#is that how one carries a person? probably not

[bokutosbabe]

જ⁀♡⊹｡° sniper, sniper, sniper ♡ wifey, wifey, wifey

( bllk boys showing you off )

♡ a/n — i just love the tiktok trend so :) ( was going to attach a link to a tiktok showing what i was talking abt but it wouldn't work. just look up sniper sniper sniper wifey wifey marines and you'll see what i meant :) )

♡ content — all characters are 18+ !!, mentions of tiktok & instagram, slight cursing, tbh bad writing, nicknames like 'love' , 'wifey' , and 'my girl' used, probably ooc characters

♡ synopsis — blue lock boys showing off their girlfriend :)

⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆ ' oh that's your wifey ? ' ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ the...tiktok maker

if there was anyone you would really and truly call chronically online, it would be him. every day he'd come to you with some new word he learned from tiktok, or a meme that would plague your house for weeks until it went away.

so when he pulled out his phone to show you a video, you weren't expecting it to be a couples trend.

" please, please, pleaseee, love? you'd look so cute in my arms like that ! " and he had just won a big game...how could you say no to him?

so here you were, being carried like a bride in your lovely boyfriend's arms. if it were anyone else, you'd be too worried about how long they could hold you, but since it was him you didn't worry.

it took a few tries, each of you messing up a part at least once and you accidentally dropping the phone a few times, but after you figured it out, the video was practically perfect.

they posted it to their public tiktok account with the caption

' not my wifey yet, but soon ;) '

and to say all the notifications were making his phone glitch would be an understatement.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ BACHIRA MEGURU, hiori yo, SHIDOU RYUSEI, chigiri hyoma, OTOYA EITA, isagi yoichi

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ the...instagram poster

maybe, just maybe it was wrong of him.

wrong of him to want to post these pictures the two of you had taken on your date to the aquarium?

if he were any other, normal, person this wouldn't have seemed like a big deal, but since he had at least a million followers and some were a bit more obsessed than others, it was.

you'd told him multiple times that you were okay with him posting you, really if he was happy, you were happy. maybe it was the egoist in him, but he wanted to keep you to himself.

fuck it.

if you wanted to be posted, he was going to post you. who cared what anyone else thought? their opinions didn't mean anything to him.

he selected a few of the pictures the two of you had taken at the aquarium, sneaking one of a lipstick stain on his neck in the middle of the slides.

if he was going to announce his relationship to the public, why not let the world know how utterly whipped he was for you?

the caption was a simple

' gotta love my girl ♡ '

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ YUKIMIYA KENYU, karasu tobito, REO MIKAGE, alexis ness, RANZE KURONA, gin gagamaru

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ the...national television?!

the ever illusive pro soccer player. that's what every press agency called your boyfriend.

his ability to somehow dodge any paparazzi and answer very short questions during press conferences made every view into his personal life shine like gold.

based on an instagram story ( that was taken down in less than 10 minutes ) where a picture of him with his arms around a woman in a bathroom mirror, the media could assume he was in a relationship. in that photo, however, the woman's face was not visible, so the questioned still remained...

what woman could capture this mans heart?

he hadn't cared, not really. a photo was nothing to him, but you were everything. he tried really hard to keep your identity private, he didn't want you to be absorbed into a world of cameras always in your face.

but after he made the game winning goal of a very important game...all he wanted to do was see you.

maybe it was the way he could see you in the section you'd always sat, or maybe it was his ego wanting to tell everyone "yeah i'm the best soccer player, and yeah i have the best girl, what about it?"

as all of the adoring fans rushed the field, including you, he just wanted to see you. he knew, realistically, he should just go back to the locker room and come meet you afterwards like he usually did, but not today.

he shrugged off ever reporter and fan that wanted to talk to him, which was nothing new, but instead of leaving to the locker room, they watched as he walked over to you

he knew all eyes were on him, the world still watching...but he couldn't find it in himself to care. he wrapped his arms around your waist

" made that goal for you, ya know? "

you were a little surprised at his appearance, but if he didn't care neither than you.

" i know. "

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ NAGI SEISHIRO, rensuke kunigami, RIN ITOSHI, shidou ryusei, ZANTETSU TSURUGI, sae itoshi

⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆ ' i think i like her . ' ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

this was a midnight brain dump so it's pretty bad, but i hope yall liked it :)

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!!

[home-of-renn]

somewhat unrelated to this.

But this is so right.

Astrid 100% had a right to be pissed, especially because from her perspective - up until this point - Hiccup had been disrespectful, sarcastic in a way that could be interpreted as rude, uninterested in the well-being of his tribe despite being the heir, and overall not someone who's very involved in the lives of others - which is a big deal since you would have to be a close-knit community for the sake of survival.

Hiccup kinda always seems like he's being forced to be around everyone. Not to mention he's always screwing up in a way that has detrimental consequences for everyone but himself (cause he's untouchable as the son of the chief). Like, would you wanna be BFFs with the guy you indirectly/directly got your house burned down?

From anyone else's perspective, Hiccup is insensitive and rude and clearly doesn't want to be around you. We as the audience know that Hiccup being insensitive are his attempts at lightening the mood and being funny - it's not often that he does it to be mean. We as the audience know that Hiccup may look like he doesn't want to be involved because he thinks they don't want him to be involved.

I think Astrid is meant to reflect her community. She is the epitome of what it means to be a Viking on Berk. She's strong and good at fighting. Her skills may be partially due to natural talent but it's mostly hard work and perseverance. She's involved with the daily life of her community and is well aware of the costs of living in a place like Berk. She knows how to follow orders and when to stand down despite being immensely prideful.

In comparison, Hiccup can be viewed as being almost naive. Astrid and Hiccup are both only children. Everyone on Berk has to fight for their survival. If either of them dies their parents lose all their children and their name/house may no longer be carried on and their bloodline may end. Their deaths would affect the people around them, and for Hiccup it's an even bigger deal because it would spark a succession crisis. Astrid is most probably aware of this - it may even be the reason why she trains so hard. The only one who seems to take this lightly is Hiccup.

Not to mention, with Astrid's way of thinking, Hiccup isn't trying as hard as he should, because there is someone to replace him - that being Snotlout. If you were heir, and everyone else wanted your cousin to rule, wouldn't you try a little harder to secure your claim and prove yourself? It makes Hiccup seem a little bit ungrateful and 100% like he just doesn't care - like he's taking it for granted, like he's not aware of his privilege and that he's treating it like it 100% guaranteed - like no matter what he does he will still be chief one day. It sort of leaves a bad taste in your mouth.

Us as the audience know that Hiccup is trying in the way he thinks is best. He's playing to his strengths - that being his inventions. But they don't always work out, and that's what people see. They see his inventions failing. I bet that until Toothless, not many people had actually seen the extent of Hiccup's genius and his skill in building things. All they see is the fiery carnage after something has blown up in his face. It seems like he's a dog with a very dangerous bone that won't let go (despite it directly hurting people around him). It can be interpreted as him being selfish or maybe even cowardly since he won't try something else/give up.

All of this combined with the fact that as the future chief, Hiccup should be more caring, more mindful and overall give more of a shit about his tribe and the people in it, paint him as not exactly a great person.

So yeah. If your destructive, rude, uncaring future chief (who doesn't ever appear to be reprimanded properly since his behaviour keeps continuing - which btw if anyone else on Berk behaved like this they would be outcasted/kicked out) suddenly got amazing - literally over night - at the very thing you had been training for since you were old enough to crawl - you too would be convinced he was cheating (which tbh he kinda was) and have a little bit of a breakdown because that is just so fckin unfair on so many levels.

rewatching httyd and like. Astrid was right to be pissed abt hiccup suddenly becoming competent. imagine you've been training ur whole life and ur so fucking kickass and then this weird little nepo baby emo kid shows up and beats you at everything and steals all your friends. ngl I would be experiencing a breakdown. I'd be having a midlife crisis. yknow actually I think she underreacted

[vaguely-concerned]

My two cents on how much of Mind!Varric is Rook’s mind trying to fill the blank space and how much is Solas actively talking through a convenient blood magic paper doll of the mind: I think it's a mix of both, a truly collaborative psychosocial horrorshow if you would, but waaaay more towards the second. It feels too directed and tactical at times to be anything else. Rook's mind is willing to go along with the denial phase as far as it can fucking carry them to not have to face the grief and regret and does its part in papering over details that don’t make any sense, the way brains will strive to create coherent meaning even out of deeply confusing input, but to my understanding it's a collaborateur in how that plays out, not the instigator or control center. Solas is using it as a path to agency and to gather insight into Rook as a person unguarded as he can't count on in his own guise. (That stoic option that leads to him being like 'oh I see you're cautiously denying me access to your inner life. well. at least you still have Varric to talk to. y'know as an outlet :)'. You absolute BITCH Solas! That alone convinced me that he HAS to have an active hand in it on some level.)

My guess is that it takes considerable effort on Solas’ part to make Mind!Varric do anything more involved or complicated than seeming to sit up in bed and give casual commentary, and that’s why he keeps having eerie five minute shallow pep talks with you before he announces he conveniently needs a nap aaanyway good luck kid you got this haha. When he’s just spouting NPC lines from his bedrest, I’m ready to believe that could be Rook’s mind being allowed to improv lines for him more freely because it’s less about Solas trying to get something out of them or working an angle and more ‘Still here! Still totally alive and fine and the mentor figure you know and love and trust :) don’t even worry about it! Thankfully there is no war in Ba Sing Sei, as we all know’ upkeep work lol. Rook’s mind is allowed to set the tone of Varric, the outlines, but not always the content. 

AND, on a (beautifully fucked up) character psychology level, I feel like Solas is indulging in actually getting to be the good supportive mentor figure to Rook with one hand to assuage the guilt he feels about what he's done -- and what he's going to do -- to them with the other. Same internal logic as he uses in Trespasser about the Qun. ‘Almost everyone is going to die from the course of action I’m doggedly pursuing eventually. But at least I can make their last years happier and freer and kinder than they would have been otherwise. and that kind of makes up for it right. a little bit. doesn't it. doesn't that make it better at least. I need that to make it better)'. Did I really take your beloved mentor and friend from you if you don’t know yet that I did? Some philosophers would argue not really! So it’s probably almost ok actually. Isn’t it even a little noble that I’m taking all this grief and guilt on myself and shielding you for now. With undertones that I’m not sure he would realize himself (and might be mortified by if he did) that he is so incredibly lonely, and even a dishonest and indirect emotional connection is more than nothing when you’re that desperate. In this setup he gets idk. Both the control he craves so incredibly badly in relationships and over himself, and the scraps, the fading afterimages, of intimacy and warmth and companionship, even second hand. The one thing Solas and Rook agree on deep deep down is that they really wish Varric weren't gone. They're handshake memeing this in the saddest and most creepy way possible.

I think an important element too is that Solas needs Rook and their team to *succeed* —  up to a certain point. He needs someone to hold the two other elven mean girls off until he can get out of here. Ideally, in a perfect world, even do all the hard work of killing them so he can swoop in at the end and do his thing when both sides are exhausted and out of resources to stop him, and then Bob’s your uncle! Same logic as he was using with Corypheus, and after that worked out so well, too! King of choosing to never learn from a single solitary mistake he’s ever made even though i fully believe he could have the capacity to Fen’Harel <3 The underlying idea isn’t flawed, you see, it was just unforeseen circumstances getting in the way. This time for sure it’ll all work out the way I cleverly imagined it in my head beforehand. Cue By Talos this can’t be happening etc. in the form of a statue almost crushing him like a bug. 

So he's providing guidance and forging Rook into a leader from two angles: one Rook might not trust, and one they probably will. Shaping them into what he needs slowly and carefully. He’s helping you hone your team into their most effective state, as he might have done with his own agents back in the day, setting up his chess pieces even if he has to squint through two glimpsed realities to do it haha. Pincer maneuver of an insidious stealth mentor you never asked for. Also… at one point mind Varric gives you a whole little monologue about how Solas' problem is that he’s always seen his interpersonal connections as flaws and see where it’s landed him, all alone and the worst part? it hasn’t even worked. it’s all been for nothing he’s back where he began with nothing to show for it but his mistakes. Like...that has such strong 'uh okay happy to play your therapist from two rooms away here what the fuck kind of traumadump is this' energy to me, I’m not sure Rook like. Thinks that much about Solas as a private person. So much of Solas' self-loathing and futile insights into his own flaws seem to shine through in Mind!Varric's dialogue all the time — I just can't believe that there's no guiding hand behind it as it were. 

Most of all. I feel like people underestimate the degree to which Solas is incredibly funny. As in, he has a very consistent and recognizable sense of humour. It’s one of my very favourite things about him. We must remember — it is crucial that we always keep in mind — Orlesian accent and wig Solas from May The Dread Wolf Take You (my beloved, the explanation for why I love this dude even with the. All of the everything else. No one does it quite like him). He is not at all above doing things or adding little flourishes for his own obscure amusement, in fact that seems to me to be one of his most consistent traits. The Randy Dowager Quarterly comment Varric has? The ‘Maybe this is the Dread Wolf’s revenge. Forcing us to house sit for him’ thing? To Me this is 100% Solas amusing himself in his boring Fade jail surrounded by the screaming hellscape of all his regrets. Source: it came to me as divine revelation through pure vibes trust me bro 

If nothing else I find it much more narratively interesting personally if the connection between Rook and Solas really is that defenselessly intimate and entwined (and so unbalanced!), and the sense of violation and invasion and betrayal afterwards consequently all the more nauseatingly intense. Even if you kept him at arm’s length in the open, he’s been under your skin the whole time, looking around, gathering what he needs to destroy you, wearing the face of a friend. Regretfully, probably, but choosing to do it every step of the way anyway. (Sound familiar, Inquisitor? Solas doesn’t have that many tricks when you actually look at it, he keeps returning to old tried and true ones like a dog with a bone haha.) Maybe he even genuinely meant some of it as mercy, which only makes it so much worse. It makes his sin against his own core principles of autonomy and the freedom of all beings in mind, spirit and body so much more juicily grave if it’s something he pursues actively and consistently, rather than it half-falling into his lap as a happy accident mainly orchestrated by Rook’s own subconscious. Solas, too, is at his very lowest point, the closest to giving in and becoming his own antithesis fully that he’s ever been, and it makes the choice of whether you still reach out your hand to him one last time or not all the more impactful and difficult.

[punkshort]

Evergreen | Chapter Two: Anger

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter Summary: After his brother knocks some sense into him, Joel apologizes and you both decide to take things slow... until an unexpected guest arrives at the very worst time.

Chapter Warnings: language, angst, grief, mentions of OC deaths, mostly Joel POV but it swaps back and forth, smutty thoughts, fluff, really super soft Joel, sexual tension

WC: 10.7K

Series Masterlist

Idiot, idiot, idiot.

Oh, you stupid fucking idiot.

Joel somehow drove himself back home, but he couldn't remember a single second of the drive. He had been on autopilot while his mind replayed that moment with you over and over and over again. The way you smelled, the way your soft lips felt pressed against his, the way your hand caressed his cheek. Shock was too small a word to describe how he felt. He was so damn rusty and so taken aback that he knew he didn't handle it right. Your face was filled with shame and embarrassment, apologies tumbling from your lips while he just fucking sat there in a stunned silence. Eventually, he jumped up and raked his fingers through his hair, looking everywhere but at you until he mumbled something about needing to go.

Of course, you still insisted he take the leftovers home. Another reminder of how kind and generous you were, so what the hell were you doing kissing someone like him? You could have anyone you wanted. You had your whole life ahead of you.

Fuck! He should have said something. He shouldn't have let you spiral. He barely remembered to thank you before he left. Did he even say good bye?

Too late now.

Once he was safely parked in his driveway, he slumped against the steering wheel and closed his eyes. His body sagged under the weight of the past hour, the internal war he was fighting making him weak. So weak that he was beginning to fantasize about the way you said his name and how beautiful your eyes were when you looked at him. Would it be so horrible? Would it be so inconceivable that someone like you would be interested in someone like him?

Maybe he was going crazy.

He couldn't remember the last time he ever felt like this. Did he ever feel like this before?

Guilt coursed through his veins at the mere thought. What a horrible fucking person he must be to think his late wife never made him feel wanted, desired, excited. She did, surely. It was just so long ago and it was tough, in the beginning. Money was tight and Mia struggled to keep a steady job during record high unemployment rates. It was stressful and hard but they still loved each other deeply.

Sure, maybe passion was put on the back burner for a while. But he always knew how she felt about him and vice versa. There was a comfort in that type of love. A peace.

But he found a sense of peace when he was with you, too. How was that possible?

He dragged himself out of his truck, carrying the leftovers under one arm while he fiddled with his keys, searching for the right one to unlock his front door. He could smell the fried chicken even though it was sealed up tight and he immediately thought about you moving around your kitchen, looking like an absolute natural. You didn't have any cookbooks out or timers on. Hell, you probably didn't even use measuring spoons. He could tell you meant it when you said you liked to cook. Even if it wasn't evident by the way you breezed around the room, the love you had for it certainly came through in the final product.

As he packed the food away in his refrigerator, the previous contents looking sad and questionable, he tried to remember the last time he had such a good meal that didn't require him to have to sit down at a restaurant.

His landline rang after he had gotten out of the shower. The entire time he was hard as a rock but he absolutely refused to touch himself. He knew if he did, his mind would immediately drift to you, and he was ashamed enough as it was that there was no use adding to it.

"Yeah?" he asked gruffly, knowing full well only a handful of people called his house phone over his cell.

"Hey brother, how was your date?"

Joel cringed and sat down on the edge of his bed. "It wasn't a date."

"Oh, right, sorry. Forgot. Pick up anythin' interesting to read, then?"

"Fuck!" Joel exclaimed, slapping his forehead with his palm. "I forgot the goddamn books!"

Tommy chuckled through the phone. "Alright. You tell me it ain't a date, now you're tellin' me you forgot the books. So what the hell was it?"

"We looked at the books, I had 'em all picked out, just... forgot," he grumbled.

"Sounds like you'll have to see her again, don't it?"

"Tommy, I ain't in the fuckin' mood," Joel warned, falling back onto his bed in a huff.

"The hell's got you all twisted 'round for?" Tommy demanded on the other end.

Joel chewed on the inside of his cheek, his eyes darting around his room while he quickly weighed the pros and cons of confiding in his brother before sighing and giving in.

"Alright. Do not tell Sarah what I'm 'bout to tell you."

"Cross my heart."

Joel gave him the bullet points of the evening, making sure to leave out his true feelings on the matter so he could hopefully get some unbiased advice.

"Joel, you ain't gonna like what I'm gonna say."

"Just say it," Joel groaned, squeezing his eyes shut and bracing for the verbal thrashing he deserved.

"I think you oughta go for it."

Joel's eyes snapped open in surprise. "What?"

"Go for it. She likes you, I'm pretty sure you like her or else you wouldn't be this torn up over one little kiss. I think it'll be good for you both."

"Tommy, she's thirty-one," he began, but he was immediately cut off.

"She's an adult, Joel. She's been through shit, you've been through shit. She sounds sweet and kind. Worst case scenario, you just provide a little comfort for each other and maybe help heal some old wounds."

Joel thought it over for a moment, listening to ice clinking in a glass on the other end. "And best case scenario?"

He could practically hear Tommy's smile before he even spoke.

"Best case scenario, you fall in love and live happily ever after."

You had told yourself you wouldn't let it bother you, that you wouldn't let yourself get nervous, but the following week you found yourself doing exactly that. More specifically, sitting in the parking lot of the familiar, run down little brick building you'd been going to for months, tapping your fingers anxiously against your leg as your eyes drifted between the books piled on your passenger seat and the front door of the building.

With a sigh, you resigned yourself and turned your car off. Checking your hair once more in the mirror, you opened the door to your SUV and slid out. Locking the doors with the push of a button and an expensive sounding chirp, you made your way to the entrance, nodding occasionally when you saw a familiar face but never spotting the face you yearned to see.

Guilt-addled, you sat through the hour long meeting, hardly listening to a word anybody said.

He didn't show.

You swallowed tightly and stared at your hands, at the large diamond on your left ring finger, at the pale pink polish on your nails that matched your toes. And you waited. For what, you weren't sure. Maybe a sign. A sign to remain in Texas and not move back home, like your mother and father were begging you to do.

Moments before the meeting wrapped up, a nimble, lean body plopped itself in the empty chair next to you.

"Shit, I got the time wrong, didn't I?"

You looked up to see a girl no older than twenty sitting next to you, with piercing green eyes and brown hair pulled back into a messy ponytail. She was wearing a worn T-shirt and converse sneakers and you thought you could see the beginnings of an arm tattoo hiding at the cuff of her sleeve.

"Yeah, it's about to end," you told her. She groaned and slumped down in her chair.

"Shit," she repeated with a sigh.

Ryan ended the meeting like he usually did; a reminder of cards in the back of the room and the offering of an ear to bend afterwards. The room collectively stood and stretched, a low murmur rippling throughout the cinderblock walls.

"I'm Ellie," she said abruptly, shoving out her hand to you unceremoniously. "Both my parents kicked it."

You blinked rapidly in shock, then slowly extended your own hand and offered her your name. "I lost my fiancé last year."

"Man, that stinks. Sorry," she said, rolling her shoulder and glancing around. "How'd he go?"

"Car accident," you told her, finding it strangely easy to say the words you struggled with for a year. "And I was in the car," you added, watching her face contort in pain.

"Fuck, dude," she whispered, shaking her head.

"What about you? How'd your parents pass?"

"Plane crash. Their bodies were ripped to shreds on impact, couldn't even find enough for their coffins. Had to fill them with pictures and clothes and shit so it felt like we had something to bury."

Your eyes widened and you felt your breath get caught in your throat. "Oh my god, Ellie, that's horrible!"

She cracked a smile and burst out laughing. "I'm messing with you. I just felt like I had to one up you or something. Lung cancer: they were both huge smokers, wasn't exactly a shock."

"Jesus!" you sputtered, then began to laugh behind your hand. Never once had anyone made you feel like death could be a joking matter but there was something different about Ellie. You knew deep down it had to be a coping mechanism, but damn if it wasn't better than crying for once.

You followed her to the back of the room and weaved your way through the stragglers to survey the snack table. Each of you grabbed a donut and some bottles of water before finding a quiet corner to eat.

"This is your first meeting, I take it?"

She nodded, mouth full of a strawberry donut. "My family told me I should go."

"Yeah? Mine too," you said, ripping off a piece of the pastry and popping it into your mouth.

"Does it help?" she asked.

You sighed and looked around. "Yeah, but it takes a while. I think it helps to know you're not alone."

She nodded and shoved the rest of the donut in her mouth. "What'd your fiancé do for work?"

You brightened up at that. "He was an author. The Crimson Stone, ever heard of it?"

Her jaw dropped and her eyes bugged out of her head. "Daniel Davis was your fiancé?!" You nodded and grinned. "Holy shit! I love his work! That series got me through some tough shit in high school. Man... what a world," she said, voice filled with disbelief.

"Well, if you like it that much, I have an unpublished manuscript of his for the next book in the series. It's just a first draft meant for his editor, but if you wanted a copy-"

"Yes!" she exclaimed happily. "Yes! Please! Oh my god, you fucking rock!"

You giggled and shrugged. "I'll bring it next week if you'll be here? Or if you want it sooner, you can stop by my house."

She nodded eagerly. "Can I, like... give you money or something for it?"

You instantly shook your head. "No, no! Daniel loved his stories and just wanted to share them with the world. The fact he made any money from it was just a bonus. He would have wanted you to have it."

"Wow," she breathed, tossing her plate in the trash and dusting her hands on the sides of her jeans. "You're pretty fucking cool."

"Thanks," you grinned, tossing your plate as well and nodding towards the door. "You heading out?"

"Yeah," she said, following you and swiping one of Ryan's cards from the table in the process. You stepped out into the parking lot, the air significantly cooler than before now that the sun was beginning to set. You took a step towards the parked cars, then stopped when you realized Ellie wasn't following. Turning around, you saw her unlock a padlock from the front tire of a black mountain bike, the sight filling you with alarm.

"You rode your bike here?"

She nodded and yanked it from the bike rack before snatching the helmet from the handlebars and tossing it casually on her head.

"Yeah, I don't live too far away, I like to bike whenever I can. It's better for the environment."

You couldn't explain the sudden urge to protect someone you just met. Maybe knowing she lost both her parents at such a young age made you offer her a ride, telling her she could fit the bike in the back of your SUV, but she just shook her head.

"Thanks, but I'm alright."

"But it's dark," you protested. Ellie chuckled and swung a leg over the seat.

"It's not that dark. I'm, like, a ten minute ride to my apartment. Promise I'll be okay."

You worried your lower lip and was once again ready to insist you take her home, your arm lifting to point in the direction of your car when you saw him. Even from across the parking lot, you recognized those broad shoulders and greying curls leaning against the hood of your car with his arms crossed, watching you both.

"See ya at the next one," Ellie said, and before you could get your bearings, she was off.

You turned once to watch her pedal through the parking lot in the direction of her home, then turned back around, wondering if he had been a mirage, but no. He still stood there, patiently waiting for you. And it wasn't until you were roughly ten feet away that you noticed the bag of your clean tupperware at his feet.

"Thought I scared you off," you joked, ignoring the tremor in your voice. He smiled and dropped his gaze to the pavement.

"Nah," he said softly, twisting his mouth to the side as he scuffed the tip of his boot into the loose asphalt. "Came to apologize. I was rude 'n you did so much for me, felt horrible all week."

"You don't need to apologize," you said, wrapping your arms around yourself. "I'm the one who should apologize. I obviously read things wrong -"

"No, you didn't."

Your eyes went wide and you froze, waiting for him to continue.

"You didn't," he repeated again before dragging his eyes back up. "I just... you... and I'm..." he huffed and scratched the back of his neck nervously. "You got me all twisted up," he admitted shyly with a pink tint to his cheeks.

You laughed, a pretty little sound he very much wanted to hear again, and took a tentative step closer.

"Twisted up? Is that some southern thing?"

He grinned and shrugged. "Suppose I coulda said you knocked me on my ass but I was tryin' to be a gentleman."

You coyly bit your lip, enjoying how bashful he was being.

"Well, you got me twisted up, too," you told him, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks.

He chuckled, shoving his hands in his pockets while he stared at you, still unwilling to believe someone as pretty and sweet as you would be interested in him.

He couldn't help it. He had to bring up the elephant in the room.

"You're so young, darlin'," he said as if you didn't already know. "And so beautiful. You don't want me. My life's half over."

You frowned, eyebrows furrowed as if that was the most offensive thing he could ever utter.

"You see me," you told him sternly. "Nobody really sees me but you see me. You remembered how I took my coffee after meeting me once. You appreciate the little things, like... genuinely appreciate them. And you listen to me, Joel. You let me cry, some girl you had just met, and you comforted me. Did you know no one else, not even my own family, bothers to do that? They just avoid the topic of Daniel all together now so they don't have to deal with me being a little fucking sad now and again."

Your eyes stung with unshed tears as you stood before him, begging him to see what you saw in him. And even then, he listened and he cared and his face softened with sadness when you told him the part about your family.

"You're doing it right now and you don't even see it," you laughed. One tear trickled down your cheek and you quickly brushed it away. "You're such a good man. How could I not be attracted to you?"

He scoffed but the corner of his mouth curled up into a half smile.

"Well..." he said, trailing off and fixing his gaze back on his shoes. What could he possibly not understand? But then it dawned on you - he had just told you he never dated again after his wife. Maybe he wasn't ready. Shit.

"I don't want you to feel uncomfortable," you told him softly. "If this isn't something you're ready for, we can stay friends. That is, if you want. No hard feelings. I even have the books for Sarah in the front seat."

You pointed and took a step towards the passenger door when he stopped you.

"I like you," he said, his beautiful brown eyes all soft and gentle as he looked at you. "But I'm rusty. Real rusty. Like... there ain't no savin' it kind of rusty."

You giggled and a big smile stretched across his face.

"Let's go slow," you suggested, reaching out for his hand. He met you halfway, fingers lacing together with yours, rough skin against soft. "Let's just take it at our own pace and not put any pressure on it," you added, smiling at the way your hands fit so nicely together. "Then we can just... see what happens."

He nodded slowly, his limbs growing heavy and relaxed from the sound of your sweet voice but heart pumping strong and fast behind his chest with excitement. His gaze flickered around the now nearly empty parking lot before his eyes found yours.

"Can I kiss you?" he asked, immediately feeling foolish for asking. Women don't want some nervous idiot asking if they could kiss them, what was he thinking? But then your shoulders sagged with relief and your smile stretched so far, it made your eyes squint as you closed the small gap between you.

"Yes, please."

He breathed a sigh of relief and shifted his weight, dropping your hand so he could gently cup your cheeks with both palms. His eyes raked over your face for a moment, memorizing every birthmark, scar and wrinkle before sliding his eyes closed and brushing his lips tenderly over your own.

You immediately responded, massaging his lips carefully, slowly, while your hands came to rest at his waist. You had to crane your neck at an unusual angle in order to accommodate his tall frame and you smiled to yourself, thinking I could get used to this.

He pulled back for just a moment, tilting his head to the other side before eagerly pressing his lips against yours again. The lip balm you used tasted sweet and soft and he knew right away he would be thinking about the flavor for the rest of the night. His exhale fanned over your cheek, causing a shiver to race down your spine, which only encouraged him further. He peppered feather light kisses against your lips for as long as the sun let him, until it grew dark and the crickets came out to sing. And only then did he pull back, each of you a little breathless and pink in the face but sporting huge grins as you gazed at one another in an entirely new light.

This was the start of something exciting.

The following morning, Joel woke up with the sun and a huge smile. He couldn't remember the last time he felt so energized, so happy, and so excited to start the day. He wandered around his kitchen, drinking coffee and tidying up, killing time before he had to get ready for work when a strange idea struck him: maybe he should go for a run.

He looked down at his soft belly. He patted it through his shirt and felt it jiggle, then he cringed. He really ought to take care of himself more, especially now that he's older. If he wasn't interested in a diet, the least he could do is take care of his heart with a little cardio.

What was the harm? He could keep it short, just twenty minutes. Enough to get his blood pumping. He knew for sure that Sarah would be proud.

Maybe you would, too.

He dug around in the back of his closet for some basketball shorts and put them on before he lost his nerve, then he stepped out onto his porch and looked around while he did some stretches. It was quiet, hardly anyone was up yet. At least he would have some privacy if he ended up doubled over after jogging for five minutes.

It turned out, running was a lot fucking harder than he thought. His lungs burned and his muscles ached and he was only halfway done, but he kept his eye on the prize. He told himself if he wanted to be spoiled on your incredible cooking, then he had to compensate somehow. Hell, maybe exercising would give him a little more energy. One of the guys from work was an avid runner and around Joel's age. He was always talking about the incredible benefits: the endorphins, the boost in self-esteem, the improvement in his sleep... his increased sex drive.

That wasn't why Joel was running, but it would be a nice little added perk. Not that he needed help getting hard, but he was a little concerned about potentially having sex again for the first time in a fucking decade. God, just thinking about the embarrassment he would feel if he couldn't last long enough to make you feel good made his feet move faster and his spine straighten.

When he rounded the corner, his house finally in sight, he felt a second wave kick in. His sneakers slapped loudly on the asphalt, the sound echoing in his ears, breath bursting in short puffs as he got closer and closer to his destination. He finally arrived, slowing to a stop to lean against his mailbox to catch his breath. He hurt but he felt good. Maybe he could make it part of his new routine. Surely, each day would become easier and easier the more his body strengthened. Joel took one last deep breath and turned to walk up his driveway, only to skid to a dead stop when he noticed Tommy's truck parked against the garage.

Shit. He completely forgot they were driving to a site together that morning. Joel glanced at his watch and walked up the little path leading to his front door, then twisted the knob to enter.

"Tommy?"

"Kitchen," he called. Joel heard mugs clinking and his refrigerator opening as he toed off his sneakers and, on shaky legs, walked into his kitchen.

Tommy did a double take when he saw Joel, nearly dropping his coffee on the tile floor.

"You were out runnin'? Since when?"

"Since today," Joel said, sitting down with a deep groan. "I still got time to shower, right?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm early," Tommy replied before pulling out a chair for himself. "What the hell's gotten into you?"

"Can't just take care of myself a bit?" Joel countered, snatching a napkin and wiping the sweat from the sides of his face.

Tommy took a sip of coffee before answering. "Well, sure, I mean... that's great. Sarah's gonna love to hear 'bout this. Just a little strange that-"

His brother stopped, the gears in his head turning as he slowly figured it out.

"It's the girl, right?"

He had a shit eating grin on his face when Joel looked up from the table and shrugged.

"Don't know what you're talkin' 'bout."

"The girl! The girl with the books and chicken and dead husband."

"Fiancé," Joel corrected, then immediately regretted it when Tommy snapped his fingers as if he were caught red-handed.

"It is her! You wanna look good for your girlfriend, don't you?"

Joel cringed at the word girlfriend, feeling way too old to use that term, but he remained silent and focused on tearing up his napkin. Tommy watched him for a moment longer, expecting Joel to correct him again, and when he didn't, Tommy sat back in his chair, waiting.

"She didn't ask me to or nothin'," Joel finally mumbled. "Just wanna take care of myself."

Tommy's eyebrows raised in surprise when Joel didn't deny his girlfriend comment.

"This mean you finally took some advice I gave you? You two talk things out?"

He shrugged, still looking down at the table, but Tommy saw the corner of Joel's mouth twitch. He grinned and leaned forward excitedly.

"That's great, brother. It's 'bout time you got back out there."

"Do not tell Sarah," Joel warned once again. Tommy held up his hands and shook his head.

"Wouldn't dream of it."

"'Cause I gotta tell her. It's gotta come from me, and I wanna do it my own way."

"I get it."

Joel sighed and absentmindedly scratched his beard.

"She ain't gonna like it," he finally said, filling the silence in the room. Tommy frowned.

"Why the hell not?"

"'Cause," Joel said, "the age thing. She's-"

"Oh, come on," Tommy interrupted with a dismissive wave of his hand, but Joel shook his head.

"Nah, Tommy, I mean it. It'll be hard enough for her to hear I'm datin' anyone at all, let alone someone closer in age to her than me."

"I think you're wrong," he said, standing up to rinse out his mug in the sink.

"Yeah, well, you don't know her like I know her," Joel said with a groan when he stood up from the table. "She'll be home to visit in a month. If things are still goin' good, I'll tell her then."

Tommy was about to say something else when Joel walked stiffly toward the stairs, announcing he was going to take a quick shower, so he decided to drop it. But when he heard the water turn on above his head, he quickly pulled out his phone and dialed Maria's number, too excited and happy for his brother to keep the news to himself.

"How're your classes? You ain't skippin' any, are you?"

Sarah giggled on the other end. "No, Dad. You know I wouldn't waste my scholarship like that."

"Good girl," he praised, smiling into the phone that was tucked between his shoulder and ear while he chopped up peppers and onions. Sarah could hear the thunk of his knife hitting the wooden cutting board and she gasped.

"Oh my god, are you cooking?" she squealed excitedly. Joel chuckled then frowned when he looked at his work and realized all the strips of green pepper were different sizes.

"Yeah, makin', uh, stir fry."

"Wow!" Sarah said excitedly. "Vegetables and everything! I'm so proud of you."

Joel laughed and rinsed his knife in the sink. "Just you wait til I tell you what else I've been doin'."

"Hmm," she replied, pretending to think. Joel could practically see her tap her chin thoughtfully and roll her eyes to the ceiling. "Going to group?"

"Well, yeah, I have," he admitted, thinking back on earlier in the week when you had gone to counseling together. "Met someone," he said before he could stop himself, voice catching in his throat, but he couldn't bring himself to tell her about you just yet. He needed to do it in person. Just two more weeks and she would come home for the weekend. "Girl 'bout your age, named Ellie. Met through someone else, she's, uh, little rough 'round the edges. Both her parents passed so I imagine that takes its toll. But she's real funny. Think you'd get along."

"That's great, Dad. I'm glad you made a friend," Sarah replied, her sincerity coming through the phone.

"That's not what I was gonna tell you, though," Joel said, drizzling too much olive oil in a pan. He made a face and grabbed a wad of paper towels to soak some of it up. "Been runnin' in the mornin' 'fore work."

"Holy shit!" Sarah practically shouted.

"Language," he warned.

"I'm sorry, Dad, but I think you jogging warrants a holy shit!"

Joel laughed heartily at that. She wasn't wrong.

"Yeah, well, figured I oughta start takin' care of myself a bit."

He could hear her smile when she said, "Dad, you have no idea how happy this makes me. I've been so worried about you being lonely after I left but it sounds like you're actually doing better than when I lived at home!"

"Nah, I'll never do as good as when I got you, baby girl," Joel corrected her, then did a double take when he noticed the time on his microwave. "Shit. I, uh, I gotta go, honey. Can I call you tomorrow?"

Sarah paused, wanting to ask what he could possibly have to do if all he said he was doing was making dinner. Then a slow smile stretched across her face.

"Are you... dating someone?"

"W-what?" Joel stammered, face as white as a ghost. How the hell-

"Is it Ms. Palmer from up the street? I know she's always had a crush on you."

"N-no, it ain't, there's no-"

His doorbell rang and Sarah grinned.

"I'll let you get to your date," she teased.

"Sarah, it-"

"Bye, Dad! Talk to you tomorrow!"

The line went dead before Joel could get another word in edgewise. Well, at least it wouldn't be a huge surprise when he eventually told her.

He didn't have time to worry much. He tossed his phone on the counter and threw a towel over his shoulder so he could wipe his hands as he walked to the door, swinging it open with a huge grin because there you were, waiting for him and looking so goddamn beautiful in a light pink dress.

"Hi," you said, the pitch in your voice giving away your excitement to see him. His mind still couldn't grapple with the idea of someone like you looking at him the way you were, but every time he saw you, it became a little more believable.

"Hey," he replied, opening the door wider for you to squeeze past him. You took one step inside and gave him a quick peck on the lips before sliding off your shoes and padding into the kitchen. It was only after he closed the door did he register you were holding a bag.

"Did you cook for me?" you exclaimed, slowly setting your bag on the counter and staring in awe at the vegetables sautéing on the stove.

Joel grinned and gave you a half hearted shrug. "Wanted to return the favor for all the great food you cook for me."

You turned to look at him, eyes wide and filled with emotion. "This is so sweet, Joel, but you know I don't mind cooking."

"I know, but you deserve a night off," he said, brushing past you to stir the vegetables. You leaned back against the counter, one ankle crossed over the other with your lower lip pulled between your teeth as you watched him work. He was clearly out of his element, cursing under his breath when the oil popped and burnt his forearm while trying to keep an eye on both the steak and the vegetables.

It was adorable.

"Let me help," you offered, washing your hands before grabbing a clean mixing spoon. He almost declined your offer until he realized he was in over his head and didn't have a backup plan if the food burned, so he let you jump in.

First thing you did was turn down the heat on both burners, making the loud crackling of oil quiet right down. It eventually got to the point where Joel was just following your instructions - start boiling water for the rice, make sure you measure the water. The lid needs to stay on, honey. Do you have any seasonings? How about mustard and soy sauce? And honey? No, I mean actual honey.

You giggled as you watched him hurry around his kitchen, opening and closing cabinets and waiting for your next request. Finally, you set your spoon down and cupped his cheek, giving him the sweetest smile followed by the sweetest kiss and the request to set the table and relax.

"What's in the bag?" Joel asked when you brought two steaming plates of stir fry over to the table. You drizzled a homemade sauce over each plate before tucking the dress of your skirt under your legs and sitting down next to him.

"I thought I was cooking," you said, picking up your fork. "I brought some supplies, but this was lovely. I'll just put it away for next time."

Oh, Joel liked that. He really, really liked the idea of you bringing things to his house, getting familiar with your surroundings and feeling comfortable there with him. It had only been two weeks but things were going so well. You made him unbearably happy and he tried his best to do the same for you because he was quickly realizing he would be crushed if he lost you. How the hell did that happen so fast?

You took your first bite of steak and made a pleased sound, raising your eyebrows at him with a little smile.

"You did most of the work," he said before you could speak.

"Not true. I just stirred a few things and sprinkled a couple other things. You picked out the steak. You marinated it, cubed it up and cooked most of it. You did great, I love it," you told him earnestly before leaning over to give him another kiss.

God, you were the sweetest thing. He couldn't get enough.

"How's the running going?" you asked before lifting another forkful of food.

"Good," Joel replied, wiping the corner of his mouth with a napkin. "Think my body's gettin' used to it now. Don't hurt as much anymore."

"That's great! Maybe we can go for a walk after dinner. I'd offer to run with you one of these mornings but there's no way I can get up that early," you said with a giggle.

He nodded and dropped his gaze to his plate. You had agreed to take things slow and it was working out beautifully. But that also meant your dates never ended with either of you staying the night, which was perfectly fine with Joel. He was still self-conscious about his age and physique, and even though he knew you wouldn't ever be that shallow, it still weighed heavily in the back of his mind. He couldn't help it.

"Sounds nice. Maybe squeeze in a movie if there's time."

"It's my turn to pick," you teased, poking him in the arm with your finger.

"Y'know you can pick all of 'em. I don't care what we watch, so long as I'm watchin' it with you," he said. It took him about thirty seconds to realize you had stopped eating and were giving him this look he couldn't pinpoint. His eyes bounced between yours, scanning your face and watching your expression wilt right in front of him. Your eyebrows drew together and tears welled up in your eyes. Panic shot through him, wondering what on earth he said to make you cry as he dropped his fork with a loud clatter to grab your hands.

"What'd I say?" he whispered, feeling your fingers squeeze his before ripping one hand away to swipe at a stray tear.

"Nothing. It's just... I don't remember the last time I've heard anyone... I miss having someone..." you sniffled and wiped away another tear while Joel patiently waited for you to continue. You took a shaky breath and gave him a little smile when you said, "You make me really happy, Joel."

He grinned and gently cupped your cheek, cleaning up your tears with his thumb.

"You make me really happy, too, sweetheart."

His deep brown eyes reflected little specks of gold under the soft lighting from his kitchen as you gazed at one another. When you lost Daniel, you never thought you'd ever be able to move on, and you were okay with that. He gave you some of the most wonderful years of your life and you were grateful for every second, knowing full well there were others out there in the world who may never feel how he made you felt.

And then you met Joel and ever since, he had you wondering how lightning could possibly strike twice.

"C'mon, pretty girl. Eat up so we can take a walk 'fore the sun sets," he said. His rough fingers traced down your jaw, then gave your chin a little pinch before letting you go to pick up his fork. The rest of the dinner was relatively silent, except for the music playing quietly somewhere on his kitchen counter. You reveled in the simplicity of it. Grateful for the peace and enjoying his company.

After you cleaned the dishes together, you slipped your shoes back on and allowed Joel to take your hand so he could lead you down his front steps towards the sidewalk.

"We can just go 'round the block 'fore it gets too cold," he offered, giving your hand a little squeeze when you playfully knocked your hip into him. "So, how was your day? What'd you do?" Joel asked. You bit down on the inside of your cheek, wondering if it was too soon to share with him the biggest stressor in your life at the moment. Well, it had been longer than a moment. But when he looked at you with the kindest smile and the softest eyes, you knew nothing would scare him away.

"Well," you began, and Joel could immediately tell by your tone that something was bothering you. His eyebrows pinched together and his smile faded. "I had a meeting today... with my lawyer."

"Lawyer?" Joel repeated, and you nodded.

"I've been stuck in this horrible legal battle with Daniel's family for months," you said, keeping your eyes fixed straight ahead. "His family wants a piece of his estate and he left it all to me. They're saying because we weren't legally married yet, that I'm not owed one hundred percent, but he had a will. He was very clear, and -" you cut yourself off and glanced up at him sheepishly. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry, darlin'," Joel said, "You can tell me or don't tell me, whatever you want. But if you wanna talk 'bout it, I'm ready to listen."

You gave him a grateful smile and sighed.

"It's such a nightmare. I just want to move on but it feels like this never ending back and forth with them is reopening the wound every single time, you know?"

You went on to tell him Daniel ended up leaving you... a lot of money. So much that you didn't have to work, although you had always planned on finding a job just to keep busy and make friends in a city where you knew nobody, you had just never gotten around to it.

"Well, y'know me now," Joel offered with a lopsided grin. You smiled and wrapped both your arms around one of his as he led you back up his driveway. The sky had turned a brilliant orange and pink color as the sun began to dip below the trees. In the distance, you could hear mothers calling out the door for their children to come home from playing with their friends in the neighboring woods that were beginning to grow dark.

"It's so peaceful here," you told him, slinking down into the bench he had on his front porch. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, tugging you into his side and smiled at a pair of siblings racing down the street on their bikes to get home before sundown.

"It is. Was a good spot for Sarah to grow up."

You tilted your chin up, admiring the way the setting sun reflected on his skin, all bronzed from working outdoors day after day.

"How's she doing? How's school?"

"Good. Was talkin' to her right before you came." Joel paused and pressed a kiss to your forehead. "She was excited I was cookin' vegetables and workin' out a bit. Said she worries 'bout me."

"She sounds so sweet. You did a good job raising her," you told him sincerely. It was moments like that one on his porch that you thought you missed more than anything. There was something so deeply comforting about having someone to talk about your day with, someone to listen to all the mundane details as well as all your fears and worries. Before Joel, you would have probably been puttering around your kitchen looking for something to do, or having yet another agonizing conversation with your mother over the phone.

"No pressure, but, uh..." Joel began with an awkward clearing of his throat. A little smile tugged at your lips as you watched him nervously pick at something on his jeans. "Sarah comes home in two weeks. Was gonna take that time and tell her 'bout you. Maybe we can all go to dinner or somethin'?" he offered, words rushing together at the end of his sentence. "If it's too fast or you ain't ready or -"

"I would love to," you interrupted. He looked up from his lap, eyes all bright with a grin to match.

"Yeah?"

You nodded, then giggled when he wrapped his hand around the back of your neck to pull you in for a deep kiss. His tongue slipped past your lips and for one heated moment, you forgot you were on his front porch for his entire neighborhood to see. You pulled away with a gasp when he began to get carried away and about to suggest going inside when a woman's voice called over from the sidewalk.

"Evenin', Joel."

Joel's grin melted when he turned to see Ms. Palmer walking her little French bulldog past the house. The look of distaste on her face told him she witnessed a little more than what was deemed appropriate and he felt his cheeks grow hot.

"Evenin'," he said sheepishly, raising a hand up in greeting. Her eyes flickered back and forth between him and you before turning her nose up in the air and urging her dog to keep walking.

"Maybe we should go inside," you said, voice muffled behind your palm as you tried to stifle your laughter. Joel chuckled and nodded.

"Good idea."

"It's gotta be around here somewhere," you muttered under your breath. You eased your foot off the gas and squinted through your windshield, silently repeating the numbers on the buildings until you finally found what you were looking for. Turning down the unpaved gravel road, you gripped the steering wheel tight, your SUV handling each deep bump with surprising ease until you turned the corner and spotted the partially finished building behind a chain link fence.

You saw a bunch of trucks parked off to the side so you found a spot near them and shifted into park. Before getting out of the car, you looked over your shoulder, hoping to see Joel's familiar face in the crowd of workers but you were too far away.

Oh, well. His truck was there, so he must be around somewhere.

Sliding out of your seat, you went to open your trunk and picked up to massive insulated tote bags filled with homemade sandwiches, pasta salads and cookies, draping one over each shoulder before tapping your foot under the tailgate to close the hatch.

You were grateful you chose a pair of jeans instead of the dress you originally wanted to wear as you walked up to the fence, dust and dirt kicking up as you walked. When a dark, curly haired man spotted you from over the fence, he walked over to unlock the gate. He took off his hard hat and wiped the sweat from his brow with his forearm before he shot you a cheesy smile.

"Hey there, little lady. You lookin' for someone?"

You gave him a polite smile despite the way his eyes raked up and down your body.

"Actually, yes," you replied, shifting the weight of one of the bags. "Is Joel around?"

The man's eyes darted up to meet yours and you watched his expression morph into one of excitement.

"Joel? Yeah, he's around. And, uh, who can I say is comin' by to make his whole damn day?"

You told him your name and he clapped his gloved hands together in triumph.

"I knew it! I fuckin' - sorry," he said, clearing his throat before opening up the fence. "C'mon in, but here, make sure you wear this," he said, plopping his smelly hard hat on top of your head. "He'll kill me if he spots you without one."

"Oh, well, thanks..." you replied. "I brought him lunch as a surprise. Well, actually, I brought everyone lunch-"

"You brought lunch?" a bigger man with a mustache popped up from behind a construction vehicle. You swiveled around and waved.

"Yeah. I have sandwiches and cookies a-"

"Here, lemme help you with all that," the first man said before introducing himself as Tommy. Then it clicked.

"You're Joel's brother!" you exclaimed, rolling your now sore shoulder as you followed him through the site towards the trailers parked in the back.

"One and only!" he said cheerily. "I'm just gonna put this in the air conditioning, then we can go find Joel."

You waited at the bottom of the stairs as Tommy disappeared into the trailer, your hands clasped behind your back and bouncing on the balls of your feet. A few men walked past and gave you a strange look, no doubt wondering who you were, but you just smiled and politely waved.

It was then that you heard Joel's voice call out your name from somewhere behind you. With a huge grin, you twisted around and shielded your eyes to look up at the framed second story, spotting him almost immediately.

The smile slipped from your face and your mouth went dry when you saw him, clothes covered in dirt, skin coated in a mix of sweat and dust. His jeans were well worn and hung lower on his hips, and over the waistband was a leather tool belt that had you thinking very inappropriate thoughts.

"Hey!" he said as he jogged down the steps. You blinked rapidly, trying to snap yourself out of your stupor, but he just looked too damn good.

"H-hi," you stammered, feeling even more overwhelmed now that he was closer. He leaned down to kiss your cheek and your eyes fluttered closed when you smelled him: a heavenly combination of sawdust, sweat, coffee and metal.

"What're you doin' here?"

He had his hands propped on his hips, gazing down at you with a huge smile, a stupidly cute hard hat perched on the top of his head that matched your own while he waited for your response.

Luckily, the door to the trailer opened and Tommy did all the talking for you, giving yourself an extra minute to get it together.

"She brought lunch for everyone. It's inside. You got a keeper here, brother, don't mess this up for us," Tommy joked with a loud clap to Joel's shoulder. A plume of dust swirled in the air, hiding the little pink tinting Joel's cheeks before turning back to you.

"You didn't need to do all that, darlin'."

"I- I wanted to," you said, forcing yourself to look away. "Thought I would surprise you and, well, you know me. Once I start cooking..."

Joel chuckled and went to wrap an arm around your shoulders before realizing how dirty he was.

"Ah, shit," he said, grimacing when you locked eyes again. "I'm filthy. Sorry."

"That's okay," you told him eagerly. Then you glanced around to make sure you couldn't be overheard when you leaned in and whispered, "I kinda like it."

Joel raised his eyebrows and smirked. "Oh, yeah?"

"Mhmm," you hummed with your bottom lip trapped between your teeth. His cheeks grew brighter pink as he shook his head and pointed awkwardly to the trailer behind you.

"Let's grab somethin' before these animals get in there. We can eat in my office."

"Office?" you repeated, following him towards the trailer.

"Oh, yeah. I got an office, baby. Shitty trailer smaller than this one, but it's all mine."

After you spread out the sandwiches and salads for Joel's crew, half of which was gone before you blinked, you grabbed your food and let him lead you to a trailer closer to the fence. He was right, it was small, but it served its purpose. Blueprints hung on the wall behind his desk. Permits, work orders, receipts and post its with phone numbers scribbled on them littered the other walls, along with an old clock with a crack in the glass right down the middle.

"I like what you've done with the place," you teased while he scooped up papers from his desk to clear a spot for you.

He laughed softly and sat down in the ancient, squeaky chair with a grunt.

"Hard to keep it clean."

"I like it. It's, like... it's chaotic but there's a method to the madness. Very impressed," you said, eyes trailing over some of the papers. "This is like a completely different language. I can't believe you do this for a living, Joel. You can read these plans and make something come to life with your bare hands."

Joel blushed again and waved you off before unwrapping his sandwich. When he picked it up, he frowned and looked at you. "Chicken cutlets?"

You nodded and he looked like he died and went to heaven when he took a bite. "Is it too much? Does it look like I'm trying too hard? Your crew probably thinks I'm nuts."

"No, darlin', this is incredible," he said around a mouthful of food. "You put lemon or somethin' in this?"

"Yep," you replied with a grin before taking a bite of your own sandwich. Your eyes kept roaming around the packed trailer in silent awe. "It's no wonder you're so exhausted after work. And you're still managing to run in the mornings."

"Lost almost ten pounds but if you keep comin' by with food like this, I'll put it right back on if I ain't careful," he said with a wink. "I don't want Sarah thinkin' I'm lyin' 'bout runnin' when she sees me next weekend."

"You don't need to lose weight, anyway," you told him with a dismissive wave.

Joel opened his mouth to argue that you hadn't actually seen him yet without clothes on so your frame of reference was skewed, but he caught himself just in time, saving himself the embarrassment. Instead, he swallowed his food and cleared his throat.

"Do anythin' interesting today? 'Sides make all this incredible food?" he asked, noting the way your expression instantly fell.

"My mom called this morning," you said, tone shifting from playful to a little cold. "She's begging me to move back to Portland again. Says there's no use in me living out here now that Daniel's gone."

Joel straightened up nervously in his chair.

"Well, that just ain't true." You have me, he wanted to add.

"I know, and I told her how much I like it in Texas, but she just doesn't understand. I even told her I applied for a few jobs hoping it would get her off my back."

"Yeah? What kinda jobs?" he asked, perking back up and ignoring the feeling of dread that filled his chest at the prospect of you moving away.

"My degree's in marketing, so a few jobs in that field," you said, picking off some extra cheese from your sandwich as you spoke. "I did some consulting work after graduation with a handful of businesses but it looks better on a résumé to have worked at one place for a good chunk of time. So, needless to say I haven't gotten any calls."

Joel frowned and wiped his mouth with a paper napkin. "Keep tryin'. Somethin' will shake loose. I'll keep an ear to the ground, too. I work with all sorts of different businesses."

"Thanks," you said with a smile. "Later today, I'm gonna look at fully remote jobs. That way I'm not limited to just Austin."

A few men filed past Joel's trailer, their voices and laughter echoing throughout the partially finished building.

"You probably need to get back to work, don't you?" you asked, peering out the small window by the door.

"Yeah, unfortunately gotta take advantage of the good weather while we got it," Joel said, standing and dusting his palms on his jeans. "I'll help you clean up first. They probably left a goddamn mess in there."

"No, please," you said as you stood to follow him towards the door. "You're busy. I can handle it, I promise."

"You sure?"

"Of course! So long as I still get to come over tonight," you said with a flirtatious wink.

Joel laughed as he walked you down the three steps of the trailer. "It's the only thing gettin' me through the day."

Before you headed back towards the trailer where Tommy had set up your food, you turned to loop your arms loosely around Joel's neck. Standing on your toes, you pressed your lips against his. It was meant to be a quick, chaste kiss, but when his big hands found your waist and you breathed him in up close, your jaw automatically fell open. Joel must have forgotten where you were, as well, because he didn't hesitate to deepen the kiss, sliding his tongue slowly alongside yours, firmly pushing your mouths together and pulling a moan from your throat.

When a pair of younger men on the crew walked by and whistled sharply at your display, you finally broke apart, embarrassment flooding both your faces.

"Sorry," he chuckled, releasing your hips and nervously rubbing the back of his neck.

"I started it," you grinned, ignoring the handful of men over Joel's shoulder talking to Tommy about what they just witnessed. You took a few steps backwards and playfully bit your lip. "Maybe we can pick up where we left off tonight?" you offered, unable to keep the tremor from your voice. Joel's face went slack when he realized what you meant, swallowing tightly before giving you a nod.

"Uh, y-yeah. Lookin' forward to it. I-I mean, lookin' forward to seein' you later," he stammered, making you giggle. Before you turned around, you pointed to your hat.

"I'll leave it in the trailer."

He just nodded numbly and you swiveled around to collect your things, excitement and anticipation bubbling inside, the likes of which you hadn't felt in over a year.

Normally after a long week at work, Friday nights were spent having a couple beers and falling asleep early in front of whatever hockey game happened to be on. But that Friday night, Joel was energized, veins thrumming with excitement as he carefully situated a couple old, mismatched candles on his coffee table before fluffing the pillows and folding the blanket over the back of the couch.

He ran his hand through his hair nervously and looked around the room, turning certain lights on and off until he found the perfect combination for a warm glow to set the right mood. Then he went to the kitchen, opening up your favorite bottle of wine and setting it next to two glasses. It took him three attempts at microwaving popcorn before he got a bag that didn't end up burnt, which he poured into a bowl and set on the coffee table. Glancing at his watch, he lit the candles, scrunching his nose at the conflicting scents but deciding it ultimately didn't smell too bad and left them.

After checking his reflection maybe ten times in the hall mirror, he began to pace around his house, idly straightening up things or inspecting a ledge for dust... anything to try to get his mind off what he was very certain was the night.

Fuck, he was so nervous. Before Sarah's mom, he had only had sex with one other woman. He wasn't exactly brimming with experience and not only that, given it's been over ten years since he'd had sex, he'd be lucky to last three minutes. The last thing on earth he wanted to do was disappoint you or remind you of his advanced age.

Joel cursed under his breath when he heard the light knock at his front door. On his way to let you in, he silently chastised himself for feeling a flicker of guilt. His wife would have wanted him to move on, to be happy. There was no reason to feel guilty in finding comfort and happiness with someone new.

Yet, the guilt still sat there, tucked under his ribs right next to his heart.

He pushed it out of his mind when he swung the door open to find you waiting patiently on the other side. You were wearing the same jeans and shirt from earlier, but it looked like you might have done something a little different to your hair.

"Hey," he smiled breathlessly. He leaned down to give you a quick peck on the lips, inhaling your shampoo and perfume. When he pulled back, he rubbed his lips together at the sudden softness there and you grinned sheepishly up at him, swiping your thumb gently over his lips.

"Sorry. Got some lipstick on you."

His cheeks warmed under your touch and at the realization that you had put makeup on before coming over. Had you put in extra effort that night, same as him? Or was it all in his head?

"Come on in. Got the movie ready to go, plus-"

You had breezed past him and already kicked off your sneakers, interrupting him with a gasp when you saw his living room.

"Oh, Joel, you did all this for me?" you asked with your palms pressed against your heart. You looked so touched and it made his ego inflate a little. He did good.

"Uh, yep," he said, pushing the door closed and following you into the room. You surveyed the boxes of theater candy he laid out next to the popcorn, your finger tracing over them slowly as if you were mentally ranking them before noticing the wine still sitting open on his kitchen counter. You swiveled around, hands clasped behind your back and, with a flirty smile, you said, "You got my favorite."

"'Course I did," Joel replied, taking two long strides to meet you in the middle of the room. Your hands found each other immediately, his around your waist and yours behind his neck.

"And you got candles," you murmured, gazing up at him with big doe eyes. He nodded, pulse steadily humming under his skin. "How romantic."

"Little outta practice, but I tried," he shrugged.

"I love it," you whispered right before your lips brushed against his. When he kissed you, it felt like he was falling, but he wasn't scared of the drop. No, in fact, he was excited to see what was waiting for him on the other side. The way your mouth slotted perfectly with his, the soft noise you made when his tongue dipped past your lips, your nails digging into his hair a little harder when he pressed you against his chest. It was everything and not enough, all at once.

You were the first to pull away with a little breathy laugh, excitement glimmering in your eyes.

"Why don't we at least pretend to watch some of the movie?" you teased, taking a step back, just out of reach.

Joel's eyes darkened, like a predator watching his prize slip away.

"Sit. I'll get you some wine before we start the movie."

You did as you were told, plucking a piece of popcorn from the bowl and tossing it into your mouth while he poured two glasses of wine as quickly as he could. When he was out of sight, he took a few deep breaths to steady his nerves, then flicked the kitchen light off before joining you on the couch.

"Thank you," you said, taking your glass and clinking it lightly against his.

"Welcome," he answered, taking a sip while reaching for the remote. Wine wasn't his favorite drink, but for you, he would drink bath water if that's what you wanted.

He draped an arm over the back of his couch and leaned back, spreading his knees and getting comfortable while the opening credits played. You took a few sips from your glass, the candlelight catching the refractions every time you moved. By the time your glass was almost empty on the coffee table and the first act of the movie was over, you had curled into his side, your leg slung across his lap and your head resting comfortably against his shoulder. At some point, he abandoned his wine on the end table to grip your calf on his lap, his thick fingers unconsciously kneading the muscle as he watched the movie.

You made a soft noise in the back of your throat, immediately pulling his interest, the sound doing shameful things below his waist already.

"Feels good," you whispered, eyes fluttering for a moment before nuzzling further into his chest. It took him a second to realize you were referring to the absentminded massage he was giving your leg.

"Yeah?" he responded, voice deep and gravelly when he tipped his chin to brush his lips against the top of your head. "You tense, baby?"

You hummed and nodded, tilting your face up, mouths barely touching as the movie continued to play in the background. Joel's fingers around your leg tightened as the air around you thickened. He was definitely not reading things wrong. Your lips were parted to accommodate your sudden need for more air, your chest was rising and falling faster than just a moment ago and judging by the needy look in your eye, you were practically screaming for him to touch you.

So, despite his nerves, he did.

He wasn't quite sure how it happened, but within a few short minutes he had you pinned underneath him on his couch, the leg he was once massaging now wrapped around his hips. Your mouths had crashed together, sharing whimpers and gasps each time one of your hands explored a new area. The way you devoured one another, tongues twisting and fighting and denim clad hips shifting and rolling, it was impossible to tell who was more desperate for affection and comfort.

He supposed it didn't really matter, anyway. As different as you might seem to others on the surface, inside you both were the same. You both wanted to feel loved and wanted again. You both sought out safety and comfort you so desperately craved and not only that, you each eagerly wanted to give it to the other in return, because you knew how painful it felt to be so lonely.

It could have been the blood pounding loudly in his ears that kept him from hearing the front door unlock, or maybe he was too fixated on the pretty sounds you made when his hand boldly traveled underneath your shirt for the first time that blocked out the footsteps in the entryway, but the hurt and shocked tone in her voice when she spoke cut right through everything and had him bolting upright in a panic when he heard Sarah say, "Dad?"

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[intuitively-her]

You have an innocent look to you. "Damsel in distress" vibes. You might attract partners that want to take care of you or save you in some way.

Your lovers tend to become possessive of you pretty easily. You're like a trinket that they want to keep tucked in their pocket to carry with them everywhere they go. You probably have multiple people in competition over you right now.🤭 Someone here has a lottt of social media stalkers, especially if you post thirst traps.😅

Your energy reminds me of Cher from clueless. You're a very beautiful and high-value person. But you still remain very down to earth and friendly to others.

You could have naturally curly hair. Someone here has blonde or black hair. You could have beautifully tanned skin as well.

The way that you command attention without even trying. You have a very confident and humble energy. But you also have this air of mystery to you as well. You are so aloof at times that you may not even realize how much attention is really on you.

You can be a little stubborn at times and prefer to stick to your own way of doing things.

You turn your pain into power! You're always onto the next best thing and following your goals. I feel like you've had to defend yourself and stand on business with a lot of folks lately.

🤍Zodiac confirmations: Taurus, Aries, Aquarius, Scorpio

Your energy is very exciting to be around. You are very free spirited and adventurous. Someone here likes to take solo trips/road trips.

Someone here could be into plants and botany. You could have a garden/greenhouse as well.

You know how to keep your situations surface level and keep your business on the low. People never really know what your next move is.

Someone specific here is a brunette or you could have blue/purple hair. You could also have a kinky hair type.

You are very independent and all about your money. Someone here owns a nice home. You have a lot of stability and actually take the time to move away from the things that don't serve you.

Someone here likes to get pedicures. You could also wear high heels often as well.

You have a generous and warm energy. People feel accepted by you. There could be people that look up to you in some way. I also sense a cutthroat energy from you as well though lol. You have a sweet x spicy duality to you.🥰

🤍Zodiac confirmations: Cancer, Capricorn, Pisces, Libra

Your dedication to your work and goals.

Your ability to bounce back from situations by yourself and transform into new energy. Alchemist energy.

Someone here likes to wear knee-high stockings or leg warmers.

For my masculine's here, you could like to dress up in business casual attire or you could wear a lot of sneakers.

Your rebellious energy.⚡

You are very family oriented and hold your close relationships to a high regard. You have a very kind and sentimental energy. You could like to capture memories with your loved ones as well.

Someone here has their hair in a bob haircut, or you could have hair that flows all the way down your back.

You may have a tendency to ghost your flings/romantic partners or could be the type to lead people on at times.🤭

🤍Zodiac confirmations: Heavy water and air energy

You're a jack of all trades! Your skillset is very admirable. Someone here could play different sports, or you could be a part of some type of club/committee. There are many people that want to learn from you.

Someone here has tattoos.

Your sweet and loving vibe.

When you wear dresses or more fitting clothes. Your jewelry/accessories are very appealing to the eye as well.

You stick to your values and beliefs. You could be a "goody two shoes" lol

Your creativity.

When you wear your hair tied up in a bun or pigtails.

Someone here wears glasses.

Your rbf; y'all often have this bored expression on your face like you couldn't be bothered to interact with anyone around you.😂

🤍Zodiac confirmations: Sagittarius, Leo, Libra, Virgo

*ONLY TAKE WHAT RESONATES*

🤍Please DO NOT copy, repost, or steal my work! Thanks!🤍

*Credits to @anitalenia for the text dividers🤍*

Masterlist

Paid readings

[jupitergalactica]

I totally agree with this. Yes, I am well aware that he wasn’t a good person and I do not support all of his shitty actions, but what I do know is that he didn’t deserve death. And if you honestly don’t give a crap, just simply carry on and don’t say anything at all.

And about people celebrating his death, it’s so absolutely fucking disgusting. One of my old lame “friend”s (he’s a piece of shit) just texted me some shit like “Mikey is probably like ‘haha bitch imagine being dead’ lmao” and I immediately cringed and blocked. I’m not even sure how he still had my number as we hadn’t really spoken in years and only have the occasional small awkward convos at school, but whatever. Not my problem anymore.

My deep condolences to Bob’s family and friends.

Y’know, I think the saddest part about hearing of Bobs passing was the fact that the last time he was seen alive was 3 weeks ago and that his body was so badly decomposed, like really no one came to check up on him?? I don’t know much about his family but seriously no one thought it was odd for him to drop off the face of the earth for almost a month???

Obviously I am aware of his actions in the past and his current political views and in no way condone any of them, however he was still a human, a very influential human no less, with a phenomenal talent for drumming, and to hear that it took that long for people to find him is truly devastating.

I’ve only seen two videos of people celebrating his death but the fact that people are celebrating in the first place is disgusting, hate him all you want but celebrating is sick.

[mythalism]

in my rook hating mindset now after that post this morning and cannot stop thinking about how they are literally the worst protagonist maybe in any story i have ever experienced JRHGKJERHGJERG. and like if you love your rook i am not saying you shouldn't. if you love your rook i am so so happy for you genuinely but you are also probably brilliant and have a huge brain because what the game gives you to build off of is so abysmal.

i literally cannot stop thinking about how insane it is that rook literally causes a double blight and worldwide catastrophe on a scale which thedas has not seen probably since the creation of the veil itself and just. experiences no remorse. and the story tries to tell us thats a good thing and makes them better than the villain/their foil. JHREGJKHERGJKHERG. HELLO?!!??!?!?! literally no one ever goes "hey maybe you shouldnt have done that" except solas and hes framed as the VILLAIN!!! WHAT!!!!!!!!!! hawke blames themselves for not putting the pieces together fast enough when a bouquet of white lilies arrived at their door? the narrative gleefully condemn anders with the immediate opportunity to kill him for his crimes. nearly every single character in origins immediately puts the entirety of the responsibility for the fifth blight on loghain's shoulders, regardless of the CLEAR SUGGESTION that the battle at ostagar could never have been won. and all of these makes sense for the world and characters!!!!! of course hawke would blame themselves for their families deaths when they were given the role of protector by leandra after malcom dies. of course the city of kirkwall is going to want anders dead for his extreme act of violence rather than start the uncomfortable process of acknowledging the beloved chantry's complicity in large scale abuse happening in the mage circles!!!! of course alistair and the warden are going to blame loghain for the blight and cailan's death!!!! it doesnt matter if they are right or wrong, it makes sense for their perspective and worldview to feel this way!!!!

have yall gotten the low approval conversations in inquisition????? solas's "Inquisitor. Tell me. How does it feel? Being you. Are you blissfully unaware or, deep inside, is some part of you banging on the walls, screaming?" cassandra getting drunk and practically spitting in your face how she regrets raising you up to such power? blackwalls' "Are you proud of yourself, of what you’ve built here? How about the lives you’ve destroyed along the way? Given much thought to those lately? Is this Inquisition all you wanted it to be? Because I’m disappointed. All I see is a gang of thugs led by a self-serving tyrant." and these SCATHING comments from those who once believed in the inquisitor enough to join their cause come from decisions that affect a fraction of the population that dies under the southern double blight. people will rip the inquisitior to fucking shreds when they fuck up. THATS THE ENTIRE POINT OF THE TRESPASSER DLC EHRGKJHERGKJHERG. like holy shit every decision carries the weight of "oh my god whos gonna hate me. who is going to die because of my choice. how is this going to come back to bite me." have we forgotten what its like to return to varric after leaving hawke in the fade and confess what we did? the call we just made? to look him in the eye and tell him that we sacrificed his best friend? WHY IS ROOK NEVER ASKED TO PARTICIPATE IN ANY OF THIS INTROSPECTION?????????? TO EVALUATE HOW THEIR DECISIONS AFFECT THOSE AROUND THEM BOTH PERSONALLY AND SOCIETY AS A WHOLE????? OH MY GODDDDD

the regret prison scene is so insane. first its insane because its solas at his best and most cunty. but secondly it makes no fucking sense even if im largely distracted by pookie being fun and villainous. solas tries desperately to play up rook's regrets during their conversations and we are supposed to believe that it was that manipulation that allowed him to swap with them in the prison. how does this actually work? blood magic? dont worry about it, kitten. but then when we get into the prison.... the only two regrets that manifest are things that just happened within the last 3 hours - your two party sacrifices. lets be clear that these are not even real sacrifices because literally all of these people volunteer to go and then argue about why they should go. this is so fucking stupid. then rook looks at the statues and says "i dont regret this because this was your choice". YEAH????? OF COURSE YOU DONT FUCKING REGRET IT WHY WOULD YOU. HELLO???? THIS WAS NOT ROOKS CHOICE THIS WAS ROOK JUST SAYING "SURE I GUESS". AND THEN THATS ENOUGH! THEY JUST LEAVE BC THEY CONQUERED THEIR REGRETS!?!?!?!?!??! WHAT!!!!!! there is no discussion of rook being responsible for the blight in the south that we find out via ooc inquisitior letter has KILLED LITERALLY EVERYONE. no suggestion that their recklessness and willingness to act WITHOUT ALL THE INFORMATION at the ritual is the reason for every single thing the evanuris do following their release.

and let me be very clear bc i know this was causing drama on twitter last week. i am not saying the double blights is rook's fault. i actually dont think it is their fault, although i do think they are stupid and reckless and shouldn't have acted so carelessly. but although rook is responsible for ghilly and edgar breaking free, rook is not responsible for the their actions following that freedom, and rook is not at fault for being put into an impossible situation (the need to stop solas's ritual) without all of the information on what the ritual was and what stopping it might incur. however, the double blight is rook's fault in the same way that the veil, the fall of the elvhen empire, elven mortality, and every demon's existence is solas's fault; which is to say, it is and it is not. solas was backed into a corner, in a desperate situation without knowledge of the potential consequences, and was forced to make a decision for the good of the world when he imprisoned the evanuris and blight with the veil. rook was backed into a corner, in a desperate situation without knowledge of the potential consequences, and was forced to make a decision for what they thought was the good of the world when they interrupted solas's ritual. but while solas feels immense guilt and responsibility for the choice he made, rook feels.... absolutely none. and the game tells us that... they're right? people should just not take accountability for anything? i will give credit where it's due here that varric's contribution to this scene is quite good and his line where rook tries to take responsibility for his death and varric says smth like "no, that was my own choice and you dont get to take that from me" is B A N G E R. WHERE WAS THAT ENERGY IN THE REST OF THIS FUCKING GAME!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!!?

THAT was the lesson solas needed to learn, not that his regret was wrong but that it was MISPLACED!!!!!!!!! and that is why it is mythal acknowledging that their burden is shared and not his alone is the culmination of his entire story and what finally allows him to move on. pride stands alone, wisdom seeks out the input of others to make an informed and wise decision. this is also why he leaves such breadcrumbs for the inquisitor (a high approval one, at least) because he respects their opinion and their input and their existence and the way they treat him turns him back into wisdom from pride. this is why a romanced inquisitor mentions his name being pride and how its possible that hes not even CAPABLE of changing his mind because it would be so against his nature, and he needs someone whose opinion he values to show him the way. his flaw is his SELF INFLICTED LONELINESS!!!!! NOT HIS REGRET. varric even fucking says this in some random banter you get with his ghost in the infirmary but im too lazy to go find it on my desktop. its something about how he sees attachments as a weakness rather than a strength. his pride causes him to take on responsibility that is not his, his wisdom -> pride corruption has led him to believe he is the only one capable of fixing the world's problems and he will destroy both himself and those he loves in the process. he asserts that he is just a man but is unable to stop making decisions for the world like a god.

THIS is the solas/rook foil that should have been: rook relies on their friends and that reliance is ESSENTIAL; after all, the neve/bellara and davrin/harding sacrifice is essential to win. in contrast solas refuses to rely on anyone, and this isolation makes him increasingly cruel. when he has no one to mirror the way a spirit should, he becomes Pride, too proud and too god-like. his attachments make him more human. he is terrified of depending on others and will kill them rather than risk the vulnerability of dependence after what it has done to him (mythal, felassan). he has to unlearn this avoidance and fear, he has to admit that there "could have been a better way" that someone else saw and he did not. he must learn that he does not have all the answers. he is not Pride. its NOT that rook doesnt experience regret and doesn't take accountability for mistakes while solas is trapped by his own regrets. the message we got instead is so incoherent. but it was SO CLOSE TO BEING GOOD. the bones of this are littered everywhere in both the game and in the datamined content and for some reason it just could not be brought together in a way that makes sense.

the message that rook is "right" and better for not having regrets is genuinely insane, especially when the "regrets" they have to conquer are literally just. other peoples decisions. the fact that rook has the audacity to say to solas that he could never escape the prison while they could so easily because he is trapped by his own regret as if rook is better than him is genuinely so fucking dumb it makes me want to claw my eyes out for having been forced to read it. rook sacrifices nothing and learns nothing. the sacrifices within the game belong to the characters that make them, rook does not order people to their deaths in the same way that solas or even THE INQUISITOR do. rook never is asked to grapple with the fact that they ACCIDENTALLY unleashed a double blight, no matter how good their intentions. WHY DOES NO ONE BLAME THEM FOR THIS???? regardless of if it is their fault or not, the objective truth of fault does not matter, what matters is that you make decisions and PEOPLE JUDGE YOU FOR THEM!!!!!!!!! THIS IS LIKE FOUNDATIONAL TO THESE GAMES JEHRGJKREHGJKRHG. this is what the entire game is about doing to solas. judging him. based on his choices. and the game clearly wants you to have empathy for him in the end. but its so OBVIOUS that the vessel for building up that empathy should have been ROOK EXPERIENCING THE SAME THING!!! THE SAME JUDGEMENT!!! THE SAME GROWTH!!!!! FEELING THE BURDEN OF THE WORLD ON THEIR SHOULDERS. FEELING THE DREAD OF GUILT AND SHAME AND REGRET. TRYING TO DEFEND THEIR INTENTIONS!!! I DIDNT MEAN TO I DIDNT MEAN TO IT WAS A MISTAKE!!!! LEARNING THAT THEY HAVE TO OWN UP TO IT BUT THEY ALSO HAVE NO CHOICE BUT TO MOVE FORWARD!!!!!! HELLO!??!?!?!?! they BARELY even express remorse for the treviso/minrathous sacrifice, even when faced with neve/lucanis's anger they just go "a decision had to be made and i made it". well. YEAH? LIKE YEAH THATS RIGHT BUT HUMANS HAVE FEELINGS??? YOU ARE SUPPOSED TO BE A PERSON, NOT A BLANK SLATE VIDEO GAME PROTAGONIST!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ITS OKAY TO FEEL BAD!!!! YOU MADE A DECISION THAT RESULTED IN PEOPLE DYING. ANY HUMAN BEING WOULD FEEL BAD ABOUT THIS. ITS KIND OF FUCKING WEIRD THAT YOU DO NOT. HOW IS ROOK JUST BORN BEING OK WITH THIS. ITS SO ROBOTIC AND ARTIFICIAL LOL

rooks actions are such a clear, perfect parallel to solas putting up the veil and the guilt that haunts him afterwards that i KNOW it was intended that way and somehow it just got completely shafted. it literally feels like they did have a coherent parallel going and for some reason were forced to change directions last minute and thus we got some mish mashed barely cobbled together incoherent nonsense with clear echoes of its former self. instead rook has no flaws, makes perfect judgements at all time, has unconditional support from all of their friends who also make perfect judgements, are immune to making mistakes, and the message is its actually just really easy to not have regrets if you just choose right every time and refuse to take responsibility for anything as long as you had good intentions :D

[demon-country]

The fact that I have already seen a good number of people complaining about how mean Stolas was supposedly being to Blitz in his song and thinking that he legitimately believes that Bliz is a wretched little worm that he owns is just. Utterly baffling. I'm genuinely unsure how anyone could miss the fact that it was an act. It was all a ruse he threw together on the fly in an effort to protect Blitz, wherein he pretended to be a big, bad, masterclass manipulator who was just using Blitz as his pawn.

For anyone who doubts it, here's the truth straight from the song writer's mouth:

This is literally the same exact ploy he pulled in Truth Seekers. He came in at the last minute and put on a big show to convince the people threatening Blitz and the rest of I.M.P that he was a big, scary demon who was so much more powerful than them (which he is) and practically owned them as his minions used to carry out his evil deeds (which he doesn't).

Though, perhaps I shouldn't be too surprised, since pretty much everyone I've seen talk about that scene fails to realize that that and his "who dares threaten my impish little plaything?" and "what's the matter, demon hunter? Never seen a real demon before?" comments were nothing but an act and he didn't actually believe any of it, too.

In Mastermind, he was trying to make sure that all of the blame would be put on himself, so that, as shown above, they would give Blitz the same treatment the others got when Blitz claimed they had nothing to do with it and were just following his orders.

In Truth Seekers, he was trying to intimidate the humans and make them so scared he wouldn't need to resort to violence to stop them. Why else would he put on that whole horror movie display and announce himself and his relationship with Blitz at all, if his entire goal was anything other than to incapacitate them with fear? If all he wanted was to get I.M.P out, he could have quickly and easily killed them without saying a word. Calling Blitz his plaything and saying that he was a real demon served to a) establish that he was the kind of person who had playthings, because that's the kind of cruel, domineering creature that most humans expect demons to be, and b) further intimidate them by implying that he was exponentially more powerful than the demons who just decimated their whole entire team.

He didn't mean any of it either time (except for when he called Blitz an idiot, maybe); those weren't things he actually believed. Why would he legitimately think of Blitz as his plaything and someone he owns when in both cases it was far enough in the timeline that he was already in love with Blitz and wanted a real, genuine romantic relationship with him and not just the fleeting taste of one he got while restrained by the full moon deal?

Those were classist/racist things to say, of course, and that was the point. That was language he deliberately used because it fit the persona he was using to appear villainous. Where he went wrong the first time and how his actual internalized racism came into play was in how he didn't for even one single second think about how those statements would look to the members of I.M.P, because he'd never once had to think about the fact they must get those kinds of demeaning comments all the time and had no way of knowing that he was faking. Calling them "little creatures" while he was scolding them probably wasn't part of the act though, and he didn't realize that it was classist/racist to say those things at all, regardless of intent, so he never apologized or reassured them that he didn't actually believe Blitz was his plaything or that they weren't real demons.

But with the power of hindsight and a more omniscient view of the characters that we get later on, it's so clear to see that all of these comments were only said as part of his theatrical portrayals of a villain, rather than things he truly believes, because he doesn't talk like that after Ozzie's when he realized just how much he had unintentionally been hurting Blitz. Don't fall for his ruse, guys, especially not when it's as blatantly obvious as it was in Mastermind.

[ilikeicecoffee-blog]

HEHEHEHHEE🤭🤭 Why it's so GOOD, I think I'd like to view this a SECOND TIME (if you get what this is referencing, you're even more awesome than you already are🤭) *smirking kitty*

But no fr tho, I love everything about this comic sm🔥 Because when you really think about it, even the little detail of how Bowser is holding Mario shows just how much he respects (and cares about) him as not just a person, but as his archenemy! He could've simply dragged his unconscious body back or carried him in a manner that would probably hurt him, but nope, he has him close in his arm to keep him warm enough to stay alive and make sure he makes it back in one piece😌

That and I can see Bowser slipping up by indirectly telling Mario he saved him that day🤭

*Before their next fight*

Bowser "Yeah, you could've been a frozen icicle had I not fo— I MEAN SOMEONE FOUND YOU!"

Mario "How do you know that? Do you have something to say, Bowser, hmmm?"

Bowser "ERM, NO! NOW, LET'S FIGHT ALREADY!"

Mario "Okay, whatever you say! (I think I now know who saved me that day)*smirking kitty*"

Had this scenario in my head for a while. I love expanding on the relationship of my two favorite Mario characters from the games.

[sitepathos]

I'm curious, how do you think the batfamily would react when they found out that reader's a sweet tooth? (Alfred already know, obvs. The man probably have fed him so much sweets before reader moves out)

You lived in Wayne Manor for over 10 years with Alfred’s cooking filling your belly, so yeah, it’s safe to say you have a sweet tooth, your favorite being his award-winning cookies.

Alfred’s really slick, so he’d be very methodical about gaining entry into your house, his deserts being the perfect way to grease the door.

First, he started calling you on a regular basis, constantly slipping baking into the conversation, making your mouth water and cry out for his sweets.

After a few days, he’d say he went too crazy on baking and made too many deserts to eat himself (the rest of the family is being punished for allowing you to be kidnapped and nearly killed, with being left to fend for themselves food-wise being among the punishments).

Just as he planned, you tell him you’d really like to eat his baking (just as he planned) and he says he can use Bruce’s jet to fly to Nevada and the two of you can catch up and eat at your house.

Of course, you try to dissuade him, saying that’s completely unnecessary, but he insists, sweetening the deal (pun intended) by saying he made the jello cake from the Fallout Show with you in mind.

As he expected, you agreed to it and told him you’d pick him up from the airport, but only after he promised you that he was the only one coming, to which he agreed (he’s trying to bring you home and your father and siblings are only making things worse).

You’re blown away be the amount of desserts he brought, all neatly packing in boxes of various sizes, ranging from small enough to be carried by one hand to so large, you need a cart to carry it (but with the Megamycete, you’re more than capable of carrying it).

When he enters your house, he makes sure to complement how clean it is and how you decorated it (your father and siblings could really learn a thing or two from you).

As you two eat, he talks about how empty the manor’s been since you left and how much he misses you, to which you respond that you miss him as well, but you’re really happy to be back in Goodsprings and you’ve definitely improved since leaving Gotham.

As much as he wants to persuade you to come back home, or at least consider moving back to Gotham (he’d be more than happy to make Bruce pay for a penthouse apartment for you if it meant having you close), he knows it’ll take more than one day of talking and eating sweets to make that a reality and he’s more than willing to play the long game.

Still, he did have another objective coming here: finding your baby pictures (someone asked me about Alfred getting baby photos, so I decided to combine the two), so he finds a way to shift the conversation about your mother, wishing he could’ve met her before her tragic death.

Of course, you’re more than happy to offer to show him the pictures you put in storage (you’ve always been a sweet boy, so helpful) and he takes you up on your offer.

After showing him a few pictures of just her prior to your birth, he laments that you look just like her and how cute you must’ve looked as a baby and how he wishes he was there to welcome you into the world, leading to you pulling out your Baby’s First Photo Album, featuring pictures of your pregnant mother to her holding you in her arms after giving birth to you.

This album is a treasure trove to him, giving him glimpses into moments of time that your father should’ve been a part of.

That he should’ve been a part of.

He can’t help but tear up when you get to the part where you took your first steps, walking towards the person holding the camera, most likely your mother.

He manages to get you to leave the room to get him a tissue because he forgot his handkerchief (it’s a lie, he never leave the manor without at least two of them) and while you’re gone, he gets to work.

You’d no doubt notice if pictures from this album went missing after he left, but he can get out his phone and take pictures of these photos.

Until you return home (and all your pictures are placed in the Wayne Family archives where they belong), these crude pictures will have to tie him over.

He’s quick to take pictures of everything, including pictures of your mother because even if she and Bruce never married, she’s still part of the Wayne Family (and he’ll die on that hill).

When he returns home, he tells them that he managed to enter your home no problem and in fact, you welcomed him with open arms (part of their punishment is having to listen to him gloat, making all of them feel even worse).

Things only escalate when he nonchalantly tells them that he not only saw your baby photos, but that he managed to take pictures of them.

They beg, they plead, they barter (Bruce is the worst of them, throwing away all his dignity), but he refuses to let them get even a glimpse of them.

These pictures are meant for him.

They’ll just have to wait until you return home to see the originals.

And in the meantime, he’ll make sure to emphasize how adorable you looked as a baby every chance he gets.

[al-norton]

Yesterday I was hanging out with a couple of friends on discord - one of them from my city, one of them from a little village in the north of Ukraine. We're talking about dnd, because meeting for a game 3 times a week is not enough for us, apparently. At some point one of my friends interrupts the conversation with a little remark - "damn, the shooting is louder then usual today'. I suggest "cellar time" for his safety. We laugh. All 3 of us joke about how none of us have appropriate shelter nearby and how annoying it is when the sirens start blasting as you're walking your dog. Conversation moves on.

Some 10 minutes later the same friend interrupts the conversation again, audibly startled. "Fuck, guys, I gotta go" - and mutes himself.

That is harder to ignore. We stay silent for a minute.

Still, he is muted and not out - so his house probably isn't blown up. He took the time to warn us, so he personally is probably fine. And we know that discord does pick up the sound of explosion if it's happening close enough, and we haven't heard anything, so his immediate family is probably safe.

Further than that, there's no use to speculate. We won't know until - if - he comes back.

Slowly, we pick the conversation back up.

He comes back some 15 minutes later: "Guys, our hayloft is on fire". "How on fire?" - I ask. "Fully on fire". The cracking of the wood was loud enough to mistake it for the shooting, so it took awhile to notice anything out of the ordinary.

It's no big deal, apparently - no one was in the hayloft, not even the cat that likes to sleep there. The firefighters arrived 20 minutes later and even managed to save some of the hay. We chatted about dnd and the first season of arcane for 2 more hours.

It's a fun story, a cute one, even. But it takes it's place among others: the fact that every time I go to a bus stop I have to walk by my school currently constructing an underground facility so children don't have to stop classes with every air raid alarm that goes off. The fact that I celebrated my joint birthday with my uncle in candle light because of another attack on our power system. The fact that every explosion that i can faintly hear on discord as I talk to my friends, or that shakes the ground as I do groceries, or wakes me up at 2 am - carries real people with it being killed and injured. The fact that hearing the sound of shooting is enough for us to assume that "things are normal".

The normalcy of war is a terrifying and infectious thing - even for us, people living under under occupation and constant attacks. I can imagine it only gets worse as you get farther from the action. As we slowly approach the end of the 3rd year of this war going on, please, don't let yourself believe this is okay.

If you're able to, advocate with your officials for more help being sent to Ukraine. Donate to Come Back Alive, if you're able to. If you're able to, enjoy the peace.

[daytaker]

"Would you still love me if I was a worm?"

Lucifer

*Looking up from the mountain of actually important paperwork he's trying to get through right now.* "No, probably not."

Worm Love Scale: 2 / 10 ██▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒

Leave him alone, honestly. He's dealing with enough bullshit right now without your stupid meme questions.

Mammon

"Hell yeah I'd love ya if you were a worm! I'd carry ya 'round in my pocket or something! Haha! I mean... like... Not permanently though, right?"

Worm Love Scale: 6 / 10 ██████▒▒▒▒▒▒

Like, you're just talkin' about a hypothetical situation where Solomon does somethin' stupid and ya turn into a worm temporarily, and we fix it, and you change back into a person! ...Right?

Leviathan

*Blushing...* "...I'd probably love you a little more if you were a worm..."

Worm Love Scale: 9 / 10 ██████████▒▒

Worms are just...really cute, okay? You wouldn't understand.

Satan

"I think I love you a little less just for asking me that."

Worm Love Scale: 1 / 10 █▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒

Ask stupid questions, get stupid answers, bitch.

Asmodeus

"Ummmmm... Could I see a picture of the worm first?"

Worm Love Scale: 3 / 10 ███▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒

He'd feel bad saying 'no', but... Eugh... Worms are not cute...

Beelzebub

"Yeah."

Worm Love Scale: 7 / 10 ███████▒▒▒▒

Sure he would. Beel would love you no matter what.

Belphegor

"Probably not... You can't really cuddle with a worm..."

Worm Love Scale: 2 / 10 ██▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒

Slimy and cold and not very cuddly... There are obvious downsides in worm physiology.

Diavolo

"What an interesting question. On one hand, I think I prefer how you look in your current state, but when I think about it, it would be very convenient to be able to carry you from place to place if you were worm-sized. We could spend so much more time together, hahaha!"

Worm Love Scale: 7 / 10 ███████▒▒▒▒▒

The demon lord is nothing if not flexible. He'd probably be able to figure something out to benefit everyone.

Barbatos

"I can't say I'm overly fond of worms."

Worm Love Scale: 2 / 10 ██▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒

Better than a rat, though.

Solomon

"Oh, my dear apprentice. You should know by now that no horrific transfiguration could dampen my affection for you."

Worm Love Scale: 8 / 10 ████████▒▒▒

Yeah, just try and shake him off with a little worm transformation. See how that goes for you.

Simeon

"What a strange question. I suppose that would depend on a few factors! Would we have met in our current bodies first? I have trouble envisioning myself coming to love a worm I'd only ever known in its worm form..."

Worm Love Scale: 5 / 10 █████▒▒▒▒▒▒▒

You can't just ask a question like that without any context.

Luke

"Ew! Er... I mean, Father says to love all creatures, but..."

Worm Love Scale: 3 / 10 ███▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒

He'd really rather not....

[weasleysbliss]

𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬, 𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭 | 𝐭𝐨𝐦 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐯𝐨𝐥𝐨 𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞

pairing: tom riddle x slytherin!reader

summary: each week, y/n finds a new anonymous letter waiting for her everywhere she goes—poetic, mysterious, and increasingly intense. as the notes grow more captivating and unsettling, y/n becomes determined to uncover the writer’s identity. one day, she discovers it’s tom riddle. now, y/n must decide how to handle the dangerous boy who’s been watching her from the shadows.

warnings: slight cursing, small mention of smut

word count: 1.8k

➽────────────────❥

You sighed in exhaustion, using your remaining stamina to climb the stairs to your dorm room. As you reached the door, you unlocked it with your wand. Finally, you could rest, you thought. You glanced over at your bed—it had never looked more comfier.

You huffed, still remembering you had to shower. Placing your tote bag on your desk, you caught sight of a piece of paper in the corner of your eye. "I probably forgot to throw this out," you thought. But just as you were about to toss it into the trash, something stopped you, and you unfolded the note instead.

The note read, “You don’t notice me, but I see you. You are intriguing—more than anyone here. You have my attention, Y/N.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion and annoyance. "What twit is fucking around with me?" you muttered, raising your voice slightly as you slammed the note back on the table. You didn’t throw it out, though. Something told you not to.

Despite the irritation from the note, you carried on with your night and eventually fell into a restless slumber.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

A week passes with no new notes in sight—not that you’ve given it much thought. The first one had slipped from your mind soon after you received it.

You were in your Charms classroom, half-listening to Professor Flitwick as his voice reminded you of those ambient sounds that help you fall asleep. You were about to doze off any second.

"Turn to page 416 in your textbooks," Flitwick instructed. You clicked your tongue under your breath.

You pulled your textbook from your bag and began flipping through the pages until you reached page 416. And there it was. A note. Without thinking, assuming it was the same as the last one, you unfolded it.

"You read by the fire every evening. Do you ever wonder if someone is looking back?"

no. fucking. way.

Fear gripped you as you read the note. Someone is watching me? Panic rushed through your mind. Am I being stalked? Too many unsettling thoughts swirled in your head.

The class wasn’t even over, but you couldn’t stay another minute without spiraling into overthinking. In a hurry, you grabbed your tote bag and the note, then stormed out of the classroom. You heard Professor Flitwick call your name, but you didn’t bother turning around.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The week after the Charms class incident, you began to expect the notes to appear wherever you went. But now, you found yourself paying close attention to anyone who might seem suspicious or could be the culprit behind this note fiasco.

Unfortunately, no one was able to catch your attention. This was a guessing game, and you were terribly losing. Not one person you could suspect.

You had classes with most of your fellow Slytherins, excluding females—Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini, and Tom Riddle. But there’s no way any of them could be behind this, right?

Usually, you and your friends would hang out after school—whether it was catching up, gossiping, or filling each other in on the latest boy drama. Standing in the circle with your friends, you listened to them, but you made sure to stay alert, keeping an eye on your surroundings.

You still weren’t going to give up.

On this particularly chilly day, you were lucky enough to remember your jacket. Your hands were starting to freeze as the cold air bit at them. You stuffed your hands into the pockets, hoping for some warmth, but instead, you felt something—paper.

You pulled it out. Another note.

Excusing yourself from your friends, you claimed you had to go back to your dorm to start your pile of assignments. On your way there, you unfurled the note once again.

"You deserve admiration from someone who sees your true potential. I could give you the world—or take it from anyone who gets in my way."

Frustration bubbled inside you, eating away at your patience. You still had no idea who was behind these notes.

Once you reached your dorm, you tossed the note aside and began searching for the other two you’d hidden around the room.

To your luck, you found the other two. You laid all three notes side by side, carefully examining each one as you read them over again.

"Whoever this is, they must be really slick around me," you muttered under your breath, your annoyance growing with each passing second.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Another week passed, and you were expecting a note once again. You silently hoped this would be the last one.

You were walking swiftly down the hallway, your hair swaying with each step. You noticed Tom Riddle approaching, but as he passed, he suddenly stopped.

"Something's waiting for you on your bed," he said. Before you could respond, he turned and disappeared into the crowd, vanishing in less than a second.

Your expression froze, a mixture of confusion and worry spreading across your face. How does he know something’s waiting for me in my dorm? Did he get inside? How? Or does he know someone who put something there? Is it another note? What is it?

You shook the thoughts from your mind and quickened your pace towards your dorm. Anticipation surged through you—you had to find out what it was.

Once you reached your dorm, your eyes immediately went to what Tom had mentioned—your bed. There, lying on the bed, was a note. You snatched it up and opened it without a second thought.

"If you’re bold enough, meet me at the Astronomy Tower at midnight. Let’s see if you’re worthy of the attention you’ve earned." Tom’s name was signed at the bottom.

It was Tom Riddle who had been writing to you all this time. He was the same person who had snuck into your dorm and secretly placed the notes in your textbook and jacket.

You had to admit, Tom was undeniably attractive. His masculine features were striking, and you couldn't help but notice how handsome he was. Despite his looks, one thing about Tom—he always got what he wanted.

You had a small crush on him back in your third year, but it never lasted long—you never thought he’d reciprocate those feelings.

Now, though, what awaited you tonight was all you could think about.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

11:50 PM. Ten minutes until midnight. That gave you just enough time to make your way to the Astronomy Tower. You left your dorm room, silently praying this whole thing wouldn’t end up a disaster—and hoping you wouldn’t get caught by a professor for being out so late.

Your nerves were getting the best of you. Usually, it wasn’t an issue when it came to boys—after all, you were the one who flustered them most of the time. But this was different.

It was Tom Riddle. He was unlike any other Slytherin guy you’d met—more charming, reserved, and undeniably alluring.

As you made your way to the Astronomy Tower, your mind raced, running through different scenarios of how this whole situation could unfold.

You didn’t realize how much time had passed while your mind scrambled, but when you glanced up, the clock had already struck 12:00 AM. Thankfully, you were just in time. With one final step, you reached the top of the Astronomy Tower.

And there he was—the man himself, Tom Riddle. His back was faced to you as he gazed out at the night sky, waiting for your arrival.

You didn't even get a chance to make yourself known at the scene, because he already had. He felt your presence behind him, and turned to face you. Your eyes locked with his deep, dark ones.

"You came," he said, his voice smooth, a touch of satisfaction lacing his words.

"You wanted me to," you replied, your tone sharper than you intended. After all the trouble with the letters, it felt impossible to hold back. "What do you want from me, Tom?"

He took a step closer, his expression unreadable. "I thought I made it clear. I don’t want anything from you—I want you."

Your breath hitched, the weight of his words sinking in. "And if I don’t want to be part of... whatever this is?"

Tom’s lips twitched into the faintest hint of a smirk, though his gaze softened. "I don’t think you’d be here if you didn’t. You’re curious, drawn to me, just as I am to you. Admit it."

You hesitated, every warning in your head screaming to turn and leave, but your feet stayed rooted in place. "You don't know me, Tom," you said, putting sharp emphasis on the word 'don’t'.

"Oh, but I do," he spoke, still stepping closer. His voice dropped, sending a shiver down your spine. "I’ve watched you, studied you. You’re clever, gorgeous, ambitious, and so much stronger than you give yourself credit for. You could be extraordinary—we could be extraordinary together."

The weight of his words wrapped around you like a spell, leaving you dizzy and unsure. "What if I don’t want that kind of power?" you whispered, barely trusting yourself to speak.

Tom leaned in, his voice low and filled with something almost tender. "Then I’ll prove to you why you do."

His hand brushed yours, and you didn’t pull away. Instead, you met his gaze, the intensity there making your heart race. "I haven’t decided yet," you admitted softly.

"Then let me give you something to think about," he murmured. His fingers tilted your chin up, and for a moment, he paused, his dark eyes searching yours. When you didn’t move, he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was both gentle and inarguably commanding.

The kiss was so intoxicating it almost felt like you were floating. His lips were astonishingly soft, almost unreal in their tenderness. They perfectly aligned with yours as you both explored each other’s mouths. His hands gently slid up your skirt, fingers tracing your smooth skin. The combination of his touch and the kiss sent waves of sensation through you, making it impossible to want to pull away from either.

It ended as quickly as it began, leaving you breathless.

His hands remained under your skirt, his palms hugging your curves as if they were made for you. His fingers trailed lower to your already-soaked cunt, grazing your sweet spot. He knew that touching you in a sensitive place would manipulate you into wanting him more—hence why he did it. Heat rushed to your cheeks, and a soft, involuntary whimper escaped your lips at his teasing touch.

"You're already mine," he murmured, his voice low and sultry. "But I could show you so much more—if you let me." His hand came out of your skirt, and made it's way to your waist. He ended with a passionate kiss to your neck, his teeth grazing your skin in a small bite that made you wince—though the sensation only fueled your desire.

"I’ll wait for your answer, darling." he said, his voice smooth as silk. With one final, lingering glance—seductive and full of promise—he turned and disappeared into the shadows, leaving you alone in the cold night air. Your heart raced, and your mind was a blur, overwhelmed with thoughts of him and a deep, undeniable desire.

Needless to say, he undoubtedly won a chance with you.

He was yours, in secret.

[mochatsin]

What if MC doesn’t take pain medicine and tries to tough it out? The demon bros would probably panic a bit

Some painkillers do the opposite and add pain for me. Very not good.

I will do everything in my power to not get injured or fall on the ground. This gets thrown out the window at times. An Example of this: I got multiple fire ant bites/stings cause I was in flip flops and brushing the ants off of someone else that was in shoes. They didn’t get a single bite/sting and I triple checked. (I have a personal vendetta against fire ants)

Sorry if this is too long

Have a wonderful day/night :)

omg i pray you never have to experience another fire ant bite… that sounds so painful. Thank you for sharing this though!! I hope you don’t mind me taking inspo from those fire ants for this brain rot “=3=) 

Given that a lot of things in Devildom that’s normal for demons yet lethal for humans exist almost everywhere, it’s only natural how the brothers could be so protective of you. Unfortunately, it’s impossible to protect you from every single thing that could hurt you. 

Maybe it’s a poor judgment of your pain tolerance, or you’re tired of being this weak feeble human that those demons make you turn out to be that led you here. There was a time you were taking pictures of the lake with Luke and got bitten by an insect hidden in the grass you were standing on. You had to reassure Luke it was fine since it’s not the first time you’ve got insect bites before, but you completely forgot that this was an insect from Devildom. 

It started as a dull ache as you dropped Luke off from Purgatory hall, but it gradually became worse when you were almost back home. However, the pain was already bad enough that you needed to sit down by the front porch to check on your leg. There’s a bit of swelling and redness around the bite which didn’t look too good, though you just covered it up with your pants because you thought maybe if you wash it off with some soap it would take away the discomfort. The struggle was getting to the bathroom without anyone noticing, but you made it with much difficulty and tried to disinfect it as best as you can. 

Unfortunately, the pain did not disappear as you hoped. You groaned when Lucifer called you to go for dinner and immediately hissed from the pain as soon as you moved your leg. It’s been an hour since you washed that bite and the swelling didn’t get better at all. This will be fine, you thought as you tried to take little steps to make it to the dining table.

One, two, three… six… and you tripped by your tenth step. Barely halfway out of the room.

The loud thud was enough to alert the brothers as you heard several hurried footsteps before they barged into your room with worried looks. You’re on the floor looking like you’re in so much pain, of course they’d start acting all frantic. When you tried to stand, you wobbled and Beel was the one that grabbed onto you before you could fall again. “Hold on,” He said before effortlessly carrying you in his arms.

Beel placed you back on the bed carefully, and Satan is the one that rolled up your pants to inspect your leg when he noticed your struggle to stand. Wide eyes and dropped jaws can be seen on each of their faces when they see the red rashes on your skin. 

“D-darling, were you bitten?” Asmo said while taking a step back, repulsed by how your skin looked like now. He acted like you’re contagious.

Belphie stared at your leg before hissing just at the mere sight of it. “Yeesh… I had that before when I slept in the forest. Stupid bugs… they got you too, huh?��

Lucifer just sighed as soon as you nodded your head yes. “Levi, go get the first aid kit. We have to disinfect this.” The purple haired demon immediately obeyed and left the room in haste, mumbling his anxieties under his breath about an anime he watched that was similar to what’s happening now. 

The eldest stared at you in the eye and you couldn’t tell if he’s looking at you from disappointment or pity. “Later, we’re going to have a discussion about why you didn’t come to us sooner about this.” Some brothers agreed with him since this is quite the serious wound, and if your bad habit was toughing out the pain then they’re gonna have to fix that after they patch you up. “You’re in a lot of pain, I can tell. For now, let's get you some pain killers. We have some from the human realm by Solomon’s recommendations, it should be safe for you–” Lucifer gets cut off mid sentence when you grabbed his sleeve before he could stand. 

You explained to them that you normally try to tough out injuries since painkillers don’t work for you. There are times they even make the pain worse when you try to block it out, so you’re quite used to dealing with it whenever you’re injured. It’s not a rare condition, it just happens to some humans where painkillers bring out an opposite effect and you don’t want to imagine the pain you’re feeling now to be even worse than this.  

Of course the news is distressing to the brothers. Mammon couldn’t seem to wrap his head around what you’ve just explained, and it seems to even irritate him more. “W-whaddya mean it ‘makes it worse’?! That’s just stupid!” He growled as he ran a hand through his white hair out of frustration. “It ain’t doin’ its job. It’s literally in the name!” 

Even Satan had this bitter expression on his face. “I’ve read so many books on pain relief medicine… only for them to not. work. at. ALL?!” You knew well enough that he was more upset about the situation than at you. Satan took many precautions for cases like these, but it didn’t occur to him that pain relievers do the opposite effect. He was angry at himself with how he wasn’t prepared enough. Satan means well, though that didn’t stop Asmo from taking Satan out of the room so he could calm down rather than make things worse.

This opened a new predicament for the brothers who realize you can’t exactly take regular pain killers, good thing they didn’t stock up on those as originally planned or it all would’ve gone to waste. Luckily there was a disinfectant from the first aid kit that could get rid of that awful bite. 

You wanted to say you were relieved, but you spent the next hour answering every question they have about your ‘condition’, specifically if there’s anything else you’re allergic to that they should know. They settled with having Solomon over to cast a spell to heal you or numb the pain since that wouldn’t trigger any allergies. Though the sorcerer had to deal with the constant texts from Asmo or Satan who worry about you. 

Solomon was happy to offer you a free alchemy lesson on crafting your own magical painkiller. Anything to get a good night’s sleep.

[annwrites]

⸻ tell me i'm your national anthem. part five. ⸻

· pairing: homelander x collegestudent!reader · type: part of a series · summary: tragedy strikes when a plane crashes. john insists upon your relationship taking the next step. · tags: mothering kink, lactation kink · tw: possessiveness, codependency, attachment issues · word count: 3,742

One hundred and eighteen people are dead. In an instant. Just…gone. Fallen from the sky. Innocent people just trying to get from one place to another. Including a mother and her little girl. Teachers, families, couples…

It’s been everywhere today: on the news, social media, and on the lips of every person you pass in the halls at your college.

And you feel sick every time you think of the terror they must’ve felt. How…helpless they were as they probably clung to each other in those final moments, praying for someone—something—to save them…

You try to push it out of your mind, to the best of your ability, so you might make it through the rest of the day without bursting into a puddle of tears.

That evening, you pick idly at your dinner as you watch John on your flat screen.

Three minutes. If he’d been three minutes sooner, there at least would’ve been a chance at saving them.

And then you watch as he actually gets choked up—as tears stream from his bloodshot eyes—and your own chin wobbles in response.

Please, God, don’t let him blame himself.

He got there as quickly as he could.

While part of you hates him—is terrified of him—for the way he’s been treating you since first meeting a handful of days ago, you're sure he would’ve practically carried that plane to safety if it’d still been in the air when he arrived. He has every right to be angry. To be upset. Because countless lives have now been destroyed, and over a hundred taken through an act of evil—of terrorism.

At least they’re dead now, too.

You hope that if there is a hell—from whatever religion is it that they prescribed to—that they’re suffering in it.

You glance down to your barely-touched dinner, then rise to put it away.

Once you’ve brushed your teeth and are ready to lie down for the night, you glance to your balcony doors, and, most unexpectedly, fill with disappointment when you find the space to be empty.

Then, you quickly fill with guilt immediately after. How could you expect him to show up here after the day he’s had? You are the furthest thing from his metaphorical plate—from his mind.

The real world is calling now, and your time of being a distraction to him is over.

He’s gone, and he’s not—

Just as you step toward the doors to close your curtains is when he lands outside them, causing you to jump from fright.

And then tears quickly gather in your eyes as you turn the handle.

John turns around slowly, and he gently rests his hands on his hips while shrugging slightly. “I—”

He shakes his head and glances to his feet. “I tried. I really—if I’d gotten there sooner—”

You throw yourself against his chest and wrap your arms around his neck.

“Oh, baby, I’m so sorry,” you choke out between sobs.

You run your fingertips through his hair and bury your face in his shoulder.

“It’s not your fault,” you whisper. “There is nothing you could’ve done. This is not your fault.”

He slips an arm beneath your legs, and he carries you back inside.

John currently has one of your nipples in his mouth, and is gently sucking on it for comfort while you rub his head and keep blankets tucked tightly around him.

You turned quiet white noise on awhile ago to try and lull him to sleep, but every time you think he might be close to drifting off, he begins sucking again.

Such a strange arrangement this is tonight. And in general, really.

But you won’t tell him no in anything he needs to soothe himself. He’s been through utter hell today, and he came to you of all people to make it better. To hold and console him.

“Do you think they’ll do it?” You whisper.

He hums in curiosity.

“Let supes into the military,” you explain while resting a palm against the warm skin of his back.

He releases your breast from his mouth and swallows before replying, wishing you could lactate. He’d like that tonight. But he instead has to make do with what you have to offer.

At least he has the rest of you to do with as he pleases. Whether you like it or not.

And you’re even stupid enough to buy his sob story about being filled with immeasurable guilt over not being able to save the day. When, in reality, he doesn’t feel an ounce of it.

Because, really, it may just work out in the long-run for Vought, and get them exactly what Madelyn has been wanting for months on-end.

He smiles at the thought of her being pleased with him this time. She should’ve been for the last plane he brought down, but he set things right with those words he fed VNN just a handful of hours ago.

And now here he lies in your arms, while you coo over him like a loving mother.

He snuggles closer to you, feeling completely content for once.

He could get used to this. But only when he needs it—rather, wants it—of course. He can’t keep coming over here every night like he has been. Can’t come off as needy.

Even if he feels like he does need it: you, your attention, affection, and maternal comfort and love.

Finally, he replies. “It’d be ignorant as shit for them not to after what happened today, don’t you think? I mean, for the military to say that they’d rather have ordinary soldiers on the frontlines, as opposed to those who can survive a bullet or bombs…”

He shakes his head in indignation. “No different than today. Every day this country fails its people—people the government is supposed to be working for. Instead, they’re getting them killed needlessly. So, if us entering the military can save innocent lives, then I’m all for it.”

Your eyes flit between his while you gingerly cup his cheek, and he nuzzles into your touch. “I know that physically, you can’t be hurt.”

You trail your fingertips up to his temple. “But what about in here?”

You press a kiss to his forehead. “Sweetheart, you have already been through so much pain because of these people. Going to war…the things you’d see—”

“I can handle it,” he says, cutting you short.

You grow silent for a moment.

“Is this something you want, or something you’ve been told will happen to you if the people at Vought get their way? Meaning you have no true say.”

He’s not used to this: someone looking out for him. He’s not so stupid as to think that when Madelyn tells him that all she does is to protect him that she actually means it. She’s just…telling him what he wants to hear. But, because he’s so desperate for the attention…he’s willing to pathetically play along.

But with you, it isn’t a sick game. It’s honest. You are.

You ghost your fingertips over his lips, waiting for a response.

Until he decides that he doesn’t much feel up to trying at giving one.

So, instead, he takes your nipple into his mouth again, and he begins to suck.

You sigh quietly, but don’t push the subject. Instead, you gingerly cup the back of his head and begin to hum a nursery rhyme, so as to lull him, hopefully, to sleep.

When John wakes in the morning, it’s not in your arms, but he’s immediately comforted by the smell of eggs cooking and the sound of bacon sizzling on the stovetop across the room. And you hum along quietly to pop music, which plays softly on your little vintage countertop radio.

Sunlight streams through sheer gossamer curtains a few feet from the bed, and he’s practically swaddled in blankets, with plenty of soft pillows to keep him comfortable.

He really likes it here with you. It feels like…home. A home he’s never, in all his life—over forty years—had a chance to have. But this place is just that.

It’s well-decorated, cozy, clean, and warm. Charming. Idyllic, even. Honestly? You deserve an entire house, he thinks. He’d love to see what you’d come up with in turning it, gradually, into a home. Maybe into one for the both of you.

You playing the role of his perfect, dutiful little housewife…? He loves the idea. Fucking adores it. And it’s not like you could ever hope for better, anyway. What woman wouldn’t want such a life given to her by him of all men? Only an imbecile would refuse it.

Now, he has something to truly think about and consider. Given you continue behaving yourself for him—continue doing as he says, and being his well-behaved young lady…and playing mommy to him, which he needs most of all.

“This is nice,” John says after taking a bite of buttered toast, with a smile on his lips.

A smile that you return while gently brushing your foot against his beneath the table.

You’re still wary of him. You’re not so stupid not to be. To be wholly trusting and adoring toward him when you know what he’s capable of would just make you careless toward your own safety and well-being.

Maybe you are anyway.

But what choice do you have but to continue entertaining him like this? To continue…mothering him.

“I’m glad,” you say quietly before taking a drink of orange juice.

He leans back then, and you watch as he looks around your apartment, carefully taking in every feature and facet.

You shift nervously in your seat, wondering what he’s thinking—why he’s studying the space so intently all of a sudden.

And then his eyes meet yours again, and you merely look at him shyly from beneath your lashes while swallowing a forkful of cheesy scrambled eggs.

“I like it here,” he remarks. “It’s so…homey. You’re a good little homemaker.”

You flash him a toothy smile, and he genuinely returns it, enjoying the sight of you so happy.

You like being praised, he notes. You probably have no one to give you regular encouragement and approval. No one to give you attention.

He likes that you seemingly like having his. And certainly likes that his is the only that you have.

He doesn’t need to worry about someone else standing in his way—between the two of you. Between him and what now belongs to him. But, even if such a person existed…it wouldn’t be for much longer.

“Thank you,” you say while actually blushing. “I’ve worked really hard on it. It’s not much, but I’ve done my best with what little space and money that I have.”

He takes a sip of milk, then licks his lips. “I can tell. I do wonder, though…”

Your brows furrow when he begins to trail off. “What, baby?”

The corner of his mouth twitches. God, he really fucking loves when you call him that. He likes when you call him any pet name, in truth. Baby, sweetheart, sweetie… He wishes you’d call him more. Like, perhaps, your sweet baby boy—or your perfect little boy. Maybe, in time, you will.

He shrugs, then waves his hand, as if he’s trying to be nonchalant. When, in reality, he wants you to push him to tell you. Wants you to show interest in what is it that he has to say. Wants to know that what he thinks matters to you more than anything. Well, that he matters to you more than anything—not just what he thinks.

You gently set your fork down on your plate, then rest your hands in your lap. “You can tell me. It’s okay.”

He glances to his right, to where your balcony doors lie. “Just wondering what you might think about my place at Seven Tower.”

You blanch momentarily as he looks back to you.

He’s about to segue into asking you to come see it, isn’t he? His apartment, that is. You wouldn’t be surprised if he offers to give you a tour of the entire building, just as an opportunity to show off. Not just how he, most likely, knows the whole of the place like the back of his hand, but also so you can witness how everyone there probably bows and scrapes before him: the face of the Seven. The face of Vought. The face…of the entire country—of America.

You know he’s waiting for a specific response. An agreeable one. One that will please him.

“What’s it like?” You ask, feigning mild curiosity, even if you couldn’t care less.

It’s probably like every other corporate skyscraper: soulless and without character. Just a giant advertisement for their brand. A monument to their greed.

He takes a bite of his bacon and chews thoughtfully for a moment before answering. “Guess you’ll just have to come and see for yourself to find out.”

You proceed to stare at him in response to his, admittedly, predictable answer.

You refrain from shifting in your seat, so as to prevent him from bearing witness one of your ‘tells’ for when you feel uncomfortable.

“Oh. W-when?”

You grab your glass of orange juice and hold it between your hands to try and keep them steady—to prevent them from shaking from nerves.

“How about today?” He replies, taking another bite of his eggs.

You grip the glass more tightly. “How? I mean—”

“I can fly you up. We’ll just go in through the roof. No need to bother with metal detectors and what-not.”

You nod slowly.

At least you won’t have to worry, then, about crowds and people snapping pictures of you on their cellphones. That is the very last thing you desire: obnoxious notoriety, and to have yourself splashed across the cover of a supermarket tabloid with a question in bold print asking who Homelander’s new girl is.

And there’s still Emma.

Emma, who you’ve been…somewhat avoiding as of late, strictly from guilt. Guilt that you’re lying to her by omission. Omitting the fact that you’re carrying on with Homelander, for lack of a better term, that is.

If she ever finds out, her heart will break in two. You’re dealing with enough right now, such as the man who sits before you. Adding the loss of your best friend to the list of stressors upon you might just be more than you can handle.

“Okay,” you finally say in reply.

John watches and trails along behind you as you walk slowly around his apartment, looking it over.

He suddenly feels like all his nerve endings have been exposed. It’s a similar—if not near-identical feeling—to how he felt that first night he laid in your arms without a stitch of clothing on, minus his briefs.  But he’s gotten used to it; likes it even: the warmth of your body against his own in the middle of the night, when it feels like the two of you are all that’s left in the world.

“So, what do you think?” He asks, eager for your thoughts.

You turn around and ease your head back as you gaze up at him and into irises of blue.

“It…” You trail off.

You don’t want to anger him with your answer, but are also growing tired of lying to spare his overly-sensitive feelings. It’s exhausting walking this dangerous tightrope every time you’re together.

If he doesn’t want an unpleasant answer, then maybe he shouldn’t have brought you here in the first place, and furthermore shouldn’t be asking your opinion on his personal living space.

You nearly flinch when he reaches up and cups your cheek.

You truly detest his suit, including his gloves.

So, you reach up, take his hand in yours, and pull gently against the fingertips of the soft red material.

He stays quiet as you remove it, and then his other one, before tossing them both onto a nearby table.

You blink innocently up at him and he smiles.

You fill with relief that he didn’t take offense to the gesture.

God, he is truly exhausting.

He cups your cheek again and brushes his thumb along your soft, flushed skin. “You can be honest.”

You mentally raise a brow at that. “Did you decorate it, or—”

He purses his lips and shakes his head. “No. Not something I’d ever waste my time with.”

He smirks. “That’s women’s work.”

You do raise a brow then and frown slightly as well, so he grins at your response.

He turns you around and pulls you back against his chest before wrapping his arms around your neck. “So?”

“Well, it’s very clean, which I like,” you say while resting your hands on his arms.

He snorts. Of course you’d reply with that.

“And?” He pushes, wanting for more.

You sigh. “I hate it. It’s very…empty. Impersonal. It feels like we’re in an American History museum instead of what’s supposed to be your home. There’s no…personal touches. It feels far more like Homelander’s living space, and less like my John’s.”

He stills, which you take immediate note of, and you grow cold all over.

You fucked up. Said too much. Stupid, stupid girl.

“Your John,” he whispers.

With your back against his chest, you can’t see the tears shimmering in his eyes at the sweet sentiment.

Your body loosens and relaxes, and you lean further back against him—your legs now a bit wobbly-feeling from the sudden onslaught of adrenaline.

“I mean, do you like the way it’s decorated and arranged?”

His mouth tugs into a frown and he shrugs. “I don’t spend much time here, to tell you the truth.”

You turn around and slide your hands up his chest and into his hair while standing on tiptoes. “You could always have it redone, sweetie. Hire a decorator, pick some things out and—”

He smiles widely and you shut your mouth while your brows furrow.

“What…?” You ask hesitantly while cocking your head slightly to the side.

He rests his hands against the small of your back, holding you close.

“I could just have you do it for me,” he states while sliding his hands higher, beneath the soft feminine top you have on.

Your eyes flit between his, waiting for explanation.

“You could come live here,” he explains. “We hire a decorator, like you said, or I just give you my credit card and let you do as you please to turn this place into a proper home. I foot the bill while you…y’know, go nuts.”

He…wants to live together?

Oh, no. No, no, no. That is way too big of a step to take, and far too soon.

His attachment issues know no bounds.

There’s a specific word for this level of it, isn’t there? Co…something. Codependency, yes! And now he’s made you the subject of his sick version of it. You wonder how many have come before you—have failed and disappointed him—then disappeared, per Vought, so he can inevitably find another to take their place.

Or, maybe you’re the first.

Who knows?

But if you are…why?

He never did answer that question, did he? Why you, that is.

You don’t think you should force that answer out of him right now, though.

“Baby, that is…a huge step. And I don’t think that…after only knowing each other for little over a week, for us to…take that leap—”

The light slowly drains from his eyes, and his smile disappears.

You swallow thickly while your heart jumps into your throat.

“What? You don’t want to be here? Don’t want me around?”

You jump into damage-control mode. “Of course I do, baby. But… I have less than two months left in school before I get my diploma. I’m about to be loaded down with finals. And there’s work, too. Just…to move in the middle of it all…”

You cup the back of his head and smile warmly, desperate to keep him from getting angry. Terrified of what will happen to you if you don’t succeed.

“How about this, sweetheart: we can compromise, maybe, if you like? You could pack a bag: clothes, toiletries, books and movies—I’ll even help you. Just…whatever you like. And you bring it all back to my apartment. I’ll clean out one of the drawers in my dresser for you, and some space in my closet, a spot in my bathroom—whatever you need—and you can continue staying there, just like you’ve been. But this way, it’ll feel more like your home, too. I mean, you like it better there, right? You said that you do.”

You press a soft kiss to his cheek, then gaze warmly into his eyes as you wait for—you desperately fucking hope—a positive response.

He considers for a moment—you note how he grinds his jaw while in thought—and then he exhales while nodding. “Alright. Fine. But only until you’ve graduated. Right?”

You ignore the feeling of fear that overtakes you at his insistence. “Of course. I’ll just have a lot less on my plate then, sweetie. And it’ll be good to wait. Because it’ll give us more time to get to know one another. And you to have an opportunity to make sure that that’s what you truly want: me living here. Because I’d hate to…to just move in, and you decide a week or two later that you’ve made a huge mistake, and I have no apartment to go back to because I gave it up, you know?”

He nods his head from side to side in understanding. “Okay. I’ll pack a bag or two, and I’ll just continue coming to you every night.”

He smirks while leaning down and cupping your face between his hands—the image of him crushing your head between them flits briefly through your mind—and he presses a kiss to your lips.

“Besides, I love seeing you comfortable and in your element, anyway. And it’s nice having home-cooked meals so often.”

He grabs one of your ass cheeks, and your eyes widen in surprise. “And we don’t have to worry about the lemmings here at Vought up both our asses when we’re being intimate and when you’re…y’know, looking after me.”

You nod. “That’s all I want: privacy. And for me to have you all to myself.”

You hope he likes that last bit… You only tacked it on for his benefit.

When you feel his erection suddenly pressing against your stomach—hard and firm—you have confirmation that he does.

And then he presses his lips to yours once more.

· tagging list: @emilynissangtr @highsummon @chaimshelii @sacha1slytherin

[er1nne]

interviewing drew for queer (do not copy or plagarize, original work)

The buzz of the red carpet was a living thing, pulsing with life as cameras flashed and excited voices carried over the barricades. You adjusted the hem of your pants again, smoothing it over your hips even though it didn’t need it. It was instinct, a way to channel the energy that simmered just beneath your skin. The red carpet was alive with energy, a sea of lights, cameras, and glamour that seemed to stretch endlessly into the night. You stood at your designated spot, microphone in hand, scanning the line of arriving guests with practiced ease. This wasn’t your first premiere, but tonight felt charged with a different kind of anticipation. 

You glanced at the crowd gathered just beyond the velvet ropes. Fans pressed against the barricades, their phones out, waving signs and shouting names. Somewhere behind you, another journalist was calling for their next interviewee, their voice competing with the noise of the evening.

You swallowed, shifting your weight from one foot to the other as you waited for your next interview. Your grip tightened on the microphone, the smooth surface cool against your palm. You’d done this countless times before, but tonight was different. This wasn’t just any film premiere—it was Queer.

The buzz around the project had been relentless. Raw, intimate, and deeply personal, it had stirred emotions before a single frame had even been released. And now, you were moments away from speaking with one of its stars. Drew Starkey.

You glanced down at your shoes, adjusting your stance and mentally rehearsing your questions one last time. You were prepared. You always were. But there was something about him—something about the way he carried himself, about the way he seemed to pull everyone’s attention with such ease—that made your nerves feel sharper tonight.

When you looked up again, there he was.

He moved through the crowd with an effortless grace, his tall frame cutting a striking figure under the bright lights. The black suit he wore was simple but impeccably tailored, fitting him like it had been made for this moment. His hair was perfectly tousled, the kind of artful mess that looked casual but probably wasn’t.

And then his eyes found yours, they locked on you like a spotlight, and for a moment, the noise of the red carpet seemed to fade. The corners of his mouth lifted into a small, easy smile, and before you could fully process it, he was in front of you.

“Hi, Drew,” you greeted, your voice steady despite the way your heart was racing. “Welcome. How does it feel to be here tonight?”

His smile widened as he slid his hands into his pockets, his posture relaxed but not careless. “It feels… surreal,” he said, his voice warm and measured. “Exciting, overwhelming, maybe a little nerve-wracking.”

His voice was low and even, carrying a weight that made you lean in slightly.

“Nerve-wracking?” You raised a brow, tilting your head slightly. “I find that hard to believe.”

“That’s the trick,” he replied, leaning in just slightly. His voice dropped, soft enough that only you could hear over the noise around you. “Pretend you’re calm long enough, and eventually, people start to believe it.”

“That’s a powerful way to put it,” you said. “Queer has been described as raw, vulnerable, and deeply human. What drew you to this project?”

He hesitated for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly as though searching for the right words. “It’s a story that matters,” he said finally. “It’s not just about one experience—it’s about the universal truths that connect all of us. Identity, love, loss, finding your place in the world. It’s messy, and it’s beautiful, and it’s real.”

The way he spoke, so deliberate and thoughtful, made your chest tighten. This wasn’t just another press soundbite—it was personal.

“And your character,” you pressed gently, “what was it like stepping into his shoes?”

Drew’s lips twitched into a faint smile, but there was something introspective in his expression. “Challenging,” he admitted. “And not just because of the emotional depth. It forced me to confront parts of myself I hadn’t looked at in a while. That’s what great stories do—they reflect you back at yourself.”

You nodded, his words resonating in a way you hadn’t expected. The noise of the red carpet faded further as the world seemed to shrink to just the two of you.

“What do you hope audiences take away from it?”

He exhaled softly, his shoulders relaxing as he considered your question. “I hope they see themselves in it,” he said. “Even in the parts that feel uncomfortable. Especially in those parts. Because that’s where growth happens.”

The sincerity in his voice sent a ripple through you, and for a moment, you forgot the cameras, the crowd, the lights. It was just Drew, standing in front of you, baring a part of himself that felt achingly human. As he spoke, his hand gestured lightly, and for a moment, his fingers hovered near yours—close enough that you felt the faintest hint of warmth. 

“That’s beautifully said,” you replied, your voice softer now.

His eyes held yours for a beat longer, and then his smile returned, lighter this time. “Thanks. You’re making this way too easy, by the way.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Easy?”

“For me,” he clarified, his grin widening. “I usually have to work harder for good questions.”

You laughed, the sound breaking the tension in your chest. “Well, you’re welcome, I guess.”

As the interview wrapped up, he leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. “By the way, you’re good at this.”

The words sent a flicker of warmth through you, and you barely managed a reply before he was gone, disappearing into the next wave of flashing cameras. The warmth of his compliment lingered long after he pulled away, his grin softening as he straightened and offered you a small wave before heading to the next reporter.

Later, as you replayed the conversation in your head, the memory of his gaze lingered most. It wasn’t the kind of look meant to charm or deflect, but one that seemed genuinely curious, as though he were studying you in a way that felt both disarming and personal. The faint warmth of his compliment echoed in your mind, and though you tried to shake it off as professional politeness, a part of you couldn’t ignore the quiet connection you’d felt in that moment. It wasn’t just another interview—it felt like something more.

AN: i can't wait to see queer! love drew to pieces