#I'm crying with laughter holy shit

[kadenrambles]

I remember being at this stream when he talked about "sugar" ;P

btw he's talking not talking about sugar XD I just love how it echo's when he says "sugar"

[no-pasaran-99]

u ever just cry bc no one on this planet will find you as fucking hilarious as u find u

[adventuringblind]

He Must Be Lucky!

Max Verstappen x Reader

Genre: fluff and crack

Summary: Max gets wasted and can't remember that the reader is his wife. It's endearing how much he simps bith sober and drunk.

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, a wild party (at least for Max), Max being down bad

Notes: This one is for @amajixi! I hope you like it! Does anybody wanna send me asks and talk about drivers with me? Give me your most feral thoughts because I'm genuinely curious... please >_< (I even turned my anonymous asks back on please just send me things).

Side note: my fics haven't been getting much traction as they usually do. Is it something on my end? Have y'all disappeared on me? I know I shouldn't care, but y'all are the only ones that validate my writing T_T

Masterlist // Request Form // My Website // buy me a Ko-Fi

Max has a track record of partying hard. It's who he is, and she lives him for it. There isn't any kind of gripe of hang-up, just Max having fun and doing dumb shit that makes her laugh.

Lando is throwing a - well - a party. There was an excuse for it in the invitation, but she's too buzzed to remember it.

The echoing sound of Max's laughter ricochets off the walls. Daniel is with him, probably getting them into more trouble, but she knows Daniel will look after him. At least until he's trashed and can't get off the floor.

Alex brings her another shot glass. She has no idea what's in it, but Alex is letting loose, and she'll be damned if she doesn't partake.

He raises the shot glass in a toast. "To whatever this party is!" He cheers. They clink their glasses together and down the shots. She gags at whatever was in it.

"The fuck was that, Alex?!" She sputters.

He gives her a blank look. Really thinking hard about what he gave her. "I've got no idea."

The hours seem to tick by. The people are slowly dissipating, leaving the safety of this weird little bubble they've created.

She's lightly buzzed still, having danced off the majority of the shots Alex had her doing. The couch is her new best friend, and Lando had brought her a blanket at some point in the last twenty minutes.

A weight on the other end of the sofa catches her attention. Max, with complete adoration in his blue eyes, is staring at her. "Wow," he slurs. "You are the most gorgeous woman I have ever seen."

She laughs at his drunken thoughts. "You're not too bad looking yourself, babe."

The smile on his face is almost childish. It's big enough to almost fall off. His cheeks tinged a darker red with the blush adding to the alcohol flush.

"Go on a date with me? Please?" He tries to pout, but it ends up looking awkward mixed with the grin.

She flashes the ring at him. "Sorry, I'm spoken for." Alex and Lando are giggling from where they are watching this interaction unfold.

Max looks like a wounded puppy. Eye's glossing over like her might cry. "He must be such a lucky guy. You're just so perfect!"

"Awe, love, you wanna know a secret?" She leans in to whisper into Max's ear. "You married me."

If Max could hand you the world on a silver platter, he might have tried in this moment. The Dutch is vibrating in pure, unadulterated joy. Like a child who just got the ice-cream they were so desperately craving.

"Holy shit! I'm the lucky guy!"

Max smothers himself against your body. Eventually falling asleep, mumbling about how she's so amazing, and how he loves her so much. It's endearing to here his drunk affections laid bare for everyone to see.

It's the lullaby that calms her to a restful state. Fingers tangling with the softness of his hair. "You're not the only one who's lucky. I guess I'm pretty lucky, too."

[harrysfolklore]

uncle harry

gif by @kiwikiwiandkiwi <3

im so soft rn, enjoy !

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

The phone ringing in the middle of the night meant bad news most of the times.

However, when you and Harry were woken up by the sound of his ringtone, his mum on the other line frantically saying "It's time! The baby is coming!", you couldn't be happier.

Gemma broke the news that she was expecting a few months ago and Harry was man enough to admit that he cried a waterfall, not being able to contain his happiness over becoming an uncle.

And you were absolutely melted at the sight of him being excited about it, every single time he went out, he would come back with stuff for the baby, he face-timed his sister every night and overall he couldn't stop talking about being an uncle.

When Harry found out that he was going to have a niece, his excitement reached a whole new level. He started planning everything, from what he would teach her to the tattoo he would get for her once she was born, and once again, it made your heart burst to see your boyfriend so excited.

So now you headed to the hospital, ready to meet the brand new addition to the Styles family.

"I'm so excited," Harry said as he drove through the streets of London, holding your hand, "I can'y believe Gemma is a mummy now, feels like just yesterday we were pulling each other's hair and arguing over the last piece of cheesecake."

You smiled at him, kissing his knuckles softly and placing your intertwined hands on your thigh, "Feels like just yesterday I met her for the first time at your show, I was so nervous!"

"You really were, lovie," he smiled at the memory, "And you ended up becoming inseparable."

"What can I say? She's the cooler Styles."

Harry gave you a side eye and then laughed along with you, the rest of the drive was quiet and soon enough you were pulling up to the hospital where a few family members already stopped by to meet the little bundle of joy.

"Are you ready to meet your niece?" you turned to look at him as you unbuckled your seat belt, noticing that he had small tears in his eyes, "H? Baby are you crying?" you grabbed his chin and couldn't help but smile tenderly when he looked at you with watery eyes, "Oh my gosh, you're too adorable."

"I just, I can't believe I'm about to meet my sister's baby, that's insane."

You kissed his lips shortly, grabbing his face with both of your hands when you pulled away.

"She's already so lucky to have the best uncle in the world," you pecked his lips again, "Now let's go, I'm eager to meet her too."

You and Harry entered the hospital, hand in hand, ready to meet the newest member of the Styles family. As you approached Gemma's room, you could hear the sounds of laughter and joy coming from inside.

When you walked in, you were greeted by a room full of close family members, the room was pretty spacious and had a spare area where visitors could hang around without disturbing Gemma and the baby. Anne immediately approached both of you, happiness radiating from her eyes.

"You made it!" she said as she hugged you, turning to Harry when you pulled away, "H, baby! I'm a grandmother!"

"And I'm an uncle! Holy shit!"

You melted at the interaction, over the years the Styles-Twist family had taken you as one of their own and you were happy to be present for important moments like this.

"How is Gem? Is she awake? Can we see the baby now?" Harry eagerly asked after hugging his mom.

"She is fine, doing amazing," Anne said proudly, "Michal is inside with her, let's go."

Anne guided you to the door that lead to Gemma's private room, Harry squeezed your hand and you walked next to him, excitement evident on his every step.

Anne opened the door, peeking her head inside, "Your brother is here."

You and Harry walked in, Gemma was lying on the bed looking tired but happy nevertheless, a tiny head peeking from the blanket on her arms.

"About damn time, I was about to pick a different godfather for her if he didn't show up soon," Gemma sassed, making Harry turn his head back in laughter.

"Dammit, you're really a mum now," he approached his sister, you decided to stay back with Anne, "The bloke your brought to my concert years ago really was the one huh? Who would've thought."

"What can I say, mate? You trying to sabotage our date was kind of our blessing." Michal chimed in, standing next to Harry and patting his back.

"Congratulations, mate. I can't think of a better guy for my sister." Harry said as he hugged him, everyone looking at the scene tenderly.

"Are you going to stand there or are you going to hold your niece now?" Gemma wiggled his eyebrows at Harry, holding out her arms to him.

Harry took the baby into his arms, his face lighting up with pure joy. He cradled her gently, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Hello, beautiful," he whispered, his voice filled with emotion. "I'm your Uncle Harry, and I already love you so much."

You felt your eyes get watery at the sight, Harry looked up at you and urged you to come closer to him and the baby.

"This is your auntie," he cooed to the baby again once you were standing next to him, "She's the coolest ever and makes the best pancakes, you're going to absolutely love her just like I do."

"She's gorgeous," you said as you looked at the baby's face, "Congratulations, Gem."

"Thank you," Gemma said softly, a tired smile on her face but her eyes shining with gratitude.

"Just so you know," Harry looked at Gemma with a serious face, "She's not allowed to have any boyfriends until she's like 30."

Michal laughed and agreed with Harry, you rolled your eyes at him and Gemma shook her head.

"Uncle overprotective, that's what you are," Gemma said, a yawn coming out of her mouth right after, "I can't even imagine how is it going to be when you have your own kid."

You felt butterflies in your stomach at this, Harry giving you a small smile and winking at you.

"Let me put a ring on her finger first please," he turned to look at Gemma, "Because unlike you, sister, I'm not having children out of wedlock."

"Come on, now!" Michal protested, making the entire room laugh.

Hours passed and Harry was glued to the baby, babbling nonsense to her and cooing at every little thing she did. Eventually Gemma drifted off to sleep and that was everyone's cue to leave and let both her and the baby rest.

"I'm so happy right now," Harry said as you drove back to your house, "I feel so happy for Gemma, and for our family."

"She's going to be the best mum ever," you looked away from the window to face him, "And you're going to be the best uncle."

"Thank you for being here with me today, for sharing this moment with me. I love you."

"I love you too," you replied, leaning in to kiss him softly. "I'm so happy for you, for all of us. Today was perfect."

"And I meant what I said back there, I'm not letting her have a boyfriend until she's 30."

"Whatever you say, uncle overprotective!"

[avocado-writing]

Idk if you know Mortal Kombat, especially mileena (she's my favorite) but may I please get a Wolverine and/or Deadpool with a gf who has a mutation like Mileena.

She thinks she's ugly when she uses it but the boys think otherwise 🎀

(I'M LITERALLY IN HEAT EVERYTIME I THINK ABOUT THEM)

This is (my wife) Mileena

When Wade fights with you at his side, your carnage is always prefaced with a quiet request. 

“Please don’t look.”

And, because he is fundamentally a good dude, he doesn’t.

Fuck. He really wants to, though.

The noises that you make when he turns his back to focus on a different opponent are… interesting. It sounds like a bunch of really wet celery being snapped in half to a symphony of screams. When he’s done slicing people into teeny tiny chunks he turns around and sees you standing there in a pool of blood, trying to get the stain of it off your jacket.

He’s never been so curious about something in his entire life.

You’re so lovely. Loveliest thing he’s ever met. How the fuck he managed to convince you to give him a chance he’ll never know. God, the stars, and luck must have all been on his side that day, when after you’d finished taking down a cartel he’d asked you to grab a coffee and you’d said yes. Ever since then it’s been great. He loves spending days on window-shopping dates with you, fingers intertwined as he leaves you breathless with laughter; lazing on his sofa with some stupid rom-com playing with a bucket of popcorn between you both; snuggled in his usual corner booth at his favourite pizza place playing footsie beneath the table.

Perfect. You are perfect in every way.

So if all it takes is looking away when you ask him to then it’s a pretty easy compromise.

Unfortunately what you don’t take into account is that he is an idiot.

Wade catches the sight of you in the reflection of his katana the next time you’re out on a job. He’s just liberated some dude’s head from the rest of his body and is cleaning his blade when he spots you. 

And he cannot turn away.

Your mouth is open so wide it could rival a snake’s. Rows of jagged teeth which help you dismember the man who has been caught in the vine of your tongue, struggling to get away as he screams for help. When your jaws snap shut the man is silenced. You spit out the remains of his face onto the ground beside you like discarded gum.

“Holy shit!” says Wade. You squeak when you realise he’s caught the reflection of you, covering your mouth with both hands as it returns to its normal soft, kissable line.

“Oh no!” you whisper. Wade dispatches the last guy who’s running for him with a well-aimed bullet before coming to gather you in his arms.

“Baby, hey, it’s okay!” he says quickly when it’s obvious that you’re about to cry. You look up at him with glistening eyes.

“But Wade, I look so ugly,” you manage, “I thought… if you saw… you might not want to…”

Be with me any more, are the words which hang unspoken in the air. Wade guffaws.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Babe, that was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen!”

Your eyebrows crease together in confusion. He wants to use his thumb to smooth it out, but instead chooses to wipe a tear off your face.

“Yeah?”

“Of course! Shit, you’ve got that fuckin’ Venom thing going on? Like Mileena from Mortal Kombat but sexier? Come on, I’d be a fool if I wasn't rocking a semi right now!”

This makes you laugh properly, from your stomach, and all your worry is forgotten.

“I shouldn’t have worried…” you sigh when you get your wits back.

“Nah, of course not. You’ll always be my boo, okay?”

You grin up at him, before an idea very clearly crosses your mind.

“Oh! That means now I can show you what my tongue can do.”

He isn’t proud of it, but that promise almost makes him cum in the suit.

taglist: @falsewordz @malfoys-demigod @belilwen @mildly-salted @tvwebs @childeslegstrap @getmeoutofhell @s1eep-o @just-a-beatlemaniac69 @yrthr @momopad @sugarplumz100 @captainjinkx @madspads @acrosstheunivcrse @yeethaw13 @na-is-salty @florduarte @hunterispunk @starfleetteddybear

[themultifanshipper]

Hello.

I have a question to ask. Are you up for a honeymoon fic Landoscar? With a lot of spicy things, hehe.

<3

When Oscar and Lando had woken up severely hungover that first morning after getting married at the Vegas GP, they knew they had made the right choice.

The only problem was how the hell they were going to go on their honeymoon without arousing suspicion.

Gonna go waterboard myself in holy water now brb

Warnings: Lando makes Oscar cry, but in a sexy way, sunburns, handjob, that’s it that's the plot, under negotiated everything, edging, Oscar being in denial, cum, facial, they're both fucking freaks

They got married on 20/11/2023 at 4:12 AM in the little Vegas Chapel after the Grand Prix. It was perfect (they barely remembered it) and the only people there were Alex and Logan (the best men) and the priest (who they had to track down later and make him sign an NDA).

All in all a brilliant night.

And the proof of consummation was… well, all over them and the sheets when they woke up.

How fucking romantic.

It was now a year on from that and they still hadn't been on their honeymoon.

They were determined though. But being in the public eye made any vacationing together quite hard.

So they decided to wait. Wait long enough that if they were seen, it would be reasonable to assume it was just a mates trip to a private Island.

They were currently on said private Island one morning, limbs tangled on a sunbed, sipping some pretty strong cocktails.

“What do you want to do today?”

“I don't care as long as I'm with you”

They giggled and a slap resounded on the empty beach.

“I hate you”

“That's not what you were saying last night when I had you-”

“Okay okay! I get it!”

Disgusting.

After another hour of lounging around, Lando untangled his limbs from Oscar's and got up to get more drinks.

“You want anoth- holy shit Osc!”

His eyes widened as he turned and took in his husband’s (he'd never get tired of saying that) appearance.

“What?” Oscar sat up, confused.

Oscar’s front was a similar shade of red as a lobster, the contrast in skin between his front and back making him look like a vanilla strawberry ice cream.

“Oscar you-” Lando couldn't contain his laughter “you forgot to put cream on again!”

Lando put his hand on Oscar's thigh and Oscar gasped in pain.

“Shit baby we need to go put something on that, let's go”

Oscar ended up laying on his back while Lando straddled his midsection and rubbed Aloe over his face and chest.

“Ah!” he hissed as a hand went over a patch of particularly red skin “careful where you put your bear paws!”

Lando laughed and squirted some more cream on his hands.

“Sorry baby, but it needs to be done. Besides you love my bear paws, especially when I put them on your-”

“Jesus, do you ever shut up!” Oscar laughed and Lando gasped at his meanness.

“Don't be mean to me when I'm helping you out!”

Oscar’s hands came up to cup Lando's ass over his shorts and squeeze lightly.

“You love it when I'm mean though, don't lie.”

“Oh yeah?” Lando smiled playfully “I can be mean too you know”

Oscar couldn't help the snort that escaped him. “Yeah right, I'll believe that when I see it, you’re just too sweet”

“I am not!” he tried to defend but Oscar just laughed at him “You just haven't seen my bad side, yet”

Oscar cackled and shot a look of disbelief at Lando.

Lando raised his eyebrows in challenge and shuffled backwards onto Oscar's thighs, making sure to rub against his crotch on the way.

“Shut up and let me finish putting the cream on” he scowled as he squirted a load straight onto Oscar's hot skin moodily.

“Aw… are you getting stroppy now because I laughed at you, baby?” Oscar cooed, hands reaching for Lando but he slapped them away.

“Touche me, or say another word, and I stop completely, understand?”

Oscar nodded, eyebrows almost fused with his hairline at Lando's harsh tone.

“And we'll see just how fucking mean I can be” the older man growled.

Well shit.

Lando quickly rubbed cream over Oscar's burns, before sitting back and ordering him to take his shorts off.

“Pardon?” Oscar wasn't used to being ordered around.

“If I have to repeat myself then I'll take them off, and I’m not going to be gentle”

That's a point, Oscar thought. He didn't want to take any chances with the burns so he peeled them off himself, making sure to give his skin a wide birth.

Once settled back into the sheets, Lando grabbed more cream and started rubbing it around Oscar's crotch, which was unnecessary given that the skin there was free of burns thanks to his shorts. But Lando apparently decided to turn this into a massage, because he was digging his thumbs into Oscar’s flesh, hard enough to make him groan at the feeling.

Then he dug his thumbs into Oscar's adductor muscles and the younger man yelped and stared daggers at him.

“What's the matter, baby?” Lando asked mockingly, “Am I going too hard for you?”

His eyes were inviting him to a challenge, one he knew Oscar wouldn't back down from.

Oscar shook his head, remembering Lando's warning from before, and quickly settled back down.

This was a new side to Lando. And it was getting Oscar a bit hot and bothered as his husband just carried on massaging/torturing him. The idea of being at his husband's mercy was turning him on enormously.

His dick twitched against his stomach and Lando chuckled.

“Careful Osc, one could think being submissive is turning you on” his voice was full of mirth but Oscar refused to acknowledge him, and stared at the ceiling while shaking his head.

“No? Must be mistaken then”

He continued along Oscar's groin, massaging the cream in and rubbing him in all the right places.

When Lando cupped his balls and pressed on his perineum at the same time, Oscar let out a strangled gasp.

He was dripping, he could feel it. But he refused to give Lando the satisfaction of asking him to touch him.

“You want me to stop Osc?” Lando had a teasing lilt to his voice. Oscar shook his head.

“If you want me to touch you all you have to do is be a good boy and say ‘please”

But Oscar, by some twisted sense of ego, refused to give in so he didn't answer.

Lando laughed softly and ran a finger up Oscar's cock, making the younger man shudder and his hips buck up of their own volition.

“That looks painful, Osc”

“Then fucking touch it”

Lando’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Not until you say please”

“Please” Oscar huffed out.

Lando tutted. “That wasn't very convincing, Osc.” His fingers ran along the tip and back down over his balls, but Oscar just about managed to stay impassive. He looked right into Lando's eyes.

“If you want me to say please you're going to have to do better than that”

Lando grinned like a Cheshire cat.

“Oh honey, I'm not going to stop until you're begging”

The look in his eyes was predatory and Oscar almost caved then and there.

But on principal, Oscar did not beg.

Cut to about 30 minutes later and Oscar was whimpering into his arm as Lando placed kitten licks on his dripping tip.

“Still not desperate enough to say please?”

Oscar just growled “nope” but it was so strained Lando barely heard it.

“Fine, maybe I need to try a different approach, then”

Oscar looked on as Lando grabbed the cream and squirted some straight onto Oscar’s cock.

Oscar hissed at the cold, but it was nothing compared to the feeling of Lando's large hand engulfing his cock and immediately starting a fast, tight, pace.

Oscar was writhing at the sudden intense pleasure after so long being teased, and he was having trouble getting air in his lungs as he hurdled towards an orgasm in record time.

His toes curled and his back arched as he felt the orgasm creep up his spine.

But just like that the feeling was replaced by a very tight hold around the base of his cock, the release his body craved ripped away from him.

“No! Lan-”

“Shhh, baby” Lando cooed “It's okay, I’ve got you”

While Oscar slowly came down from his almost-release, Lando reapplied some cream to make the slide as wet as possible, then proceeded to start stroking Oscar at the same pace as before, this time adding extra pressure.

Oscar was openly whining now, hands gripping the sheets so hard it’s shocking they weren't tearing.

“Now, I'm going to do that over and over again until you’re a good boy for me, okay”

Oscar couldn't contain the whine that came out of his mouth. He was getting close again and his eyes were filling up with tears at the white hot pleasure.

“Please” he let out a broken sob as his thighs started clenching with his impending orgasm.

“Oh you can do better than that, Osc” Lando’s pace didn't falter.

“Fuck- please Lan, I'll do anything. I need to come so bad, please, please. Please don't stop…” he was openly sobbing now, tears running down his cheeks as he took shuddering breaths.

He was so beautiful and pliant like this, Lando was unbelievably hard. He took pity on him and allowed him to come, other hand going to massage his balls for good measure.

“Good boy, Oscar. You can come now, go on.”

Oscar screamed as he came, hot spurts of his come landing over his abs and all the way up to his chin.

The sight of him, covered in his own cum, flush deepening the red of his burns, gasping for air, almost made Lando come on the spot.

He shuffled over to Oscar's head and pushed his shorts down to jerk himself off furiously.

“Open your mouth, tongue out” he ordered, grabbing Oscar’s jaw and aiming for his tongue.

It took him no time at all to come, and most of it landed on Oscar's cheeks and chin. It was absolutely sinful, the way his face was streaked with come, tongue hanging out, eyes unfocused, he looked like a sick man's dream.

Fortunately, Lando was a sick man.

“Shit Osc, I can't believe it took me this long to find out you’re a good little slut when you want to be”

Oscar took a long time to reply, trying to regulate his breathing.

When he finally did, a low growl came from his side of the bed.

“As soon as I get the feeling back in my legs, I'm going to fuck you until the sun sets, and I'm not giving you any breaks, no matter how many times you come”

Lando glanced at the clock.

It was only 1 pm…

Shit.

[leilanihours]

🗝️ prompt 19 with paige?

# YOU'RE SUCH A DREAM TO ME

pairing: paige bueckers x drunk!reader

word count: 847

warnings: none !

prompt: "i dreamed of you"

⭑ from lani: i kinda hate this i'm not good at writing drunk ppl LMAO

celly masterlist !

main masterlist !

YOU DOUBLED OVER laughing as you were practically dragged into your apartment by your girlfriend, "you're so funny, paige, holy shit!"

"baby, all i said was 'take off your shoes,' how is that funny?" she asks with a smile.

instead of responding with words you simply continue to die of laughter while paige tries to get you to sit down on the couch.

you didn't know it, but you were absolutely wasted. you had a few too many drinks at ice's birthday celebration and were now experiencing the effects of the various strong liquors you had consumed.

paige offered to be the designated driver so that you could relax and have fun. the two of you had been in this situation a few times before - where you were so drunk that you couldn't walk in a straight line and paige was basically your caretaker.

she knew that this was only the first stage of your drunken state: undying laughter. you would laugh and giggle at every little thing - nothing but a smile on your flushed face.

paige had already set you down on the couch and taken off your shoes, and she was now filling up a glass of water for you to drink.

"paigeyyy," you call out to no particular location, "where'd you goooo?"

your girlfriend winces as your voice echoes loudly throughout your apartment, remembering that you had little to no volume awareness when you were drunk.

"i'm right here, ma, don't worry," she says gently as she hands you the glass of water, "can you drink some of this for me?"

"mhm," you mumble, taking long sips of the cold water you didn't even know you needed, "thanks, p."

"you don't gotta thank me, y/n, it's just water," she shrugs with a small smile.

"i know but you're just such a good girlfriend to me," you slur, eyes randomly beginning to feel heavy, "i feel so bad that you have to take care of me like this, m'sorry, paigey."

paige looks into your eyes and notices tears beginning to fill your waterline, concern immediately overcoming her.

"hey, hey, hey, it's okay, baby," she says gently as she begins to caress your face and hair, "please don't cry, y/n, i love taking care of you."

"no you don't," you shake your head dramatically, "i'm just a nuisance that's keeping you from going to sleep."

at this point, tears had slowly begun streaming down your face as the blonde wipes them away with her thumbs.

"please stop crying, baby, you're perfect, you're not keeping me from doing anything," she explains, her eyes bever leaving yours, "i'm doing this because i love you."

"you love me?" you sniffle.

"so much."

"aw thank you, paige, i love you too," you whisper in her ear as if it were a big secret.

when you don't lift your head from its place in paige's neck, she assumes that you've fallen asleep on her shoulder. she chuckles at how quickly your mood has changed within the past ten minutes.

"how 'bout we get you ready for bed, yeah?" she asks quietly, rubbing circles over your back.

"mmm," is all you say in response.

"c'mon, up we go," she says as she lifts the both of you from the couch, placing one of your arms around her shoulders.

she guides you into your shared bedroom and lays you down on your bed, smiling down at your state.

as if there were a written routine, paige goes into your bathroom and grabs your makeup wipes, then into your closet to grab you a pair of pajamas.

"can you sit up real quick, baby?" she asks softly, tugging on your arms.

once she has you in an upright position at the foot of the bed, she begins to strip you out of your outfit from the party and slips you into your some sweatpants and a hoodie.

as she gently wipes off the makeup on your face, a smile creeps onto your face despite your eyes still being closed.

"you're not real," you mumble inaudibly.

"what was that, ma?" paige asks, throwing away the dirty wipes.

"you're not real," you repeat.

"i'm not?" paige chuckles.

"nope."

"why is that?" she asks as she pulls you up to the head of the bed, tucking you in before changing into her own pajamas.

"because you're just so perfect, so sweet to me," you explain, "i swear i've dreamed of someone like you, no- i've dreamed of you. just you."

"you make it easy to be sweet to you," she whispers, placing a kiss to your temple as she gets into bed next to you.

you immediately shift your position so that your head was resting on the blonde's chest and your arm was draped over her stomach.

paige wraps an arm around you, holding you tighter to her with no intent of letting go.

"love you so much, paige," you whisper before ultimately falling into a deep sleep.

"love you so much more, y/n," paige says into your hair before also drifting to sleep.

— leilani signing off ! 📁

[bandgie]

Who Dun It?

mystery!skzmember x fem!reader

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

warnings: MDNI 18+, dubious, finger fucking, intox implied, ruined orgasm, public fingering

780 words

It shouldn't feel good, but it does.

His chest is flushed against your back, making the room even hotter. You could blame the amount of people drunk and piling up, but it wouldn't be true. You like how his hands roam your body, how he gropes and squeezes your flesh. 

He has big hands, that's one thing for sure. This unknown man can fill his hands with your breasts, pressing them against your chest and jiggling the fat. His fingers find your pebbled nipples underneath the thin material of your top. 

Each tug makes you moan, each twist makes you throw your head back to his shoulder. You rub your legs together to get any sort of friction, but the man beats you to it.

His slender fingers make their way past your short skirt, under your panties to feel your sopping cunt. 

"Wet already huh?" His voice is like velvet in your ears. "I barely even touched you." You can hear a smirk in his words. "Or maybe you like being touched by a stranger. Do you like it?"

You nod frantically, trying to swivel your hips so his fingers brush against your clit. "Yes," it's a breathy answer. "I like it."

He leans down to your ear, lips ghosting over the shell. "Then spread your legs for me."

So you do, as much as you can at least with the crowded room. You moan when his fingers slide against your slit, gathering and spreading your slick. When he reaches your clit, he rubs it in hard circles. The pressure makes you yelp, hips shying away instinctively at the rough touch.

His other hand steadies at your waist so you can't wiggle too much. He grips you a little tighter when he finally sinks one of his fingers in your warmth. The moan you let out is crude, but the college students surrounding you two hardly seem to care. Their lack of attention is an encouragement to rock your hips against him.

The man, who you think you might fall in love with tonight, pumps his digit in you at a steady pace. You swear you can hear the perverted sound your cunt makes even through the music, but it only spurs you more.

His palm slides over your exposed flesh while he finger fucks you, never letting you forget how easily you opened for him. "Gonna cum on my finger huh?" He groans in your ear. "Dirty girl, don't even know who I am."

You don't, and you don't care. "Faster. Ngh~ you're so good,"

He moans in your ear at that, opting to not only go faster but to add an extra finger. It feels as though just two of his digits are a cock in you, hitting you deep and stretching you wide. You want so desperately to turn around and see who's touching you, but you like the mystery. You like that twinging sense of the unknown as the stranger brings you closer to completion.

With your clit being slapped consistently and your cervix being prodded, you can feel your legs trembling from your soon orgasm. It makes you scramble to find purchase on the man's thighs, on the wrist that's disappeared under your skirt. He lets you reach back and tug on his hair. 

His long hair, you note.

"Holy shit," you breathe. "I'm gonna cum. Cum, cum I'm gonna cum!"

He picks up his pace. He shoves his fingers so deep and fast you know everyone can hear it. Your toes curl, your eyes roll, your-

"COPS!" Someone shouts. "COPS!"

People around you begin to push one another, scrabbling to leave the apartment that's overly filled with smoke and spilled booze. They effectively shove the man away from you, tearing his fingers from your heat that makes you cry out in such desperation. 

More people hit your shoulders, some scream with laughter while running. 

You turn your head around, hopeful to find the man in eyesight. But all you see are the back of heads, then your friend's face amidst the chaos making her way to you. 

"We need to leave. Now."

She yanks you by the wrist, not commenting on the arousal dripping down your thighs or how your skirt is drenched in the front. 

Never in life have you been more frustrated, more distraught. Being dragged away while all you can remember is how well he finger fucked you, how beautiful his fingers looked and felt. His voice, his breath on your skin. And never in your life have you been filled with such determination. You'll find this man. Have him finish what he started. 

With new vigor, you head home.

a/n: can you guess who the mystery man is?? and im thinking about making a part 2 but I wanna see how this performs first lmao.

[achromaticegoist]

THE BOOK OF BILL TINY RANT (SPOILERS)

STOP. I CAN'T DO THIS TUMBLR. okay okay, I GOT IT DELIVERED LIKE 3 HOURS AGO AND I COMPLETELY FINISHED IT 😭😭😭🙏

I ACTUALLY CAN'T DO THIS ANYYYMOREEE. I SWEAR TO GOD I WAS GIGGLING, KICKING, SCREAMING MY HEAD OFF THE ENTIRE TIME READING THIS STUPID THING.

Did ALEX LIKE, *SCROLL* through FANDOM while making this entire thing BECAUSE WHY DID SO MANY PEOPLE LOWKEY EAT WITH THEIR OLD HEADCANONS? SUPPOSED TO BE THE DEATH OF ALL OUR HEADCANONS RIGHT??? EVERYONE PREDICTED AT LEADT SOMETHING LMFAOOOOO.

AND IF ANY OF YALL FOLLOW GRAVITY FALLS : AMBER SKIES BY JOZLYN MOON, THE POST WEIRDMAGGEDON SCAR THING BEING A PREDICTION IS FUCKING *CRAAAZY*

AND THE FACT THAT THEY KEPT COMPATING HIM TO THE DEVIL AND SHIT, LUCIFER REFERENCES AND "FALLEN ANGLE?" MY GUYYYYY the actual BALLS it takes to write this because I GASPED SO LOUDLY AT SO MUCH SHIT.

AND I WAS SUPER DAMN EXCITED ABOUT THE HENCHMANIACS ONE

GUYS THEYRE SO FUCKING STUPID 😭😭😭😭😭😭🙏 WHY ARE THEY ALL SO STUPID 😭😭😭😭 IM DYING OF LAUGHTER

SO MANY PEOPLE LOWKEY GOT SOME KIND OF BEEF WITH PYRONICA?? WHY ARE THEY SO INVOLVED WITH HER??? THEY HAVE A GROUPCHAT OH MY GOD THEYRE SO BESTIE CODED

Again I'm STILL FREAKING OUT ABOUT JHESELBRAUM THANK YOU VERY MUCH. I WILL SURVIVE ON THESE CRUMBS SO DAMN MUCH

TIME BABY IS A FUCKING COCOMELON ENJOYER 😭 HELPPPPPPPPP

GGGGGUYYYYS? WHAT? OH MY GOD?? WHAT THE FUCK?? IM SCREAMIGN. NO NONONO YOU CANT DO THIS TO ME THE ANGST.

AND NO. THE WAY BILL AND FORD HERE WERE FUCKKKK THATS SOME GOOD FUCKING TOXIC BILLFORD. DUDE NAH IM LIKE GASPING FOR AIR RIGHT NOW BECAUSE HOLY SHIT SOME OF THE STUFF HERE IS SICK BUT I CAN'T HELP BUT LIKE

AND THE

IM FREAKING

AAAA

FORD DESERVED SO MUCH BETTER THOSE PAGES MADE ME TEAR UP A LITTLE 😭😭😭🙏 NOOOOO

AND THOSE *SCRAPS* OF BILL'S BACKSTORY. GUYS CHAT NO I AM SCREAMING. SILLY STRAW CHILDHOOD TRAUMA LOWKEY WENT HARD AND HIS FAMILY AND THE *FUCKING SPECK OF HIS HOME DIMENSION*.

THAT ONE LITTLE TV SCREEN WITH THE EDWIN A ABBOT FLATLAND DIAGRAM IN THE BOOK THOUGH NAH CUZ FANDOM ATE WITH THAT ONE.

AA. AAAAAAAA. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

AND WHAT THE FUCK 😭🙏🙏 DIPPERS HISTORY WAS SO FUNNY I COULDNT STOP LAUGHING BRO ALSO WENT THROUGH THE GREEN MNM STAGE

AND IM NOT EVEN GOING TO TALK ABOUT THE COLLEEN BALLINGER***** APOLOGY REFERENCE THAT SHIT WAS SO DAMN FUNNY.

ALSO THE ENDING??? WHAT THE--THERAPY? NO BRCUASE THIS IS ACTUALLY SOME MESSED UP THERAPY SHIT. That is NOT how you try and heal someone holy fucking hell. Guy is getting more and more broken

CHAT I AM SOBBING AND SHAKING AND CRYING AND READY TO IMMERSE MYSELF FULLY IN THE GRAVITY FALLS FANDOM RN, STILL VERY MUCH ACTIVE IN HAZBIN HOTEL BUT GOD MOTHERFUCKIN DAMMMMMMMMNNNN THIS IS SOMETHING TO UNPACK.

[penvisions]

by the grit of sandpaper {chapter 5}

Pairing: Jackson! Joel Miller x Patrol Partner! Reader

Chapter Summary: Another overnight patrol, an asked favor, a miscommunication, a fleeting moment of pleasure and it all comes crumbling down. Even worse than you had anticipated, the allure of being a part of something bigger than yourself blinding you into believing it was finally within reach.

Word Count: 10.3k (!!)

Warnings: canon typical violence, canon typical language, illusions to past death, illusions to past trauma, blood, mild injuries, hurtful language, town gossip, rumors, negative feelings, pining, heart of gold joel, carpenter joel, woodworking joel, artisan joel, patrol partnership, lots of feelings, angst, hurt and comfort, joel miller's hands need their own warning, intentional flirting, unintentional flirting, casual intimacy, urges to kiss joel miller get their own warning, adult content, teasing, yearning, protective joel, fluff, this is so unbelievably soft, size kink unlocked in reader, (girl, i feel you), reader is described as smaller than joel (bc c'mon), reader has a commonly used nickname but no assigned name, joel and reader pov

A/N: holy shit, i am so sorry for the mix up with the original content. i'm so emotionally drained from today that i didn't realize it wasn't the final version of the chapter that i uploaded. but it's fixed, all scenes are complete and as they should be.

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist || ko-fi

It was your fault, you realized. As you set about searching for something you remembered seeing in the house when you had first been assigned to it and moved in with Aiden. It had been one of those things that you stared at in disbelief, startling manic, nearly hysterical laughter that had turned into tears and uneven breaths. So ridiculous to have come across it over a decade after the end of the world.

A pack of index cards.

Index cards. Who needed index cards at the end of the world, when language was all people had. Skills like writing, reading, all faded away and dormant reflexes that could be called upon if and when needed.

It hadn’t mattered if you could write, had the ability to write or read when you were running for your life from Infected and humans, crashing through the remains of what was once a town or city, crashing through snapping and unforgiving forests, crashing through unforgiving open land in the hopes that you weren’t spotted a mile away by someone trying to protect what was theirs or looking for targets.

It was your fault he had pulled away to the point of beginning his…thing with Marsha. The way you had run from him, run from what you had both shared. But it didn’t mean anything, he was...Joel was…an important part of the settlement. Integrated far better than you ever had the chance to and you would just ruin it for him. He had to understand that because he too, hadn’t tried to bring it up.

Gathering them and a few of the cookbooks you had, you settled at the kitchen table. Taking the time to flip through the recipes to find simple ones that could be adapted to the more limited means the settlement could produce. Eager to find ones that Joel wouldn’t find too challenging and would like the end result of.

Just as your pen hit the paper, a knock sounded on your door. Sighing, you set it down and made your way across the front of your home to find Tommy with a crying bundle in his hands.

“Maria left me with ‘im for the day to handle some council business and he won’t stop cryin’.” He looked like he was about to burst into tears himself, but you didn’t say as much. Knowing firsthand how draining it was to look after a newborn.

“Well, good morning to you too.” You said as the man shouldered his way past you and took up half of the couch, an old backpack swinging from his elbow.

“You said to come to you for anything we needed, and I need your help.”

“How do you know I’m not bad with babies, huh? Maybe they hate me and I’m one of those women who don’t like them?”

“But you’re not. Right?” His curls were a frizzled mess, his eyes telling of his sleepless night as they widened and regarded you almost desperately. Rocking the bundle in his arms gently, holding it close, But his arms looked angled weird, totally not in a natural hold. “Joel always said I was too anxious around Sarah when she was super little and that’s why she cried for him for hours until she tired herself out. But he’s busy workin’ on finishing up that new roof before the snow really starts to come down.”

You did know who Sarah was. It had been a rather slow and somber conversation between you and Joel one day in the middle of summer. You had only been going out on patrols with him for a few months at that point. Him and Tommy focusing on getting as much done around the town upon his return, taking longer than usual to add a newcomer to the roster.

He had asked after you, if you lived alone. You had answered yes, saying you lost everyone in the initial chaos of the outbreak. Your city too densely packed for a chance to return home, the only chance at survival had been to immediately flee. He had told you something similar, that he had lost everything but his brother in the wake of the virus. You hadn’t asked after who, but he had told you of his daughter. His biological daughter with a wet chuckle at how she was too kind for this world anyway. You had looked away from his tears, knowing even back then that he needed to speak otherwise it would eat him from the inside out. To think of her constantly and not be able to talk about her must’ve hurt just as much as losing her. Mentions of her sprinkled future conversations and you were glad he trusted you with that part of himself.

 But you weren’t sure if Tommy knew you did beyond her name as chalk on a blackboard memorial in his living room.

“I’m good with babies,” You assured the man beside you. Slipping a full bottle from the side of the pack and asked him to dap it to your wrist. You licked up the milky liquid, immediately pinpointing the issue.

“It’s too bland, a little sugar mixed in won’t do any harm. But I prefer maple since it’s got the same qualities of honey but less of the local pollen. Both will help build immunity to the blooms come spring time.” Standing up, you carefully moved the baby to rest along your front, head on your shoulder and moved into the kitchen. The cap had been unscrewed by a watching Tommy and you stirred in a bit of maple syrup that had been collected outside the gates.

The bundle in your arms was still crying, though not as high a volume as when Tommy had first entered the house. Softly hushing and cooing to try and calm him. The second you touched the bottle of sweetened milk to his little lips, he quieted down and began to sip.

“Oh, thank god.” Tommy’s head was in his hands, elbows atop his knees. You settled beside him once again, smiling over at the older man. “Olive, if this is too much, I promise-“

“It’s okay, really.” You let him rest a wide palm on your knee, his fingers caressing the bare skin there as your dress skirt allowed for them to show. His eyes wide and beseeching, making sure you were really okay before he sunk into the cushions. “I’ve made peace with it a long time ago…”

It was his fault. The thought consumed him as he inspected the planks of olive wood, having brought them into the house after the first heavy coat of frost that covered the whole town after a particularly chilly night. He recalled having woken up, shivering as he yanked on a pair of thick socks and searched through the closets in the house for a spare blanket to throw over his bed. How he wondered if you were warm enough in your own bed as he donned his boots unlaced and jacket unzipped to drape another blanket he had taken from the closet over a passed out Ellie in her little studio.

And then he had wondered what type of clothing you wore to bed. When you had answered the door in your robe, it hadn’t looked like you had anything on underneath it aside from maybe underwear and a tank top. Not enough to keep your skin from the chill that tended to seep in through the panes of the windows all around Jackson, despite the blessing of functioning heaters.

He hadn’t gone after you, his attention being called away. You had run off, too startled by being interrupted and most likely embarrassed at being caught in such an intimate moment. But…it had been such a good moment until it had been shattered.

You had shown up at his door in a long dress, the skirt flowing down to your knees, thick fabric around your legs to combat the ever-present chill in the air. There was a whicker basket, handle draped over your forearm. That paired with your worn boots and wide brimmed had had been such a lovely image to open his front door to.

It had been hard not to stare at you and you talked and guided Ellie through dinner, faint music drifting into the kitchen from the living room as he set about cleaning up after each step and setting the table. It was all so domestic and he wanted for more nights like it. Just you and him and Ellie.

Sighing, you made sure to lock the front door behind you. Apron bundled up beneath your armpit and thrown in the general direction of the laundry room door on the other side of the kitchen. Filling and setting a kettle over the stove, you stood and looked out your kitchen window for a moment, taking in the fluffy snow that had attempted to stick as the dark, moody sky brought it over the town. It was still early, the sunrise more than likely about to occur, but it hidden in the overcast.

You shifted your gaze over the counters, logging the ingredients you had on hand for a possible breakfast even if you weren’t terribly hungry at the moment. When they landed on the broken mixing spoon that had decided to crack and splinter last night under your soapy hands as you cleaned up over dinner, you moved to rummage in the hall closet. The scrape of untreated wood along the floor sent a chill up your spine as your fingers closed around what you were searching for.

The thick slab of wood is covered with an old flat sheet. It had been from a tree last year, one that had lost a main branch in the same winds that had taken a whole one from your collection.

It was beautiful. Rich in color, the grain so detailed and curling in beautiful swirls. Burl added layers and looking pretty as it was set just so in the cut. You had kept it, unable to burn it for the soil. The thought of asking Joel to make you a set of cooking utensils had been in the back of your mind for nearly the entire time he had been here. But now with the crop of cutting boards artfully crafted, you were tempted to ask him to make of those from the hefty source in your hands.

But he hadn’t offered you one, hadn’t so much as mentioned that he had begun to make more and more ever since that first one he had been ‘trying out the idea’ in Tommy’s kitchen. You were hesitant to bring it up, but with the holidays only a couple weeks away…you were curious to see his reaction to the request.

You didn’t ask anything of anyone. Not even when you first got here, had taken the time to acclimate to the way life was led here within the settlement. Community, social circles, job detail, patrol. All of it had been taken in stride, and you worked for everything in your possession. Joel did too. You admired him for it.

A few moments later, you were rapping your knuckles against the man’s front door.

Ellie comes around the side, hearing it from her separate garage. She had looked frustrated, then curious, then excited.

“Hey, Olive,” She walks up to you, noticing the wood in your hands. “The old man’s not home, he went to help out with the lil guy.”

“O-oh, okay. I’ll just come back, I guess.” But when you began to inch closer to the porch steps, she ascended them with a small smile.

“Nah, come hang with me until he gets back.” She brushed past you with a soft touch to your arm. A key slid into the lock and then you were hesitantly following her into the house. “Feel free to make some of that god awful coffee you two enjoy so much, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.”

You saw her dip off down the hall, the sound of her rustling through something behind an open door allowing you the privacy to make up your mind on the offer of coffee as you stood on the threshold to the kitchen. With a determined push, you set about to search for the coffee grounds and mugs. He had only two, one with a detailed owl and another more simple one. It was a plain white one that was hefty and looked like it belonged in the full hands of diner waitress. 

It transported you back to late nights and early mornings surrounded by ruckus laughter and inside jokes, the scent of pancakes and bacon cooking on a flattop and the jingle of a bell to signal overflowing plates were ready to be dug into.

“What’s that in the cloth?” Ellie’s curiosity piqued by the bundle you had set down atop the kitchen table, her long thin fingers slowly unwrapping it. With a nod from you, she did so completely. Her eyebrows shot up, thoughts swirling behind her keen eyes. They flicked to the back room just on the other side of the kitchen wall. Her bottom lip was taken between her teeth and she looked like she was trying not to laugh.

“I know it’s silly, but…” You couldn’t help but feel nervous admitting it out loud, that you wanted to ask Joel to take some of his sparse free time for a personal project. You poured yourself a steaming cup of the finished coffee, searching for the sugar cannister. “This has been drying for nearly a year and I was gonna ask Joel-“

“Gonna ask Joel what?” His voice sounded from the doorway into the kitchen, startling you both. You rushed to put yourself between him and the table, a poor attempt to hide the plank of wood from his curious eyes. He looked tired, no doubt having been up more than resting all last night if he had been over at Tommy and Maria’s.

Taking that as her queue to leave, Ellie bolted out the back door with a hollered goodbye.

“Oh, um. Hi,” You waved slightly at him, unsure of how he would take to coming home to his house and finding you in his kitchen. Even if Ellie had said it would be okay. You were nervous, knowing that asking for something was a tricky thing. Even if he was so willing to give to others; his time, his attention, his skills. “I ha-have this.”

Moving out of the way as he crept closer on heavy feet, you allowed him to see the olive wood you had hauled over here.

“I-I was wondering i-if you’d be able to make a set of cooking utensils out of this? But I understand if you’re too busy, or don’t want to work with the dense wood, or don’t have the time-“

"Of course, sweetheart. I’ll try my best for you." And just like that he melted all your worries away and a smile pulled at your lips.

He easily moved the chunk of wood from the kitchen to his workspace. The muscles of his arms bulging beneath his flannel, the muscles of his shoulders straining at the fabric over his broad shoulders. All for your viewing pleasure as you followed behind him. The room was smaller than you expected, on his ground floor, just down the hall from the kitchen. But it was such a reflection on who he was.

The main desk had a comfortable looking chair, thick cushion on the seat. Atop it was an open book, propped up on a few stacked behind it and open to a stunning photograph of a deer. In the center was a partially carved figurine of the deer in the photo, shavings around it and tools lined up in a half circle around the back of it.

“How many pieces did you want?” He carefully bent his knees and lowered the wood to the ground, atop a tarp that several long pieces of lumber were set on and leaning against the wall. Blocks of wood beside them and lined up against the wall almost like bricks.

“Oh, um, just however many you can manage.” The crack of his knees as he straightened worried you, but it happened to you more and more so you understood it wasn’t really painful so much as uncomfortable most of the time. 

"The cutting boards all around town...” Trailing off as a familiar scent caught your attention through the general smell of lumber, you moved toward the pile of wooden planks lined up along the wall like books atop a work table. There were many shades and types of wood, all different steps of being sanded down or stained, shavings nestled in a waste bucket beneath. Tools scattered over the surface and small cannisters of sealant and paint stacked neatly beside them. Two of the planks of wood were light, ashy and your attention honed in on them as you moved toward the table. “It was kinda my idea and I was wondering if-"

"Sweetheart, I can't make you one." You startled at the boom of his voice so close, blocking your view from the stack of them as he moved to stand in front of you. The hand that had been reaching out with the intention of caressing them fell back to your side.

"Oh, um, okay." You cast your eyes down, taking in the worn leather of his boots. Of yours. There were so many of them, easily two handfuls and yet he wasn’t willing to share one with you. But everyone else around town seemed to be worthy and you couldn’t help but wonder why you weren’t. You were friends, he had said it himself. But then…but then you had kissed him and fled.

No question as to why flowed from you. You were used to not being included, but you had to admit that it stung coming from him. In an attempt to mask it you tried to smile but you weren’t sure if it actually showed. Your chest ached, body feeling like it wasn’t yours. Like you were looking down on it as it stood in that workspace with the man who sought solace within it. Like you had intruded, and shame bubbled up for having made yourself comfortable where you shouldn’t have.

"Can't find a sealant that would hold up to those knives we found. You'd just cause damage to it."

"Okay, but-“ You tried to backtrack, to apologize for being so curious.

"No, Olive. I don't have one for you, so please quit askin'."

You didn’t say anything, your voice stuck in your throat. Turning and walking away from him without looking up, afraid to see his expression. You faintly heard his voice calling after you, but you ignored it, it was far away. It was as if you were down in a tunnel, like you had tipped over and fell down into one the second Joel had turned you down.

You wanted to move past it, to gloss over it, to stay and enjoy in the time he had been willing to give you on his one day free from responsibilities. But you couldn’t, your chest felt like it had caved in, like you were hollow, like you would never be able to break into the social graces of the settlement. Marked with the death of someone who had, someone who kept messing up and making it easy for people to turn you away.

He thinks about how hurt you looked when he tried to ward you off from the stack of cutting boards he had practiced designs on and different shapes. berating himself for being so harsh when he had been scared you would see the wood he had taken from you without your knowledge. You had been reaching for the planks made from it, drawn to them as if they were magnetized.

The way in which you had shut down, his soothing words after denying you falling on deaf ears as you turned and simply walked away from him. He had been under the impression you wanted to spend the day with him. You had been an unexpected guest but not an unwelcome one. It had been nice to return to his home to find you there, comfortable enough to have put on a pot of coffee and the errant scent of that woodsy, floral perfume that seemed to be a part of your skin from tending to the trees in your yard.

But you had just turned and walked away.

He watched you go, not liking the way you had shrunk into yourself at his denial. He had tried to be soft with it, you couldn’t know that you had been asking after the one thing he wanted to keep a secret from you. That you had given him the idea and he was practicing and making so many different prototypes all to ensure that when it came time to craft yours, that he would be able to do so easily.

He scrubbed a hand roughly over his face, sighing out as he dressed for patrol. His alarm had gone off an hour ago but he had already been awake, sleep evading him as the moment from the other day played in his mind’s eye over and over again.

Settling on the musty cushions beside you, the memory of the last time he had done so puffed up along with a cloud of dust. It had been a long day. Clearing the village and finding a place to hole up in for the night.

“I’ll take the first watch, try ‘n get some rest.” He murmured low, taking in the way you were already curling your legs up underneath your body on the other end of the couch. The scarf around your neck pulled up for you to bury your face into it, hands in their gloves and secure in the pockets of your coat.

You didn’t think you even responded, the cold of the day draining you and making sleep too alluring a respite even with the broad man beside you and all alone for the first time in a while.

Bird calls woke you up hours later, signaling the start of a new day. The warmth of sleeping was a lull to the chill you knew awaited outside, but you pressed into the bed further, burrowing even more into the lump of blankets you tended to scrunch up beside you.

But the lump shifted and your eyes flew open to find a different setting than you dark bedroom. You weren’t asleep in your bed, you were sunk into a decrepit couch and pressed into Joel’s right side, having sought out his warmth in the cold house. He was asleep too, his eyes closed despite his body still seated up with his feet resting on the ground.

You couldn’t help but rest your cheek on his shoulder, taking comfort in how close and warm he was, even if it had been an instinctual move to begin with.

He was so handsome. Beautiful. From the scar across the bridge of his nose, the one at his temple, to the freckles that littered his tan skin. Wrinkles relaxed as he slept, his plush lips parted slightly. His body sunk into the fabric where he had settled last night, long and lean. His mass so large you had shifted in your sleep to press up against him, partially on him to share the small couch and steal his warmth. His neck bent back a little as his head lulled onto the back cushions.

Your eyes roved down the strong column of his neck, catching on the way his adam’s apple jutted out and you resisted the urge to lean in and nip at it.

His hands, dear god, his hands. They were slack in his lap, his entire body completely lax as he slept slumped beside you. Veins and freckles decorated the skin, mind running with the idea of them tight around different parts of your body. How they would feel wrapped around your hips, your breasts, your neck…

You couldn’t help but reach out and lay a hand atop one of his, your palm over the back of his. Your stomach fluttered, the heat settling low. Your own hand looked so small, atop his. The difference so startling.

“Mm, good mornin’,” Joel’s gravelly rumble made you jump, realizing you had gripped two of his fingers in your hand. He jostled the hand in your grip and you felt heat flood your cheeks at being caught touching him. When you moved to take it back, he curled his fingers, catching your hand and pulling it up to his lips where he pressed his lips to the back of it. “Don’t act all shy now, sweetheart.”

You throb.

The gusset of your underwear suddenly dampens as you clench around nothing.

“I-I don’t know what came over me, you were sleeping and I shouldn’t ha-have-“ Trying to tamp down your less than friendly thoughts, the allure you felt wash over you at his sleepy timbre, to backtrack away from what could end up being another thing to have him avoiding you around the settlement.

But he surprised you, emboldened by the hazy thoughts displayed in the parting of your own lips, the heat he could feel rolling off of you, the pressure you tried to relieve between your legs with a clench of your thighs together. And then his thick, sleep coated words turned sultry, pitched low and velvet.

“Thinkin’ about my hands on ya, huh? Sweet little thing, what was it?” He guided your hand to cup his cheek and then rest against his neck. “Thinkin’ about my hands here?”

When he squeezed your hand around it, you felt faint for the way your blood was rushing and thundering loud in your ears.

“N- no.” You swallowed, voice breathy and pitched low as you struggled to find words.

“No? What about…” He moved your hand to his chest, right in the middle of his ribcage. His heart was thundering beneath the flannel, mirroring your own. “Here?”

Your breath hitched as he moved it further, not giving you the chance to answer this time. Down ,down, down past the hem of his shirt beneath his jacket to the denim of his jeans. Pressing your palm down atop the zipper, you could feel the long line of him, hot and semi-hard. It twitched at the pressure, and you couldn’t help the whimper that fell from your lips. Eyes having been dragged down along with your clasped hands.

“What about here?” His lips grazed the shell of your ear as his question was pressed close, nose brushing sensitive skin just behind it. Mustache and beard lightly scraping against you, causing you to shiver and press down your hand more firmly. He groaned out, the sound burrowing deep into you. He twitched again beneath your palm and all the air in your lungs whooshed out.

And then he was dipping his head to capture your lips in a hard kiss. His tongue trailed over the seam of your lips, and you let him in without a thought. Pleasure flared from the heat that had taken hold of your entire body, the air crackling with the need for him to be closer, to be pressed to you completely, pressed inside of you completely. Body buzzing, needing more more more from him you shift to cup his cheek with your other hand.

When he speaks next, his voice is all soft. Southern twang breathy and so close as his lips graze yours, his forehead pressed to your own. The press of hot skin only a prelude to what you hoped was more…

“Sweetheart, I-“

The sudden creak of the back door opening cut the tension of the room and your stomach filled with dread. Joel’s hands became almost painful on you as both your heads whipped around to stare at the kitchen threshold, waiting with bated breath for the intruding source to walk through it.

He was up off the couch in a second, his handgun in his palm and he stalked silently toward the kitchen, leaving you on the couch to reach for your own. But your attention was pulled to the front door of the house just as he disappeared through the threshold.

Two shadows crept into the house and your ducked down to avoid being seen immediately.

There were sounds of a scuffle in the kitchen and you took the opportunity to sneak around the couch in a crouch and stand with the gun trained on the larger figure of the two just on the other side of it.

“Drop your gun or I shoot.” You kicked his legs apart, hand patting him down as he listened to your command. He didn’t have any other weapons on him and the woman a few feet away didn’t visibly have any, her clothing tight around her middle, large jacket draping over her to keep her swollen middle warm.

You took your eyes off of her for one second to kick the gun away and behind you when she lunged. A shiny piece of something glinted in her hand and you shouted out as it cut across your own middle.

Grunting, you elbowed the man in the ribs, winding him and sending him to crumple to the ground in pain. You kicked out and wrapped your foot around one of the woman’s legs and tugged her close, ignoring the sensation of that same piece of whatever it was in her grip as it tore into your jacket sleeve.

You smacked her hand against the wall behind her, being mindful of her stomach and was about to wrap your hands around her neck when the man wheezed out a pleading cry.

“Don’t hurt her, please!” He tired to catch is breath, but you didn’t break your focus away from the woman you had pinned down. A wave of nausea rose over you, the only indication before you collapsed, blood soaking the front of your shirt in a dark, wet patch.

“Shit, I think you cut her too deep.” The man crawled over to you, his hands pressing down to try and staunch the flow. The woman fell to her knees beside him, her hands reaching out to grip one of your arms. The clatter of the weapon she had used was loud and you looked over to it. It was a piece of dirty glass.

“I-I didn’t me-mean to hurt you so badly! I’m so sorry.”

“Fuck, okay, go to my pack.” They shared a confused look, but the fact that they hadn’t run off with yours and Joel’s supplies to their remorse at hurting you told you they were good people. “Go! There’s a spare shirt, we need it to put over the wound.”

Just as she bent to dig into the pack by the couch, Joel’s quiet steps and low threat called as he entered the room.

“Get your hands off of her and step back.”

“Wait! They aren’t Infected!” You panted, voice sharp despite the effort it was taking to breath as your middle burned, knowing the man’s instincts had taken over completely. His steps measured. His gun raised. His reasoning marred by the sight of you bleeding on the floor.

“They hurt you.” His honeyed drawl gone, replaced with an air of authority that demanded attention, all dark, rich molasses sticking everyone in place.

“It was an accident, Joel, please. They…they have a baby on the way. We have to take them back.”

“That true?” He kept the shot gun aimed at the man hovering over you, the blood shining on his hands making his nerves twitch. But his eyes landed on the woman who had been rummaging through your bag for first aid supplies. She slowly stood from her crouch, revealing her swollen belly.

He ordered them both to take a seat on the couch, telling them he would deal with them once he tended to you, letting them know that he wouldn’t hesitate to shoot if they tried something. He then kneeled down on the ground beside you, one of his large hands going over yours holding the wad of fabric to your middle, the other going to cup your cheek.

“Sweetheart, are you okay?” His eyes bore into you, stern edge to them. You were visibly shaking, skin looking sallow and sweat beading at your temple. He carefully moved your hands aside, eyes flicking from your pained expression to the injury as he slowly lifted the fabric you had pressed to it. And then the hem of your sweater and tank top underneath.

Lips a grim line and eyes dark as he took in the still bleeding injury. His brow furrowed deeper as a thick rivulet ran down your side to spill onto the floor and Joel cursed under his breath. The gash was a few inches long across your stomach, to the left of your belly button, rimmed and irritated red. Angry and no doubt already infected if the shard of dirtied glass abandoned beside you was any indication. Your blood stained it, the woman’s fingertips pressed into it in smeared, red marks.

“Shit, it’s already starting to get infected.”

You managed a weak nod, both in response to his question and muttered worries fighting off the tears as he pressed around the wound, trying to get a gauge of how deep it was. You held back a whimper at the prodding, bottom lip firmly between your teeth.

“Joel, there’s gau-gauze in my pack.”

“Find it and toss it to me, quick.” He raised a threatening look to the pair on the couch, their heads turned and watching everything play out. Worried that if you were to bleed out, the man wouldn’t hesitate to retaliate or leave them here to their own devices.

The woman rushed to dig into your pack once more, fingers finding the crinkling plastic wrapped around the sterile gauze. She tossed it to Joel, the hand that had moved down from your cheek to rest over your heart on your chest reached out to snag it from the air. He ripped it open with his teeth and urged your hands to hold it down atop the wound.

You could only watch through hazy eyes as he shucked off his jacket and then his flannel. With a smooth motion he removed his t-shirt, his most base layer. With his chest on full display, the dark hair over his chest and trailing down from his belly button you startled at the sound of ripping fabric. The knife he kept holstered on the back of his waist out of is sheath as he used it to cut a thick strip from the hem of his shirt. He gently urged you to lift up from the ground for him to wind it around your back and tie it securely over the wound.

Slipping two fingers below it to ensure it was tight enough to keep pressure but not overly so as to cause more problems. It felt a thousand times better already, your nausea waning as the blood stopped flowing from your body. But you would definitely need stitches and antibiotics once back inside the gates. Once he was sure the wound was okay for the moment, he took both your hands in his, a slight tremor to them. His thumbs rubbing soothingly across the backs of them.

“Okay, you’re okay,” He murmured. He leaned down to press his forehead to yours. Breathing in deep and your lashes fluttered as he sighed out. His eyes were clenched shut and he took a moment to ground himself before he pulled back and peppered chaste kisses over your face. Your forehead, each of your cheeks, the tip of your nose. The edges of your mouth.

“I’m okay,” You promised, unable to ignore how shaky his breathing was so close. A nervous giggle sounded from you, unable to tamp it down as your head swam. “But maybe you should put your clothes back on before you freeze.”

“Can’t lose you, sweetheart.” The whispered sentiment washed over you, leaving you warm and light in the chest for a completely different reason. Only when you nodded in understanding, did he reach over for his flannel and shrug it back over his broad shoulders. The buttons closed up with deft fingers as he watched you take a mental stock of your body and how it felt. You said up just as his jacket was pulled back into place over the flannel.

“Good thing ‘m not goin’ anywhere then, huh?” His wet chuckle was the only response you got before he helped you to stand. He guided you over the couch with an arm around your shoulders, silently demanding that the pair move from the cushions to make room for you. Making sure you were comfortable with both packs beside you before he turned his attention to the people who had injured you.

A nurse took you in quickly, insisting someone else would do a thorough check on the brother and sister you and Joel had brought to them once leaving the horses at the stables. The backup shirt you had taken along with you in your pack tied to your abdomen with a scrap of fabric from the bottom of Joel’s undershirt. It was better than nothing, better than bleeding out.

You had insisted that the woman, Callie carefully got up on Lowry for the trip back. Joel had been worried about them sharing a horse together, the very real possibility of them taking off on it at the forefront of his mind. But you had assured him that they could be trusted. That they could’ve taken both your packs and left you to bleed out on the floor.

That was how you had found yourself once again sharing a horse with Joel for an entire day. The feel of his body pressed close to your back so different from when he had tried to keep his distance. His hands secure around your waist and resting atop the saddle horn. You tried not to let it distract you, carrying on casual conversation with them to get a feel for who they were. Every so often, when you grunted at particularly hard hoofbeats or a rough jostle, his right hand would press against your roughly patched wound.

Stitches, the nurse had said. At least four of them.

Joel was outside the hall, waiting for you to be released. He looked up from the notepad in his hands when you exited the room, brown eyes tired. You couldn’t read his thoughts, though you were too tired to begin to think what that could mean.

“Hey, what’d they say?” He surged up, the notebook going back into his pocket, the worn fabric snug around it. He retrieved the coat and sweater he had kept for you when the nurse had asked you to remove all outer layers.

You lifted the torn tank top, allowing him to see the clean, bright white bandage that had been taped over the injury. The fait outline of stitches could be seen through it. Two of his fingers brushed against it, almost tenderly.

“No painkillers, those are only for serious cases.” You let him help you put the sweater back on, his hands holding the head opening side for you to slid it on, gently tugging the fabric into place around your sore arms. “They gave me a shot of antibiotics and a pack of fresh gauze. Gotta come in next week to get the stitches looked at.”

“I’m so sorry.” He murmured as he held the coat up for your to slip your arms into. When you turned around to face him again, he pulled you to him in a loose embrace. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

“Joel, it’s okay. We’re okay. I promise.” You leaned up, mindful of the new pull on your middle, and pressed your lips to his cheek. Sighing at the soft pressure, he walked alongside you out of the building.

Since there wasn’t anything they could give you for the pain,  you just wanted to lay in bed and rest. But you also wanted to try and find a reason to get out of the house later. Swallowing down your fear of rejection, knowing he was the one person who wouldn’t do that to you, you asked him for a drink later in the evening.

But he didn’t look up from the paper in his hands as he walked out the front door with you, scribbling something down on a page that only had two previous lines of script. The chill of the wind breezing past you both as you repeated your question in slightly louder volume, sure he just hadn’t heard you. You knew he was hard of hearing in his right ear and that was the side you were on. But what you didn’t expect was his haphazard response. So at odds with the tenderness and care he had shown you throughout the day.

"Huh? Oh uh, I can't tonight. Sorry, I'll see ya, Olive." And then he's off without so much as a glance your way, leaving you standing outside the infirmary. It left you more than a little concerned, whiplash at the sudden shift from intimate, to protective, to nothing so much as a glance all from the same man.

It’s early, the sun not even showing signs of rising. Snow drifted down, a perfect morning. You were humming to yourself, mentally planning out the meals you could make. A breakfast casserole that would allow for the use of root vegetables, eggs, some of the goat cheese that had been made perhaps. You were minding your own business, enjoying the walk to the mess hall and the kitchen that would allow you to work and forget the hollow feeling that hadn’t left you all last night. It was easier feeling nothing other than the faint pull of stitches on your abdomen.

You catch a figure walking out of a front door further down the street. The figure broad but their steps light as they descended the porch to Marsha’s house.

Oh.

It was Joel.

He didn’t have a utility belt, he didn’t have a toolbox, he didn’t have anything that indicated he had been there to repair something.

It was Joel Miller, leaving Marsha’s house. Far too early to mean anything other than the fact that he had spent the night inside, with her. Guess that's why he had turned down your offer for an evening with you. He already had someone to share drinks with, someone to spend his time with.

Turning, you tried not to follow his figure as he began to walk down the street, facing away from you.

You could only think that it was because of the way you had run the other night. Because of the way you two kept giving into yearning touches only for the moment to be yanked away. Three times now, far too much trouble for someone as busy as him. Someone with a life like he led as he cared for his family and the repairs that were needed around the settlement. You were desperate, for company, for attention, for him. It must’ve not settled well with him to realize how much you wanted him and that it never seemed to work out in his favor, only friend or not.

Deep down, you knew that wasn’t the reason. He was such an understanding man, and he wouldn’t put the blame on you. But the fact of the matter was that he was willingly spending his time with Marsha.

He wasn’t sure where you had disappeared to, your house dark safe for the light over the stoop light up in a warm tone. He had a box in his hands, something he had rifled through his, Ellie’s, and Tommy’s homes for to fit the finished set of wooden utensils you had asked him to make.

He had taken his time, sneaking glances at the ones in your kitchen when he dropped you off after patrol one morning and you offered him a light lunch. You had made grilled sandwiches, pairing them with some steamed vegetables that were beginning to wilt in the cold air of the house. You ran the heat on a good middle range, to ensure it didn’t get too stuffy and begin to take a toll on the record collection in the living room or the books you kept on every surface and crammed lovingly into the many bookshelves you had.

You seemed to favor spoons, though he did catch sight of a few rather flat spatulas. He had inspected the wood thoroughly before he even thought of measuring it. Admiring the way the dried wood looked and taking notes down on the pad of paper he kept on him at all times. Compared it to the two planks he had, noting the different feel and heft of them versus the completely dry specimen you had brought to him.

He let his thoughts wander as he took a seat on the cold concrete steps of your stoop. Opting to wait for your return for a few moments, hoping that you would return soon as evening had fallen, the set having set a few hours ago. He didn’t recall you mentioned evening shifts at the mess hall, opting for the mornings that you enjoyed. Something about the quiet of the town, less lonely than the nights, had been a quiet admittance. He had been too shocked to respond, you must’ve taken his silence as the end of the conversation. You had turned quiet alongside him, the only sound for the rest of the route back to the gates had been the hooves along the ground.

It struck him now, that you had been admitting even early on how lonely you were. How the town choosing to not interact with you had hurt, had been hurting you. A warning even then, that you were sensitive to the dynamic and went along with it even if you didn’t agree with it. You were such a lovely person. Kind hearted, giving, caring, and he loathed that people like Marsha perpetuated the agenda against you.

She was relentless in her attention on him and he was getting a little annoyed with it. But he was being cordial, the exact word you had used to describe the woman. He had finished the last of her shelving the other day. He had worked overnight to get it fitted and fastened to the wall. Securing it with bolts and weight holding supports, wanting to be done with the project that had been more of a coercion of his skills. She was a manipulator and he had played into her hands just like she had wanted.

He felt like a fool, knowing he had agreed to do it for your sake and out of a need to protect you.

Then he realized there were two people who allowed you into their lives. That spoke fondly of you, invited you to dinner, allowed you shares of what they could get the last of in down on main street.

Standing, he hoped to find you among his family. Making his way his way to Tommy’s, Maria was the one to answer the door. A finger to her lips to signal him to keep quiet as she slipped out the door to join him on the porch.

“They’re both sleeping, it took an hour to get him down and then of course Tommy slumped over.” She didn’t seem upset, but the news allowed for Joel to realize you weren’t here either. Clocking his silence and the box in his hand, she cocked her head up a little to examine his features. “Everything okay, Joel? Olive didn’t pull her stitches already, did she?”

“Yeah, everythin’ is okay. I’m actually looking for her. Have you seen her today?” He shuffled on his feet, aware of how they ached as the cold settled in to stay for the season.

“She’s at the bar, came by with dinner for us on her way out.” Maria explained, watching his closely. Able to pick up on his agitation. It was odd when she compared it to the almost forces nonchalance you had exhibited earlier.

“Can you hold onto this for me, I’ll be back to get it tomorrow.” He thrusted the box into the woman’s hands and was making off down the street before she could even respond.

The bar is a cacophony of sounds, of laughter, of conversation, the clink of glasses being lifted and then placed back on tables. The gurgle of more drinks being poured, of ice tinkling in glasses, all of it was so nice to just sit in and enjoy. Even if you were alone on your stool.

"Another round?" You disguised the clenching of your hand around your empty glass, the voice right behind you. His voice, the charming drawl pitched low and so so close.

“I don’t think we should be drinking with each other.” You shifted away from him, not wanting him to think you were open to spending time with him after his rejection, after his secret of seeing Marsha was exposed to you in the form of his leaving her house far too early for any reason than having stayed the night, for the way you had wanted to say yes to spending time with him but it hurt too much. For the way that it was getting harder and harder to resist the urge to lean up and kiss him, to run your hand down his arm or back in a soothing caress. “I’m waiting for someone.”

His brow furrowed as he regarded you, lifting his drink to his lips and taking a deep pull from the amber liquid inside. He sat down atop the stool beside you despite your words. His glass settled on the bar top, now empty. Your eyes were focused on the melting ice, not able to look at the man who was giving you his attention.

“What’s that?” He huffed, almost chuckled as he believed you were just joking, teasing him like you tended to do sometimes while out on patrol. But you weren’t, both of you seated at the long bar of the Tipsy Bison on the main street in town. When you still didn’t raise your eyes to him, he realized you weren’t, that you were turning him down and away.

“Tell me the real reason,” He leaned close, pivoting the seat of the stool so you faced him. Your insides whooshed with the movement. With the way he demanded your attention, with the entirety of his focus on you almost breaking your resolve to remain professional. Aware of all the eyes constantly watching you, judging you; all the eyes on him constantly watching for entirely different reasons, fawning over him.

“Because I like you.” You admitted, unable to deny him the truth. You could only lift your eyes as high as his lips, which was a mistake as you recalled the feel of them. They were so soft, so plush and you never had the chance to gently nip at his bottom one…

“Well, I like you too, Olive.” His nose brushed your cheek, moving impossibly close, his thumbs digging into your thighs as he held to the stool.

“No, I like you, Joel. And this isn’t a good idea.” You pulled back, aware that you were both in a very public place. That the looks focused on you both, your intimacy, combined with soft murmurs of voices that could be saying anything. Making notions in their minds that he was associated with you, that he spent time with you enough to feel comfortable engaging in this type of behavior. And that was bad, it was so bad for people to associate him with you. It would cause people to question him after everything he did for the town. It would begin to erase all the good he had provided.  “Joel, people are looking.”

“Don’t worry about them, just focus on me.” Your eyes snapped to his, taking in the way the brown of them was alight from the sconces around the bar. There was no hesitancy in them, no remorse. Only adoration and your stomach swooped, your heart fluttered. But you tried your best to resist.

“That’s not a good idea either.” You whispered.

“You thinkin’ of doin’ somthin’ to me?”

“M-maybe.” The admittance rolls off your tongue, his lips close enough that he can taste it.

“Sweetheart, I’d let ya if that’s what you wanted.”

“N-no.” It took everything in you to deny him, to deny the tension that pulled your muscles tight in every part of your body.

“No?” He leaned back, taking your words and heeding them, sensing that you meant them, even if it was a stuttered, breathy response.

“I don’t want to, I mean I do, but- this” You motioned between the two of you, how little space there was between your bodies. His body pivoted toward you and his hands still partially around the denim of your thighs. “Isn’t a good idea.”

His eyes roamed over you, seeing the nerves and truth of your demeanor. You did like him, and it was becoming a problem. He didn’t need a younger woman fawning over him, the friendly rapport riddled with holes. Of temptations that were tamped down by his unwillingness to share his craft with you, the time he had been spending with Marsha, the pull of his attention in so many directions, especially with the holiday hurtling toward the town tomorrow.

“We’re hardly friends, Miller. You barely started acknowledging me outside of patrol.” You reached for your drink so you’d be less likely to cup his face in your hands and throw caution to the wind.

“What makes you think I haven’t been tryin’ to keep my hands to myself, bein’ around you?” His voice tipped low, to avoid being overheard despite the closeness he had initiated. Closing your eyes at the visual, you shook you head as your throat bobbed with the sip you had taken from your drink.

“Because you don’t like me that way.” You scoffed, beginning to lean away from him. “You didn’t even get me anything for the holiday…You’re with Marsha.”

“Didn’t get your name in swap.”

“Oh.” And all the fight you had in you crumbled at his simple words. The reassurance in his voice that drowned out the hum of the environment all around you.

“But I thought - Ellie was asking so many questions I figured she was doin’ the work for you.”

“Maybe she got you?” He tapped the lip of his glass as the bartender wandered close, signaling for another when the man got the chance. His hand going back to your leg in a second.

“N-no. She got Jesse. Whoever got me most likely tossed the scrap of paper and picked another.”

“Marsha and I are just friendly, it’s nothing beyond that. Olive, I swear to –“

Someone cleared their throat unnervingly close. You both turned away from each other to face the person who had decided to break the currents flowing between your bodies, tension thick in the air with their approach.

Marsha. With a wrapped gift in her hand and a yearning look for Joel. Her attention solely on him.

“So much for just being friendly, huh, Miller?” You set your drink down, glass nearly empty and pushed off from your stool. The drag of his large hands over the tops of your thighs not registering as you quickly took off. Leaving him to the woman who seemed to be a constant companion as of late. Better company for him, you though begrudgingly as you made your way through the snow-covered streets and back to the safety of your home.

Sighing, you picked up the wrapped bundle of recipe cards. Joel’s gift.

The one you had spent hours pouring over, making sure your writing was neat and legible, the cursive loops delicately over the lines on the thick cardstock. You had debated whether or not he would be able to read the script, knowing how he squinted at certain things. No doubt needing glasses in his older age, an item you always kept a keen eye out for should it end up being a perfect match for him.

Your heart panged, the fleeting image of him tucked in bed beside you with a book or manual in his hands and a pair of reading glasses perched on his aquiline nose. His scruff catching the light of a soft bedside lamp and the silver sparkling. His curls damp from an evening shower, the scent of him so clean and pure beside you as you lay tucked in the other side. It hurt. It hurt to think you would never get to experience that, experience him in every simple, mundane way.

With a long-suffering huff, you reached for some of the dried leaves you kept from the trees when you last preened them. Fastening it to the top of the bundle with a piece of twine. You don’t write Joel’s nor yours. He would know it was from you from the writing inside, from the olive twig. A parting gift, you guessed.

This would be the last thing you would offer him before drawing back to your solemn life. He had brought color and life and laughter into it, but the hurt wasn’t worth it. Your heart and body aching for a man who had too much to lose.

You faintly heard soft voices trailing along the dark streets, the light fixtures doing their best to illuminate the way for any one who was out at the late hour. The sky dark with the added overcast that hadn’t waned during the day. Making everything feel pressed down and low, condensing the world to make it feel almost suffocating. Snow soft as it descended. Maybe it was just you, sensitive to the weather and things around you in your anxiety as you turned down the street Joel’s house was nestled on. Just as you turned the corner, feet scuffing on the weathered gravel packed down to create solid paths in the broken asphalt you collided with something hard and lost your balance. The built up snow making it hard to catch yourself.

The scrunch of paper you had wrapped the gift in was loud, ripping at the drag of thick fabric that made up someone’s coat. The index cards fly up into the air as you landed heavily on your side. Through the sounds of the fluttering paper, there was a gasp pitched high that gave way to delirious giggles and a grunt pitched low. Your own indignant noise floating amidst it all, the pull of your stitches uncomfortable.

“My apologies, didn’t see you the- Olive?”

You had run into Joel’s broad back, his front now facing you as the cards rained down to scatter all over the corner. Snow dampening them instantly upon contact, blurring the ink you had taken the time to put down to them.

Behind him was a bright-eyed Marsha, her hands holding tight to one of his. She looked flushed, no doubt from the drinks she had indulged in, leaning heavily into him. And Joel…he looked shocked as he stared down at your fallen form. Either unaware or uncaring of how the woman he was with tried to burrow into his side.

They had been the ones whose voices you heard. But what had they been doing just standing still in the middle of the street….and then it hit you. They had probably been kissing or sharing in casual touches as they walked back from the bar to one of their homes for the evening and your stomach lurched, dropping out from under you.

Joel detached from her, intending to reach down and help you back up. But you didn’t want him touching you with the same hands that had been soft just an hour ago, the same hands that had been touching her with the same intent.

“Don’t!”

“Just tryin’ to help you up,” He backed off immediately, his eyes alert, not used to you raising your voice nor the heat behind your tone. Especially toward him, the hurt making you unable to tamp it down to a polite tone. Tears burned behind your own eyes, in your throat. The perfect match to your insides feeling like they have just been set in a mixer.

“Don’t need your help,” You pushed up from the ground, legs tingling as you fought the urge to run from the awkward and tense scene. And then you realized you could. You did.

Leaving the two alone in the middle of the street, surrounded by white spots of paper all around, the wrapping that had been around them crumpled on the ground. The dried olive leaves that had been fastened to it with twine lay abandoned at their feet.

You ran all the way back to your house, the front door slamming behind you and the lock loud in the silence that followed. Your back thumped against the wood of it, sliding down until your bottom hit the floor.

And you let yourself break down, crying into your hands. Hating how you had begun to believe that your life was going to change, that Joel was going to be something good in your life. And deep down, underneath all the hurt and anger, you still believed he was. Even if he wasn’t meant to be anything other than a patrol partner.

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[todayisawthewhxlewxrld]

"you act like you just saw a Ghost."

"all your games, all your lies"

synopsis// satoru gojo is horrible at pranks.

pairing// satoru gojo x gn! reader

word count// 1.3k

contents// the prank in question is playing dead, maybe borderline hurt/comfort?, angst maybe but regardless there's a happy ending?

notes// this is how im coping. gege is just punking us that's all. i also just thought this was such a stupid oneshot idea i love it i think im such a fucking comedian for this. but this is kinda (very) half-assed... anywho it was inspired by the song ghost by fefe dobson (dont play with me rn.)

"Satoru, I'm home!” 

When you get no response, you find yourself gazing about your eerily empty home. You hum to yourself. Odd. Satoru usually greets you right at the door.

“Satoru?” You call out again, trying to ignore how your anxiety rises as you slowly enter your bedroom.

Red immediately floods your vision; it’s everywhere. It’s on the walls, it’s on the bedsheets, it’s on the floor—there’s practically no place left untouched by the liquid. You swallow harshly and make a point to not step into the liquid that seems a little too similar to blood for comfort, albeit the task is to no avail because it's everywhere.

“Sato-“

Your voice dies in your throat the minute you see him on the ground. Satoru is laying there lifeless, covered in blood. There's no rise or fall of his chest, only an empty, vacant stare in his glossed-over eyes. You freeze. For far longer than you should have.

This isn't real.

This can't be.

There's no way Satoru is laying here dead, in a puddle of his own blood. You inhale harshly, not even aware you were holding your breath in the first place, as you drop down to your knees and crawl the rest of your way toward him, oblivious to the fact that you're now coated in just as much blood as he is. The moment you're by his side, It all hits you at once. Holy shit, Satoru is laying here in a puddle of his fucking blood. You hesitantly shake him.

“Satoru?”

You wait a second to see if he’ll say anything or do anything—even a twitch of his fingers would suffice, but nothing.

"Satoru, please,” you say, desperation flooding your voice as you shake him harder.

When nothing happens again, you shake him once more, but this time you don't stop. You simply keep shaking him, hoping that if you shake him hard enough, he’ll do something to prove he’s still alive.

"Satoru, this isn't funny." Your breathing is labored as panic fully seeps into your veins. "Satoru, wake the fuck up!” You slap his face, only for his head to merely loll to the side.

And that was the last straw. Suddenly you're thrown into a sob so violent it racks your whole body, shaking as you can do nothing but rest your head on his chest and sob for him to wake up, to stop messing around because this isn't funny, to just please wake up, yet he doesn't. You don't notice how his chest is starting to contract; you're sobbing so hard that you think it's just you who’s making him move, when suddenly a loud choke of laughter rings in your ears. You sit up immediately, still ugly-crying as you look down at Satoru, who is currently finding something absolutely hilarious.

Oh, you’ve lost it.

You’ve actually lost it; here you are hallucinating that your dead boyfriend is laughing.

Satoru wipes imaginary tears from his eyes. “Oh my god,” he says between laughs, “you should’ve seen your face!”

You blink at him, tears still freely flowing, as you lean back down and place your head against his chest.

“Whatcha doing?” 

“Shut the fuck up.” 

Satoru goes stiff but does as he’s told, and when you can hear his heart beating rhythmically, thumping perfectly fine as all hearts should, you grow cold, like maybe you’re the one who was actually dead a few seconds ago. You sit back up.

“Gonna tell me what you were doing now or-“

His sentence is interrupted by you abruptly standing up and screeching in a fit of anger, or maybe more so, betrayal, “You fucking asshole!”

Satoru, clearly taken aback, scrambles to stand up along with you, holding his hands out in front of him placatingly. "Woah, woah, babe, calm down-"

“Calm down?” You snap, staring at him with an animosity he’s never seen from you before. "Don't tell me to calm down when I thought you were just fucking dead!”

He sheepishly glances down at the fake blood-covered floor. “It was just a prank..."

“Fuck you!” And you snap, thrown head first into another sobbing fit, wrapping your arms around yourself in a pitiful attempt to comfort yourself while you babble incoherently: "I don't—I can't."

Satoru’s heart breaks right inside his chest, and he doesn’t think he’s ever regretted anything more than his stupid idotic antics right now. He can't bear to see you like this; this might actually kill him. He can't take it. He can't take knowing that he’s the entire reason you're in this state in the first place. He takes a step closer, opening his arms up to hug you, and you flinch away from him the moment you notice.

"Don't touch me, Satoru.”

Satoru frowns, ignoring the tears stinging his eyes and the burning sensation of rejection that encompasses him whole. He thinks—no, he knows—that whatever he could say right now wouldn't help, but maybe giving you some space will, so he steps back and clears his throat. "I'm gonna go shower.”

You sniffle and turn away from him, brusquely waving him off. “Do whatever you want."

 ☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★ 

Satoru walks out of the bathroom with one towel in hand, drying his hair, and finds you sitting on the edge of the bed. He can’t help but notice the new sheets laid out and how the room is squeaky clean, quickly realizing you were left with the unfortunate task of cleaning up the last remaining remnants of his prank as he showered. You finally notice him in the doorway, but you hardly even spare him a glance.

“Are you still mad at me?” he asks as he makes his way toward you, tossing the towel on the floor before taking a seat next to you.

“You’re an asshole.”

"I know, I'm sorry,” he mumbles as he subtly scoots in closer toward you, and when you don’t bother moving away, he draws you into his arms, your back to his chest as he places his head on your shoulder. "I just wanted to play a prank on you.”

You stay stiff, refusing the innate need to melt into him. “You’re horrible at pranks.”

He buries his face in the crook of your neck and mumbles, "I know that now.”

You hum curtly, ignoring the shivers down your spine—though your resolve is very quickly turning nonexistent, you’ve never been anything but putty in his hands.

Satoru places chaste kisses against your neck, murmuring, “How long are you gonna torture me for?”

“Till you've thought about your actions.”

He pulls away from you and twists your body around so that you’re face-to-face. “I have! I thought about them the whole time in the shower.” He leans in and nudges his nose with yours, whispering, "I'm sorry.”

You stare at him blankly for a moment before sighing, your entire body sagging in relief as you finally give in to your desires and close the distance between you two. Satoru, overjoyed with the fact you’re kissing him, can’t help but return the favor with vigor. Each kiss is followed by him mumbling, "I'm sorry," and it goes on for god knows how long—though you don’t really care, you just care that he is alive, that he is kissing you, that he is here, and it was just a very poor, poor prank that hopefully he’ll never do again—no, a prank you’ll make sure he never does again. You take back the initiative and kiss him deeply, taking his bottom lip between your teeth that has a whine escaping Satoru’s mouth before it transforms into a full-on wince of pain from you biting him.

He pulls away abruptly, his fingers darting up to cradle his bottom lip. “Ow! What the hell was that for?”

You stare up at him innocently, even going as far as tilting your head to the side like you’ve done nothing wrong at all—though your facade is quickly shattered when you lean back in and Satoru instinctively leans back, but you grab him by the back of his neck, forcing his head in place harshly, whispering through a menacing smile, “If you ever pull something like that again, Satoru Gojo, I will personally make sure that you die by my hands.”

“…Noted.”

©TODAYISAWTHEWHXLEWXRLD

[fqiryspit]

ahh congratulations on the milestone!!! you truly deserve it 💗 this is such a cool idea, i’m so excited to see what you write 💗

can i request smut 3, 22 and 27 pls? :) i really hope i did that right lol

hii babes! thank you so much! and yes you did it perfectly!

3, 22, and 27 = please kiss me, show me how much you need me, and do you think you deserve this?

bully!eren x nerd!reader

cw: dom!reader, pussy eating, sex in a classroom, squirting, whiny eren, and eren has a weird way of showing his feelings, reader wears glasses

leaning against the cold locker you picked at your nails, bored as ever.

as your glasses slid and halt at the end of your nose, you shake them back up just to see a face not inches away from yours

"shit!" you gasp, sliding up on the locker you were leaning on as he corners you in

"what the fuck are you doing?" he snarls, your features twist as you try and remember a time you pissed off eren intentionally

"what do you mean?" you relax, feeling angrier than frightened until he slams a hand onto the locker next to you, successfully closing you in

"last weeks quiz" he answers simply. you feel your shoulders tense as you recall him cheating off you, it's nothing new, except...well...you failed.

"you don't flunk quizzes, y/n." his jaw clenches down, eyes burning wholes straight through your frames

"well thank you" you chuckle, hiding how you desperately want to get out of this situation with humor

"don't try and be a smart ass now."

"what was so fucking fascinating you failed us both?" he asked, you were hoping he'd think you put the wrong answers on purpose and just erased them at the end. because that would've been a lot better from the truth.

"i-" you tuck your bottom lip in, fuck, you're probably so red right now

"holy shit" he remarks, you feel yourself sinking into the metal behind you as he barks laughter into your face "who was getting you so hot and bothered?" he asks, you turn away from him as you refuse to play into his torture

"oh, don't say it was-"

"armin."

eren was obviously taken aback by your statement, thinking it was him you'd be so distracted by. he felt the warmth pool to his cheeks before he could even digest what you just said

"oh." he slips out, disappointment thick on his tongue as your head shoots up from the lack of teasing

"what's so good about armin?" his question shocks you but you scoff before crossing your arms and looking up at him

"okay, well, first of all, he's not a dick...he's extremely smart, handsome, and-" suddenly you're being pushed to the room next to you, stumbling into the vacant art class

"what the hell" another pull and you're against the wall with his lips on yours, once you process what's happening you push him off you immediately

"eren! what the fuck!" you snap, wiping your lips off as heat pools your cheeks

"fuck- I'm sorry I-" he stutters over his words, placing a hand over his eyes to delete himself from this conversation

"what's...wrong with you?" you say a little more genuinely, eren...just kissed you? and now is, what...embarrassed about it?

"y/n, please I'm just- youstartedgoingoffaboutarminandimsorry" he says in one breath as you stand there, shocked.

soon you spit out a laugh, not taking him seriously until you watch him stare at the floor with shame

"oh, you're- you're serious?" you say through tears while walking towards him.

"so you being an absolute dick to be for the past, what, four months was just an act?" you yell,

"I'm sorry" "do you know how much you embarrassed me? made me look like an idiot?"

"do you think you deserve this? me?" you coo, going up to him as you even notice tears forming in his eyes

"aw, now you're gonna fucking cry" you taunt at him and he looks up at you finally. your eyes moving to his red ones, glossy and plump from the kiss you shared not moments before

"no, I wouldn't deserve you" he chokes out, you feel warmth pool in your panties. uncomfortably shifting as you decide to take a turn with this altercation

"show me..." you whisper, he stares at you, confused as you speak up again with more force

"show me how much you need me" his eyes blow as you move to kiss him, hands cupping his tan cheeks as your glasses squish into his face, your lips lap together frantically as you move to undo the belt he has on

with that, he follows and strips you of your jeans and spins you around, laying on the desk

moving to your soaked panties he rips them off hurriedly and moves to lick up your pussy, you've always heard the tall tales of the monster cock and unworldly fucking but never gave it the time of day, now you're living it.

your back arches against the glossed desk as you feel yourself unwinding already.

"fuck, eren" you moan out, moving to grip your own tit through your shirt as he continues to suck your clit until your cream spills on his face

he laps at the essence until satisfied and moves up to your face where his pupils were spinning and his chin was shining

"please kiss me" he slurs, deep voice rasping against your face as he waits for your move

you move up and kiss him, teeth knocking together as you move your lips rapidly

you feel his head nudging your entrance as you buck your hips toward it, he slides it in bit by bit as you try to relax as you take in his (now proven) monster cock

"holy fuck" you whisper, he kisses your temple as he thrust the rest of himself in, you moan into his tee shirt as he snaps his hips into yours, reaching down and rubbing your clit as he moves toward your ear

"I'm gonna make you fucking squirt on my cock" he says as if it's already set in stone, and honestly, with how he's treating you right now, you're gonna say it is.

"you terrify me ya'know" a hard thrust. "talkin' about armin like that" another. "like you fucking like him" again. "I'll treat you so well, you deserve it, especially after everything I did"

"I'm so sorry" he says but it goes through one ear and out the other

"eren," you move to try and catch his eyes with the pace you're being fucked at

"this is the perfect apology" you moan, he moves to kiss your cheek as you daze out, he rubs your clit again, pressing on it from time to time to tease you slightly

"fuck fuck eren-" you whine, feeling your orgasm approaching rapidly

"me too baby, fuck you keep sucking me the fuck in" he groans, speeding up his pace as he haphazardly rubs your clit

"fuck! fuck!" you can no longer control your moans, the bell rings out and you're forever grateful as you both scream freely when you cum

(as promised) you squirt everywhere, and you're laid limp on the desk as you feel a kiss on your head and the muffled chatter of students in the hall

he moves to kiss you again, finding your lips so addictive as he gets more before saying,

"c'mon, we gotta get to class"

an: ahhh! I hope you liked this! also, thank you so so so much for requesting! I was so stoked to see your request and I'm already having a lot of fun writing these <33

[thatfreshi]

Appreciate the Astarion works!!! 💙💙💙

If you'd like another request, what about Tav gifting him something that allows him to see his reflection? Idk some kinda spell/amulet/potion? They're already to the point where he feeds from them or in a relationship and he's just beyond touched/ shocked they would do something for him like this? (Bc we know he's not ever had the most kindness shown to him)

he's been living rent free in my head and I just want to give him everything his undead lil heart desires.

Recommended Song: Mirrorball - Taylor Swift

(I just started listening to her music and holy shit this song is so them!!!)

It's late, the perfect time of day for the two of you. You and Astarion and out in your backyard, putting out some new furniture that he haggled for today. It's hard to say no to that smile, you would know. As you move nice chairs around debating where you should put them, you get into a playful argument.

"I know you're like, the house decorator, but gods why can't we put it in this corner?"

"Because darling, it'll ruin the feng shui. We should put the chairs here instead, and keep the plants over here."

You roll your eyes.

"I bet you don't even know what feng shui means."

"I don't, but it sure sounds fancy doesn't it?"

You giggle.

"What, I'm laughable because I don't know one tiny phrase? I bet there are plenty of words you don't know."

"Well, I don't know them, so I'm not worried about them."

You saunter over to him, throwing your arms up around his shoulders, and the two of you stare at each other for a moment.

"You know our anniversary is tomorrow right?"

"How could I forget my sweet?"

"I don't know, maybe the way you forgot what feng shui means."

"Okay, ouch. But yes of course, I have wondrous plans for the two of us."

"Okay but you can't have that good of plans because I really need to make sure you don't one-up this."

You walk back into the house for a brief moment, grabbing a scroll out of your bag.

"When I walked away while we were at the market, because I said I got tired of hearing you argue with that old lady? Well, I found this."

You hold the scroll out, and he gently grabs it out of your hands.

"I tried to get Gale to teach me, but you know I'm not very magically inclined so..."

He unrolls the scroll, reading the scrawled writing.

"This is-"

You cut him off in excitement.

"Mirror image! I thought maybe you could use it to make a reflection of yourself."

He stares at the scroll in shock.

"How much did you pay for this?"

"None of your damn business."

You grin at him, knowing all too well that you paid that guy way too much.

"This is very sweet my dear, I... I don't know what to say."

"Well you don't have to say anything, try it!"

After reading for a moment, he goes to cast the spell. He says a few words that go right over your head, and suddenly there were three more Astarions in your backyard.

"Gods!"

Astarion's cry of shock echoed through, all four of him? You're not quite sure how this works. After getting his bearings, Astarion looks around at his three reflections.

"Wow, this is certainly... wow."

You're so excited, you can finally show him all the little details you like about him, he gets to see how gorgeous he is, the list goes on and on.

"Okay, I have to do something funny, because I NEED you to see your little laugh lines. Hm..."

He furrows his brow at you, wondering what you're planning. And then you tickle his sides, causing an eruption of laughter.

"Quick, look!"

As he's still smiling, he catches a glimpse of one of the reflections, the little crow's feet he gets when he laughs.

"Oh, that was so important you had to attack me? If anything they make me look old."

"Well... you are kinda old."

He playfully pushes your shoulder. After the two of you quiet your laughter, he stands staring at one of the reflections, taking it all in. The eyes, the hair, trying to remember what he used to look like.

"What do you think?"

"I think... I think it's fitting."

He snarls to look at his fangs. Astarion has never seen just how menacing he can be, why people listen to him when he's threatening. You don't see anything scary though. Maybe you used to, long long ago. But now, he's just Astarion. That's all he has to be.

"This red really is quite bright."

He says, commenting on his eyes.

"Yeah, they're nice though. Piercing."

"At least my hair looks as good as I think it does. All my efforts haven't been wasted."

And just as fast as they came, the reflections vanish, fading out of existence. It's just the two of you again.

"Damn, I thought it would last a little longer."

You frown a little, wondering if it was really worth it. Astarion catches your glance, realizing your doubt. He tilts your chin up and cups your face in his hand.

"Even if it was short, it was a wondrous gift darling. I appreciate it, truly. Besides, now I know what kind of handsome devil you've ended up with."

"Yeah, trust me, I know."

You wrap yourselves up in each other, locking lips, somehow sharing your gratitude for each other in kisses. He gets a little handsy, and you jokingly whisper to him.

"Should've done this with the reflections."

He laughs quietly.

"Oh hush."

You end the evening tangled up in each other, and he seems to be more sure of himself than usual. Turns out seeing yourself after two hundred years can do something for the ego. Maybe one day, you'll find a more permanent soluton, but for now, one little scroll is enough. He's enough. You're both enough, as long as you have each other.

[juelzsstuff]

Telling armin about your crush (spoiler it's him)

!sfw! idk how to write i didn't pass english class dont come at me.

you two were best friends since childhood and you've always had a crush on him even a little more than a crush and the two of you never spared any details when it came to your lives. you often hungout with jean, connie and sasha and mostly went on missions with their group. you two were talking around a camp fire to catch up after everyone had gone off to sleep, too deep in conversation to head to bed.

————————————————————

"imagine if the captain saw us up still, he'd probably make us dig each others grave" you say laughing quietly. "yeah i know but hey at least we wouldn't be dying along as a titan snack" he smiled back at the thought of you two being buried next to each other with matching headstones. A memory sparks in your mind, "omg i forgot to tell you", you turn toward him ready to spill your latest gossip, something you two did regularly. "i went out to go do my cleaning in the mess hall and i saw the hottest man i have ever seen in my entire life and okay so my first thought was holy shit, my second was the realization that i looked like i just crawled out of a pile of horse shit and i was already staring at him and yk what this man did" you pause covering your face in embarrassment. armin has a huge smile on his face waiting to hear how badly you fumbled, "what did he do?" you slide your hands off your face and turn toward him putting a hand on his leg to brace yourself from what you are about to admit "he came up to me because i'm staring still and said 'are you okay, did you come from the infirmary?' and i just made a weird noise that was supposed to be words and walked off". armin starts laughing trying to hold back, "you need serious help, there's no coming back from that y/n", you respond half laughing half fake crying "I KNOW". the laughter dies down and armin speaks up "so what did he look like?" you try to think of what he looked like and draw a blank, only remember some key points, "he had like brown hair and was sort of tall definitely shorter than you.....i guess now that i think about it, i really didn't see his face so he was probably average looking. not really my type". armin chuckles and he asks, "so what is your type then".

you think for a moment, a pang of anxiety runs through you. you've always pushed down your feelings for him and just enjoyed your friendship but tonight you might as well get a little bold. you think for a moment and look up at the starry sky, "i like smart guys yk? like the ones who aren't just a feral idiot ready to pick a fight or so full of themselves that it's annoying and weird". "blondes are okay too, my favorite actually" you say while stealing a glance at him, he's looking down at the ground and not really paying attention. so you keep talking "i've had a crush on this one guy but either he's oblivious or he's not interested so i've given up and so ive gone for the opposite type". armin looks at you intrigued, "a crush? like a serious one or like i barley saw his face and i made a weird noise one?" he says holding back a smile, his perfect teeth flashing for only a second. you nudge his shoulder and roll your eyes, "like a serious one". "can i guess who it is?", a nervous zap runs through your body and all your confidence is running out the window. armin seems to notice and is now even more excited and confident in his conclusion. he speaks with pure certainty, "it's reiner isn't it?"

your face drops and all the anxiety you had before has become straight disappointment, the only thought in your mind: omg he's an idiot. how is the smartest man in the scouts really this oblivious, you might as well have said your crushes name started with a ar and ended with a min. well maybe he knew what you were trying to say and he's giving you an out. it's too late now, time to commit or dig that grave you two were talking about earlier. you sigh and look at him in his sky blue eyes, "do you seriously not know? i'm talking about you armin" he sits there eyes wide and a blush on his cheeks, "w-what? me?" "yes who else, seriously? don't say you actually thought i was into reiner" you say sheepishly. armins heart is beating fast, he never thought you would think of him that way in a million years and all of a sudden his dreams have come true. all the years he spent listening to you talk about boys and his attempt to shove down his feelings for you and try to fall for another girl no longer mattered. all the times he got excited when you came to talk to him and no one else, every time you accidentally brushed his hand and it went straight to his soul. it now means something more than before but now his brain has basically stopped working and he might as well be dreaming. you talk again as you watch his brain short circuit "i love you armin and i always have, more than just a friend". he doesn't look at you and looks up at the camp fire with a smile and says, " i love you more than you know y/k, everything about you is so perfect. i always told myself anything you need i would be there first before anyone or.... any other guy could be. i would listen to you talk about the guys you see or liked and i would make a note in my brain of how maybe i could do the same so you'd talk about me and get that same look in your eyes". he chuckles, "one time i even tried to style my hair differently and i unbuttoned a few buttons on my uniform but the captain saw it before you could. that was the day i had to run laps till i collapsed". he smiles and hesitates before looking at you, soaking in your features in the moonlight contrasting with the dim coals of the bonfire. he speaks softly and tucks a strand of hair behind or ear, "you're so beautiful, i thought it was too good to be true". you blush and lean closer to him, the two of you like magnets. you stop inches away from his face, feeling his breath hitch and you look up at him and see his eyes closed. he's nervous, how cute, you wonder if he's ever kissed a girl before but that's better to ask after. you close the distance and his body relaxed and you melt into it with him, his hands reach up and hold your face so lightly. you've always wondered what it would be like, what he would be like and it's even better than you imagined.

[lowkeyrobin]

SORRY BOYS ; their favorite sorry video they've made with you

includes ; tommyinnit, ranboo, slimecicle & philza (platonic) (wilbur will never be in sorry boys stuff dw)

warnings ; language

disclaimers ; can be interpreted as platonic or romantic

masterlist

CHARLIE SLIMECICLE

the painting video

you and phil were the only ones taking it seriously and you painted a whole picture of the group

at the end you show it off like "look guys!" wirh a little smile and his jaw just drops

"Holy shit???"

he took a picture of it and it's his lock screen now

everyone was just like staring at you like "Dude you made that for us???"

everytime he comes over he has to stare at it on your wall for at least 5 minutes

such a happy memory for him

anyways I'm down bad for him ❤️🫶🫶🫶

TOMMYINNIT

the Christmas special

you guys sat across from each other and just threw food at each other the whole time

jokes on jokes

somehow you ripped your sweater so you had to go sleeveless turtleneck with it

holy shit

how were you guys not on drugs

you guys literally carried the video

failed food tossing into each other's mouths

he almost died on a grape 💀💀💀💀

RANBOO

who's the most lethal?

between him and the crossbow and you exploding a bunch of shit and almost killing charlie, it's his favorite video he filmed with you

had a little bit where you "jumped off the cliff" and he couldn't stop laughing

basically a remake of that st1 scene with Mike at the quarry

wil is the bully kid, ran is el, and tommy is dustin

he gets so happy thinking about it again for some reason

they absolutely adore you so seeing a bit of a more destructive side of you was different

PHILZA

the wrestlers episode

he was training you and tommy

that's a thing in its own

he had to sit down and cry out of laughter because you guys were making him cackle so much

you didn't even end up fighting charlie, you fought ranboo for phil???

he loves thinking back on that video cause you and tommy made him laugh so much he almost lost his voice

[lovelyiida]

mha guys reacting to seeing you in your wedding dress.

INCLUDES: BAKUGO KATSUKI, EJIRO KIRISHIMA, SHOTO TODOROKI, IZUKU MIDORIYA

WARNINGS: PURE EFFING FLUFF

MASTERLIST

WORDS: 0.5K

BAKUGO KATSUKI

I can easily envision this man seeing you walk down the aisle and saying to himself: don't cry, don't cry, don't cry, don't cry-

then he sees you let down a single tear...boom, he's done.

he lets out a deep sigh and his hand flies straight to his face to cover the tears streaming down his face.

as you complete your walk down the aisle, his hand still covering his face as he stifles out sobs of happiness

you frown and place your hand on top of his, softly pulling it away to show his face all teary-eyed and puffy.

"you can cry around me, Katsuki" you smiled at him.

"I know baby, I'm just so fuckin' happy."

EJIRO KIRISHIMA

this man is just so happy to see you in your dress walking down the aisle.

"wow"

"holy shit"

"I can't believe this!"

"beautiful"

Kirishima was giddy with every step you took down the aisle, flowers in hand and a smile on your lips.

your soon-to-be husband was absolutely adorable, the way how he couldn't keep his hands in place. constantly combing through his hair, placing them over his mouth, or over his head.

he was in a blissful state of shock.

especially when you finally reached him, as soon as you stepped up towards him his hands stuck to your waist for the rest of the ceremony.

the way he cutely muttered, "hey Mrs. Kirishima."

and the way you giggled "hi," back.

god, this was the best day of his life.

SHOTO TODOROKI

I think the whole ceremony was a dream for him.

he couldn't process the present moment until the ceremony was complete.

the both of you left in your "just got married!" vehicle and decided to head to the beach to finally celebrate your marriage alone.

he saw the way your dress flowed elegantly in the wind.

the way the sunset hits your face, your dress sparkled as your laughter became a constant siren in his mind.

the both of you stayed until nightfall.

sitting in the car, huddled up with a spare blanket. he looks at you sleeping on his chest, he couldn't believe that he was finally married to you.

he was so glad to have you.

IZUKU MIDORIYA

this man is literally crying BUCKETS OF RAIN

he just can't believe it, let the poor man process this in his own ways guys.

he's standing here today, about to marry the woman of his dreams.

tears pouring down his face, cheeks red and puffy, he's just full-on sobbing like a two-year-old.

the way your dress moved with you so perfectly, you were so perfect.

he wasn't even crying about the present moment, he was crying about all the moments after the ceremony.

like when you'll have children, how the both of you will watch them grow old, how he'll watch you grow old with him.

he wanted every single moment with you to last forever

and today was the start of his forever.

ngl, this was cute as shit and had my delusions going LMAO.

I know this was short, but finals!!!

⎯ lovelyiida ♥︎