#Pallet Cushions

[jawdroppingmen]

Roof Extensions Patio Ideas for a sizable, rustic backyard patio remodel using concrete pavers and an addition to the roof

[rebelfell]

Can I interest anyone in a wee bit of frenemy(?)eddie and some soft confessions while under the influence?

18+, MDNI 2.2k

cw: drug use (edible)

“Oh, wow. She’s really out.”

Nancy wasn’t wrong, but Eddie didn’t need to be told. He had noted your rapid descent into sleep when it started halfway through the movie. Your eyelids fluttering like they had weights attached to them and your body curling into itself as you sank into the cushions of the Wheeler’s sofa.

You were crumpled in a ball at the end of it now, hugging the arm like you thought you were going to roll off the edge of a cliff if you let go. Your half-drunk beer still sat on the end table, abandoned once the edible you split with Argyle took effect.

Eddie had foolishly tried to warn you off it, saying you should start with half of your half and go from there. But of course that only set the two of you off like a pair of dueling firecrackers.

He didn’t know how he kept ending up in these spats with you. He never intended to insult you, it just seemed he had a real knack for it. You always accused him of babying you and he’d accuse you of being too stubborn for your own good.

Had anyone besides Eddie suggested you take it easy, you probably would have listened and might still be conscious right now.

Nancy jostled you gently, trying to rouse you while Eddie peered over her shoulder. He didn’t care for the lifeless way your limbs hung, for the way your head lolled forward on your shoulders like you couldn’t hold it up yourself.

It made his fingers drum nervously on the outside edge of his thigh and the wallet chain that hung there clinked with each and every irregular tap.

Of course he knew there was logically no way you could OD on a pot brownie—but that didn’t mean he delighted in seeing you so incapacitated.

Eyes shut tight, you started babbling softly in response to Nancy’s voice as she tried to draw you back to the world of the waking. With a soft oof, she got you to put one arm around her neck and attempted to lift you off the couch. But even with the deceptive strength of her slight frame, she wasn’t getting you anywhere by herself.

So, she glanced around the room at the rest of their friends in their various states of intoxication.

Steve and Robin were long gone, Robin being the winner of their coin toss for who got to drink that night while the other stayed sober. She’d skipped on the edible and mainlined strawberry daiquiris instead, leading to her calling out forlornly as Steve helped drag her out the door,

“What if I puke pink? Please, please, please, don’t let me puke pink—”

Argyle and Jonathan were passed out, entwined on the pallet of blankets and pillows on the floor, Jonathan likely not realizing the warm chest he was burying his face in wasn’t his girlfriend’s.

Finally, her determined gaze fell to Eddie, and she tilted her head at him in that Nancy way of her’s that gave out marching orders without her so much as speaking a word. With another glance at your sleeping form, Eddie released a resigned sigh and nodded his head.

As they helped you climb the stairs, one arm slung over each of their shoulders, you started to rouse again and slowly registered what was happening through the fog of your high.

“Aww, shit…m’fucked up, huh?” you chuckled, letting out a heavy sigh. “M’so sorry, Nance, I shouldn’t have…he was right…again…”

The bitter edge in your voice as the last word left your lips made Eddie’s brow jump with interest. You lifted your head the full two inches you could manage and peered at Nancy through half-lidded eyes. Your head then swiveled to the other side and Eddie braced himself for more vitriol.

But none came.

Your face didn’t even change and Eddie realized your current state made he and Nancy’s mops of messy brown curls somewhat indistinguishable. You just continued on like you were still talking to your best friend, not the guy you couldn’t stand.

“Wheeler, you’re a fucking beast, you know that? You’re so strong…”

The loopy giggle you let out brought a smile to Eddie’s lips in spite of himself. He felt your hand start to curl around his shoulder and it made him tense, worrying you’d recognize the rough denim of his vest. But your fingers simply held it, rubbed the frayed hem of his cut-off sleeve between the pads, your sleepy smile re-forming.

“God, Nance, you smell so good…”

Your head suddenly drooped, landing partially on Eddie’s shoulder and making his breath catch.

You took a deep inhale of his scent, your chest expanding with it and making Eddie’s eyes bulge and then avert quickly when he caught himself ogling the deep scoop of your neckline. He had already committed most of the night to avoiding just that, his eyes just…slipped for a second.

Over your head, he caught Nancy’s gaze and the cloudy blue color might as well have been a bright red laser for how clearly she saw through him.

Thankfully, they got to the guest room before she could make any damning remarks. She pushed open the door and flicked on the bedside lamp, illuminating a bed piled obscenely high with pillows and a down comforter seemingly thicker than some mattresses Eddie had slept on.

“Can you hold her?” Nancy asked, looking from the bed back to him.

His throat bobbed with a harsh swallow and he nodded, only half-sure of his answer. Nancy lifted your other arm from her shoulder and turned you into his body. Your other arm wrapped around his neck, your head resting on his shoulder.

His hands wrapped hesitantly around your back, holding you against him almost like you were slow dancing. He had to resist the urge to sway.

Heart thundering so loud he feared it might wake you, Eddie watched while Nancy pushed all of the decorative pillows to the floor and turned down the comforter, motioning Eddie forward.

He walked you backwards a few steps and sat you down on the edge of the bed while Nancy knelt to take off your shoes. Thankfully, the dress code on movie night was always supremely casual and the track pants and tank top you’d worn would be fine to sleep in.

You babbled a bit more as they got you ready for bed, seemingly oblivious to Eddie’s presence—even mentioning him briefly as they helped you lay flat and Nancy lifted your legs onto the bed.

“He’s just so annoying, you know?” you muttered bitterly. “Like, whatever, you’re hot and you play guitar and you’ve banged like half the town. That doesn’t mean you know everything.”

Eddie tried not to let the words sting. It wasn’t anything you hadn’t said before to his face, but there was something about you still saying it, even when he “wasn’t there” to hear it.

Apparently it wasn’t just an act.

“I’m gonna get water,” Nancy whispered, already out the door. “Just keep an eye on her, please?”

Eddie frowned and grumbled in response, but he didn’t move from his spot beside you. He did start to turn away, but stopped when you shifted in the bed. You reached out a limp hand and caught just the tips of Eddie’s fingers, tugging lightly on them like you wanted to tell him something.

He sank slowly to his knees, trying to hear you as your lips moved almost mutely.

“Should’ve listened,” you muttered. “Shouldn’t’ve been such a dick…”

You seemed perfectly content continuing your conversation even without “Nancy” responding, and Eddie wondered if he should just go? He was positive you’d be mortified if you ever found out he had overheard any of this. But even as he was screaming at his feet to move, for his knees to rise, they remained planted on the Wheeler’s plush carpeting at your next words.

“Nance…why doesn’t he like me?”

It took what felt like a year for Eddie to unfreeze. He looked towards the door for a sign of Nancy’s shadow in the hallway, the sound of her footsteps on the stairs. But there was none.

Your head lolled on the pillow, eyes still shut but the lids twitching subtly like you were trying to open them. If you did, you’d be staring straight into Eddie’s own rapt gaze. You still held your pitifully weak grasp on his fingers, and he easily could have pulled away. But he didn’t.

Eddie just watched, torn between his standards of decency and being desperate to find out what you were talking about. He didn’t even know you were into anyone—let alone that you liked them enough to groan about them to Nancy. What kind of idiot wouldn’t like you back?

Some sadistic part of him wanted to find out.

“I mean, I know I’m not—m’not like…Chrissy—but I’m alright, aren’t I? An’ I wore thisstupid booby shirt hoping he’d notice and he just…”

Your voice took on a wounded waver and you stopped, inhaling deeply as if to steady yourself. The beginnings of tears started to shimmer along your lash line and you shut your eyes tighter, but it only squeezed one of them out and made it trickle down your temple in a wet trail.

Okay…Eddie was really confused now.

He didn’t even know you knew his ex-girlfriend’s name until it came tumbling past your lips. And he sure as shit had so noticed your booby shirt—he’d barely been able to keep his eyes off you, had to actively force himself not to stare.

Had you actually…did you really wear it for him?

All of a sudden, you rolled onto your side and your eyes cracked open the widest he had seen them all night. You looked almost lucid and you were staring directly into Eddie’s face.

He flinched slightly, worried you might scream when you saw him. But you just sighed, scanning his features all glassy and moon-eyed as you stared at him plainly. Unabashedly.

Like he’s an oil painting that couldn’t look back.

“He’s just so…pretty.”

The words are whispered, like a secret. And it takes everything in him to remain totally still and not to let his eyes bug completely out of his skull. Wait, did you…Did you not think he was there?

“I like’im so much…what’m I gonna do?”

There it was again. That plaintive whine, that broken lilt of your voice that tugged mercilessly at something deep inside of him. Heartstrings he didn’t know were there until you plucked them.

You looked at him with those shiny eyes. Literal tears were filling them now, threatening to spill down your cheeks. You were crying. Over him? What kind of world was he living in?

And nearly too late, Eddie realized your eyes were fluttering closed again. Not from exhaustion, but to lean in and kiss him.

It all seemed to happen in slow motion. You stretched your neck forward, hand coming up to cup his jaw—god, your palms were so soft, not rough and hard like his—and Eddie felt himself melt briefly into your touch, just for a moment before he realized what you were doing.

Eyes closing, chest heaving, lips parting as you leaned into what you thought was a dream.

No, no, no, he thought frantically. Not like this—

Eddie wrapped his hand around your wrist and gently pulled away from you. It made you push a little harder, trying to fight your way out of his grasp, but you were weak and looked more like a kitten trying to box. He didn’t know what to do, he didn’t want you to get upset, he just—

“Hey,” he soothed, gently brushing the backs of his fingertips along your jaw. “Just go to sleep, okay? We can talk about this in the morning.”

You blinked, seemingly in realization, like you were surprised to hear him speak. And it made him wonder how many of your other dreams he’d starred in where he didn’t say a word.

But his voice seemed to soothe you somewhat, your fists unclenching and dropping to lay on the softness of the sheets. You nodded your head as your face sunk back into the pillow, your cheek rubbing the dainty floral bouquets on the case.

Eddie let out the breath he didn’t remember he was holding, his shoulders slumping with it as his mind raced. Carefully, with nimble fingers curled around the edge of the comforter, he tugged it up further over your shoulders, almost to your chin. You snuggled a little deeper into your sleep and Eddie tucked the blanket in a little tighter, his heart pounding with every second.

And before he could talk himself out of it, he dropped a feather-light kiss to your forehead.

Once in a while we have to do the pining, I guess 🙄

Very veeeeeeeeeery loosely inspired by that scene in New Girl where Jess is on painkillers. Ty for reading - love you, mean it!

[itty-bitty-dancer]

Fem!reader who is going through their lipstick collection and testing how they transfer to determine which ones to keep.

She sets them out on the coffee table and plonks down next to Eddie on the couch.

Putting on one shade, a warm nude, using a small compact mirror, she kisses the back of her hand once, twice, three times, until there’s no more colour coming off her lips.

Eddie can’t help but glance at her each time he hears the smack of her kiss.

She checks her pout in the mirror again. Satisfied, she puts it in the ‘keep’ pile.

Next is red. She applies it in the compact mirror and Eddie is transfixed on the precise swipe that paints her lips a bright ruby. Once happy, she looks at the back of her hands to find them full of her previous lip prints and frowns.

A lightbulb goes off and then she’s turning to Eddie, cupping his face in soft hands and pressing a kiss to his cheek. Then a little higher up. Then his jaw. All until no colour apart from his furious blush is appearing on his face.

She checks her reflection, smiles, and adds that lipstick to the ‘keep’ pile too.

A deeper shade of red is next and the process continues— using Eddies face as her swatch pallet.

Twenty five minutes later and Eddie has just about sunk into the couch cushions, completely blissed out and feeling a little drunk. He has a wonky, lovesick grin on his face and his eyes feel heavy as he happily plays guinea pig for her little experiment— his skin a marbled pattern of reds and pinks from his hairline, right down to his collarbone and beginning spread to his chest.

“Sorry, Eds.” She manages to mumble as she focuses on applying the next shade.

“Only three more.”

He needs to buy her more lipstick.

[henneseyhoe]

Milk Marie

Unique x BLACK!FEM!reader

WARNINGS: unprotected seggs(wrap before you tap!), dirty talk, after care, soft(ish)!Unique, pussy whipped!Unique, kinda short, das it(I think)

SUMMARY: Unique figures if he can’t get over her, he’ll get under her instead.

✮Prompt✮

✮✮✮✮

Girl, I want everything that come with you. Even if you got stretch marks and even two children. I can’t blame you, girl.

It seemed like he always ended back up here. Right here. In this bed. With this woman. Wrapped up in her sheets with his hands touching all the parts only the luckiest of men got the pleasure of even seeing. He swore they were meant to be, and she almost thought so too. He treated her so well, like the beauty she was, and she couldn’t be more grateful.

They had known each other since the sandbox, his mother always offering to watch her while her mother was at work and since that first time they met, they were connected at the hip.

No matter if they fell out and swore to stop fuckin’ with each other, they always ended right back together. No matter how many times she attempted to leave, he’d just find her again.

He hoped by the last time she left he’d be too tired of her bullshit to follow after her, but he was more resilient than he thought, and withdrawals are a muthafucka. Now he knows how the people he serves feel.

That first taste he had of her? It was like a babies first lick of sugar, addiction waiting to happen. The first time he came was like floating in outer space with no destination or desire to be anywhere else. And as ironic as it was, she looked innocent on her knees for him.

Her mouth worked its way down on him until the tip of her nose touched his stomach and her eyes began to water, her throat capturing his entire length. With no problem, she bobbed her head up and down on him, her mouth so sloppy that spit escaped from her lips and trailed down to his balls, making him shudder.

She took her hand and began spreading the spit around his heavy sack, massaging as she felt him throb in her mouth, the taste of precum already being prevalent on her tongue. He occupies his hands and digs his fingers into the couch cushions, knowing that she would stop and he’d be fucked if he reached for her freshly done silk press that was wrapped in a silk scarf, secure for those rough times.

Flashes of white appeared behind his eyes like stars as that familiar pull in the bottom of his stomach appeared once again, a warm sense of feeling covering his body as he came down her throat for the first time in months since he found out where she had been hiding. Which just ended up being her childhood home in the city over.

It took unique all but a mere few seconds to recover before he was pulling her up from her knees and into his strong hold, giving her that kiss of death before he got to doing his own damage. As he stood from the couch with no care about the jeans and belt still around his thighs, their tongues danced together in sync. Unique could taste every bit of both of them on her tongue, but he was never one to fuss about kissing after head if it was with her. He welcomed it if anything.

Tossing her body onto the bed, he takes a second to admire how the room hadn’t changed one bit since she became an adult. A doll house sat in the corner with dolls still inside, a memory of the last time she had played with them. Teddy bears that had eventually fallen off the bed when she was sat. Pink walls with brown, white, and gold for the future. A color pallet reminding him of something else in particular.

✮✮✮✮

“Nique~” She moaned sweetly, her hands gripping the sheets underneath her as the man above her pushed his hips onto her ass, his piece sinking into her ever so slowly. The stretch was always the same, the thickness of him leaving a burning sensation at her entrance the more he pushed into her, but it only stayed for a few seconds as she adjusted to his size, which was nothing average.

The thrusts were sensual and loving until he leans up off of her and pulls out just a bit further than usual, giving her the room to pull her ass up in the air and put a perfect arch in her back. She began bouncing herself back onto him, gaining speed and momentum as he meets her ass with his hips.

“Oh fuck..” He groans quietly.

His eyes were trained on the motions of her soft skin jiggling with every collide of their bodies. His thrusts only got harder from there, segments of moans falling from the girls lips. He didn’t even have to tell her how wet she was, the squelching sounds erupting from where they connected told her all she needed to know.

Switching the angle of his thrusts, he places one knee onto the bed and leans into her, his hands placed in the middle of her back just to make sure she wouldn’t be able to run from the lethal position. And running, she did not do, couldn’t do because of how he was holding her. Suddenly the bed dipped under them both with the strong force of his thrust making her collapse on her stomach, leaving the girl breathless after calling out to the highest one she worshipped.

“You feel that, baby? I’m in it?” He asks with his breathing unsteady, his balls tightening and her toes curling.

“Yes, Nique!”

She was in shambles trying to keep up with him. She could feel the tip of his dick pressing against her g spot, constantly slamming into it like a button, like he’d get some kind of prize if he pushed it correctly. He fucked her so hard, sweet compliments being the only things that contradicted the rough strokes. She could hear the belt buckle of his pants jingling around his ankles, remembering that they had barely been undressed fully before Unique got impatient and just shoved his pants down and her nightgown up before pushing her to her knees.

As Unique continued on with damn near breaking this girls childhood bed, he thought to himself. This was the pussy that niggas killed for. The type pussy that’d have you bussing back to back without a second thought about a condom. This was the pussy he thought about on those lonely nights when she was mad at him, when he had to take matters into his own hands and desperately jerk himself off, his mouth agape and muscles flexing as he cums all over his stomach to the beautiful thought that was her.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” She whimpers. At this point she could feel him poking at her stomach and being pressed against the mattress helped nothing. He would probably fuck her through the cushion if he could.

“Uh-huh. Cum on this dick, Princess. Lemme feel you wet this dick up, show me how good I make this pussy feel” He spoke, punching nothing but a thick 9 inch pole into her spine. The man gave her no choice but to scream and give him exactly what he wanted, which was her release.

✮✮✮✮

Between her thighs were messy and wet, coated with a layer of white cream that was from both of them. Unique gently wiped her down with a wet towel, careful not to swipe over her sensitive clit too fast or harsh.

“Shhh—“ She hissed, her thighs almost closing in on his hand. Unique’s eyes flickered from her core up to her expression. “My bad” He simply apologized before tossing away the dirty rag in a hamper next to the bed. Laying next to her on his back, he sighs. “you gon’ learn to stop running from what you love”

She smiles, turning her head to look at the side of his face, getting a view of that nearly perfect profile. “Who says I love you, Unique?”

He smirks. “I don’t need a second opinion on a fact”

And the cycle continues…

✮✮✮✮

Woke up and remembered I forgot the taglist chile! LMFAO(some tags aren’t showing up, dk why!)

🏷️ @thatone-girly @notapradagurl7 @swavydadon @miyahmaraj @planetblaque @msinterlude @milkiboo @bloodripleygal @stevelacyballs @naj-ay444 @blackelysian @shaolyninferno

[archangeldyke-all]

hiii angel, can we get more of divorced sev and reader?? the one you just posted was sooo good

hehehehehe

men and minors dni

it's girls' night.

it's been a tradition for you and sevika since you started dating-- the first time-- about once a month you'd have violet and powder over for a sleepover to give the girls a break from their brothers and dads.

the girls are much older now- but that doesn't stop them from coming over to spend time with you and their aunt sev and their god sister.

which is how you find yourself here-- trying to hold in your laughs as little fucker adds even more blush to caitlyn's cheeks in the middle of your game of dress up.

caitlyn's glaring at violet-- who is not holding her laughter in as well as you are, and jinx is happily braiding little fucker's hair as she switches over to eyeshadow.

sevika's cuddled up against your side in the giant pillow fort you've built, the tiara she's wearing poking you in the neck-- but you're too happy to make her move.

"what's your favorite color, cupcake?" little fucker asks caitlyn as she examines her eyeshadow pallet.

vi cackles at the way her god sister's adopted her nickname, and caitlyn shoots her an icy glare before smiling sweetly at little fucker.

"blue." she says. your daughter smiles and starts dabbing up blue pigment on her brush.

"she wants to be me so bad." jinx mumbles under her breath. sevika snorts and nudges jinx with her foot.

"be nice." she laughs.

"i was born before you jinx, if anybody's a copy cat it's you." caitlyn says primly, closing her eyes as little fucker starts gently dabbing her eyelids.

"nyeh nyeh nyeh nyeh nyeh blah blah blah." jinx imitates, tying off little fucker's braid.

sevika's cackling by now, and violet's buyring her head against your arm. "it never ends with these two." she groans. you snort.

"c'mon, it's cute. it's how they show they love each other." you tease.

this makes violet, cait, and jinx sqawk in protest, and little fucker huffs and stomps her foot.

"stop fighting!" she demands. all the teenagers shut up, sinking back into their cushions at the little girl's words. you watch proudly as your little girl bosses around her guests. "vi-vi, can you pretty please make us more popcorn?" she asks. violet snorts and rolls her eyes, but she starts crawling out of the fort regardless, muttering something under her breath about little fucker being too cute for her own good. "thank you! jinxie, my mommy still needs her braids!"

"i'm not letting jinx get her hands anywhere near my head."

"mommy!" little fucker huffs. "be nice!"

sevika sighs and relents, and jinx cackles as she crawls over to annoy her aunt.

"cupcake, come with me." she demands as she starts crawling out of the fort. "i wanna see if we have any pretty blue jewlery for you!" she exclaims.

you chuckle. "oh, check the jewelry box by my sock bin, babe!" you call after your daughter, peeking your head out of the fort. "you know the one where mommy keeps all her bracelets?" you ask. little fucker nods. "i think i put some of your play jewelry in it when we were packing for the move."

"thanks mommy!" little fucker exclaims as she pitter patters off to the bedroom, caitlyn trailing behind her.

violet returns with popcorn a few seconds later, smiling at you and sevika as she crawls in the fort.

"this place is beautiful." she says. you smile. it's the first girls night in your new house, and you can't stop thinking that it's the first of many girls' nights to come in this place.

girls nights with sevika right by your side.

sevika must be feeling the same sort of sappy excitement, because she smacks jinx's hands away from her hair for just a second to kiss you.

"ugh, keep it in your pants." jinx groans before tugging the ends of sevika's hair.

"we're back!" your daughter squeals as she comes crawling back into the fort. caitlyn follows her, sevika's jewelry box shoved under her arm. you giggle.

"you made cait carry that heavy thing down here?" you ask. your daughter shrugs.

"it's all tangled! and there's so much shiny stuff, i wan' everyone to be pretty!" she giggles. as she flips open the lid.

it's only then that you remember why you were in sevika's jewelry box a few weeks ago in the first place.

it's because you were checking on the ring box you'd hidden under a pile of old wrist cuffs and chokers sevika hasn't touched in years.

you're frozen in place, watching in horror as your daughter starts to dig around in the mixture of sevika's, your own, and her jewelry.

"what's this?" she asks.

you know what she's pulling out of the box before she even finishes the question, and you lean forward, groaning and laughing.

"what?" little fucker asks. caitlyn's the next person to understand, her eyes flicking between you and your daughter, before they flash in understanding. she elbows violet, and the jolt seems to connect the dots for her.

it's just little fucker, jinx, and sevika who are confused now.

"what is it?" little fucker asks caitlyn.

"i-- uh..." cait's blinking rapidly, and you sigh and reach forward to grab the box out of your daughter's hands, taking pity on the teenager.

"you know what the word 'engagement' means?" you ask your daughter.

beside you, sevika and jinx both gasp. violet and cait burst into excited giggles. little fucker blinks and scratches her head.

"like... being engaged?" your baby asks.

jinx is pounding on sevika's shoulders in excitement, and for once in her life sevika's not annoyed by it.

"yeah, like being engaged. so... when you wanna be engaged to someone you buy them an engagement ring..." you whisper, flipping the box open to show your daughter.

she gasps, looking up at you with big eyes. "this is for mommy?" she whispers.

you giggle and nod, and beside you, sevika chokes on a sob, reaching out to clutch your arm.

violet's crying against caitlyn's shoulder as your daughter turns the little box around in her hands and showing it to sevika. "mommy look!" she squeals. "mama wants to marry you too!"

you giggle, and sevika grins.

the next thing you know, your wife is launching out of her seated position, her wide arms scooping you, little fucker, and all of the girls into a big hug as she tackles you to the ground.

you're a pile of limbs and laughter-- the fort collapses around you, and when you finally manage to fight your way out of the cushions and bodies and blankets, you find sevika, grinning down at you.

"well?" you ask. "wanna give it one more shot?"

"yes." sevika sobs.

you grin, and pull her in for a kiss.

beside you, all four girls burst into squeals of varying pitches.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@shimtarofstupidity @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @claude999 @nhaaauyen

[pedgito]

𝐒𝐎𝐅𝐓 & 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 | a joel miller x reader oneshot

summary: this is based around work song by hozier, felt a deep need to write some joel miller comfort stuff. listen to the song if you fancy, it really helps, i swear. this is just a lot of angst, fluff, and longing wrapped into a 5k fic i wrote out a couple weeks ago out of missing writing and joel miller.

word count & warnings: 5k | 18+, fem!reader, mentions of violence/blood/fighting (nothing graphic), joel being in a state of shock, sex for comfort/coping, no heavy sex warning it's just v intimate, psuedo love confessions bc joel is bad with words

It’s like an atom bomb uprooting your world with the heavy rasps of a hand against solid wood, sending a sharp buzz of electricity down your spine as you shoot up from your position on the couch, nearly tripping over Ellie on the way. The remnants of a night spent like a teen, enjoying a sleepover with the young girl who had a lot to talk about. You knew enough about Savage Starlight that you were practically an aficionado now, but that didn’t matter. 

Ellie only stirs slightly, turning on her side on the cushion of her make-shift pallet and you open the front door slowly despite your rapidly beating heart.

Joel never knocked, never really announced himself. He would come in quiet, quick, and busy himself upstairs. You knew that because he usually found you in his bed, waiting for him.

Tonight was a little different. 

No grave can hold my body down,

I'll crawl home to her

You world spins as you see what’s on the other side, a soft gasp leaving your lips as you see him.

Joel. But he wasn’t alone.

“Maria—“ It’s laced with too many emotions, too many meanings. You shift your gaze between the two.

“Everyone—“ Maria has to force herself to take a deep breath, a careful hand on Joel’s arm as she forces him to take a step forward, “everyone is fine.”

“Maria, he’s covered in blood.” As if that wasn’t obvious.

It was crusted and oxidized down, sticking to his skin and covering him like something out of a horror movie. He wasn’t shaking, that was the first thing you noticed. Joel was unnaturally still. Frozen.

“Do you have him?” Maria asks, only expecting one answer. “I’ve gotta tend to Tommy and he’s not telling me a damn thing.”

“Is he hurt?” Your brow furrowed in concern, but Maria doesn’t elaborate at all. You reach for Joel silently, his skin icey to the touch, the rigid, cold weather partially to blame.

“He’ll be alright.” Maria assures you with a nod and she’s gone without another word, leaving you to stare at the shell of a man before you, his eyes boring into the ground, staring at the scuffed up material of his boots, not a word to be spoken. Not even so much as a breath.

“Is he in shock?” Ellie’s less than chipper voice speaks from behind you, forcing your heart to kickstart again.

“Um, I don’t—know…” You pull him inside gently, which he doesn’t fight, but he feels lifeless, “has he—have you seen him like this before?”

“Never.” Her eyes well with silent tears and you quickly shoo her away. Ellie almost seems thankful. Joel can’t admit it to himself but Ellie knows. 

You care. 

“Go upstairs and get some sleep, Ellie.” You assure her, “I can handle it.”

The walk to Joel’s bedroom feels miles away. Joel shows no signs of life still, as you drag him inside of his room and shut the door with a soft click.

“You need to shower.” 

Joel knows this, he can smell it on him.

The smell of death.

You smell it too, but you can’t bring yourself to admit it.

“Joel,” You speak softly, invading his line of sight, a gentle touch against rough skin, his scruff a few days grown and there’s a small twitch as your warm hand makes contact, “are you here?”

His nod is a sigh of relief, a weight off your chest.

“Okay—okay, that’s good,” You keep your voice low, like a secret between the both of you, “do you need my help?”

Joel shakes his head weakly, pulling at the buttons of his thick coat, realizing slowly that it was just as bloodied as the rest of him. He wants it off. All of it. Now.

“Are you going to fight me if I try to help?” It’s lighthearted, but you can see how deeply it digs at Joel, like a fresh wound. “Sorry—I just, I want to help. Okay?”

He doesn’t respond, but he doesn’t push your hands away when they reach forward and take the coat from his hands. You toss it in a nearby corner, out of sight and out of mind.

You could handle it later, get rid of the mess so Joel wouldn’t have to bother with it.

He toes off his boots after tugging at the laces, delicate fingertips tracing down his chest as you unbutton his flannel, forcing it down his shoulders. It takes a moment, but eventually he’s down to his boxers and tattered white undershirt, barefoot on the hardwood floor.

And he stops, leaning into you, pressing his forehead against your own in a silent bid of thankfulness, a heavy sigh escaping his chest.

Joel showers alone, eerily quiet. You get rid of the clothes, bringing them out to the garage to deal with in the morning.

Joel is already in the bed by the time you make it back to his bedroom, but if he was actually asleep was yet to be discovered, the nightmare replaying behind his eyelids unbeknownst to you. 

I was three days on a drunken sin

I woke with her walls around me

Joel wasn’t supposed to come back until later in the evening that day, well after work was wrapped up for the day and everyone was already tucked into bed. You found yourself in Joel’s bed most nights now, off and on for the first few months but now, almost a year into…whatever this was, it was a weekly thing, as often as Joel wasn’t out on patrol. 

There was never an agreement about what this was either, not that there needed to be. But, the unspoken rule was to keep your problems away–the anger, the fear, the suppressed feelings you both have tried to keep at bay for weeks now. Joel only mildly complains about things around Jackson, but never about his life before, how he feels now, or how his pseudo-daughter seeks out comfort in your presence when Joel isn’t around. 

Joel hasn’t stirred for hours, or so it feels. The night sky fades away into early morning, the tiniest amount of dawn peeking through his window and bathing him in a shadow of blue. The crinkle of sheets pulls your attention toward his face, your body heats like a furnace as it slid near, hoping that even in his slumber he might draw closer. There’s a brief moment where you think he might wake, but he doesn’t. Instead, he pulls you closer. Nuzzles. 

You’ll take it. 

He moves silently, letting you hold him. An arm slipped under his head, a leg slipped between his own thighs and his hands found their way around your middle and you sigh, a deep breath through your nose that does nothing to calm your worrying, aching heart. 

If he wanted to talk about it, he would. That’s all you can hope for.

I didn't care much how long I lived

But I swear I thought I dreamed her

Joel is edging on delirious. The adrenaline was beginning to wane and he kept seeing things in faint recollection. The faces of the couple that had snuck into the cabin he and Tommy were patrolling last night, the fear on his brother’s face–something he hasn’t seen from Tommy since they were teenagers. They’re battle-hardened warriors, attack first and ask questions later. His brother was helpless then and if it weren’t for Joel’s terrible bout of insomnia—he couldn’t think about it.

He feels everything finally caught up to him, the physical exertion, the mental toll, he’s never slept so easily in his life and he feels terrible about it. He feels terrible about bringing this on you, forcing you to help piece him back together and keep him from falling apart. 

Joel is a man, solid and steel-like in his ways but he’s not invulnerable to emotion. He feels it creeping in as he blinks his tired eyes open, the flutter in his chest growing strong when he feels you wrapped around him and his own limbs just the same. 

He could’ve swore you left. The look on your face, of pure terror and disgust as he poured his heart out to you, but Joel quickly realizes that was only a dream, something his mind cooked up in the haze of hysteria.

“Is Tommy hurt?” You ask with a timidness he’s not used to, your fingers massaging at the base of his neck, twirling a curl of his hair around your finger idly, “Maria...didn’t say, she looked exhausted.”

We don’t talk about these things.

We don’t talk.

We don’t.

“I’m not asking you to tell me what happened,” You assure him like he’d spoked aloud, “Just…even a nod, Joel. Anything.”

Joel waits too long, to the point where you think he’s fallen back asleep. But eventually, he shakes his head. You relax briefly. No, he wasn’t hurt.

But, that doesn’t explain the blood. 

As much as you wanted to know, it wasn’t your place to ask.

She never asked me once

about the wrong I did

Joel doesn’t understand why he feels drawn to you, so eager to have you here, home. You had your own place, your own things, but when you were here it almost felt normal. Real. He’s dragged this out for months, avoiding the looks you give him when things get a little too intense and he pulls away. 

Ellie calls him an idiot every month that passes, knowing how good it is to have you around.

“Jesus, Joel—you can’t really be that oblivious.”

Joel forces Ellie to drop it.

But, not before she mumbles the word under her breath.

There’s a soft sob that racks your body as Joel stirs, crying silently above him with worry. You weren’t as great at burying those emotions as him, unfortunately.

Because, for tonight, well—it was almost too much to process.

“I took care of it,” Joel speaks through his gruff, sleep-filled voice, “Tommy’s fine.”

It? Took care of it? Come on, Joel.

“It was a couple. Hunters. They were from the west.”

You stay silently, scared that speaking might startle him too. You didn’t want to steal the chance of knowing, understanding.

“I handled it.” The emphasis around the word is enough to make you understand.

He killed them. There was no way around that.

“I’ve never…” The quiver in Joel’s voice is apparent, no matter how hard he tries to mask it, “I’ve felt a lot of things. Anger, betrayal, but that fear—”

You squeeze your eyes shut, pulling Joel closer into the space you shared.

“They had their hands around him,” Joel explains slowly, like he’s trying and failing to relive that sight in his mind, “my damn hearing, old fucking age—another minute and things would’ve been a hell of a lot different.”

“But, you took care of it.” You affirmed him and his hands tightened against your skin. “Seem pretty damn capable to me.”

“Fuckin’ cowards.” Joel spits out, “We were sleepin’ and they tried to get the jump on us.”

“It’s alright, though—Tommy’s okay, you’re…okay,” You hesitate, a quiver of a breath from Joel ghosts over your chest, his tired eyes peering into yours, “You’re okay, right?”

“Always am,” Joel assures you with a low, soft response, “had so much on mind, though, ya’ know?”

“Well, yeah—”

Joel shakes his head, cuts you off for a brief moment. You don’t really mind, talking felt too draining right now.

“Ellie’s still learnin’, she can’t even go out on patrol by herself. Tommy and Maria have the baby now.” Joel’s fingers squeeze again, a nervous tic he’s picked up when he’s got himself wrapped around you, the urge to say things he wishes he could but can’t. You’re begging for it now, wondering if this was the moment. “I couldn’t live with myself if things went the other way.”

My babe would never fret none

About what my hands and my body done

Joel was a killer. Is. But, with good intentions. Not that it was needed anymore.

Survival, family, protection. He’s killed for the wrong reasons and the good ones, but it’s never been something you’ve judged him on. You never even questioned it. You accepted it, moved on, and treated him like everyone else. But, of course, there was a tinge of sweetness that creeped in, got him all caught and wound up in your web.

“Did she give you any trouble last night?” It’s a quick turn from the heavy conversation you were having, but it isn’t lost on you. He’s silently asking things to shift to something else.

“No more than the usual,” You shrug, talking softly in the early morning ambience, wind howling outside his bedroom window, a storm brewing on the horizon, “I don’t think it’s me that you should be worried about her giving trouble anyways.”

He would be stuck here in Jackson for a few days. You’ve never been more thankful for shitty weather in a goddamn apocalypse. 

“That kid loves you.” Joel comments fondly, and I do too.

“Only because I help her and Dina sneak out during town movie nights,” You admit, glancing away sheepishly, “she really worries about you.”

Joel nods knowingly, his usual scowl returning to his face. You reach forward, rubbing your thumb along his cheekbone—in this light he looks fine, untouched and perfect, but he winced at the contact. He’s a tough man, but he’s not invincible. 

The touch of his fingers as they wrap around your palm are instinctive, he’s careful that he doesn’t startle you by the quick action, but it’s almost like he’s being shocked and brought back to hours before, the one hit they managed to land on him.

You’ve seen a few of Joel’s violent outbursts, yelling matches upon yelling matches with Tommy but it’s never been directed at you. You retract slightly, fingers curling over the top of his own.

“I’m sorry,” You apologize, “I didn’t realize—“

“I would never hurt you.” Joel says adamantly, but you can’t help but feel puzzled. “I’m not a monster.”

That idea never crossed your mind.

“Defending yourself doesn’t make you a monster, Joel.”

Joel doesn’t know why he feels the need for validation. 

“Maria—she thought I,” Joel laughs sadly, a huff of air that borders on defeat, “Tommy was hitchin’ the horses up and she saw me first, without him and she thought I left him behind. That I sacrificed my own damn brother to save my ass.”

Maria had never been fond of Joel, that much was always apparent, even from the moment you met. She tolerated him because he was Tommy’s brother but that was all. There was no way around it. 

“I’ve done plenty of shit to cement my place in hell somewhere, and so has Maria,” You tell him, “Doesn’t matter what she thinks, Tommy knows you would never do that.”

Joel squeezes your waist tighter, the soft skin molding under his calloused fingertips, “You’re too damn good to me.”

The kissing starts slowly, a soft caress as Joel moves in closer, and doesn’t even try—he waits for you, teasing you with a touch until you can’t fight anymore and you press your lips against his gently. It’s the first time in the last several hours that Joel doesn’t feel like he’s drowning, barely skimming the surface to keep himself afloat. 

He feels horrible, using you like this—coping with things by stowing them away and surrounding himself with you in a hope that you wouldn’t ask anymore questions, that he would have to explain his actions or justify them. But, you taste too damn sweet under his tongue and he prods until you let him in, a small sigh leaving your mouth as your lips part. 

“Fuck, darlin’.” He swears like a symphony, sounding more devious than it should as it leaves his lips, “Can’t keep at this, not with Ellie upstairs.”

“Joel, she’s not here.” It’s not so obvious to Joel, who’s just about as oblivious to every teen antic thrown his way. “She’s out with Dina, probably. That’s usually where she goes when she’s upset.”

Joel’s brow furrowed in confusion.

“I heard her moving around when you were asleep,” You explain quietly, jostling your head slightly on the pillow until Joel’s situated over you slightly, his head resting in the palm of his hand that held him upright, “it’ll do you some good to talk to her in the morning.”

Joel nods knowingly, half-smiling as he pushes your hair behind your ear, his thumb finding the sensitive dip behind your lobe and rubbing until you couldn’t hold your laughter in, letting it bubble out weakly before falling silent, a soft, but serious look growing across your features.

“Don’t ever scare me like that again,” You tell him, “please.”

“C’mere,” Joel nudges his chin upwards, drawing you in close, “I’m not goin’ down without a fight, darlin’.”

“I’m serious,” You don’t need to force a love confession on him, not that it would salvage anything or make things better, because Joel already understands—there’s too many instances where he’s felt his heart tug in all the weird, uncomfortable places he’s kept locked away since he was younger, before the outbreak, before Sarah, “you can’t do that anymore.”

“I’m here,” Joel assures you, forehead pressed firm against your own as he nods, “I’m right here.”

He failed to mention how after the attack, the split second of everything flashing through his memory, the possibility of losing Tommy, disappointing Ellie, that you were the one thing that kept him conscious enough to come home.

He’d left you with a burning kiss the day he left, kissing like two lovebirds trying to keep a secret as you hung around the stables as the pairs readied to leave. 

It was his own little promise of a return, but you didn’t realize in just what shape. He was good at masking, even now. Joel was hurting, but all he wanted was you.

And you could give him that.

And she put her love down soft and sweet

In the low lamplight I was free

Joel hums, soft and quiet, “Don’t move,” He pleads, “need you right here.”

His palms are heavy, feeling so much larger than they should as they span the length of your body, pulling you in close and cradling you like a safety blanket. Maybe you should stop, it isn’t the best route to cope with the situation, but Joel is there—wanting and needing and he’s mouthing at the junction of your neck in a way that has you gasping for air. 

He needs you to occupy his mind, it’s what you did best for him. Joel needed somewhere else to be, anywhere but the hellscape behind his eyes when sleep succumbed to his pure exhaustion.  

Just a moment. Just a moment to breathe. To feel.

Your brow furrows so deep that you're scowling now, but mostly out of concern, forehead scrunching from the emotion and you cradle Joel’s face carefully between your hands, “Tell me what you need.”

You. 

He doesn’t say as much, but you can feel him sifting for your tattered pajama pants as he digs his fingertips under the waistband and yanks, hoping you’ll get the idea. 

Okay, this is fine. He needs sex, you can provide him that. But, you won’t let him escape. Joel needed to be present and here with you, not forcing himself to some far off space in his mind and keeping you around him like nothing more than a warm body for him to fuck.

He’s got you all pliant under his touch as he needs at soft skin, thumb digging into your hip bone as he shifts between your legs lazily, spreading you wide and using the arm that is holding most of his weight to unfurl his hand and reach for that tight space behind your knee, tucking that leg up and over his right hip—this feels undoubtedly vulnerable, but he’s staring at you with those eyes and you absolutely fucking melt, his mouth parted by mere centimeters as his tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip.

“Go on, darlin’,” Joel encourages, “I know you need it too.”

That was an understatement.

He’s already hard, head of his cock resting against the small expanse of skin between his groin and belly button. It’s like a wave of heat that rushes over your bodies when you finally touch him how he’s been begging—not so much with words but pleading looks. He needs it even more than you do. 

Usually you would spend a while in the throes of leisurely foreplay, letting Joel devour you until you were nothing but a heap of numbness on the bed and only then would he allow you what you were begging for the entire time. His cock, buried deep enough inside you that it felt impossible. But, there was none of that.

Your thumb slides over the head, smearing the precum in a too teasing motion that has Joel cursing under his breath before you’re abruptly guiding him to your core, slick and waiting without a single touch, embarrassingly so. Fortunately, you and Joel were long over that. Joel was overly aware of the effect he had on you—mind, body, and soul. 

He slides home and you have to take a moment, a second to breath, chest expanding with a full breadth of air as Joel pulls you in closer, if that was even possible, warm hands settling firm on your hips, his head resting against the pillow you both shared, “There she is,” Joel comments vexingly, “always know what you need, right, baby?”

As good as it feels to hear him, the way he can melt you with a single phrase or sound, he’s still on guard in the way he’s shielding himself against your body, rocking his hips in a motion that drowns out all relative thinking and it builds, builds until you can’t take it and you feel like you just might burst. You slip a hand out from under him to pull at the chain on his bedside lamp, drowning you in a soft yellow glow and Joel doesn’t look right away—that’s how you know. 

“Switch me,” You suggest softly, followed by an even lower, disgruntled noise from Joel, “—Joel, come on.”

Joel feels that distant ache in his bones, the soreness in his hands from the damage they caused, he groans with the movement, but even louder with the way you sink back down onto him once he’s settled against the mattress, hands fisted into his shirt and rumpling it up his stomach, revealing a few inches of soft skin, grinding down against him until he’s nearly writhing. His mouth opens slightly, ready to say something you didn’t want to hear.

You offer a soft shhh, eyes focused on the lines of his face, beautiful with age and scrunched up in pleasure, eyes closed as he settles into the feeling of you again, “Stay with me,” You jeer quietly, a soft giggle settling on the surface as you smile, ever so slightly, ”‘can you do that?”

Sometimes it feels like an impossible feat, but Joel grips you a little tighter, pulls you in ever the more closer and the slick of your body feels so goddamn good, he doesn’t even realize his thought breached his lips before your breath is hot against his ear, his mind battling the thoughts buried under the surface and every filthy thing he could blurt out in the moment, he’s so tense with anticipation, “Stop thinking so hard, Joel. You’re home. Safe.”

And for once, he gives in. A long, hard fought battle that succumbs to his own exhaustion, allowing the kinder touches, the intimate glances between two people, almost like your fingertips were grazing each other’s souls. It’s felt intense before, but this moment is sharp around the edges and Joel knows what you need to hear. He’s fought it for a while, trying to right his wrongs, remind himself still, that he didn’t deserve you. He’s done fighting.

“Just need you, darlin’.” He admits gruffly, lips sliding against each other in a messy, lazy attempt at a kiss, “Always know just what to do.”

In other words, you could read Joel like a book.

And in the few years you’ve known him, you were hoping that was the case, considering the level of intimacy you’ve reached. Joel comes with a tired, drawn out groan that pierces you deep, and you’re right there—right there, before Joel is flipping you over with little fight on your end, sucking on your clit with a ferocity that doesn’t let up, coming with a shout as you grip his hair at the root, riding out the extent of your climax against his mouth as he eased you into your sated state of exhaustion.

The comedown is heavy, long, extended bouts of silence as you two try to catch your breath, slow your pounding hearts and Joel, at some point, finds his way higher up your body, his head laying against your chest, just underneath your breasts and it's an easy position to rub your fingers into his hair, along the planes of his face. He'd never admit it, but this is his favorite part. The after.

For you, it was everything.

"I want you around more often," Joel says quietly, like a whisper, "—m'tired of worrying about you when you're not around."

It almost makes you think you slipped into some sort of fugue state, not believing that the Joel Miller had said anything remotely close to a confession. But, then again, he surprised you every day. And you knew he couldn't ask you outright, not now, maybe not ever.

But, you'd settle for this.

"I'm not going anywhere, Joel." You promise, "You've always got me to come home too."

[aliidarling]

excuse my bad grammar and typos, this is my first time posting official smut! i’ve had accounts there and there but this time i’m fr

i didn’t proofread either cuz i’m lazy so bare w me

sorry if danny is ooc he’s weird to write

he hit me and it felt like a kiss ♡

DANNY JOHNSON x fem!reader

nsfw content — please scroll if uncomfortable

summary: danny chases u down towards the end of the trial and corners you in lampkin house, decides to have a little fun w u :3

tags: nsfw obvi, p in v, forced entry kinda, blood as lube is suggested, rough fingering at end, degrading, humiliation, mean danny, dubcon, referenced somnophillia but doesn’t happen, danny’s thoughts are triggering, danny himself is a warning

dark content below!!

Your breath was heavy as your feet ran as quickly as possible, the thoughts of all other things leaving your mind very quickly. All you could think was the fact a pyschopath was currently right behind you, knife in air, and coming right at your sorry ass.

“Shit, shit,” You sigh shakily under your breath. Your heart was pounding so fast it felt like it could just jump out of your chest. If it did you hoped it’d punch Ghostie in his stupid face, maybe give him a few bruises to remember you by.

“Stop fuckin’ running! You’re only delayin’ the inevitable, sweetheart!” He yells from behind you, his voice deep. You never took time to admire his voice but for some odd reason, while you were probably five seconds away from death, you couldn’t help but acknowledge how smooth it was.

After his harsh words left his mouth, he was immediately slammed with a pallet, chasing him to let out a loud groan and stumble back.

“Fuckin’ bitch— you’re gonna get gutted for that.” He growls, lifting his palm to rub the soreness on his face before he remembered about the stupid mask he wore. He rolled his eyes at this and quickly got back onto his feet.

After another few minutes, he managed to corner you into the little house on Lampkin Lane, the red and blue lights illuminating onto his shrieking expression.

You felt your heart drop slowly as you realized you had nowhere to go. How could you be so stupid, running into the only room in the god damn house without a window to vault into.

“Can’t we talk about this?” You smile sheepishly, backing up into you pressed against the wall, his tall and looming figure intimidating you shitless.

You could feel the sassy roll of his eyes before he roughly grabs you by your shoulders, throwing you down onto the old worn down mattress. A yelp leaves your throat, your body squirming on the mattress, having landed on your belly.

You open your mouth to protest, “Hey!—“ Only to feel the air knocked out of you as he plops down on your lower back, straddling you. His hips were pressing down into your butt, his knees at each side of your waist.

An attempt to lift your head up was quickly denied as you felt his hand grab the back of your head, his fingers tangling within your hair, and shoving it back down into the scratched cushion.

“No squirmin, or else you’ll get a knife shoved in that pretty lil’ head of yours, got it?” His voice was low as he hissed the words out, his legs tightening their hold on you.

You whimper at the pressure on your lower body. You decide to ignore his words— you were gonna die anyways, so why not go out screaming and kicking?

“Fuck you.” You say with a tone full of hatred, fists clenching in anger as you attempt to knock him off you by shoving your butt into him roughly.

This only causes him to get worse, a sharp inhale coming from him as he feels your butt connect with his groin.

He groans back and presses you further down, his hand starting to raise his knife up.

“I’ve had enough of your stupid whining and fighting, stupid little bitch, how about you shut up and take this god damn knife in your throat?” He snaps, his other hand roughly grabbing you by the back of your neck and squeezing it as he presses it down.

Right as he’s about to slam his blade into the back of your skull, already daydreaming about how good his clothes would look covered in your blood and tears, he feels your tiny body under him shift once again and press tight against his cock.

His breath hitches intensely, and it only gets worse from there as he hears a soft noise leave your lips. He reluctantly lowers his knife, just a little, and pulls his head down to see yours.

You had your face resting face down, your cheek pressed against the mattress with your eyes squeezed shut. You had already prepared yourself for the feeling of his knife deep in your skull. It’s not like worse hasn’t happened, Wesker and some of the other weird ass killers had too much fun with their mori’s.

The squeeze of his fingers around your delicate neck caused you to let out a forced moan, his brows furrowing. You could practically feel the air tense as his heavy breathing from behind you sent shivers down your body and right into your core, feeling so embarrassed to have this murderers body so close to yours.

“Just kill me already, you stupid little— Just get this over with!” You whispered with a high pitched tone, squirming once again and bracing yourself for the slash.

He only rolled his eyes at you in response.

Your attention was drawn away from your fear of dying as you heard the loud sound of steel clattering against the floor.

You looked up in surprise, your lips parting and not having a chance to say anything before you felt his smash right against you, a loud gasp leaving you as he pressed you even further down.

After a second into the kiss, you wondered, how the hell he could kiss you with his mask on? You peeked an eye open and saw he had his mask pulled up halfway.

He had one hand grabbing you by the back of your neck, holding you down into the bed, his other squeezing your pink cheeks. The kiss only got more rough as you attempted to part.

All your attempts at parting miserable failed, considering you were quite literally pinned down with no where to go.

“H-Hey— hey, ghostf—“ You choked out between kisses, your hands which you were surprised weren’t pinned down yet, go to shakily reach towards him to push him away.

“Shut the hell up.” He grits his teeth, resisting the urge to beat the shit out of you and then fuck your unconscious body afterwards. Maybe you wouldn’t struggle so much then, ungrateful bitch.

A whine left you before you felt yourself get shoved down again, your head knocking against the mattress roughly. You squirm more, gasping and shaking your head in the kiss you tried your best not to give into.

“Get off me! Get off me— you god damn psycho!” You screeched.

His hand quickly shot up and slapped your face, causing you to curl away and hide your red face into the bed under him. Almost made him feel bad before he remembered the ruckus you caused him during today’s match. Can’t even remember how many god damn pallets you shoved into my face.

“You gonna cry?” He mocks, a grin tugging at his lips as he presses his hips down into your butt, one his knees shoving its way between your thighs and forcefully parting it.

“No I’m not..” You say quietly and so embarrassed.

“Yeah, I think you are.”

He then pulled away rather harshly from your face, one of his hands pressing into the space between your shoulder blades, not letting you look up or get up.

His other hand yanked his mask back down, but then got to quick work with grabbing the hem of your pants and shoving it down.

“What’s wrong? Embarrassed? Shouldn’t be, baby, you’re so pretty.” His voice was so mocking and condescending by itself that it was probably enough to make you cry.

“S-Shut up,” You whispered, limp under him, not even struggling anymore. You knew there was nowhere to go. And you couldn’t help but feel a flutter in your tummy as he called you pretty.

“..You think I’m pretty?”

He snickers at your small voice, his hand leaving your back and joining his other in pulling your pants down. Once you’re naked from waist down, he gets to work and grab your hips, pulling them up into a position where they are hovering in the air with your knees supporting them.

“Mhm, baby. Prettiest victim I’ve ever had.” His large hand glides over your round butt, giving you firm taps and playful rubs.

You couldn’t help but let a small moan as his hand glided right over your pussy, pinching your clit rather harshly, making you yelp.

Stupid girl didn’t think I’d be nice with her, did she?

I’m going to ruin her.

I’ll start off with that tight pussy of hers.

“Ever had someone in here, hmm?” He hums, his thick finger teasing your small hole and threatening to slip in. Your breath hitches in fear.

His bloody, dirty gloves fingers inside you sounded so dirty, but a part of you craved for it. The way he stimulated your body fed to your cravings.

“I-I mean, yeah, a long time ago, but now I’ve been here for a bit and none of the survivors are really.. worth it.” You admitted hesitantly, feeling embarrassed to be telling Ghostface the last time you had sex was.

“Poor thing.” He mocked lowly, both his hands going to rest next to your folds. He spreads your pussy lips apart and snickers at the sight of your small inner walls and slickness.

“I’ll treat you so nice, baby, you won’t even have the heart to beg me to stop.”

His words sounded so genuine, but how could you believe him? He was the last person to trust, especially in a situation like this. You were surprised he hadn’t forced himself in your ass already, it felt like something his deranged ass would be into.

The sound of his robe wrinkling and moving around caught your attention. You peeked behind you to get a look before you felt his hand collide with your face again, sending you immediately back down into the mattress, hiding and squeezing your eyes shut as you decide to be good for once and just follow his orders.

You didn’t wanna walk out of here with a knife in your ass.

It wasn’t another minute until you felt something large and round press against your pussy opening. Your eyes widened as his hands forcefully spread your thighs, your back arching as his other hand pressing down into it.

“W-Wait— don’t go right into it!” You gasped, trying to pull away.

He completely ignores you and instead grabs your head with one hand, the other holding your hips firmly as he fully slams himself inside you, full on WWE style.

“Take it, sweetheart, it ain’t that hard, c’mon.” He sniggers, his tone heavy in mirth and amusement, his hold in you tightening.

He was so big, completely stretching out your gummy walls and pressing against your cervix with his painfully big cock.

It had to be a good 8 inches, maybe even hitting 9– nothing about him was average, so it didn’t surprise you his dick was painfully big.

“Ghost,” You cry out, your back arching further as his cock immediately pulls back, making you flinch at the friction.

You were wet, yeah, but not enough to withstand his cock. You would have needed a good stretching and a lot of fingering if you wanted to take him without any pain.

And the fucker just slammed himself inside you, no prep at all. Tears were teasing the corners of your eyes, nose scrunched up at the sting.

He rolls his eyes at your noises, “Stop fuckin’ whining, I’m not against killing ya still, y’know?” He huffs with a sassy tone. Both his hand settle around the curve of your hips and waist and start treating you like a complete fleshlight, slamming himself into you over and over again.

Your body shakes at the intensity of the pounding, your hands limp infront of you and weakly scratching at the mattress. Your skin felt so icky, your thighs covered in something but you didn’t know what.

“Good girl, good girl, takin’ my cock like you were fuckin’ born for it.” He giggled into your ear. He bends over slightly to press his back against your chest, pressing your body flat against the bed.

“Please slow down—“ You whine.

He slaps you in response and you weakly apologize.

A few more extra deep thrusts has him groaning from behind you, his eyes threatening to roll back as well at how tight you fit around him, snug like a song.

“Good for nothin’, cheap whore, what a pathetic piece of crap—“ He grumbles lowly, brows furrowing in concentration as his thrusts get more harsh, your body jolting from each slap of his hips.

Wrapping on arm around you and reaching for your tiny clit, he places rough circles onto it and hummed in approval at how your walls started sucking him in more.

“Gonna cum? Huh?”

“Mhm, mmm, please.”

“Yeah?” He chuckles darkly, brutally slamming his cock into you over and over again until he felt your pussy start milking the shit out of him. He let out an *almost* whine, burying himself as deep as he could inside as you as he twitched.

His hands grabbed onto your hips and pulled you flush against his, his dirty robe rubbing all over your body and staining your pretty skin with your friends blood.

“Good girl, yeah, just like that.” He whispered, his eyes fluttering shut as he felt his cock literally explode in you, sending all of his hot cum straight into your womb for you to go and cry about.

Right as he came, he felt your walls tighten further before relaxing and letting out your white cream as well, coating his cock.

With a soft huff, he slowly pulls out, listening to the squelching sounds in amusement. A smirk tugged at his lips as he watched a mixture of yours and his cum drop out of your sloppy hole, with a slight reddish tint on your thighs.

“Oops, made ya’ bleed.” He hums nonchalantly, his hand going and gliding some of the cum onto his fingers before shoving it back into you.

“Augh! Hey—“ You yelped, tensing at the feeling of his thick fingers back into your over-sensitive pussy, thighs spreading uncomfortably.

“Shut up. You ain’t gonna let one drop out, hear me? You’re gonna be a good girl and suck it up.”

“..Okay.”

After another moment of him shoving the cum deeper into you somehow, he parts and leans back, admiring the view of your ruined body with blood stains from his rough handling earlier and now.

“You’ve never looked prettier.” He snickers before he starts to get back up and pulling his robe on.

“..You’ve.. never looked creepier.” You joke dryly, glancing at his dirty robe. He rolls his eyes and kicks you with his foot as you were still on the floor.

“Ow!”

“Shut the hell up and get out of here, the hatch is waiting for your sorry ass.” He grunts, turning away and picking up the knife be dropped to fuck you.

“You’re so sweet.” You say bitterly under your breath, shakily getting up and rubbing the blood away. The sight of your inner walls blood made you cringe, staring down at your thighs. You sigh and quickly pull your pants back up. You felt disgusting.

“C’mon, I don’t got all day.” He narrows his eyes at you, appearing behind you to rudely shove you towards the exit of the room.

“Jeez! Okay, okay!” You whine, quickly walking out in search of the hatch he kindly offered to you. He watched as you left, his dark eyes from under the mask staring down your silhouette as it slowly disappeared into the distance.

[baronessvonglitter]

Cherry, Cherry 🍒 Chapter 16 🍒

"The Mother Wound"

pre-outbreak! AU!Joel Miller x f!Reader

Word count: 3,882

Summary: When your mom comes to town for a surprise visit, she reveals everything she know about your romance with Joel, and discloses some secrets of her own.

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Mature and Explicit, age gap (reader is 18, Joel is 35), set in summer 2003, reader wears a dress, semi-public sex, oral (f receiving), unprotected piv, creampie, fluff, slut shaming (wrongful, obviously), physical abuse (a slap), language!, accusations of grooming, protective!Joel, your awful mom being awful and telling a horrendous lie, angst, breakup as in "I need time to think", no use of y/n, if I've l left any out please let me know!

Author's Note: the whole "daddy" thing from Chapter 14 is finally put to rest. I wouldn't do that to y'all, this is not Literotica. If I can think of any other notes I'll add them later as it's 1 a.m. and I need to get some sleep.

Series Masterlist

Can't see you tonight, babygirl. Working late over on Sage Street

You look over the text Joel sent you just an hour ago, and make sure the street is the correct one as the signs are hard to read in the darkness of the late night. But there are only a couple houses being constructed among the empty lots, golden beams of wood forging the bones of the unfinished brand new homes. Joel's truck is parked right outside the first one you see.

He's hunched over a table beneath a portable LED light, overlooking layout plans, a small radio nearby playing a song with a guitar riff that's familiar to you.. Sunshine of Your Love..

There's a surge of feminine power within you as you approach him in your flowered sundress. Joel's double take is priceless. He doesn't ask what you're doing there. To be quite honest he doesn't care about anything except getting that dress off you.

It's like a scene from a movie the way he scoops you in his arms, whispering things like "shouldn't be out this late by yourself" and lays you down on a pallet of bricks covered in a plastic sheet. He removes his white shirt, scented of his sweat and natural odor, and lays it under you for cushioning before getting to his knees and spreading your thighs apart.

"Been thinkin' about this pretty lil' pussy all day," he grumbles. You take his hard hat off and put it on yourself, lifting yourself on your elbows so you can watch him.

He tears the thin fabric of your panties, watching your puffy pussy lips appear, slick with want. Your scent reaches him and he can't hold back, diving in to taste you.

"Joel!" you gasp, your hips jolting as his mouth makes contact with your drenched cunt, ever sensitive to his touch. You let yourself get lost in the sweet sensations, sighing, calling out his name.

"God, you taste so good, babygirl," he moans against you, his thumbs spreading you open as his tongue delves into your heat, flicks over your clit. "Sweet like candy.."

Over and over his tongue laps at you, devouring you, his hands pulling down the front of your dress and cupping the sweet mounds of your breasts. He makes coming so easy, as if your body was made for the kind of attention he lavishes upon it.

You come quickly and he lifts you up, clasping your thighs around him, your sticky wetness rubbing against his belly, his own jeans unbuttoned, and moves you to a more discreet place, where you're hidden by the wall sheathing. He hastily removes himself from his boxers and aligns himself to your slit, carefully placing you over him, watching the way your eyes flutter closed as he slides into you.

He fucks you standing, legs hooked over his arms as you kiss him, swallowing up each other's moans and sighs. The summer night humidity and the laboring of your bodies soon have you both sweaty, slippery against one another. He drives into you relentlessly, slowing down only when he worries he'll come too fast, wanting your pleasure before his.

Impaling yourself on him, not a single coherent thought crosses your brain except pursuing your release, the stickiness of your combined sweat, the way his balls smack against your ass, how drenched you are for him, feeling like you can barely withstand to take all of him as he takes control, pressing you down on his dick like it's the last fuck you'll ever have.

You come undone as his tip just brushes your cervix, little bit of pain in the pleasure he's wrenching from you, feeling him spill inside, so much of it that you're already leaking before he withdraws, laying you down on a makeshift blanket of your clothes and his.

"I never wanna stop explorin' you," Joel says, lips brushing your neck, traveling down the slope of your shoulder as you relax in his arms. "I could spend the rest of my life explorin' you and I would still have so much to discover about you, baby."

You've never really been comfortable in your own skin, but watching him adore you gives you a different perspective. "Which parts do you like best?" you ask him.

"Your curves, your face, your eyes. I'm not sure if I can put into words how beautiful you actually are.."

You run your hands along his smooth, large muscles, giving them a gentle squeeze. "There's nothing on you I don't like either."

"So what do you like the most?" he asks with a lustful grin, enjoying your touch.

You grin back. "These of course." your fingertips graze his biceps. "And these." you kiss his lips. "But if I'm being very greedy, I think I like this the most." You reach down and gently stroke his already-hard length.

"I like you bein' greedy," he mutters, eyes closed as he savors your touch.

You feel him come alive in your hand and you feel powerful.

He slides into you, still wet, still sensitive from before, and he takes his time. Slow, but far from delicate. His beard scratches roughly at your skin as he gently grazes his teeth on your tender throat, moving deeply, intoxicated by the scent and taste of you.

When you come it's sweet, lingering, like the prolonged vibration of a note softly played upon a violin.

Joel comes softly and you revel in the warmth of his release, feel him fill you, empty his soul into yours.

"You're good, baby. My god.."

You run your hands across his chest. "I want to be good to you and good for you."

"You're mine and I'm yours," he kisses you again. "I don't ever wanna be without you." Kiss. "And I don't ever wanna stop makin' love to you." Kiss. "And I don't ever want this to end." He gently lays his head on your chest.

"Promise me it's always gonna be this good for us," you whisper.

He smiles warmly. "I promise you, it'll always be this good."

"Morning, hottie," you mumble, smiling. "How'd you sleep?"

Somehow last night you both managed to untangle yourselves long enough to get back to your place, falling asleep in each other's arms immediately.

"Really good, actually," he says, stretching, hair mussed and eyes barely open. "What time is it?" He checks his watch, eyes wide as he realizes he's running late for work. "I gotta go, already late." He scoots out of bed and starts to get dressed. "I'll text you later, all right?" He gives you one last kiss. "Sorry for cuttin' our mornin' short."

"I understand," you murmur, missing the press of his lips and the heat of his body next to yours. "I'll talk to you soon."

"Love you," he says, smiling as he gets his shirt over his head.

"I love you more.."

"Impossible," he gives you a grumpy look.

"Joel Miller, my heart melts with love for you. I crave you with each breath I take, you rock my fucking world, et cetera, et cetera," you say theatrically, giggling as he comes to you again, his broad, strong body covering yours in the bed.

"Save some of those sweet words for tonight, okay?" He kisses the tip of your nose. "Now I gotta get going."

"Miss you already," you chuckle. Wearing only a sheet, you follow him to your front door, give him another quick kiss, watch him get in his truck and leave.

You're so busy watching him drive away and turn at the end of the street, that you see too late your mother's car pulling up to the driveway, followed closely by Sofia.

"Put some clothes on!" your mother scolds before she's even fully out of the car. "Who was that leaving the house?"

You freeze. Nothing had prepared you for your mother's visit. She would have hounded you about it for days beforehand, but now she's here, like a storm cloud on a beautiful day.

"Answer me," Anita says. "Was that Joel Miller leaving here so early?"

All speech has left you. In a flash of anger you glare at your cousin, who shakes her head, hand on her chest. Not me, she's mouthing.

Your mom has already put two and two together. She's no fool, she played this game when she was your age. She had this man when she was your age.

"My daughter's a slut!" she wails.

"Get inside!" Sofia hisses to both of you as she sees the neighbors start to come out and see the hullaballoo.

"Get dressed. Don't shower. I'm taking you to the hospital for a rape kit," Anita says.

"Mom, are you fucking kidding me? I wasn't raped!"

Sofia insists, "Go shower," softly as she tries to appease both of you. "You shouldn't be talking to your mom like this," she whispers. At first you think she's referring to your tone of voice, but then you realize you're naked save a bedsheet, likely still smelling of sex.

"You're taking a pregnancy test," Anita announces.

"I'm not pregnant! What is wrong with you? Why are you here??"

Anita turns to your cousin. "Please leave us to talk."

Sofia stands her ground. "This is my house, auntie. I'm staying."

Your mom grumbles, giving your cousin a hard look. "You let this happen under your roof? What would your parents say if they knew? They'd be disappointed in your lack of morals."

"I don't agree with what they're doing," Sofia says. "But they're both adults, and-"

"You can't keep seeing him," your mother ignores her, turning to you. "You know that, right? It's inappropriate. He's twice your age. He should have more sense."

You never thought you'd have to prepare for this conversation. You never imagined you'd be in this spot, caught red-handed, being sinful with the first ounce of freedom you've been given.

"You don't understand, Mom.." you tell her. "I love him."

The slap registers only after it's happened, your cheek red hot, head on a swivel. Sofia gasps, steps forward to get Anita away from you as you press your own hand to your cheek, feel it already burning.

Joel thinks it's odd when you don't answer his texts, but he pays it little mind. You weren't upset when he left that morning. Then he starts to think you might be hurt. Maybe you fell and hit your head. What if you're unconscious and there's no one there to call 911?

Just when he's about to go stir crazy, his phone dings with a message from you:

don't come to the house tonight. my mom is in town. think someone told her about us. talk later, ok? love you

"Damn!" Joel nearly throws his phone into the street, the need to throttle something or someone is getting stronger. He never expected to have to see Anita again, hasn't seen her in almost twenty years and likes it that way.

You wait for a response to your text, but your phone remains silent. Frowning, you sigh deeply and start on your shower. You think on the many nights Joel has had you in here, pinned to the wall, or on your knees as you went down on him.. there were tender moments too, when he washed and scrubbed your hair for you, assuring you that he loved you the way you are, that there's nothing about you he could ever dislike.

Freshly showered, you change into your typical shirt and jeans, black Converse sneakers on, ready to leave at a moment's notice. But not with her. Not with your mom.

Unfortunately you take too much time preparing for the worst that only too late do you look out the window, realizing Joel's home. You rush out to meet him but your mom has already beat you to it. Sofia holds you back.

"Leave it be," she pleads. "If he loves you he'll come here, and he'll fight for you."

"I hope not literally," you mumble, watching the interaction between your mom and Joel from the safety of the living room window.

It's as if Anita has a radar for Joel. As soon as he's parked in his driveway she marches up. "How dare you? How dare you?" she screams.

He takes a deep breath in and out, taking a moment to calm himself before exiting the vehicle. "How've you been, Anita?" he asks calmly in an attempt to deescalate the situation.

She takes a good look at him as he gets out of the car. Joel Miller all grown up. "I've been better. You haven't changed in twenty years."

"Neither have you, still cornerin' me the minute I'm leavin' my truck. What brings you by?" His words are friendly, his tone is not.

"You screwing my innocent daughter is what 'brings me by'!"

"Jesus, Anita, you really don't mince words do ya? I'm not 'screwing' her."

"That's not what I heard." She puts her hands on her hips, her stance hostile.

"Well what did you hear? And who'd you hear it from? Hmm?"

"I don't need to tell you that. But you are to stay away from my daughter, do you hear me?"

Joel sighs. "I understand you're upset with me for.. for bein' with her. But you're not gonna keep her away from me. I know that she's young, but she's old enough to-"

"No, no, no," Anita shakes her head. "Don't you dare use that excuse. My daughter may be of legal age, but she's too young to know the kind of mess you've got her in."

"She's older than you were when you started messin' around."

"You son of a bitch! Don't you ever-"

"Can we talk somewhere other than the street? Or do you just like makin' a scene and lettin' the whole neighborhood know my business?" He starts to march towards your cousin's house.

"You were best friends with her father," Anita says, following behind. "Don't you think maybe she's confused? Maybe she's looking to you to be her father figure, not her lover?"

"She's with me because she loves me!" he shouts. "And I love her. What the hell do you plan on doin' about that?"

"She doesn't know what love is!" she scrambles to catch up with him on the porch. "Then you come along and you groom her to be this woman you want her to be. But she's too young to understand! You ought to know better!"

"Groom her? I would NEVER do that to her!" His fists are clenched at his sides, blood boiling at how she could defile the love you share.

"Imagine it was your daughter Sarah," Anita says softly. "Imagine she's eighteen, away from home for the first time, and a man twice her age does everything you've been doing with mine. What would you do?"

Joel closes his eyes, knowing he's caught between a rock and a hard place. One the one hand, he sees you as more than some eighteen-year-old. On the other hand, he'd knock the teeth out of any man who dared to try something on Sarah, at any age. "Damn you, Anita. You have no idea. If Sarah was in that situation, I'd make sure whoever that person was.. that they wouldn't see the light of day again."

She looks satisfied. "Then you understand. And the next time you think of coming near my daughter, I want you to think about that instead."

You jump when you see him come through the front door. Without an ounce of shame you hurry to him, enveloping him in a hug. "I don't know what happened," you murmur as you embrace each other tightly. "God, this is such a mess.."

"What happened to your cheek?" He looks at you with concern and turns to Anita. "Did you fuckin' hit her??"

"She doesn't know the worst of it, does she?" Anita asks, ignoring him. "I'm willing to stake everything on it, that you never told her."

You glance from her to Joel. "Told me what?"

His hesitation makes your heart thud, a shiver of unease tingles your spine. Sofia excuses herself to the patio.

Anita looks pleased with herself when she says, "Honey, he's your daddy."

You pull away from him, your natural reaction to uncertainty, your brain going at warp speed to try to process everything from the past couple of hours. "What?" you ask quietly in disbelief.

"God damn it, Anita! Don't go tellin' her shit like that!" Joel roars, and for a moment you worry that he'll hurt your mom, but all that takes a backseat when you take in what she just said.

Anita cuts in, giving you the story of her history with Joel, their brief relationship before she fell for the man you know as your father. How she struggled to maintain the lie, how hard it was to have a baby while still in high school.. all this you've heard before minus the part about Joel. She goes on, in excruciating detail, as Joel leaves. You barely register his absence, your head unable to wrap itself around the new facts.

Joel returns with a manila envelope. "Fuck you, I'm not her father. I never was." He shows a paternity test, old and crinkled around the edges, yellowed with time. "Chris had a paternity test done when he was tryin' to get out of bein' married to you," he glares at Anita. "I had one done through the mail as well, just to be sure." He practically shoves the paper in her face. "Had it done right after Sarah was born."

You take the paper yourself, wanting to see with your own eyes, and there it is: a 99.99% probability of Chris being your father. The results for Joel: 0%.

You give him back the paper and take a seat on the sofa. Every movement feels like you're underwater, body heavy against the tide.

Joel sits next to you, his arm around you in a gesture of comfort, without getting too close. "I wouldn't have done any of that if I'd been your dad, babygirl.. you know that." He kisses the top of your head. "I'd have taken you away from them, and Sarah could have a sister."

Feeling sick, you shake your head and remove his arm from you.

"I know," he says resignedly.

"Was what she told me true?" you whisper. "Did you really love her back then? And slept with her? Even when she was pregnant with me?" Your voice pleads for him to lie. It's the one time you'll accept a fabrication instead of the truth.

Joel looks worn down, older than his years. He can't even look you in the eyes, he just nods.

It feels like an eternity passes. "Was this what you wanted?" you ask your mother. "I could have gone my whole life without knowing any of this! And you told me this for what? For what?"

It's sickening the way your mom looks smug about stirring the pot. She's always like this. She's the can't leave well enough alone type.

Anita simply responds, "I'm not going to punish you for being naive. But I am bringing you back with me to Houston tonight. You can finish college there. You're never to be around Joel again."

Joel rises from his seat, looking ready for a fight again. "You can't do that, you can't just take her away from me like that!"

"Jesus, Joel. If Chris was here he'd beat the living hell out of you. Be glad I'm here and not him."

You stand up as well. "Fuck you both." With long strides you reach your room, packing a few things. When you return they're both quiet, looking to you for the next move, both have expectation written on their faces.

Anita seems deep in thought, older than her 35 years. "You're coming with me?"

"I'm not going anywhere with you. But I'm not staying here either."

Joel looks like he's about to break down and cry, and you realize this is the first time you've seen him truly vulnerable. Your own heart is too bruised and sore to worry about his.

"I just need to think about some things," you say in a small voice.

Anita goes to her car, speaking with Sofia, likely admonishing her for letting the love affair happen in the first place.

Joel stops you on the porch. "Are you sure this is somethin' you wanna do?"

You can't look up at him. If you do you'll cry, and if you cry you'll just let him pull you into his arms again.

"I need to figure some things out."

"I love you," he says softly. His voice cracks a little.

You swallow the tears that threaten to come, focusing on a small ladybug crawling on the floorboards of the white wooden porch. "When you were with me did you ever think about her? Did you ever think I'd be a good substitute for a woman who didn't want you anymore?"

"Is that what you think I was doin'?"

You shrug.

"Babygirl, you look so much like your mom that it hurts. So sometimes, yeah, I do see her in you. But you're a better person than she is.. you're smart, you're kind, you're clever.. I can't see myself wantin' anyone else."

It's not really the answer you hoped for, but then again this is not the kind of day you hoped for either.

"That's not enough for me to stay.." you whisper. Your mother ruined it, just like she ruined everything else, just like she ran your father off.

"I think we were looking for other people in each other," you tell him. "You were looking for my mom and I was looking for my dad."

"No, no, sweetheart, it ain't like that," Joel puts his hand on your shoulder, gently lifting your chin to meet his eyes. Your heart beats madly seeing the pain and anguish there. "What I felt for your mother was nothin' compared to what I feel for you. Please, baby.. stay." He clutches your hands in his.

It was just a summer thing, you think to yourself as you drive down the street, following your mom, away from the home you've known for just a couple of months, before you force yourself to not think about anything else but the drive, the long stretch of Interstate 10 that takes you to Houston.

Sarah's there at the end of the block, stopped on her bike as she watches you leave. You realize you hadn't said bye to her, but when you catch her eye she doesn't smile back, averting her eyes. She gives a small wave, uncomfortable even with the friendly gesture, and your stomach is in knots as you realize it had to have been her..

The one who slammed the door on you and Joel at the party. The one who reached out to your mom, describing what she walked in on. Why else would she take your leaving so well?

You watch her start riding towards her house, wind blowing through her locks. You watch her through your rearview mirror until she's a speck on the horizon, and then completely out of sight.

(I'm sorry. I love y'all. I'm sorry.)

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dividers by @saradika-graphics 👑

[starlightskyshine]

Takara's treasure!

I've been missing them a lot, so I just finished rewatching the whole series, with so many thoughts and feelings, I decided to write about some details and things I really like about the drama and some interpretations!

Takara leaves the marbles that Taishin gave him in plain sight, away from his collection and in a place where he can always see them. Love that every time he thinks about him, misses him, and always watches them, that Taishin only has eyes for him??? that he wants Taishin with him all the time??? put him in his pocket???

Taishin slowly making his world bigger. How we start with just the photo of Okame-kun, a familiar place, then in EP 3 is the same picture but now with the marble that Takara gives him! New, exciting things, then in the final episode, in his second year of university, he is now more comfortable, he has a new bigger picture frame, his friends, and the picture with Takara now that they are boyfriends, Okame-kun and of course the marble.

Also the parallel of Taishin talking to his mom, between EP 1 and the special episode, how she first tells him to be careful, not to hang out around the "wrong" crowd and in the special how he reassures her that Tokyo is not that scary :')

The scenes that don't appear in the series but are in the opening?hopefully with the new DVD/bluray (˚ ˃̣̣̥⌓˂̣̣̥ )づ♡

I love that we get a new pic added with each episode at the ending :')

Every time they kiss, Takara holds Taishin's face/neck, like give Takara a mic, we need answers

The size/height difference, in the manga and drama, nailed it! especially in ep 7 when they enter the ramen shop, like you can barely see Taishin behind Takara. I also love the details in this scene, Takara taking the chair out for Taishin and passing him the chopsticks!!!!

How Takara first leaves the marbles on top of the pouch they came in like he wants Taishin close but the uncertainty, fear(?), he then puts them in another place, closer to him and now in a glass dish, Taishin having a more permanent space in Takara life, he wants Taishin to be close to him despite all!;;; and at the end of the special episode Taishin marbles are now mixed with some of his(?) :')

Taishin wears a lot of blue during all the episodes, the bird that he wanted to show Takara during their first date was a small blue bird that it will you happy if you can see it, perhaps, they didn't see them that day, because the little blue birdy was already at Takara side making him happy. (also the way blue has been part of Takara life too? in his happiest moments! His grandpa is wearing a blue jacket when he gives him the Ramune and the marble, when they go hiking together for the first time, now small Takara is the one wearing a blue jacket)

Takara slowly adding cushions to his bed until it's finally two pillows, I didn't noticed before and thanks to this post (I'm crying, thank you so much for this info) I can't stop thinking about this, the details ಥ‿ಥ

I love that in the drama they gave Taishin buying/wearing the earrings more importance than in the manga, I still can't get over how Takara looked at him at the end of episode 2 (⁠´⁠°⁠ω⁠°⁠｀⁠)

I love Taishin's mom and her radishes, please I need to see her finally giving Takara one, also adored that the radish she didn't give to Taishin childhood friend, Daisuke, made it all the way to Tokyo with Taishin, I laughed so much when I saw it peeking from Taishin bag when he entered the apartment because it was indeed Taishin backpack that she was putting it in lol

Love how the shop owner knew what was happening from the beginning, mvp

Talking more about colors! Is so nice how we get from one pallet of colors for each character until they start mixing together. Takara mostly uses muted colors, Taishin is the opposite with his bright color wheel until we can see Takara wearing brighter colors, while Taishin is using more black/grey, even the cups they drink!

Love their communication and how much they can tell with just their eyes (the director was so right in describing Yoji's eyes as treasures and Eito's as marbles). They make each other so happy and always reassure one another :') <3

Also, just a random fact! Yoji and Eito were the main leads in different music videos for the same artist! Meant to be! Casting director, I hope you had an awesome bonus! (⁠・⁠–⁠・⁠;⁠)⁠ゞ

[neosimi]

🌸 4t2 Flower Power Set 🌺

happy saturday! here is the clutter cat’s flower power set. :] i considered only doing the deco parts but pushed myself to do all the shelving and kind of the lighting lol. i say kind of because i lost steam at the candle and left that as deco. the two table lamps are functional though. albeit far from perfect i think but i was happy with them! i disabled the “view” interaction on all the deco; now sims won’t ooh and aah at everything lmao. all the shelves have two slots, however the sun shelf 1 and 3 have duplicate slots so it works as just one slot. the smiley, flower, and peace pillows are repo’d to the flower power cushions. and finally, there is an optional no fx version for the suitcase turntable, only choose one. anyway, that should be it! please lmk if you run into any issues, enjoy!~ ₍ᐢ ̥ ̮ ̥ᐢ₎ *:･。

files are compressed. collection file included. polycount under the cut.

download: [sfs] | [box] ♡

credits: thecluttercat, pforestsims’ disable “view” interaction tutorial. 

note: not everything is pictured. the plants on the shelves are not part of the set.

• bambie - 806 polys | sculpture | $45 • chill cushions - 1158 polys | sculpture | $100 • easy shelf - 66 polys | shelving | $20 • flower mirror - 932 polys | mirror | $30 • flower pot table lamp - 558 polys | lighting | $20 • flower pouf - 910 polys | living chair | $100 • flower power armchair - 1336 polys | living chair | $200 • flower power cushions - 1590 polys | sculpture | $100  ○ flower cushion - 438 polys | sculpture | $50 [repo'd]  ○ peace pillow - 220 polys | sculpture | $50 [repo'd]  ○ smiley cushion - 276 polys | sculpture | $50 [repo'd] • flower power side table - 236 polys | end table | $80 • hippie dreams - 819 polys | sculpture | $20 • jimi peace frame - 50 polys | wall hanging | $25 • kitty stash box - 871 polys | sculpture | $40 • little pile of records - 650 polys | sculpture | $25 • moody light - 664polys | lighting | $40 • pallet couch - 688 polys | sofa | $120 • record player stand - 457 polys | end table | $100 • records - 244 polys | sculpture | $50 • sisal rug - 136 polys | rug | $100 • sky high pot - 737 polys | plant | $60 • small flower candle - 216 polys | sculpture | $5 • suitcase turntable - 1054 polys | electronics | $200  ○ [optional: NOFX version - CHOOSE ONLY ONE] • sunny days vase - 842 polys | plant | $30 • sun shelf 1 - 188 polys | shelving | $20 • sun shelf 2 left corner - 199 polys | shelving | $20  ○ sun shelf 2 right corner [repo'd] • sun shelf 3 left corner - 216 polys | shelving $20  ○ sun shelf 3 right corner [repo'd]

[yesornopolls]

Have you ever used the word "Pallet" to mean a temporary "bed" of blankets to sleep on the floor? Like just laying down a quilt or two for cushioning and then sleeping on top of that.

[genovianxprince]

Rating Companion's Beds: Dragon Age: The Veilguard

The sleeping arrangements of our lovely companions in DAtV are quite varied! Let's go on a journey, shall we? Disclaimer: these are all taken at nearly the endgame after everyone pretties up their rooms and gets the best versions of their beds.

First up is Lucanis! Hi pretty boy. Photo mode doesn't hide your companions in the Lighthouse so we may as well admire how pretty he is, because his bed sure isn't pretty. Sir, you are sleeping on a set of decrepit wooden planks that are spaced unevenly and not level with each other at all. Not to mention you are in the goddamn pantry. (I know, I know, it's good and out of the way for an assassin with choke points so he can't be attacked easily blah blah blah HOW CAN A GUY GET A MIDNIGHT SNACK WHEN YOU'RE IN HERE BROODING BECAUSE YOUR BED SUCKS???)

Those blankets look terrible, too. And his pillow and footrest are just folded up blankets!! Lucanis, this cannot be good for your back. you get a 3/10. At least you are on a bed with some cushioning at all, I guess. And nobody will know if you get the midnight snacks.

Sleeping in your workshop isn't healthy, Bellara, but at least you have a pretty okay looking mattress with a good bedframe that doesn't look like it'll collapse if you sneeze. It doesn't have the nice pillow and blanket at the start of the game, but by the end it looks pretty cozy, if a little small. Overall, a 7/10

Emmrich... babe... WHERE is your bed??? Do you not have one??? You have this whole tower space and the only thing I can see is the stone slab where you lay dead bodies—

... Emmrich Volkarin, do you sleep where you do your necromancy?? EMMRICH??? That looks gross. Do you clean it?? 2/10. What the fuck, Emmrich.

Taash, my love. No pillows? But that's okay, because WOW WOW WOW! What a huge bed! With sheets and everything! A headboard! And a toasty fire by the feet in a lovely stand for those cold nights when your feet just can't get warm? My god. The openness of where the bed is only a little unsettling—I don't think I could sleep in a space so wide open, but you do you, Taash. 9/10, that's pretty damn perfect. Get a pillow, though.

Harding has a very simple pallet she sleeps on that is laid on the floor. At least Lucanis's pallet was lifted up some. Girl. I know you said you love roughing it but that's pretty rough. At least there's a cool canopy over it and all that greenery! Seems cozy. 6/10, at least she loves it, and I'll take this over Lucanis's TBH.

Neve. The FUCK. What is this? That's not a bed. That's a fucking hospital stretcher your are pretending is a bed. And it looks rotten and stained to all hell. No blankets or pillows to offset the grodiness at all. 0/10. holy fucking shit, Neve, love yourself.

Davrin! Now here is a man who respects his sleep. Big cozy bed, Assan probably sleeps with him, too. Very nice blankets with a neat pattern, and above all, HE HAS PILLOWS, PEOPLE! He actually has pillows! Multiple of them!! Sure, there's an ominous orb with a skull in it nearby, but it's a giant bed tucked away in a quiet corner of his room with blankets and pillows. And the griffon to warm the bed, too. Very nice. 10/10—

Hey wait a sec. There's a head or something mounted on the wall here. Let me look up a little more, and—

DAVRIN. why is there a GIANT RIBCAGE hanging above where you sleep?? is that not unnerving??? dude??? what is it? where did it come from?? why do you want to look up at it while you sleep???

8/10. and it's only not going down more because Assan definitely sleeps in that bed with him.

Varric, sweetie. Those massive pillows look nice but the infirmary bed cannot be that comfortable. I guess that's why the pillows though. 7/10, pretty decent, minimal privacy though.

Rook (feat. my favorite Rook, Fenavahn Aldwir, Veil Jumper hottie), hun. No pillows... no blankets... that couch looks pretty nice but you got nothing else going for you. The pretty candles and view of the kickass aquarium is pretty nice though. Awful bright to try to sleep, but it beats nothing. And whatever Neve has going on. At least a couch is cushioned. 7/10

[mytheoristavenue]

TMNT Leonardo x Mutant!Reader 🍋 - Teach Me - All 4-1 March

Summary: The cultures of mutants is so new to you and Leo is here to guide through your newfound urges.

Warnings: Adult!Leo x Adult!Reader, Fem!Reader, Mutant!Reader, reptilian!Reader, loss of virginity, mating season, Impregnation, Non established relationship, corruption, baby trapping, pregnancy kink

You hated this. At first, you'd chalked it up to allergies, but you now knew that his was something else entirely. Through research you were able to deduce that your symptoms boiled down to the time of year. Nesting behavior, more powerful motherly instincts, and an insatiable ache that no amount of self service could quench: you were experiencing heat for the first time.

Initially, you were able to isolate yourself in your room and find some sort of tranquility but as time progressed and your senses heightened, that was no longer an option. You would smell sweat rolling down necks as training drug on, food that was cooking in the kitchen as if you were there yourself, and the lingering aroma of soap on a person long after they'd showered. You began to wander out of your room at times when everyone was out or asleep, just to be able to sit with the remnant that your coinhabits left behind- just to feel a mite less alone. This was one of those times.

You laid on the couch, nuzzling your face against the back cushion, bathing in residual warmth of it having been sat on, pillows and blankets wrapped around yourself in a cozy nest.

"Trouble sleeping?" a stern voice called from across the room, close to the entrance of he hallway that lead to the dormitories.

"L-Leo?" your head shot up and you instantly began straightening yourself out and dismantling your small pallet. "W-What are you still doing up?"

"Glass of water." he answered. "What are you doing up?"

You thought for a moment, eyes darting between him and the fabric draped across you. "It's too cold in my room, so I was going to sleep on the couch for the night."

He cocked a suspicious brow as he weighed your answer. "You must really like the couch then, judging by how you were nuzzling it just now." He watched you go rigid, shoulders becoming stiff at the prospect of being found out. "C'mon, tell me what's really going on." He urged, sitting down on the couch beside you.

You were finding it hard to keep the secret any longer, needing to get it off your chest. "Leo...something's wrong with me..." you confessed, your head sunk in shame. "I think I'm sick..."

"Oh no," he replied worriedly, pressing a hand to your forehead. "You are kinda hot..." You blushed at the contact, feeling the heat radiating off him as he drew closer. "Hang tight, I'll go wake Donnie up, he can probably diagnose you better than I can." Just as he was about to stand and walk away, you caught him by his arm and pulled him back down.

"I-I think I might know what it is.." you trailed, humiliated to have to say it, his questioning look eating at you like vultures pecking at roadkill. "I-I think...it may be...mating season..." You felt horrendously awkward, and almost a bit frightened at the way his eyes seemed to darken at your revelation.

"Oh," he said flatly, forcing you to believe that this was a deeper topic than he was willing to delve into with you. "It is about that time, I suppose. What are you going to do?"

"I don't know what to do!" you panicked a bit. "Am I going to be okay? This has never happened before."

Unbeknownst to you, he could feel his stomach twisting at the thought you you, someone he'd been eyeing for months going through heat for the first time, so desperate and so ill-informed. "Well.." he began cautiously as he formulated a more calculated response. "What is your body telling you to do?"

You thought for a moment and collected all of your thoughts and fantasies from the last few days in order to come to a conclusion. "I think I just really...want to be a mom." you realized. "It's lest about the sex and more about the mating, I guess." Your cheeks burned just thinking of the visions you'd had, and hearing the words come out of your mouth.

"Well, I think you should give in." Leo said frankly. "It's not good to deny your body it's natural urges."

You were apprehensive to say the least. You never thought Leo of all people would encourage you to just have a baby without at least thinking about it first. "But...babies are expensive. And I don't have a mate. Plus, isn't being a ninja all about resisting temptations and stuff?"

"You worry too much." he comforted, sliding an arm around your shoulders. "I'll be your mate, I could protect and provide for our little family. Besides, all that stuff about resisting temptation doesn't apply to this. You wouldn't deny yourself food just for your ninja training would you?" You were beginning to find yourself entranced with the pheromones he was secreting, subject to suggestion, and love sick for a man you'd never once had romantic attraction to. You began to picture having a family with him; he would work all day to protect the city, and come home and play with the kids while you cooked dinner. Then at night you both would lay down and-

"Leo, I don't know about this..." you finally said, detaching yourself from the idea. "Don't you think we should get married before having kids? Or at least date?"

They'll be plenty of time for that, baby." he cooed, gently pushing your onto your back and crawling over you. "Just imagine how many cute dates we could go on while you have a bump. I could take you shopping for maternity clothes, we could do those little photo shoots where I put my head on your belly. It'll be so sweet." You were beginning to get too lost in the rose colored thoughts of having his baby to find anymore issues with the idea as he began peppering kisses all over your face.

"And then think of the dates we could take the kids on," he chuckled, trailing his lips down your throat. "Beach trips, dinners with the family, you'll love it, I promise."

"O-Okay..." you consented. "I think I'd like that." You smiled up at him as he parted form you, looming over with lustful eyes. "I wanna have a baby with you, Leo." He gave a gravelly laugh before diving back in to nip at your scaly flesh. "There's just one other thing..." you mumbled before breathy gasps.

"What's that?" he wondered, lips too preoccupied to ensure he spoke clearly.

"I'm a virgin..." you almost whispered, feeling your self esteem tank when he froze.

"That's okay baby, I'll teach you everything you need to know." he reassured. "It's so much more romantic this way, right? Your first time is with your future husband and you get pregnant from it. Couldn't be more perfect."

Taglist: @sunshinesdaydream, @thelaundrybitch, @momii, @camillahorne26, @turtle-babe83, @sharpwindow, @fyreball66, @roseygardenfan, @witchofthenorthstar, @pheradream15, @post-apocalyptic-daydream, @killmewithafanfic

[nonsensical-pixels]

1000 followers gift, part 1: mechtasims' pets set [download - sfs | mf]

after just under a year, this blog has hit over 1000 followers!! thank you all so much for supporting me--it feels like just yesterday we were hitting 100, and then 500... and now this 😲

for my 1000 followers gift, i have decided to share multiple gifts over the weekend, so it's a bit more of a bonanza i suppose. every 12 hours i will release something brand new, yet something that sticks to the 'theme' of this blog. i hope you guys enjoy this! 😊

part 1 is @mechtasims' pets set for ts2! i saw a picture recently of @skittlessims' cat nala in a box similar to the one included in this set, and it really just struck me as such a cat thing to do... but the vanilla cats in ts2 don't get to do that! and so, after many hours of fidding in blender (for the first time!) i bring you... 5 pet beds, 3 decorative pet toys, 1 rug, 1 fully-morphed pet dish, and 2 fully functional pet trees! 🎊

if you know me, you know i love my animals (especially my piggies!) so i think it's only fair to include them in this wondrous milestone 💞

credits

@mechtasims for the adorable TS4 meshes & textures!

xsparrow on mts for the under-counter pet cushion that i cloned the smaller versions of the pet beds from!

@lafeeverte-sims whose cat tree i cloned for mine!

UK1967 who is the creator of the pallet mesh that i mashed together with the 'sweetheart pet bed'!

@shastakiss for the wood textures used on the pallet!

there is already a readme included with the download, but keep reading for things to note, items included, and guinea pig taxes!

things to note

the 'starlight cat tree' may have some animation issues (since it's quite wide) when cats descend from the second and top floor

bigger dogs will probably clip through the small pet beds, it's just a given 😔

the smaller pet beds are repo'd partially to the bigger ones! 😃

everything except the rug (decorations -> rugs) is found under the pets section

items included

Ball - $10 (900 polys) Box Bed - $30 (686 polys) Cat Tunnel - $20 (5760 polys) Couch Bed Large - $250 (7978 polys) Couch Bed Small - $175 (7977 polys) Heart Cat Tree - $100 (870 polys) Heart Food Bowl - $25 (1155 polys) Paw Dish - $20 (6204 polys) Paw Rug - $50 (2 polys) Sisal Scratching Post - $60 (722 polys) Starlight Cat Tree - $300 (9217 polys) Sweetheart Bed Large - $100 (794 polys) Sweetheart Bed Small - $75 (794 polys)

guinea pig tax

you asked for it you get it! ivory, the brown and white piggy, is actually in the preview already, you can download him here 💖

idk what else to say, aside from another piggy thank you for your support 🤗 and a 'see you in the next one'! 🥰💕

( @4t2ccdatabase )

[reginamillls]

more OUAT 911 AU:

***

Evan knows the storm still rages on outside, he can hear how the wind whistles through the stone walls around him. If he were to go closer to the opening, he would be able to feel the unrelenting cold raging against the side of the mountain.

Inside the caves however, Evan is warm, comfortable even.

The Beast, promised him safety, but he also provided comfort, something Evan wasn't so sure he deserved.

He shifts on the bed of furs, wincing when his leg twists uncomfortably. The swelling had gone down some thanks to the salve that Beast had given him the night before, thrown into the room with some water and a small meal of jerkey and bread.

Beast hadn't killed him, and Evan was still confused as to why.

Looking around, he can see that the room he was in must have been the Beasts. The bed he layed on was on pallets with a matress that was cushioned by various furs. A fire was lit in the corner, setting the room in a soft glow and providing comfort against the winter storm.

His outermost clothes were laid out to dry on a chair near the fire, and by the bed was a crutch for him to use.

Curious, Evan gingerly lifted himself from the bed and with the use of the crutch, makes his way to his clothing and gets dressed.

His sword is gone, along with his crossbow and darts, but tucked underneath his vest, there lies his knife. Evan picks it up and unsheaths it, surprised to see that the Beast allowed him any weapon at all.

On the blade, Evan catches movement, and he turns to see the Beast standing at the entry of the cave. There's a cloak around his shoulders and his head, casting him in shadows, but Evan can still see the sharp features that make up the tales.

"Why would you give me this?" Evan asks, unable to ask anything else. He knows the Beast can talk, he heard his growly voice days ago before he fell-

Before the Beast caught him.

"You should feel comfortable," Beast explains, not moving from the entrance to his room. "You should feel safe."

"I don't think this blade will do much against you," Evan says as he tucks it into his belt. The Beast doesn't move, but Evan can feel his eyes tracing every move he makes. The blade at his side does make him feel safe, though Evan won't admit that out loud.

"You helped me?" Evan says stepping forward-

The Beast steps back.

"Why?" He asks, tilting his head. Closer as he is, Evan can make out more of the Beast's features. The dark fur around his muzzle, the fangs that peak over his lips. He should be scared.

Evan should be terrified.

And yet?

"I shot at you," Evan says. He remember the Beast's grunt of pain when Evan had did it. The dart fron his crossbow had hit the Beast's wings, injuring him.

The cloak covers any injury, and Evan tries not to let his gaze linger on where he knows the Beast to be hurt, but he can't help it. The same way he can't help but feel guilty.

"I'll heal," The Beast says and he lifts up his hand - paw? Evan thinks as he stares at the massive claws that effectively stopped him from protesting the Beast's claim.

"You want to make it up to me?" The Beast asks and Evan nods. "Follow me."

And Evan does.

[swampthingking]

regulus black’s guide to face painting and falling in love

halloween au <3

struggling artist reg - dad james - baby harry

tw: regulus briefly reflecting on his childhood (u know how it be) and reg inquiring about harry’s scar

The thing about being a freelance artist is this; you take work where you can find it.

Unfortunately for Regulus, that means he’s found himself occupying the Halloween Fair from 12 to 5PM as the face painter.

Regulus didn’t understand people’s obsession around fairs.

Well, he understood them. The hazardous rides that are operated by people who are either half asleep, or recently graduated from high school. The funnel cakes and apple cider. The apple flavored everything. The pumpkin flavored everything (which Regulus can’t find it in himself to hate, despite his best efforts. He sips his pumpkin spiced latte and glowers.) The pumpkin carving, corn maze, haunted house, haunted hayride, haunted arcade.

And of course, the children.

Just because Regulus understands the appeal around fall festivals doesn’t mean he likes them. He likes autumn, of course. It’s his favorite season.

That doesn’t mean he wants to sit outside, under the flimsy protection of a questionable tent, painting the faces of squirming, sugar-addled children.

Regulus doesn’t dislike children. He just doesn’t quite know how to… interact with them. He tries, because in all honesty, kids are funny. But they don’t always like him. Regulus is grumpy; stoic. He tries to joke, but kids don’t love dry humor, sarcasm, or straight faced deliveries.

Would he like to share his life with a husband and a child or two? Of course. But he doesn’t want to raise a child just for them to despise him. He doesn’t want to marry someone just for him to be disappointed in the father Regulus might be.

But Regulus also knows he doesn’t have great parental examples to go off of. And he knows what not to do. Knows what made him feel small. He still feels the things said and done that stick with him; the scars he bears.

He’s spent hours painting pumpkins, bugs, princess masks, Spider-Man, those motherfuckers from Paw Patrol. More characters from the provided booklet he can’t remember, on so many faces he can’t remember either. But it’s money, and money keeps him paying his share of the lease with Sirius.

Regulus checks his watch. 4:53PM.

The fair wasn’t as busy as it was earlier this afternoon. The clouds were dark and scowling, but were far too cowardly to start actually crying. He stood from the cheap stool, stretching his back, reaching for the paintbrushes to start packing up.

The brushes had been provided by whoever hired him, but he still had an intrinsic need to clean them properly. He can’t stand the thought of paint cemented into the hairs of a brush. And these brushes are perfectly good still. Regulus wonders if anyone would notice if he stuck them in his bag—

“Do you have time for one more?” A deep voice asked from behind him.

Regulus turned to see a beaming child in the arms of a man, wearing the same smiles. The same dimples. The same curly, brown hair. Even the same glasses.

Regulus was absolutely freezing, and he was sure if he touched this kid’s face, he would start to cry because if it. He desperately wanted to beat the rain before it started pissing down, but the boy was grinning, and Regulus’ heart squeezed at the thought of taking that from him if he declined.

So he nodded and said, “Yeah, of course,” and rolled the table of supplies in between the chairs they’ll sit in.

The man set his son down, thanking Regulus while the boy hurtled himself into the rickety chair, climbing into it like he was scaling a mountain. One muddy, red Converse kicked up onto the seat to haul himself into it, his knee slipping as he planted himself on the cushion.

“This is Harry,” the man gestures to his son, who was busy inspecting Regulus’ paints, his nose almost touching the pallet.

Now that there was no line and the fair seemed predominantly empty, Regulus could relax. Could handle small talk. He paused gathering the brushes he’d been in the process of purloining to give Harry a closed lipped, but genuine smile.

“Hi, little love. I’m Regulus.”

The man slid some cash in the tip jar before sitting in the chair beside Harry, knees spread, elbows resting on his legs. “And I’m James.”

He reached out to shake Regulus’ hand, not seeming to care that it was covered in paint. It was warm and firm, long fingers nearly encasing Regulus’ whole hand.

Harry smiled up at Regulus as he took a seat in front of him, his knees bracketing the boy’s tiny legs as he kicked the air. He had a small gap between his front teeth, and after he clawed the hair out of his eyes in that aggressive way that children do—like they have a vendetta—Regulus saw a webbed scar on his forehead.

“Cool scar,” Regulus acknowledged.

No, Halloween Fair face painters aren’t mandated reporters, but he was dubious anyway. Regulus had been a child with marks. With secrets. Children Harry’s age love to talk about anything and everything. It was part of their development. Regulus wanted to see where Harry took him, or didn’t.

But Harry’s smile only grew, like he was eager to tell the story. An abused child probably wouldn’t do that.

“I was running through the forest, and allullasudden, I just knew—” Harry’s eyes were wide, demanding Regulus not look away. “I was around, surround—” he looked up frustratingly at James for help, and James only started to whisper the word before Harry cut him off, the word coming to him. “—sur-rounded by these guys! They were in these black coats. And I was running super fast because I was ini-vib-sible, and then I tripped. There was this tree. I fell. My head hit the ground so hard, and I fought them off and escaped and the guy really wanted my ring, and he was really weird looking. And then, I have a scar.”

So, the entire plot of the Lord of the Rings, with a personal spin.

Regulus liked him.

“Tripped and fell into a table,” James mouths, exaggerating his words so Regulus could read his lips. His hands cupped around his mouth so Harry wouldn’t notice him spoiling his story.

“Hmm,” Regulus ponders, draping a paint-stained rag over his thigh to distract himself from a smile. “I think I’ve heard about that. That was you?”

“Yes,” Harry says with conviction. James is looking at his son with such adoration that it makes Regulus’ stomach hurt. He has to turn away.

“I can’t believe I’m sitting in front of the boy who saved the world.” Regulus mock bows to him just because he knows it’ll make him laugh. “Thank you for allowing me the honor to paint your face. Unfortunately, little love,” Regulus puts on a sulk. “the glasses will have to come off.”

Harry ripped them off one handed, throwing his arm out to James who was already reaching to take them. He folded the temples, tucking it into his shirt and letting them hang off the collar.

Regulus’ eyes may have lingered on the tan skin, and James may have seen him. The corner of his mouth was quirked when Regulus glanced back up at his face.

Oh, God. He was hot.

Regulus looked away, hoping the chilled, autumn air disguised the heat in his face. He turned to Harry, even as he felt James looking at him still.

“What are we painting?”

“Sméagol,” Harry says without a beat.

Regulus purses his lips. He would not laugh at this child. He would not laugh.

He sucks his lips into his mouth, his cheekbones aching.

“Really into Lord of the Rings right now, as you’ve probably guessed,” James offers, looking equally as affected as Regulus.

Regulus nods, turning away from them in attempt to turn his laugh into a cough. He fails.

He takes his phone out instead and pulls up a reference picture of the creature, then sets his phone on the tray off to his side. Harry glances down at it and smiles excitedly, legs pumping.

“Sméagol it is,” Regulus declares, mixing a grayish-tan into the pallet. “Ready?”

Harry flinches at the first few swipes of paint, but sits fairly still after he gets used to the temperature. He kicks incessantly, but they don’t land on Regulus, so he doesn’t mind. At one point, James asks permission to take a video to send to Harry’s mum.

Regulus hadn’t really let himself hope, but he was still a bit disappointed. He would get over it, he knew, but—

“Her wife is the one who’s been reading the books to him. She’s gonna be beside herself when she sees what he’s done.”

Oh.

Well, that changes things.

“Hm,” Regulus says, trying to keep his focus on Harry, and making him into the best Sméagol there could possibly be. But when he turns to look at the reference photo, he glances at James, who’s looking at him. James smiles softly, head cocked. Wondering.

Jesus Christ.

By the time Regulus finished, the sun was setting. He checked his watch. 5:26PM.

He wasn’t upset he’d stayed late.

Harry was the spitting image of Sméagol. Regulus has painted his entire face a warm grey, his nose a rosy pink, then added the wrinkles in darker grays and black, shading his face to take on the shape of Sméagol’s. He’d gently splattered brown freckles onto his face to look like sun spots. He even painted thin black tendrils of hair down Harry’s neck.

He was magnificent. Regulus’ favorite piece yet, truly.

James took more pictures, and Harry’s penchant for theatrics came to fruition as he crouched, feet and hands on the grass, crawling towards James like Sméagol does in the movies.

Regulus offered to take some photos of Harry and James together. James excitedly handed Regulus his phone, then scooped Harry up and propped him on a hip. Harry grabbed James’ hand, which was sporting many rings, and pretended to bite his fingers. It was futile, but James attempted to look terrified. He ended up cracking and breaking into a heart-stuttering smile, eyes squinting and cheeks giving way to dimples.

The pictures were adorable, naturally.

Harry broke character suddenly, gasping, a hand slapping on the top of his head. Regulus saw a raindrop sliding down from his hairline and wiped it away, just before it could drip onto his face and smear the paint.

“My paint!” Harry yelled, face contorting. Regulus had to look away from this glassy-eyed child with the grotesque face of Sméagol. The last thing Regulus wanted them to think was that he would laugh at a child’s sorrow.

To Regulus’ relief, James was also stifling his laughter as he set Harry on the ground, removing his own jacket to implement it as a shield above his son. The rain was picking up now into a light sprinkle. “Forgot an umbrella, babe. We’re gonna have to run super fast.”

“Daddy.” Sméagol-Harry looked up to James, sounding close to tears. “My paint,” he said, dejected.

Regulus absolutely didn’t think this through before he did it, but he said, “We won’t let your paint get ruined, love.”

He walked to his bag and rummaged around for his umbrella. He opened it and handed it to Harry, whose chubby hand wrapped around the handle, but wasn’t strong enough to hold it up against the breeze.

James and Regulus grabbed it at the same time, all three of their hands piled on top of each other. James’ was over Regulus’, so he couldn’t just pull away without ripping the umbrella from Harry, and he was absolutely not doing that.

James removed his hand with the barest hint of pink on his cheeks. He put his jacket back on now that his son was protected from the rain, thanking Regulus for holding the umbrella.

“Do you have another umbrella?” James asked once his jacket was zipped.

“Uh— no. But I can find one. I’ll ask someone. I’m alright.” He attempted to wave it off, despite knowing that he is anemic, and his fingers are already freezing.

“Okay, take this back, please. I can’t have you walking back in the pouring rain.”

“I’ll be fine. You guys take it.”

“Let us walk you to your car.”

Regulus cringed. “I… took the bus.”

James’ eyes widen. “You were going to walk to the bus stop, and then all the way home with no umbrella?”

“Yyyes?”

James raises a brow at him. He really hadn’t thought it through.

“Take your umbrella.” James goes to hand it back, then had to stop because of Harry’s death grip around the neck of it. James starts to, presumably, ask him to let go.

“What umbrella?” Regulus turns to pack up his supplies, avoiding looking at James. He knows playing this card probably won’t work but hopefully if he’s annoying enough, it will convince James to just take it. “I didn’t give you that umbrella. You came with it.”

James deadpans. “Okay, if you’re going to do that, we’ll just have to give you a ride home.”

Regulus spasms. “What? No, that’s— you don’t have to do that.”

“I didn’t do anything. You asked me for a ride.”

Regulus gasps, but he’s smiling. Damn it. “Oh, you’re good.”

Regulus lives fairly close, about 10 minutes away. The ride is almost silent. The radio is low, and Harry talks all about their day, sparing no details. What they saw, what they did, what he ate, who he talked to, what he thought about the corn maze (“Why can’t I eat the corn? Why is it there then?” to which James responded, “It’s not for us to eat.” to which Harry responded, “Why?” to which James responded, “I don’t know, babe. I just know they asked us to not eat it.” to which Harry responded, “Why?”).

His little thoughts bounced around the car until they abruptly stopped. Regulus peeked into the backseat to see him sound asleep, his mouth open, head lulled to the side. The blue eyes Regulus had painted on his eyelids stared back at him, and Regulus began to regret his artistic choice.

As they drove, Regulus couldn’t help but sneak glances over at James. He almost doesn’t want to look at him, but he can’t seem to stop. He’s stuck between wanting to remember him and not wanting to look at him so he can forget his face easier. At one point, James glances back, the gold frames of his glasses glinting from the streetlights.

Regulus’s house is dark, the porch light Sirius left on for him flickering, when they pull up to the curb. Sirius has gone into a Halloween frenzy, and it looks like a Spirit Halloween vomited all over the front porch and yard. Jack-o’-lanterns line each step, the carvings depicting various faces. Waterproof fairy lights in the shape of ghosts hang from the oak tree, twinkling like the flames of a candle.

“Thank you for—”

“Maybe I could see you again?” James says quickly, like he’d been thinking of saying it for a awhile, but hadn’t had the nerve to.

Regulus looks over at him, wide eyed. James ran a hand through his mussed hair, looking endearingly nervous.

Regulus grins, all teeth, and James returns it. “I would love that.”