things I love—what did you make me?”

You finally let him go with a dramatic sigh, motioning toward the table. “It’s all ready, Dr. House. Go sit. Or fall. Either works.”

He dropped into his chair with a groan of relief, rubbing his thigh out of habit while you set the table. Pan-seared steak, garlic mashed potatoes, roasted vegetables, and a tiny bit of something green you knew he’d push around but at least look at. You slid a beer beside his plate with a flourish.

“Who are you and what have you done with my partner?” he asked.

“I killed them. Now I’m the hot housewife.”

He took a sip of the beer, eyeing you over the rim. “You do realize this makes me want to skip dinner and go straight to dessert, right?”

You gave him a sly look and sat across from him. “Eat. Or I’m not letting you see the apron under this shirt.”

“You’re wearing an apron under the shirt?”

“No.”

He choked on a laugh, and something about the softness in his eyes when he finally started to eat made your chest squeeze. His sarcasm never went away, but when it was you, he let it soften at the edges. He let himself feel. That was more than he gave anyone else.

The meal passed with the usual banter—House throwing roasted carrots at you for being “a rabbit,” you threatening to “accidentally” pour gravy in his lap, both of you laughing like idiots over things that probably weren’t even funny. You cleared the table together, and when you were finally done, you leaned back against the sink and raised an eyebrow.

“Now,” you said, arms crossed. “Are you ready for me?”

He tilted his head, feigning innocence. “Was this all just foreplay?”

“House. I literally lit candles. Do I ever light candles?”

“Only when something’s on fire.”

You threw the dishtowel at him. “I ran a bath. And I’m letting you shower with me. Which is generous, because you’re grabby.”

“You say that like it’s a complaint.”

He slid off the counter and limped toward you slowly.

“You’re mine to be grabby with,” he said as his hand snuck around your waist, tugging you in. “Domesticity looks hot on you.”

You leaned up to kiss his jaw. “Shut up and get naked.”

—

Steam curled against the mirror, blurring the edges of your reflections as House stepped in behind you under the stream of hot water. You gasped slightly when the water hit your shoulders—he had cranked the temperature all the way up. He always liked it too hot, and you always let him win.

“You’ll boil me alive one day,” you mumbled, grabbing the soap.

“Mm. Tenderized and ready to eat.”

His hands slid around your waist again, but this time they didn’t stop. Palms flattened against your stomach, fingers dipping low, tracing lazy circles that made you lean back against him. He kissed your shoulder, then your neck, and the scruff of his beard scraped lightly against your skin. One of his hands moved up, cupping your chest shamelessly.

“House—”

“I’ve been dealing with blood, idiots, and Cuddy all day,” he muttered against your ear. “Let me feel something good.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t stop him, leaning back further into his chest as both of his hands roamed. Not rough—just possessive. Comforting.

You turned in his arms finally and kissed him slowly. He tasted like beer, toothpaste and exhaustion, and he kissed you back with the hunger of a man who’d been living on bitterness and hospital coffee.

“Love you,” you whispered.

His forehead pressed to yours. “You’re an idiot.”

You smiled. “Takes one to love one.”

He grinned, and the way he looked at you in that moment—naked, wet, sleepy, and grinning like a man in love—was worth every moment you’d spent waiting for him to come home.

---

It started, as it often did, with you waking up to something pressing insistently against your backside.

You were warm. Wrapped in soft sheets. Limbs tangled with House’s. The air smelled like morning and him—skin and shampoo and something vaguely medicinal. You didn’t even open your eyes at first. Just exhaled a breath and shifted slightly in bed.

That was when you felt it again.

Thick. Hard. Warm.

Pressed right up between your ass cheeks, like it was meant to be there.

You didn’t need to turn to know House was still fast asleep. His arm was slung over your waist, his breathing even, that low rasp of sleep just starting to fade into wakefulness. But his body was already several steps ahead of him.

Typical.

You smiled to yourself, still barely awake, and wriggled a little closer. That earned you a low grunt.

“…if you’re gonna grind on it, at least commit to the bit,” he muttered sleepily into your hair.

You snorted, turning in his arms until you were face to face, and yup—there was that morning glare. Eyelids half-closed, hair a mess, scruffy jaw, and the world’s most unrepentant erection trapped between you.

“Not my fault you’re pitching a tent,” you whispered, grinning as your hand slid under the covers to palm him through his boxers. “Wanna tell me what you were dreaming about?”

“Medical malpractice.”

“Sure it wasn’t about me in nothing but scrubs?”

He opened one eye, his mouth twitching upward. “You in scrubs is hot. You out of scrubs is hotter.”

You slipped your hand past the waistband and wrapped your fingers around him, slow and firm, and his breath caught, teeth dragging across his lip.

“I could help,” you said softly, giving him a lazy stroke. “Before breakfast.”

“Are you the breakfast?” he asked, voice still gravelly, eyes now glued to your mouth.

You leaned in and kissed him softly. His hand tangled in your hair, and when you shifted to straddle him, his hips arched up immediately into your palm.

“You’re gonna kill me,” he groaned.

“Mm. I’ll revive you. Doctor’s orders.”

You reached over to the nightstand and pulled out a condom from the drawer—because House was a bastard, but he was always careful. You opened the packet, and he watched you like he couldn’t look away, like the very sight of you half-naked in the morning light had short-circuited every sarcastic neuron in his brain.

You rolled it onto him with slow, practiced care, and he hissed softly, hands gripping your thighs. Once he was sheathed and you were slick enough to take him, you eased yourself down onto his cock with a breathless moan.

“Jesus,” he muttered, brow furrowed, “how are you this warm already?”

“Your fault,” you whispered, rocking your hips. “You started it.”

His hands found your waist, guiding your rhythm even though he barely had the strength to lift his head. His mouth fell open as you moved—slow, deep, lazy like Sunday mornings should be. No rush. No urgency. Just the warmth of skin, the roll of your hips, the softness of your hands on his chest, your fingers laced with his.

“God, I missed this,” he muttered.

“You had me last night.”

“Not like this.”

He let you ride him in silence for a few minutes—aside from the low, broken groans he couldn’t hold back when you clenched or angled just right. His thumb brushed your clit in lazy circles, coaxing pleasure from you with that same knowing touch he used in diagnostics—only now it was you he was unraveling.

When your moans started to climb and your thighs began to tremble, he bucked up once, hard, and you gasped.

“That’s it,” he whispered. “Come on. Come with me.”

You barely had time to nod before your orgasm hit, crashing through you in a wave of heat and release. You clung to him as you came, shuddering, and he wasn’t far behind—his grip tightened, and he thrust up one final time as he spilled into the condom with a low groan, forehead pressed to your chest.

You collapsed against him, both of you breathless, your bodies tangled and sticky with sweat and satisfaction.

For a while, neither of you moved.

Then, House grunted. “I think I broke a rib.”

“You’re such a baby.”

“You rode me like I was a prize bull.”

You laughed and kissed his shoulder, nuzzling against his neck. “Worth it.”

He reached up, brushed your hair back gently, and kissed your forehead with surprising tenderness.

“Definitely worth it.”

---

After a shared shower—filled more with sleepy kisses and soft touches than anything dirty—you both ended up back in the kitchen, dressed in soft pajamas, your hair still damp, House’s limp a little worse than usual.

“I blame you,” he said, sipping coffee while flipping a pancake with surprising skill. “I’m gonna need my cane just to sit down today.”

“You always need your cane.”

“Not the point.”

You leaned against the counter, watching him. He was still bleary-eyed, still grumbling, but there was something in the way he moved—lighter. More at ease.

When you handed him a plate and he brushed his fingers over yours, you smiled. He didn’t say thank you. He didn’t need to.

It was all there in the way he looked at you over his coffee mug.

Grumpy. Sated. Home.

And as far as mornings went?

You couldn’t think of a better one.

[ocstabler]

OC: Series 5, Episode 3

Of course, spoilers. Do not keep going if you don't want them. :)

Elliot & Eli have a little morning conversation. Eli has no clue how long a complex case like Los Santos takes and it shows a level of naiviety with him regarding policework. Eli reminds Elliot he has a follow up MRI, and the reminder is from Randall which annoys Elliot. Eli seems annoyed by Elliot's dismissive attitude about it all.

He also gets annoyed when his Dad questions him about what work he's doing and not giving his girlfriend a proper goodbye. Eli is acting like a little brat teen, which is frustrating when he's supposed to be a man with growing responsibilities. I'm sure Elliot probably had the same sort of attitude if his father gave him similiar advice but I think considering two weeks ago Elliot nearly DIED, Eli could also be a little bit more appreciative of his Dad being alive. But apparently not, lol!

I think Elliot walks a fine line here with being a concerned parent- we already know he wants to keep Eli safe, but not smother him. I think Elliot is also trying to help Eli appreciate what he has and not take Becky for granted, something that he is advising out of his own experience.

Just want to point out this horrible photoshop image of Kathy & Eli.

I like that OC will have some SVU people appear. I love they bought back Carisi seeing as he was involved last series with this case. It reminds you that they are all close by and would run into one another through work often enough. It would be weird for Stabler to never see Carisi working on big cases.

Carlo Pescador wants to speak to Elliot and warns him that there's a new player in town who has no respect for families or anything. Carlo tells Elliot if he doesn't fix it, Carlo will and they'll be a war.

At court, due to the only witness dropping out, the case against Carlo is dismissed. Carisi tells Bell & Stabler he'll appeal it.

Carlo gets shot twice (Elliot reaches out to get Carisi clear) before drawing his weapon and giving chase. He tells the shooter to drop his gun, he says he can't and raises his weapon so Elliot has to shoot. Bell takes his gun until IAB can clear him. They must get sick of seeing Stabler's name pop up.

We then go back to Naples, Italy, 6 years ago. Elliot has hair again. He convinces a woman (I didn't catch her name) to give up her brother, Rocko, and start a new life with her kids and Grandkids in America.

Kathy FaceTime's El when he's forgotten to come home. It's really nice to see they seem really happy (now that OIlivia is 4,000 miles away). Small note that Elliot isn't wearing a wedding ring in the scene but Kathy is. It's a really nice scene and I like how they've been there long enough that Elliot throws some Italian into his speech naturally.

Elliot gets his badge and gun back after IAB clear him. I guess there were enough witnesses here that were able to clear him quickly.

Bell sets everyone on with tasks. Elliot asks about Jet as she was supposed to be back this week. Bell says she needs a couple more days. She tells Elliot he has an MRI to go to and that Randall's waiting for him outside in the car.

Elliot's miffed with Randall for going to Ayanna with his personal stuff and tells him to stay out of it. Randall is acting very caring, almost fatherly towards Elliot and although he does appreciate it, he doesn't want work knowing about his stuff. Which makes sense. Elliot's always been private anyway and he always likes to shrug off an injury. I did a little Google, and MRI results tend to take 1-2 weeks to get results back but they'd be quicker if there was anything serious. It doesn't seem like this is anything but a check up to make sure there's nothing else going on and that Elliot's healing how he should be but I'm suspicious that they have bought up an MRI and think it might pop up again in a later episode. The fact that Elliot doesn't want work to know about it, even though he is private, makes me doubly suspicious. They briefly talk about Bernie thinking Joe Jnr is calling her.

Bell & Reyes talk to Brianna & Kiki and Brianna mentions other people in her family being targeted and killed. She doesn't want to help the police and they leave. Interesting that her son, the kid Stabler tackled and whacked his head on the ground, isn't mentioned at all. Is he still in hospital? Is he dead?

Elliot goes to visit his former Italian CI (still can't catch her name), and she shows him what she's made of herself in those 6 years. She talks about her Grandkids, asks after Eli, and El tells her he's a cop now and she expresses her sorrow over Kathy- she apparently sent a note.

Elliot speaks to one of her grandkids and when they starts playing ball, she send the kid inside.

Brianna and Kiki are shot at, with Brianna being killed and Kiki hit. At the scene, Elliot spots Eli and questions his FTO about Eli already being on gang injuctions. You can just hear Eli apologising and then his FTO telling Eli to 'nut up'. Eli in uniform also looks just.... so wrong. Nothing will ever convince me that Eli can grow into this role.

Oh, and before I forget, we get a couple of mentions of Warner doing some work for them. I hope we get to see her again this series. It's so nice to see the old SVU crew here.

Reyes asks Stabler if he should be doing stairs as they go to speak to someone and Stabler says no. A quick Google tells me a mild TBI has a recovery time of a few weeks to several months. I would assume this is what Stabler has, seeing as he's working days afterwards and we are unaware as a viewwr if he has any side effects lingering at this point. They certainly aren't showing us any clues if he is suffering at all. Reyes and Stabler go at a nice steady pace up the stairs, which I think shows Reyes is matching Stabler's pace because he knows he's not at 100%.

Elliot asks about Jet before they left HQ and then grills Reyes about it, confronting him about them sleeping together. He said they broke up a couple of weeks back and they both express concern over her wellbeing. They find the kid they need to talk to, he runs and purposely falls off the roof.

This is the second death of a young man in front of Elliot in this episode. I think when he greets Bell he sounds really deflated.

Baby Stabler comes home crying because he's getting mocked. Eli just has no clue and seems so thin skinned here. He's literally living with his Daddy, complaining at him to mind his own business. Also, I could do with Becky having a bit more personality. Randall calls back to Elliot telling him the same thing and mocks Elliot a little. See how he doesn't cry about it, Eli?

Randall finds some hidden sweets in Bernie's bed, under the matress and a hidden phone starts to ring. He answers it, asks if it's Joe and the line goes dead.

Bell goes to check in on Jet. She's been working on a programme to do with unsolved murders that could be related to truckers. She tells Bell the FBI offered her a full time job but she turned them down because she has a job and she's not a quitter. Bell tells her Stabler came to her for a favour and she's given them 4 years and encourages her to do what she's got to do.

It's a really sweet scene and Ainsley convey's so much here without the need to say much. She's deeply affected by the cases she's been working and it's taken a toll on her. But she's determined to do something helpful off the back of it.

Bell says that Jet wants some time away and then later tells the group she talked her into doing a farewell drink.

Elliot says that the new group is the Camorra, specifically the Spezzano clan. Stabler tells Bell that his CI is Isabella Spezzano. Her grandson, Roman, is the one who is opening the brewery that is at the heart of what the OCCB team are now looking into.

Jet comes by the office when she thinks nobody will be around to get her stuff, but Elliot is still there.

She says she hates goodbyes and he tells her he doesn't care and hugs her. He asks how she can leave him with Vargas.

Elliot tells her he's going to miss her and that he'll take her to the bar when she's done and she realises he's making sure she goes. He tells her he hates Irish goodbyes (which means to leave a social event without saying goodbye..... wonder who else would do something like that, Elliot).

I really love this scene because it's so true to the characters. Elliot isn't great at goodbyes either but he recognises the importance in his older years to speak your truths on things like this. He wants her to know what she means to him, even if he can't really verbalise it very well, it's still important for him to try and let her know. And it's not flowery sentiments and a perfect speech, it just feels right for what he'd say to her. Jet's hesitance with the hug but the comfort she gets from it when she relaxes a little, the way he makes her laugh are all *chef's kiss*

As Elliot gets home, Eli & Becky are getting back with some food for her cravings. Elliot hears a bike and his super cop instincts kick in. He tells them to get down as shots are fired at them all, as they dive on the floor.

It might be likely that Becky will go to the hospital after this or she'll go into labour earlier than anticipated but the scene in the trailer with Elliot & Eli at a hospital waiting room shows Eli in his uniform, so that scene won't be directly from this scene.

Overall, a brilliant 3rd episode that was very strong after the banging first two episodes.

[lisbeth-kk]

Easter Egg Prompts (2025) Day 5

A special invitation leads to a significant change in someone's wardrobe.

Dressed Up

Mycroft and Greg have been a couple for almost eight years when they finally find a weekend that fits them both.

“It has always irked my brother that I tied the knot first,” Sherlock smirks when they receive the wedding invitation.

“Easily deduced,” Rosie snorts. “You two are like kids sometimes.”

“Says the kid herself,” John quips.

“I’m frequently much more mature than any of them,” the ten-year-old girl retorts.

“Well, let’s move on before this escalates further,” John says firmly. “You, young lady, will need a new dress. There’s no way your posh uncle will let you inside Dartmouth House in any of your clothes.”

“I know. Uncle Myc told me he would take me shopping before Easter.”

Sherlock huffs dramatically at this admission.

“Doesn’t that man have any confidence in our capability to dress our daughter properly for a fancy wedding?”

“Apparently not,” John comments. “We should just indulge him, or he’ll just kidnap her after school anyway. Or worse, during class.”

“Hm, you know him well,” Sherlock remarks.

“He is rather predictable. Compared to you. Don’t tell him I said that, sweetheart,” he addresses Rosie.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” she lies.

***

Mycroft is quite civil about collecting his niece for a shopping spree. He consults her fathers and is given carte blanche when it comes to the kind of attire, he and Rosie pick.

“As if he needed it,” Sherlock snickers. “He’s going to spoil her rotten.”

“That is his habit,” John concedes.

“Indeed. I should have predicted a colour theme. Luckily, blue is a favourite of mine too. Will you be wearing – “

“Oh, yes, darling. I certainly will,” John interrupts huskily. “I might even go commando as the evening draws to a close.”

“How risqué of you, Doctor Watson,” Sherlock purrs, feeling slightly weak in the knees by the thought of his husband in his kilt without pants.

“Maybe we can persuade the aunts to pick up Rosie and take her for the night.”

“Who is the genius now, John?”

“I have my moments. Now, get your delectable arse over here so I can have my way with you.”

***

“Why did you want to have a colour themed wedding, even deciding that the guests should wear blue?”

“It is much more organised and unambiguous that way,” Mycroft explains.

“God, you’re weird. A good thing I love you, or you’d be in real trouble.”

“Rosamund Watson-Holmes!”

“Relax, Uncle Myc. I’m only teasing you. Now, which fancy establishment are you taking me to?”

“Patience, my dear,” Mycroft chastises her, but the twinkle in his eyes gives him away.

“Which shade do you think will fit me best? Light or dark blue?”

“Considering your blonde hair and fair skin tone, I would say, either. Let us not rush into such important matters without sufficient data.”

“You sound like Papa,” Rosie tells him with a broad smile.

“Well, let us keep that a secret, shall we,” her uncle replies haughtily.

“Sure,” she lies.

***

From early on, Sherlock took responsibility when it came to Rosie’s hair. Curls can be difficult to tame, and he had decades of experience. John was beyond relieved. He wouldn’t have known where to start.

On the day of the wedding, Sherlock locks himself and Rosie into the bathroom to style her golden locks to perfection. Once finished with hers, she goes upstairs to collect her new dress, while Sherlock takes care of his own curls. 

Neither of her parents has seen the garment. She wants it to be a surprise, but she needs help with the back zipper, which Mrs Hudson has agreed to help her with.

The dress is light blue with an A-shaped, wavy skirt. Magnolia appliqués, one large one blooming from the right hip to the middle of her chest, and three small ones on the left side of the skirt make for a striking appearance. White ballerina shoes and a silver bracelet with light blue and silver hearts, complete the outfit.

“Oh, Rosie, dear! You look like a princess,” her Nana exclaims when Rosie twirls around, making the skirt flow around her legs.

“Thank you, Nana. What do you think Daddy and Papa will say.”

“Probably nothing, dear. They will be too choked up to utter a word. Enjoy the silence when you can, I say.”

“Have you already started on your herbal soothers?” Rosie inquires with narrowed eyes.

Martha Hudson harrumphs and mumbles something about her hip acting up.

***

Rosie tiptoes up the stairs. Murmuring voices are heard in the sitting room, and she peeps through the gap in the door. Her fathers are standing in front of the fireplace dressed up in their finest clothes. Well, her Daddy at least. Sherlock is almost always wearing a suit, but today he’s also wearing a tie, which she knows he hates, so she guesses he's making an effort for his brother’s sake. 

Daddy in a kilt, is something Rosie’s only seen in photographs, and he looks even better in reality. The garment isn’t entirely blue of course, but she thinks Uncle Myc won’t mind. Its colours are subtle enough.

For a few moments, she marvels at how much they still seem to love each other. Her friends have told her in abundance about quarrelling parents, and most of them have never even seen their parents kiss.

Speaking of. 

They lift their right hands simultaneously, cradling the other’s cheek, and shares a tender kiss.

“I love you so much, John.”

“Love you more,” he replies, smiling smugly.

“Not possible,” the detective mutters.

They share another kiss, and when they part, Rosie walks casually into the room.

“You two look nice,” she compliments them.

To Rosie’s astonishment, Nana was right. Not a word escapes the men, but there’s no question about what they feel. Their faces are like open books, letting their beloved girl see what they cannot express.

“My darling girl, you are breath-taking!”

“Oh, Rosie! What an amazing dress. You look wonderful.”

They’re both in dire need of the tissues she procures for them.

tbc

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

@totallysilvergirl @keirgreeneyes @calaisreno @helloliriels

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(Let me know if you want to be tagged or removed from the list)

[bubbleguppies42]

ooooo good good!!!!! definitely expect some in ur inbox then. so — we know that wilson canonically has a somno kink… what are your thoughts? bc I haven’t been able to think about anything else but waking up to him taking me like that for months now…🫢 immediate need.

love, 💌

oh anon...you have no idea how much I love you

ANYWAYS I had no idea this was canon and am very very curious when we learn this (I can't find a clip or anything online)

I actually find this superrrr hot. I personally think that Wilson is an absolute FREAK. a perv for lack of better words. I can imagine him seeing you already asleep in bed when he gets home, another late night. it was a rough day, and wilson is simply craving release. he considers waking you up, but he doesn't want to bother his lover with his current frustrations. he grabs something to eat, and a beer. he finishes his food and weighs his options. he could wake you up and hope that you're not mad at him for disturbing you, not a great choice. he could jerk off, not terrible, but why would he use his hand when you're right there? lying innocently in your shared bed, he sighs at the sight. he remembers a long time ago when he'd mentioned waking you up with his tongue, he remembers the blush across your cheeks when he said it. it's not that different, he convinces himself as he begins to strip from his work clothes. sliding his blazer off and tossing it carelessly onto the floor. his tie had been undone since he arrived home, his dress shirt being the next thing to come off. sliding gently down his shoulders as it drops to the floor alongside his blazer and tie. he carelessly undoes his belt and unbuttons his slacks. he glances at your sleeping form, imagining the things he'll do. he steps out of his slacks before walking over to the bed. you look stunning, so relaxed and comfortable. it's like you're drawing him in. he places a gentle kiss on your forehead, his lips lingering for a moment before trailing down to your neck. he resumes his kisses as he slides his boxers down. he gives himself a few lazy strokes before focusing his attention on you. he knows you're a heavy sleeper, and that his light kisses won't wake you. however, his fingers slipping inside your panties might be a bit more likely to wake you. his fingers slide between your folds, gently exploring before he pulls them back out. he sticks two of his fingers into his own mouth, coating them with saliva. he then pulls your panties to the side. his fingers delicately brush over your clit before he brings them lower, he slides one finger into you with ease. 'fuck' he whispers to himself. you clench around him involuntarily.

he opts to slide in a second finger, hoping to warm you up quickly. his fingers stretch you, as they always do. he feels your pussy getting more wet with each thrust of his fingers. he pulls them out quickly, his calm and collected mask slipping as he rubs your wetness across his cock. he strokes himself once more before rubbing his tip between your folds. he slowly begins to slide inside of you. he bites down on his knuckle to muffle his moans. he moves slowly as you clench around him again, still asleep. his pace speeds up slightly, he throws his head back as a soft moan escapes your lips. James attention is quickly on you. he tenses up instantly. 'why didn't I think of what happens if she wakes up' his mind races with a whirlwind of thoughts. he releases a breath he didn't realize he was holding when you didn't stir. he resumes his thrusts into you at a brutal pace as he chases his high, taking the frustrations of his day out on you. you feel a familiar sensation in your stomach as you wake up. a tight, full feeling that causes waves of pleasure to wash over you. James had his eyes closed as he bites down on his finger, silencing his pathetic moans. he looks down at you a moment later, quickly realizing that you're awake. he freezes when he meets my eyes. you had joked about waking eachother up with head, but never expected something like this. "honey I didn't want to wake you I just-" before he can finish you cut him off. "don't stop now, I'm so close…" he cocks his head to the side with surprise and curiosity. "o-okay" he says hesitantly as he thrusts into you once more, his pace slower than before, more careful. "James, faster, please" are all the words you can muster as a coil tightens in your stomach. James increases his pace as his fingers find your clit, rubbing harshly as your orgasm crashes into you. you scream his name, a string of pornographic moans spill from your lips. James' pace begins to falter, his thrusts become erratic and inconsistant. he cums inside of you with a loud moan, the only coherent words being your name. he repeats it over and over as he rides out his orgasm, chest heaving as he pants erratically. he pulls out and collapses next to you. at first, you were apprehensive when you realized what was happening. but as you came to your senses you realized how hot it is that James came home and just had to have his way with you. James sits up, turning to face you as he places a kiss on your forehead, "thank you" he whispers into your temple as he kisses you again. you nod and rub his cheek affectionately. "im glad you got what you needed."

I love you 💌 anon and I hope you enjoy please feel free to send any other thoughts you have (this is my first time writing somno so any feedback is appreciated!)

[illustrate-her]

I’m so enjoying getting back into fanfic writing, and the BBC Musketeers fandom. I know it’s been - god, over ten years now - and it is largely a ghost town in that particular community, but I know there are a few of you out there. I’m determined to post more here, even if I’m only talking to myself, but if you want to chat Musketeers please say hi because I am ready and willing to fangirl with someone.

Anyway, I have a number of fics that have been stuck in the WIP folder for ages - as I said: over ten years now - that I’m picking up and dusting off and trying to familiarise myself enough with to actually finish. In many ways I think the last decade has given me a bit more to draw from when writing them, so maybe it was always meant to be this way? Like, I can do them the justice they need now?

Anyway anyway. I’m currently working on what looks like it will be the penultimate, or one-before-penultimate chapter of Chanson d’Automne, my WW2 French Resistance Musketeers AU. And I am LOVING being back in this world, let me tell you.

Here’s a little snippet of something from the latest chapter posted, which comes just a bit before things start going boom and people start getting whumped:

‘Aramis looks at the armband, smoothing his fingertips over the fabric. It’s been painted roughly in the tricolour stripes of blue white and red, with a black Cross of Lorraine drawn in the middle.

“Also…” Athos says carefully, and then sighs, “There is…some thinking, that if we are caught wearing the armband we will be treated gentler than if we are caught carrying out action behind enemy lines whilst not in uniform. But,” he brings up a hand to rub at the back of his neck, “We all know that the Geneva Convention will likely not save us if we are caught.”

Athos looks at them all now, his eyes dark and very serious. “So don’t get caught.”

His voice breaks, just slightly. “For God’s sake - please - don’t get caught.”

“Ninon gave me these,” D’Artagnan says, drawing a small packet out of his breast pocket. “They’re…the British give them to their SOE agents, to take if they’re captured.”

They hold out their hands, solemn, and d’Artagnan puts one in each of their palms. They don’t speak. Aramis contemplates the little white pill. It seems so small and innocent, and he wonders that something that small could be so effective.

“Suicide is a sin,” he says, though he feels curiously blank at the thought.

“Not in these circumstances,” Athos says immediately, and there’s something fierce and hard, worn smooth like a stone under water in his voice.

Aramis just nods, and puts the little pill in his breast pocket. He tries not to look but can’t help himself, shooting a glance under his eyelashes as Porthos puts the pill into the folded cuff of his boilersuit and rolls it upwards, tucked right against the crook of his elbow.

It’s an oddly private moment, intimate, as they consider the way this might go. But all Aramis can think as he watches Porthos is a fierce and defiant no.’

[eddieeddieeddieeeeee]

It's a Saturday morning when Eddie finally sits down to talk to Chris. 

He's not feeling particularly great, having been up until 3am the previous night googling things like 'how to come out to your kid', anxiously reading blogs and parenting articles and Reddit threads until he couldn't keep his eyes open anymore. He doesn’t exactly want to do this. He’s pretty sure he’s not ready, and he thinks he might throw up. But he also doesn’t want to die driving an Uber in El Paso when he could be in LA with Buck. And the road to that starts with being honest with Chris about this, now.

So Eddie finishes his coffee and heads into the living room. “Hey, can I talk to you about something? It’s kind of important.” 

“Can it wait?,” Chris asks. He's setting up to play Playstation and looks annoyed at being interrupted, which doesn't feel like a great start. 

“Uh, no not really, sorry,” Eddie says. He’s got to get this out now, even if he does throw up. At least he knows Chris will understand if he does.

He sits down on the couch and turns to Chris. "I know we've had some chats recently, about how you maybe don't love El Paso so much. How maybe there are things you miss about LA." Chris is giving Eddie his full attention now.

"And the truth is," Eddie says, "there are things I miss about LA as well." 

"Like what?," Chris asks. 

Eddie sighs. "Well. I miss my job. And the weather. And - Buck." 

"Right," Chris says quietly. "I miss Buck too."

"And you know," Eddie says because he really wants Chris to understand this, "you are more important to me than any of that. If you were happy here then I'd be happy here and I wouldn't even think about it." It's not quite true, but it's close enough.

"But what I'm thinking is, if you miss LA, and I miss LA, then maybe that's a sign that we should, um, be in LA."

Chris’s mouth quirks up a bit and Eddie’s heart soars. But he needs to get this off his chest first.

"Before you - there’s something I need to tell you first."

He wipes his hands on his jeans.

"I’ve had a lot of time to think, these last few months, being down here. Away from everything. About who I am, and what I really want. I’ve realised something, about myself. And I want to tell you because - I don’t want to lie to you. If we're going to go back to LA, if you want to, I want to be honest with you."

Eddie wonders if it's too late to back out of this now. His throat is hurting and there are tears in his eyes. He isn’t sure what he thinks is going to happen, but he’s terrified anyway. He can feel his heart rate picking up. He thinks he might be shaking a bit. 

Chris is looking at him with increasing concern, eyebrows drawing together, and Eddie doesn’t want to freak him out any more than is necessary. He looks down at the coffee table and forces himself to say it. Takes a deep breath and lets the words out with it.

“I’m gay.”

Chris doesn't say anything. Eddie looks up from the table, meets his eyes and says it again. "I'm gay." 

Chris doesn't look concerned anymore, just a bit confused. 

"Is that - is that it? What you wanted to tell me?"

Eddie feels slightly hysterical. Is that it? He's never said it out loud before, even to himself. It's not been long that he could even think it in his own head. "Yes," he says. "That's it."

Chris looks at him for a second and then shakes his head like he thinks Eddie's being stupid. Like he's on the verge of rolling his eyes. "Dad. It’s 2025. You’ve got loads of gay friends. Buck’s your best friend and he’s bi. It’s fine. Why are you so upset?," he asks.

He's fucking this up. Eddie feels ashamed all of a sudden. He doesn't want to make Chris think there's something wrong with being gay, which there isn't, it's just...always been different for him. 

Trying to course correct, he shakes his head. "I’m not. I’m not upset. I know it’s fine. It’s just… taken me a long time to understand it. It was hard. And I don’t want you to think that I didn’t - I loved your mom. I did." He has to stop. 

Chris doesn't say anything, he just looks at Eddie and nods. 

They sit in silence for a little bit and Eddie's just starting to wonder what to do next. He remembers something from one of the articles he'd read. "Do you... have any questions?," he asks, wildly unsure he'll have any answers if Chris does. 

Chris shrugs and says "So, are you going to start dating guys now?" Eddie coughs. "Um, I'm not sure - I'm not sure that's the most important part of it. I think maybe just figuring this out was the important thing, for now."

Chris considers this. "But you’re not going to date women anymore?," he asks.

"Well, no. That’s sort of the point."

Chris looks a bit relieved at that and Eddie guesses he can't really blame him. He’s relieved as well. 

"OK, well are you done?," Chris asks, gesturing towards his Playstation controller. 

Eddie feels a little lightheaded. Was that it? "Er - yes," he says, slightly awkwardly, and gets up from the couch. "Oh wait - what about... what did you think about LA? You don't have to answer now, just think about it OK."

Chris stops booting up the Playstation and looks at him. "Yes," he says, "I think we should go. We can go back to LA and you can be gay." He says it in a sort of funny movie trailer voice and Eddie can't help laughing. 

"When can we go?," Chris asks. If we left now we'd be back there by tonight Eddie's brain supplies, but he has to be practical. 

"I'm not sure, mijo. It could take a little while. We need sort out school for you, and figure out what to do about this place." 

"We could burn it down," Chris supplies. He hates this house. Almost as much as Eddie does.

Eddie laughs again. "Mmm," he says, scrunching up his face. "I'm a firefighter. I don't think it's going to help convince Bobby to give me my job back if I've just been arrested for arson and insurance fraud."

Chris sighs dramatically. "Fine, I guess." 

Chris turns his attention back to his game, and Eddie's nearly out the room when he says, "Oh hey - what did Buck say? About the gay thing I mean?"

"Oh well. I haven't - I haven't told Buck yet," Eddie says.

"How come?"

"I wanted to tell you first. Before I told anyone else." Even Buck. "And honestly - it feels like more of an in person conversation." Honestly, it feels like a conversation that might kill Eddie. Even hearing the words 'Buck' and 'the gay thing' in the same sentence has made him feel like he might have a heart attack.

"Hmm," Chris says. "I suppose." Eddie feels like he's judging him, but he's not sure what for.

[divorcedwife]

I need u to know that I drew a shitty chessboard w random pieces, then thought of you and your love for chess and spent like two hours finding a good chess set up that would fit a mid-game interrupted game and carefully drew the pieces on the board making sure it made sense despite a) knowing next to nothing about chess only how the pieces move b) The drawing isn't actually of chess its Space Chess (regicide) that it seems noone knows how works, so really I could've placed the pieces randomly, but I didn't want to dissapoint u Ms Wife so instead I made it chess with more squares... anyways might learn to play chess now it seems cool

yesss!!!! yesssssss!!!! oh this is so cute, really made my day :'-) yes, let's all get into chess, we can make it win game of the year 2025 if we all try very hard... if it helps, my usual way of making a believable mid-game is just playing against a random bot on the chess.com app, but you could also look up famous games records ; i've used this one before, for example. here at divorcedwife headquarters, we are very proud of your endeavors and salute your efforts 🫡

[teazart]

Unhinged scumcum AU.

Hear me out it's a Pride and Prejudice AU with scumcum. SY is Elizabeth and SJ is Darcy. It would be super cute to have it set in the og P&P setting bc of the outfits BUT also cultivator setting would go so hard too. I can picture it so clearly in my head lol. SJ in this AU would still be at Cang Qiong as a peak lord and SY would be another peak lord at a peak that is traveling for the Immortal Alliance Conference (and really wants the status of being bbuddy buddy with Cang Qiong). And Cang Qiong is trying to get all buddy buddy with this other peak bc DUH posturing. And being as SJ is supposed to be the peak lord that helps deals with outer peak relationships everyone looks to SJ to be nice to the other peaks' relation guy. And it ends up being SY. BUT on the first meeting SY says something that seems very backhanded to SJ and SJ on the defensive says something backhanded back.

Now both of them are glaring at each other and needs to get pulled away before a very undignified fight breaks out. This is course become the hottest gossip amongst the cultivators. Bigger than when that one heavenly demon was able to swoon away the Huan Hua's head disciple. Throughout the conference they keep bumping into each other and trying to bite each other's heads off.

Of course then SY's peak hears that the Heavenly demon's son is also attending the conference and now they are pushing SY to get buddy buddy with LBH to bolster demon/human alliance. (yes i am having LBH be Mr. Collins but like with the vibe from the Mr. Collins from the P&P& zombies movie bc that would be peak comedy)

More P&P plot stuff happens and 100% the lake scene is in there and so is the hand one bc it really wouldn't be a P&P AU without it. And the YEARING OH GOD THE YEARING would be on like steroids. Anyways is this like a crazy AU? Like does this even make sense?? Idk. Might draw it later if I have the energy.

[thatspurgatory]

OKAY FUCK DRAWING IM GONNA DEVELOP THE AMNESIA AU

//amnesia, gaslighting, just toxic yandere behavior

I do like the idea of people somehow discovering Silver is the son of Dawn Knight and Queen Leah and being the focus of attacks. He thought he was being injured for defending Malleus and that actually the person wanted to hurt Malleus instead of him, which isn't the case.

He gets hit by an amnesia spell, and the last thing he can see is his father coming up to him after defeating whoever was fighting Silver.

When he wakes up, the first he sees is this black and pink haired man throwing himself on him and hugging him, followed by some green haired guy starting to scold him for being so reckless. But all Silver can respond is, "Who are you? Why am I here?"

After the initial shock, Lillia ( who's very devastated to know his own son, doesn't remember a single thing about him, not even by telling him who he was) and Sebek go inform Malleus about the situation. Malleus was initially sad to know what happened to Silver... to think he probably doesn't remember Malleus either leaves him with a bitter taste on his mouth. However, he thinks it's better not to tell Silver everything, not even about his job as a bodyguard, as the amount of information he would get could stress him and not only but his duty might burden him when he needs to take time to rest.

Malleus and Lillia are very sure this attack was personal towards Silver, so while he rests, Lillia will look a way of regaining his son memories while Malleus investigates what the motive of the attack was ... he might as well need that person alive for now.

It's weird to Malleus, though, since Silver doesn't know about his duty and treats Malleus the same way he would treat a friend, even though he's more polite as Silver obviously knows he's a prince. It reminds him of simpler times when Silver was just the boy he used to visit every now and then, who loved to play with him, who didn't keep Malleus at a distance because of their roles.

Maybe Silver should stay not knowing this part. He can know everything but this, actually.

Malleus craves Silver's affection more than he knew, actually. He never knew how good it would be that they could hold hands, that Silver gets to talk to him about his problems (especially the amnesia) while Malleus listens and comforts him, that they even get to hug now... he doesn't want to let Silver go to being a retainer.

He can never return to the past now. Malleus doesn't want to feel so lonely anymore. He wants Silver close by his side, like a lover, not a guard.

Well, a little lie wouldn't hurt, would it? He did tell Lillia and Sebek to keep quiet about Silver's retainer job... it wouldn't hurt to tell Silver that he wasn't a body guard at all. After all, didn't that job hurt him? Malleus didn't need Silver's protection, but Silver DOES need Malleus to protect him at all times.

That mindset would worsen once Malleus found that Silver is being targeted for being Dawn's son. Ah, he gets too worried about him 24/7, and no one but Malleus is trustable enough to be so close to Silver, well, except Lillia and Sebek, he guesses. One more lie is fine. Those friends Silver had didn't want his good anyway, so even if Malleus did make some things up, he was right to do so.

The orders have changed now, and now they can't let Silver leave. What if he gets hurt so badly again? What if someone truly powerful is after him? Only Malleus can protect him. Not anyone else is capable of doing so. He tells Lillia that he doesn't need to look for a cure for Silver. They can just tell him everything. With the exception of that one information, of course. Lillia accepts it... maybe it's for the better that Silver doesn't know.

Ah, Malleus loves how Silver trusts him.

That's why he tells him they were lovers in the past, no more guard and prince history, that wasn't doing any good for both of them. They are lovers, always were, don't you trust Malleus to tell you the truth, Silver? It isn't good to worry about nothing at all? To just remain in the castle and love Malleus?

Silver doesn't need to know. After all, if he knew, Malleus would erase his memories once more again. That's the only way to save them both from a horrible path.

//yeah fuck the plot of the original game lol I just like the dialogues from Toma since they are very yandere!Malleus TO ME!!

"Are you scared of me?"

"Just like you don't care about my pain, I won't care for yours as well."

"I do everything to keep you safe, and yet you still escape."

I may have get some dialogues wrong BUT YOU GET THE VIBES

[four-bastard-bustle]

Obligatory picking men joke

[hinamie]

blue light overexposure dot png

[what-am-i-doing-in-this-fandom]

Yeah, I don't know about you, Fidds, but I'd fold at this 🙏

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