#lately i've been feeling lost in that gap i feel in my life

[navramanan]

Isnt it crazy how yes, my liberation notes makes me feel seen in some parts, it also makes me want to die for the things that i dont have compared to the characters

[ningningkittie]

🦨💭

[psychedelic-ink]

ㅤㅤㅤ✦ 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐘

ㅤㅤjoel miller x plus size!f!reader

genre: romance, flowershop au, jackson era, minors dni

word count: 7k

summary: you own a small flower shop in Jackson, when Ellie comes to visit, your life inevitably becomes tangled with the man who cares for her; joel miller.

warnings: age gap, piv in the middle of a flower field, no one sees, praise kink, some angst because joel, oral (fem receiving)

a/n: hello everyone! it's been a while and honestly, life has been kicking me in the gut lately with everything its got.

This originally was a commission, reader had a name and I've been working at it for months but sadly the person who commissioned be backed out last second saying they weren't interested anymore meaning I'm not getting paid for this work. Again, it's on me. Admittedly I've been slow on commissions due to my living situation and work and I should've taken half the payment upfront but trusting it was a joel fic I didn't really take extra precautions.

I decided to share it anyway, and the person who commissioned me said that I could. Any kind of writing has been hard for me to do lately and I really like how this one turned out. But since now I'm not getting paid for this work I decided to take out readers name and make some changes to the overall plot that I was given.

Sadly, I can't take any more commissions at the moment before finishing the ones I have left, but I'd be grateful for any kind of support you guys can give. I need to move out this summer (if I don't, I don't have a shadow of a doubt that my aunts will tell me to leave anyway) and I've been trying to save up as much as I can. Everything just has been a lot lately and I'm feeling anxious about my decisions and lost.

Again, any kind of support is greatly appreciated even tho I know I don't deserve it at this time:

my kofi

**dividers by @saradika-graphics 💜

You unlock the door to your quaint flower shop, the antique bell that you found and Tommy fixed chiming softly in greeting. Stepping outside, you're immediately embraced by the warmth of the morning sun, its golden rays dancing playfully on your skin. The air carries the unmistakable scent of spring, a delicate blend of fresh blossoms and earthy notes that fills your lungs with every inhale.

Dressed in a flowing dress, you feel perfectly in tune with the season as you begin arranging the colorful array of flowers on display outside your shop. The fabric of your dress sways gently in the breeze, a soft symphony of movement that mirrors the graceful dance of the petals.

Taking a deep breath, you close your eyes and tilt your face towards the sky, basking in the gentle caress of the sun's rays. Above you, the cerulean expanse is dotted with fluffy white clouds, their shapes shifting and morphing with each passing moment.

With practiced hands, you arrange the blooms with care, each stem finding its place in the intricate tapestry of colors and textures. The vibrant hues of the flowers contrast beautifully against the backdrop of the weathered brick walls of your shop, creating a scene that's both inviting and enchanting.

As you work, you can't help but smile at the thought of the joy these flowers will bring to those who pass by. It’s been hard adopting to a new and broken world, but ironically, you have found your passion. Something to make you eager to get up in the morning. Of course your heart still ached for those you had lost, the suffering, but working on flowers, something living and growing and adapting just like you managed to lighten the weight on your heart. Whether it's a simple bouquet to brighten someone's day or a thoughtful arrangement for a special occasion, your creations have a way of spreading happiness and light wherever they go.

With the last of the flowers arranged to perfection, you step back to admire your handiwork, a sense of pride swelling within you. With a contented sigh, you turn to head back inside, ready to greet the day with open arms and a heart full of gratitude.

That is, until, you hear a surprised gasp. 

“Holy shit—” 

Turning around at the sound, you're met with the sight of a familiar face. A young girl you've seen around town quite frequently. You haven’t officially met her yet, but you know her name: Ellie. 

Realizing that the young girl has never visited your flower shop before, you understand the source of her surprise. With a warm smile, you approach her and greet her by name. "You're Ellie, right? Tommy's niece?"

Ellie nods enthusiastically, her eyes bright with excitement. "Yeah, that's me! Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. I've just never been here before. The flowers are... fucking amazing—"

She suddenly claps a hand over her mouth, looking towards you apologetically. The gesture makes you laugh.

"I'm glad you like them," you reply, feeling a sense of satisfaction at her reaction. "Feel free to take a closer look if you'd like."

Her eyes light up at the invitation, and she eagerly follows you inside the cozy flower shop. The atmosphere inside is warm and inviting, with shelves lined with potted plants and bouquets of flowers in various stages of bloom. Sunlight filters through the windows, casting a soft glow over the space and illuminating the vibrant colors of the blooms.

As you lead Ellie further into the shop, you can't help but notice the curious glances she casts around, taking in every detail with a sense of wonder. The air is filled with the subtle fragrance of flowers, a delicate scent that lingers in the air and adds to the charm of the space.

"So, Ellie," you begin, breaking the comfortable silence as you approach a display of freshly cut flowers, "Anything you like? I’d be more than happy to gift you some."

Ellie's eyes sparkle with excitement as she looks around the shop. "Really? But there’s so many, how can I even choose?"

"Well, you're in luck," you reply, gesturing towards the colorful blooms around you. "I can just make you a bouquet of everything. Just pick out your favorites."

Ellie's gaze drifts over the display, her expression thoughtful as she considers your question. "Hmm, that's a tough one, they all look so fucking cool," she muses, her brows furrowing slightly in concentration. "How about sunflowers and. . . daisies? There's just something about them that feels... I don't know, hopeful, I guess."

You nod in understanding, a fond smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Sunflowers are a wonderful choice. They symbolize warmth, happiness, and positivity. Definitely a fitting choice for someone as vibrant as you, Ellie."

She grins at the compliment, "Thanks,. So, what about you? Do you have a favorite flower?"

“That’s a tough one, but I’d had to say daffodils. They just make me feel right at home. . . even though home has become a difficult word.” 

She doesn’t answer you, at least not in a way that you would expect. She nods and says,

"Let's add some daffodils to the mix too. If that’s okay.”

“If course it is. I said any flower didn’t I?”

With Ellie's choices in mind, you set to work gathering the blooms she selected, expertly arranging them into a vibrant bouquet. Your hands move with practiced precision, the gentle rustle of petals and stems filling the air as you weave the different flowers together.

Each blossom is a work of art in its own right, vibrant hues mingling together in a harmonious dance of colors and textures. Sunflowers, with their golden petals reaching towards the sky, stand tall and proud at the center of the bouquet, symbolizing warmth and happiness. Daisies, with their delicate white petals and cheerful yellow centers, add a touch of innocence and purity to the mix. And finally, the daffodils.

Beside you, Ellie watches with rapt attention, her eyes shining, "It's so pretty," she remarks, her voice filled with awe.

You smile at her words, feeling a sense of pride swell within you at the sight of her delight. "Flowers have a way of bringing joy and beauty into our lives," you reply, your voice soft with reverence. "They remind us to appreciate the simple things and to find beauty in the world around us."

Finally, the bouquet is complete, a stunning masterpiece that radiates warmth and joy. You present it to Ellie with a flourish, a sense of satisfaction washing over you at the sight of her delighted expression.

"It's perfect," Ellie exclaims, her eyes shining with excitement as she admires the bouquet in her hands. "Thank you so much. This is amazing."

"It was my pleasure," you reply, your heart swelling with happiness at her words. "I'm glad you like it. And remember, if you ever want to learn more about flowers or need some help with anything, you know where to find me."

Ellie nods eagerly, her enthusiasm infectious. "Definitely. Thanks again. This means a lot."

As Ellie turns to leave, a sudden thought seems to strike her. She pauses, her hand on the door, before turning back to face you with a mischievous glint in her eye.

"Hey," she begins, a playful smile dancing on her lips, "do you need a flower assistant? I mean, I’d be nice to work here, and you seem really cool."

"Well, Ellie," you reply with a teasing grin, "If you're serious about helping out around here, I'd be more than happy to have you on board."

Ellie's eyes widen,. "Wait, really?" she asks, her voice tinged with disbelief. "You mean it?"

You nod, your smile genuine as you reassure her. "Of course. I could use all the help I can get, especially during busy times. And besides, it'll be fun having you around. Consider yourself officially hired as my flower assistant, Ellie."

A grin spreads across Ellie's face, her eyes sparkling with excitement at the prospect of working alongside you in the flower shop. "Wow, I don't even know what to say," she admits, her voice filled with genuine gratitude. 

"No need to say anything," you grin. "Just don’t be late."

As Ellie nods, a sense of anticipation fills the air, signaling the beginning of a new chapter in both of your lives. With a shared sense of excitement and determination, you and Ellie set to work, ready to take on whatever challenges and adventures the future may hold for your blossoming partnership.

The next day unfolds with a golden hue, promising another beautiful day in Jackson. As you prepare for the day ahead, a sense of excitement tingles in the air knowing that you'll be mentoring Ellie, your newfound flower assistant. Ellie arrives earlier than you expected, her eyes oozing with sleep.

"Good morning, Ellie," you greet her with a warm smile, gesturing for her to come closer. "Ready for your first day?"

Ellie grins back, nodding enthusiastically. "Absolutely. I’m just not used to waking up so early."

With a chuckle, you lead her to the work table, where several potted plants await repotting. However, before diving into the day's tasks, Ellie's curiosity gets the better of her.

"How do you find all these flowers?" she asks. "I mean, with the infected and everything, it must be hard."

"I have a few spots outside of Jackson where I like to go to collect flowers. There's a field not too far from here that's brimming with all sorts of blooms."

Ellie's eyes widen and you can tell she's intrigued by the idea of venturing beyond the safety of the town's walls. "That sounds amazing," she breathes, her voice filled with wonder. "Do you go there often?"

You nod, a fond smile playing on your lips as you recall the countless trips you've taken to the flower field. "Yes, whenever I need to restock or find something special," you reply. "But I've also started growing some flowers myself. It's a work in progress, but it's been rewarding to see them bloom."

"That's so cool," she exclaims. "I'd love to see the field sometime, if you're up for it."

With a grin, you nod, "I'd be happy to take you," you reply. "But for now, let's focus on getting these plants repotted. We'll save the field trip for another day."

As if on cue, the shop door swings open, and a customer steps inside, a worn backpack slung over their shoulder. They approach the counter with a friendly smile, their eyes scanning the colorful array of blooms on display.

"Good morning," you greet them with a smile, your attention shifting to the customer. "How can I help you today?"

The customer returns your smile, reaching into their backpack to retrieve a small item wrapped in cloth. "I have something to trade," they explain, placing the item on the counter before you.

You unwrap the cloth to reveal a delicate piece of jewelry, a handmade necklace adorned with intricate beads and charms. It's a beautiful piece, clearly crafted with care and attention to detail.

Ellie watches with interest as you examine the necklace, her curiosity piqued by the exchange taking place before her eyes. "What are you trading for?" she asks, her voice filled with curiosity.

You glance at Ellie with a smile, impressed by her keen observation. "Well, Ellie, sometimes customers trade items in exchange for flowers," you explain, turning back to the customer. "It's a way for them to get something they need while also supporting the shop. As for how I decide what the flowers are worth, it's based on a few factors—like the rarity of the flowers, the time and effort it took to grow them, and of course, their beauty."

With a nod, you accept the necklace, carefully placing it aside before selecting a beautiful bouquet of flowers to offer in exchange. As the customer leaves the shop, their smile brighter than before, you can't help but feel a sense of satisfaction knowing that you've made another person's day a little bit brighter.

“Ellie, I’m not sure me bargin’ into your new workplace is the best introduction,” Joel says.

“You’ll be fine,” she says, dragging Joel by the arm. “Besides, weren’t you the one grumbling about not liking me spending all my time with a stranger? What else was I fucking supposed to do?”

Joel lets out an elongated sigh. “Language.”

He can’t see it, but he knows she’s rolling her eyes at him. The tiny, rundown flower shop soon comes into view and Joel can’t help but think of all the improvements he could make: the crooked step, the splintered door, the moss growing from the bottom of the woody exterior—

This shop won’t last next winter, he thinks with furrowed brows. And even though he’s been skeptical about Ellie spending all of her time here, he’s seen the improvement in her mood. Things just haven’t been the same since their return from the hospital, he couldn’t shake the distant feeling between him and her no matter how hard he tried. It had become something even he couldn’t fix.

But then, one day, she’d come home with the most beautiful bouquet of flowers he’d ever seen, with a wide smile plastered across her young face. Then she mentioned the keeper of the shop. Ever since then, his interest had been piqued.

Approaching the shop, he notices a figure outside arranging flowers, your silhouette bathed in the warm morning sun. You appear younger than he anticipated, your beauty catching him off guard. The way your dress contours your curves adds to your allure, a sight unexpected yet captivating. A gentle breeze tousles your hair as you work, momentarily leaving him speechless.

Contrasting his hesitation, you bound up to the shop with your usual cheerfulness. "Hey there!" Ellie calls out. The woman turns at her greeting, a genuine smile gracing her lips as she sets down the flowers. "Good morning!" 

He hangs back, observing as Ellie effortlessly initiates a conversation with you. Your interaction flows with ease, suggesting a familiarity beyond your brief acquaintance.

While you chat, an unsettling feeling settles within him. There's an inexplicable pull towards the shop owner, despite his attempts to resist. Watching Ellie interact with you stirs a strange longing within him, leaving him more unsettled than before.

Before he can dwell on his thoughts further, Ellie snaps him out of it. "Joel, don’t be a stranger! Introduce yourself, she's the one I've been telling you about."

With a sigh, he steps forward, his approach cautious. As your eyes meet, a peculiar sense of recognition passes between you, as if you've crossed paths in another life.

"Hi," he manages to say, his voice gruff yet not devoid of warmth. "I'm Joel."

As he clasps your hand, a spark ignites between you, a connection unfurling with each passing moment.

“Joel?” you say slowly, as if tasting his name in your mouth. “Joel as in Tommy Miller’s brother?”

Your hand feels soft and delicate as it clasps his own, and he can't help but notice the subtle tremor in your fingers. It's a small detail, but it speaks volumes, hinting at a vulnerability that he hadn't expected from this beautiful stranger.

"Yeah, that's me," he responds with a nod, offering a friendly smile in return. "Tommy's my brother."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Joel. Ellie speaks very highly of you."

As you exchange pleasantries, he finds himself drawn to the warmth in your gaze, a warmth that seems to seep into his very soul. There's an openness about you, a genuineness that he finds both refreshing and disarming.

While you talk, he can't help but be captivated by the way your lips move, the gentle cadence of your voice. It's a strange sensation, this sudden fascination with a woman he's just met, but he finds himself unable to look away.

Your conversation is interrupted by Ellie's playful interruption, and he reluctantly tears his gaze away from you, feeling a pang of disappointment at the thought of leaving your side. But as they follow Ellie into the shop, he can't shake the feeling that meeting you has stirred something within him, something that he can't quite articulate.

Entering the shop, he can't help but notice even more things wrong– the creaky floorboards, the peeling paint, the flickering lights overhead. It's evident that the place is in dire need of renovations.

Despite the less-than-ideal surroundings, Ellie's excitement is contagious, and he finds himself getting swept up in the moment. She points out various flowers, their vibrant hues and delicate petals bringing a welcome burst of color to the dreary environment.

"These lilies are my absolute favorite," Ellie exclaims, thrusting a handful of flowers towards him with a mischievous grin.

He can't suppress a surprised sneeze as the pollen tickles his nose, and they both dissolve into laughter,and momentarily, all his concerns seem to fade away.

But just as they're catching their breath, you enter the room, your presence once again capturing his attention. There's something about you that intrigues him, a warmth and kindness that draws him in effortlessly.

A sheepish smile spreads across his face as your eyes meet. You return the smile, your gaze gentle and understanding, and for a fleeting moment, it feels as though you're the only two people in the room.

“Who helped you fix the place up?” Joel asks you as Ellie runs off to change the water of the vases. “

"Tommy actually," you explain. "He's been a tremendous help, especially with all the repairs."

Joel’s brows knit together and he ignores the way your smile falters as he speaks, “Well, leave it to my brother to do a shit job. This shop won’t last next winter.”

“O–Oh. . .” you hug yourself, thumbs moving along the contours of your arms. His heart sinks in, leave it to him to make someone feel bad.

“Not to say it can’t be fixed,” he continues abruptly. “I can help you out. Wouldn’t want Ellie’s new favorite spot to get buried under the snow.”

“Really?” you gasp, smile returning. “You would do that?”

“‘Course. Why wouldn’t I?”

“I just. . . I just wasn’t expecting such an offer thank you. It means the world to me.”

Suddenly Joel feels stiff from how deeply you stare at him, and then he realizes how close they are, only a breath away between their lips. He turns his head, grunting, “Don’t mention it,” a stuttered breath leaves him. “Really. Don’t.”

Your growing smile surprises him, as does your not backing away.

“You got it, Mr. Miller.”

Watching Joel work on fixing the roof of the shop, you can't help but feel a flutter of warmth stir within you. His muscles ripple with each movement, his arms bulging with strength as he lifts heavy beams and hammers nails into place. Beads of sweat glisten on his forehead, catching the sunlight and creating a halo of light around him.

You find yourself mesmerized by the sight, unable to tear your gaze away from the sight of him. His white tank top clings to his chest, damp with sweat, and the short-sleeved flannel he wears hangs open, exposing the tank top underneath. Every movement sends a shiver down your spine, and you can't help but feel a flush of heat rise to your cheeks.

The sound of his grunts fills the air, low and guttural, and it sends a thrill through you that you can't quite explain. There's something primal about the way he works, a raw energy that draws you in and leaves you feeling breathless.

You watch as he reaches up to adjust a beam, his muscles flexing with the effort, and you can't help but imagine what it would feel like to run your hands over his warm, sweaty skin. The thought sends a shudder coursing through you, and you quickly look away, feeling flustered and embarrassed by the intensity of your thoughts.

But no matter how hard you try to focus on something else, your gaze keeps drifting back to Joel, drawn to him like a moth to a flame. And as you watch him work, you can't help but feel a strange sense of longing stir within.

But for now, all you can do is watch and admire from afar, content to bask in the warmth of Joel's presence as he works tirelessly to repair the roof of the shop. And as you watch him, you can't help but feel a sense of gratitude wash over you.

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself with determination as you clutch the bowl of freshly picked black mulberries and raspberries in your hands. With a quick glance up at Joel, who is perched precariously on the ladder, you gather your courage and make your way outside.

"Hey, Joel!" you call out, your voice tinged with nervousness as you approach the ladder. "I brought you some fruit and iced tea. Thought you could use a break."

Joel looks down at you with a grateful smile, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. "Thanks. That sounds great."

As he descends the ladder, you can't help but feel a surge of excitement mingled with nervousness. With each step he takes, you steal glances at him, unable to tear your gaze away from the sight of him.

But it's when he reaches the bottom of the ladder and stretches upwards to take the bowl of fruit from your hands that you feel your breath catch in your throat. The movement causes his tank top to ride up slightly, revealing a sliver of his stomach, and you swallow thickly at the sight.

As Joel settles down to enjoy the fruit and iced tea, you find yourself drawn to the empty spot next to him on the porch. With a nervous glance in his direction, you take a seat beside him.

The warmth of the wooden porch beneath you contrasts with the cool breeze that sweeps through, and you can't help but feel a sense of calm settle over you as you sit beside Joel. The silence between you is comfortable, broken only by the occasional sound of birds chirping in the distance.

“Lovely day, ain’t it,” Joel takes a bite of the freshly picked black mulberries, the deep purple juice stains his lips, a stark contrast against the ruggedness of his features, and you find yourself mesmerized by the sight.

The juice glistens in the fading sunlight, tracing a vivid trail along his lips as he savors the sweetness of the fruit. Each movement of his jaw seems deliberate, each bite a study in pleasure as he indulges in the simple pleasure of the moment.

A soft breeze rustles through the trees, lifting strands of his hair and sending them dancing in the golden light. But your gaze remains fixed on his lips.

The silence and sight makes you light-headed and eager to say anything, no matter how idiotic it might be. 

“Aren't you a little old to be doing this much heavy lifting?” 

“Aren't you a little too young to be lookin’ at me like that?” 

Your shoulders rise, blood rushing to your head as you look down. Your heart thuds loudly in your chest. Butterflies flutter madly within you, the wings tickling the insides of your stomach. You only swallow. “Your lips are stained from the mulberry.” 

“Whatever you say, sweetheart.” 

He takes another one, biting down with his lips, he finds your gaze. You watch a tiny drop go down his chin. The two of you are close. So incredibly close. It’s been like this since he started working on the shop. A pull that is too hard to ignore. 

“Well,” he breaks the silence. “Better finish up before the sun sets.” 

Joel stands and your heart breaks a little. You blink from where you’re sat, staring at him, yearning for him. 

“Yeah. Wouldn’t want you trying to find your way home in the dark.” 

“You know, I could’ve come here on my own. I always do.” 

“I know. Just wanted to make sure you have someone lookin’ after you.” 

“For someone to be known as a grump, you’re quite a softie.” 

“I’m leavin’.” 

“No—!”

Your fingers close around his arm, the warmth of his skin sending a shiver down your spine. For a moment, you find yourself frozen in place, your pulse quickening as you realize just how close you are to him.

Joel's gaze meets yours, and you can see a flicker of something in his eyes, something that makes your heart race even faster. His eyes drop to your lips, lingering there for a moment before snapping back up to meet your gaze. You notice the hints of a fading smile, “You were joking,” you say slowly, letting go of him. 

“That I was, wildflower,” he doesn’t move away and neither do you. Your breath catches within your throat, the moment stretching between your two like rubber. Before you can say anything Joel’s eyes flicker to something behind you and he smiles. “I think we’re here.” 

As you turn around, your heart skips a beat. The field of flowers stretches out endlessly, a sea of color and beauty that seems to go on forever. The grass has grown taller since the last time you were here, swaying gently in the breeze and creating a soft, rhythmic rustle that fills the air.

The sun hangs low in the sky, casting a warm golden light over the landscape and setting the flowers ablaze with color. Reds and yellows, blues and purples, a riot of hues that dance and swirl in the gentle breeze.

You take a step forward, the grass crunching beneath your feet as you walk further into the field. The scent of poppies and blue hyacinths fills your nostrils, sweet and intoxicating, and you can't help but close your eyes and breathe it in.

The wind sweeps across the field, sending waves of grass rippling in its wake. The sound is soothing, a gentle whisper that seems to carry you away on a tide of tranquility.

For a moment, you forget about everything else – the worries and the doubts, the uncertainties and the fears. All that matters is the beauty of this moment, the beauty of this place, and the beauty of being here with Joel. 

With a rush of emotion swirling within you, you turn to Joel, your heart pounding in your chest as you meet his gaze. He's still standing close, his eyes locked on yours with an intensity that takes your breath away.

Without thinking, without hesitating, you lean forward and press your lips to his. At first, Joel is taken aback, his body stiffening in surprise. But then, he caves, his lips moving against yours in a slow, tender rhythm.

His hands come up to cradle your face, his touch gentle yet firm, as if he's afraid you'll disappear if he lets go. You feel his tongue on your bottom lip and open up for him eagerly, the taste of him feels like electricity shooting through you. Heat pools between your legs, Your breasts tingle with the mere thought of having his hands on them, nipples aching and hard. 

Joel breaks away briefly, then closes the distance again. Small hisses against your swollen lips over and over until neither of you can breathe. He hungers for it almost. And so do you. “Joel,” you whisper, eyes cloudy. “Please.” 

“Is that what you want, wildflower?” he drags his nose down the side of your cheek, facial hair scratching delightfully against the sensitive skin of your neck. “For me to fuck you here? Right out in the open?” his voice trembles. “Like animals?” 

“God, yes—” your insides clench. “I would want nothing more. Been thinking about you since the day I met you, your hands, your mouth, you as a whole.” 

His hands drop to your ass and he gives the tender flesh a strong squeeze, “You want me?” 

“I do.” 

You suddenly find yourself on the ground, the grass tickling your exposed legs and arms, the skirt of your dress rolled up to your waist. Joel’s weight is a welcoming comfort on top of you, another gust of warm wind blows. With a groan, he pulls down the sweetheart neckline of your dress, exposing both your breasts. While holding one, he kisses the other, drawing the stiff nipple into his mouth. He sucks harshly, your body jolting with pleasure. The soaking mess between your legs grows. 

“Joel,” you moan, back arching. “Fuck—” 

He swirls the tip of his tongue around the nipple and grazes his teeth against it. Calloused fingers play with the other. Your mind is swimming in pleasure. He brings the skirt of your dress further up and traces his lips down the fabric, when you look down, you see him between your legs, his eyes darker than normal as he stares into your soul. The tips of his fingers dance along the elastic of your panties, asking for permission. 

You breathe out a yes, barely audible, but he nods and tugs the fabric down. When he latches his mouth on to you, the world stops. His mouth feels divine. His tongue delves between your folds, the bridge of his nose rubbing against your clit. You shudder against him and he moans into you. The reverberations of the sound force a gasp out of you and you swear you feel him smiling. 

His fingers trace patterns along your thighs, teasing and stroking as his mouth works wonders between your legs. You're on the edge, the pleasure building up with each flick of his tongue. You reach down and bury your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer, guiding him where you need him the most.

Joel picks up the pace, his tongue moving faster, his fingers slipping inside of you. You can feel your body starting to tighten, the coil in your stomach about to unravel. You grip onto him tighter, your hips bucking against his mouth, and with one final flick of his tongue, you come undone.

You cry out his name, your body shaking with the force of your orgasm. Joel continues to lightly lick and suck, drawing out your pleasure until you're completely spent. He makes his way back up to your lips, kissing you deeply as you both catch your breath.

“That was…” you trail off, unable to find the right words for the mind-blowing experience you just had.

“Amazin’,” Joel finishes for you.

You nod, still a little breathless. You wrap your arms around him, pressing your body against his. Joel's hands roam over your back, his touch sending shivers down your spine. You can feel his erection against your thigh, and you know that he needs release just as much as you do.

“Been so long since I’ve tasted somethin’ this sweet,” he rasps. “Thank you.” 

You hear the blood rushing in your ears, “You’re the sweet one,” you mumble, tenderly touching the scratchy surface of his cheek. “So sweet.” 

He smiles and as he kisses the curve of your palm, shuffles above you, starting to get up. A deep frown forms between your brows. “And where are you going?” you pout, wrapping your arms around him. You feel the outline of his length as he lowers himself once more, the tips of your noses brushing against one another.

“I thought you wanted to gather some flowers.” 

“Not yet,” you murmur, eyes glazed. “At least, not before feeling you inside me.” 

“Fuck, darlin’,” he lets out a whimpering breath, grinding himself against your bare cunt. “You really know how to get a man goin’.” 

“Prove it.” 

His eyes flicker with an emotion you can’t quite describe. His breath stutters, then, without even looking, he unbuckles himself, never breaking eye contact. Joel’s hair ruffles with the wind, yet he doesn’t even blink. The head of his cock catches against your clit, ripping a moan from your throat. He fills you with one sloppy thrust, the length of him stretching you enough to have your eyes rolling to the back of your skull. 

“Joel—Oh my god—” 

“That’s it, good girl, takin’ my cock so well. Feels good?” 

Slack-jawed, you nod. He goes deeper. “Want you to feel me for weeks, wildflower. And I want you to think of me every time you come to this god—” thrust. “—damn” thrust. “—field.” 

You can only moan at his words, his hands grip your lovehandles, squeezing and pulling you closer to him every time he rocks forward. His head falls into the crook of your neck, sinking his teeth into the sensitive skin, he sucks. Your body convulses, shaking against him. 

Sparks ricochet through every limb of your body as you feel the heat pooling in your core. Joel moves his hand from your lower back to cup your breast, his fingers teasing and plucking at your nipple. The pleasure ricochets through your body, making you feel like you're on fire.

“Come for me, darlin’.” Joel growls into your ear, his voice rough and primal. “Come on my cock.”

His words send you over the edge, your body shaking and convulsing beneath him as he continues to thrust into you relentlessly. The world blurs around you, all your senses consumed by the feeling of Joel's body against yours.

"Joel—" you moan, your voice lost in the wind as you reach your peak. 

He groans in response, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he chases his own release. After one final, deep thrust, he pulls out and spills over your stomach, his body shaking against yours. You both ride out the waves of pleasure until finally, you collapse against each other, panting and spent.

You lay in the flower field, a tangled mess of limbs and sweaty bodies. Joel's arms are still wrapped tightly around you, his face buried in your neck as he tries to catch his breath. You run your fingers through his hair, feeling the warmth of his body.

"I've never felt anything like this before," you say quietly, almost to yourself.

Joel lifts his head to look at you, his eyes softening. "Me neither, wildflower. Me neither."

As the sun begins to set, you both lay there, entwined in each other's arms. The field has become a symbol of something more than beauty. And as long as those flowers bloom, you know your love for each other will continue to grow.

A week. 

A week without hearing from him, seeing him, touching him. 

A painful week. 

It’s almost as if he never existed. As if the moment in your favorite field was nothing but your imagination. The only reason why you know it's real is because Ellie still comes by every day, and despite knowing it’s impossible, you still feel him deep inside. It only heightens whenever you have to travel back to the field to gather flowers for the shop. 

You watch as Ellie places more daisies into a vase. She’s been her usual self, joking around, telling you about all the details of her life. It’s hard not to ask her about Joel and how he’s been. 

Some nasty part of your mind whispers words of discouragement, telling you he only wanted you for your body, for your charm, and got what he wanted. Your heart clenches. It might be true. You were young after all, emotional, broken. He’d already gone through all that, killed to stay alive, for loved ones, gone through grief—why would he want to take on another’s problems as well? 

“Hey, Ellie?” 

She turns to you, eyes slightly wide due to the rasp of your voice, “Yeah boss?” 

“Can you watch the shop for a second, I have something I need to do that I forgot about.” 

You don't wait for her nod as you exit the shop. You know he’s home. He has to be. 

Luckily it doesn’t take you long to reach their house, your knock is loud and swift. You know you’ve taken him by surprise by the expression when he opens the door. His mouth is slightly ajar, his brows knit together. 

“What are you—” 

“I came to talk,” you brush past him, heading inside. Joel lingers at the door but soon after follows you inside anyway. 

He sighs, “What do you want to talk about?” 

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for what's to come. "Us," you reply, your voice steady despite the turmoil raging inside you. "I need to know what happened, Joel. Why you've been avoiding me."

Joel's jaw clenches at your words, his gaze flickering away for a moment before returning to meet yours. "I ain't good for you," he says, his voice rough with emotion. "You deserve better than someone like me."

You feel a surge of anger rising within you at his words, frustration bubbling up to the surface. "That's for me to decide, Joel," you say, your voice tinged with defiance. "I'm not some fragile flower that needs to be protected. I can make my own choices, and right now, I choose you."

Joel's expression softens slightly at your words, but there's still a hint of sadness in his eyes. "You don't know what you're saying," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm a mess, a broken man with too much blood on his hands. You deserve someone who can give you the world, not someone who can barely keep himself together. You’re young. You still have so much ahead of you—"

“No! That’s not what I want. I want you, you’re the only person who’s made me feel like. . . like myself. . .before. And wanted.” 

Your voice begins to shake, you see the hesitation within his body, hod his hand slightly moves forward to hold you, to touch you, but he doesn’t. 

“I can’t do this to you,” his hands slide into his pockets, he gestures to the door. “Get out.” 

The blood freezes in your veins, your eyes grow wide, your chest constricts, “What?” 

“I said to get out,” he repeats, a little louder this time. “Get out, please.” 

And you do. 

“You need to get your shit together.” 

“Language, Ellie, dammit.” 

She glares at him from across the table. It’s an early morning, earlier than he’d liked. He’s been feeling hallowed out ever since your visit. He could see the hurt in your eyes, the betrayal. He knew that he’d broken something when avoiding you, something tender and not so easily fixable. 

But what was he supposed to do? You were young, he didn’t want to trap you, didn’t want you to throw the best years of your life for an old man like him. 

Briefly, he squeezes his eyes shut. His head hurts. All he can think about is you, your body, how eager it was to take him, the delectable curves he couldn’t get enough of. 

He misses your taste on his tongue. 

“She’s miserable too, you know.” 

Joel’s eye snap wide open. “Who?” 

“You know who,” she shakes her head. “I don’t know what happened between you two, but she’s definitely upset and so are you—Just fix it. Don’t be an asshole” 

He let’s out a sigh, she’s right. He needs to fix this somehow. Joel stares at Ellie, her words hitting him harder than he expected. He hadn't realized just how much his actions had affected not only you but also Ellie. The weight of his own guilt settles heavily on his shoulders, a constant reminder of the mess he's made.

"Yeah," he mutters, his voice rough with emotion. "I know."

He runs a hand through his hair, the tension in his muscles making every movement feel heavy and strained. He knows he needs to make things right, to somehow find a way to mend the rift he's created between you and him.

But how? How could he possibly make things right after everything that's happened?

"I'll talk to her," he says finally, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'll fix it."

Ellie nods in approval, her expression softening slightly as she looks at him. "Good," she says, her tone gentle. "Because I don't want to see either of you hurting anymore."

She was right and he knew it. 

“The shop’s closed today,” Ellie says as he grabbed his jacket. “I don’t know where she is.” 

But he did. He knew exactly where you would be. The place he tasted you, the place he felt your body against him. 

Joel's heart sinks as he approaches the flower field and sees you sitting there, your shoulders hunched over as you hug your knees to your chest. He can hear your sobs from a distance, the sound echoing through the quiet morning air.

For a moment, he hesitates, unsure of what to do or say. But then, with a heavy sigh, he pushes aside his doubts and makes his way towards you.

As he draws closer, he can see your whole body trembling with the force of your emotions. His heart aches at the sight, knowing that he's the cause of your pain. He kneels infront of you, gently touching your wrists.

"Hey," he says softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's me, Joel."

You startle at the sound of his voice, lifting your head to look at him with tear-streaked eyes. For a moment, there's a flicker of surprise in your gaze, followed by a wave of raw emotion.

"Joel?" you choke out, your voice thick with tears. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to find you," he says, his voice filled with regret. "I couldn't stand the thought of you hurtin’ like this."

"I thought... I thought you didn't care," You sniffle, wiping away the tears with the back of your hand. 

Joel reaches out to gently brush a strand of hair away from your face, his touch light and tender. "I care more than you know," he says. "I made a mistake, a big one, and I'm so sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I just didn’t want you to. .  .I didn’t think I deserved someone like you."

"I missed you," you admit softly, tears still streaming down your cheeks.

Joel's heart clenches at your words, a rush of emotion flooding through him. Without hesitation, he wraps his arms around you, pulling you close as you bury your face against his chest.

"I missed you too, wildflower," he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. "And I promise, I'll do whatever it takes to make you happy."

He hears the smile in your voice. 

“You already do.” 

[penultimate-step]

Lately, I've been thinking about the effect of real-world time on perception of media. Or, wait, let me start from the beginning.

When I was 11, I read the book Ender's Game for some school assignment or another. I don't remember ever considering Ender a relatable character, but certainly my understanding of the events was shaped by being of an age to see the protagonist not so much as a young child but as someone of my peer group, someone who could have been slotted amongst my classmates without anybody batting an eye.

Over a decade later, I read the sequel, Speaker for the Dead; it takes place many years later, when Ender is in his thirties, and my feelings about the in-universe time skip were undeniably shaped by the real life time gap between my reading of the novels. Reading the first book back then and then the second book now created a feeling where it's almost like, I'm browsing the facebook page of someone I had known in middle school but lost contact with, checking up on how they're doing today. The real-time factor caused me to perceive it less like a timeskip, and more like a reunion - the feelings were closer to "oh wow, that's my boy! I haven't seen him in years! Wonder what he's up to?" Which in turn gave me a better position to appreciate the parts of the narrative about him struggling to find a place in his adulthood than I would have been had I perceived it more strictly as a quick skip from 11 to 20 to 36.

While musing about this, I considered a VN I played a few years back, which took place over three in-game days - except at the end of one in-game day, the game would lock you out from progressing for 24 hours real time. So that as the in-game investigator protagonist was ruminating on the information that had been discovered that day, the player would be forced to do the same. In this example, by forcing the player to experience the same timeframe as the in-game characters, the sense of it being an in-depth and extensive investigation increases, even though without the forced pauses the game would be short enough to blow through in a handful of hours real-time.

Which brings to mind how time effects things in long-running serial works. It's well known that an audience which watches an episode or reads a chapter week by week has a very different experience than one binging through whole seasons or volumes at a time, but I wonder if the real time relative to the in-universe time makes that effect stand out more? Fight scenes, for instance, have been known to take up several chapters in certain manga or webnovels. What does it do to the reader's perception, if from their point a view a fight takes a whole month, while for the characters they read about it's only been a couple hours? Readers might feel that the situation is more stressful, since the pressure of the fight has been ongoing for a long time for them, while in-universe it was a rough afternoon but no more than that. Contrastingly, when a series skips ahead or otherwise has long periods of time for characters that feel short for readers, it can feel like no time has passed and everything is still the same, unless the author really stresses the differences in world-state that occurred offscreen. Because the reader hasn't changed at all.

No conclusion here exactly, I just think it's interesting how often an audience's response to a work, the emotions felt, are more closely tied to their real-life timescale, something almost completely out of the author's control, as opposed to in-universe time, which can be intentionally shifted or played with for the sake of the narrative.

[yogurtkags]

hello, congratulations on 100! 🫶 could i request bokuto kotaro with the prompt of first dates? sending love! :)

❝ BEGIN AGAIN ❞ — bokuto kotarou

cw. gn!reader, fluff, timeskip!bokuto, first date, akaashi sets you up on a date with his best friend, acquaintances to lovers, implied that bokuto is taller than reader word count. 1.3k

rediscovering love in the form of keiji's best friend, a 6'2.9 (he says 6'3 anyway) ball of sunshine that looks at you like you hung the stars

event masterlist

the boisterous and excitable bokuto that you know is surprisingly mild outside of the court, away from his usual company, with you. he’s very sweet, listening to every word you say with bright eyes and an attentiveness you wouldn’t expect from him.

it's one of the warmest days this week, the sun blazing down on the tree you're sat under, a pseudo little shade to shield you from the glare and bright rays— between the leaves and foliage, a yellow-orange glow seeps into the gaps and paints a beautiful splash of colour across the plains of your smooth skin.

ice cream cones in hand and sitting side by side on the wooden park bench close enough for your thighs to touch, it's a welcome feeling, the warmth of the weather and his presence filling you with a sense of comfort and reassurance despite your nerves.

it’s been a while since you’ve last been on a date, time hasn’t really been on your side lately, and the idea of putting yourself out there again fills yourself with dread. you swore off love and relationships for a while after your last one and honestly? you're scared. but your trust in keiji is unwavering, and knowing how highly he thinks of the ones he holds close to him, you decided to take his word for it, even if you can't deny that you were a little skeptical at first.

keiji decided he has had enough of you lamenting about your lack of action in the love department despite not making any moves yourself and set you up on a date, making some compelling points about how "you already know bo, plus i think you two would be a good fit." "he's literally my best friend, i wouldn't set you up with a weirdo, who do you think i am?" "shut up, i've seen the way you look at him."

you don't deny that bokuto's easy on the eyes— striking hair, innocent features and the most gorgeous smile, paired with his athletic physique and outgoing personality, on the surface, what's not to like?

but really, it's been in all the little details since the day started.

him making an effort to show up early despite being prone to getting lost going to places he's never been to before, he's just bad at directions especially when he's nervous, standing by the side of the cafe twiddling his thumbs and humming under his breath. the way his eyes lit up when he first saw you, bringing a hand up to wave in greeting and instantly putting a smile on your face.

the sudden change in temperature upon stepping inside caused goosebumps to raise on your skin, and he noticed, instantly going to shrug off his light jacket and gingerly draping it over your shoulders, deciding to pick a seat by the window, "so at least a little sun can come through and hopefully keep you warm if my jacket isn't enough." he said this as he pulled your chair out for you and helped you settle in your seat like a true gentleman, and your cheeks warmed bashfully at how thoughtful he's already been in the first few minutes, than how some others have been in months.

you fell into a comfortable conversation, catching up on life since graduating and what you've been doing after that. the two of you didn't particularly keep in contact after all, having just been mere acquaintances and had more of a friend of a friend type relationship. he's hard to miss though, you've seen him on sports channels, having gone the professional route and playing volleyball in the v-league instead of pursuing a college degree or a more conventional white collar job. to be fair, you've never penned him for the type, he was beyond ordinary, and always excelled at the sport even back then, catching the eyes of numerous scouters and teams in the country.

"so," taking a sip of his drink, he locked eyes with you and jokingly asked, "when are you coming to one our games?"

with a mischievous glint and an exaggerated false nonchalance, you playfully suggested with a shrug of your shoulders, "hmm i don't know, i'm not really super into the sport or anything, but maybe i'm just waiting for the black jackal’s #12 to formally invite me to come watch. he doesn't seem too into me though, so i don't know if it'll happen, we'll see."

what came after was the cutest outburst that didn’t fail to bring a matching grin on your face, his head thrown back laughing as he processed your words, "well he's clearly missing out because have you seen yourself? if he won't do it i will."

you hated to admit it but this date was going swimmingly and you didn’t want it to end just yet, which brings you back to the present, a mental recount of the hours that just passed broken by bokuto’s hand reaching towards your face.

your breath hitches as his thumb brushes over the corner of your lip with a featherlight touch, your mind going blank at the sudden contact and warmth creeping up your neck, the tips of your ears mirroring the fresh swell of a ripe apple at your shyness.

“sorry, got a little bit of ice cream on your lip there.” he murmurs as he sheepishly retracts his hand, wiping it off on a napkin and turning to face you again while avoiding eye contact. he's so cute, and you can't decide if the dessert in your hands or the man before you is sweeter.

bokuto doesn't know if he's overstepped by doing that, but all of his worries melt away like wax when he sees you trying to hide a small smile, and completely contrary to what he felt seconds ago, gains a burst of confidence to grab your hand as you both stand up from the bench.

upon finding out that you took the train to meet him, he insists on driving you home, seeing that it was getting late. interlocking your still linked hands and lightly swinging them in the wind, you let him lead you to his car down the block, settling on plush leather seats as he opens the door for you.

the ride home is filled with chatter and silly stories, from reminiscing high school and discussing music tastes, right down to playing 21 questions like little kids and learning the basics like your favourite flowers or colour, and bokuto take down a mental note of this, making sure to surprise you with some next time. next time.

as you peer out at the passing streets and night sky, you notice that he's taking the longer way home, letting out a quiet huff in amusement. you're both on more of a similar wavelength than you initially thought, and it seems like he shares the same idea, not wanting the night to end just yet, even though you've already been together for hours.

sooner than you wanted, your house comes into view and bokuto's pulling up to the sidewalk, getting out of the car and once again opening the door for you, ever the chivalrous man.

standing before him, you look up at his youthful face, illuminated by the golden hue of your dimmed porch lights, and you're convinced he was hand-sculpted and molded by angels themselves, soft eyes overflowing with affection as he gazes down at you, “i’d love to do this again sometime, bo—“

before you can finish your sentence, he interrupts, “koutarou— you can call me koutarou.”

with a giggle, you reach up on your tiptoes, pressing a light kiss on his cheek and heading towards your door, calling out just before closing it shut behind you, “i’ll see you soon okay, koutarou?”

notes. hi anon !! pretty excited to get into this because i've never written for bo before !! this was loosely inspired by “begin again” - taylor swift if you couldn't tell by the title ♡ thank you so much for your request, i hope you enjoy this !! reblogs & interactions are always appreciated !

© yogurtkags. please do not repost, plagiarise, or translate my work.

[hbyrde36]

Caught in the Undertow

Hi friends! I'm so sorry for the huge gap between updates. I've moved into a new position at work recently, and while it comes with many perks (hello pay raise), the added responsibilities are MASSIVELY cutting into my writing time so unfortunately updates may continue to come slower than I would like. BUT, please know I love my little stories so so much, and I'd NEVER leave a fic incomplete!

Chapter Seven

WC: 6286 | R: Explicit | TW: Suicidal Ideation/Depression | Ch 7/10 | AO3

Ch 1 Ch 2 Ch 3 Ch 4 Ch 5 Ch 6 <-

Eddie pulled the bedroom door shut behind him, letting it slam before leaning his weight back against it. His breath came in pants and gasps, and he tried desperately to catch it as his heart raced, pounding painfully against the fragile walls of his chest.

Steve kissed him.

On the mouth. 

After looking at him—like that. 

Steve kissed him like he was someone special, someone good, someone worth wanting.

Eddie’s lips quirked up into a small, crooked smile remembering the feel of it, soft and warm and inviting. Steve had already started to feel like a kind of home to him. A place of safety and comfort, and his kiss was all of those things and more. 

Sudden laughter forced its way up his throat, bubbling out of his mouth without his permission. Could Steve… 

Did Steve actually, beyond all reason, like him too?

He hiccuped, choking on air as his manic giggles were overcome by shoulder shaking sobs, and he slid to the floor in a long-limbed heap. It felt like he’d been handed everything he could want on a silver platter, and lost it in the same instant. 

Because Eddie knew he didn’t deserve it, that he couldn’t let himself have it. He’d only screw it all up. There was no way he wouldn’t. Then he’d get hurt, and worse, he might hurt Steve too. 

No, if he’d learned anything in this short but also achingly long life, it was better just to not even try.

He should go.

He should pack all his things and run, the way he was always meant to. Away from Hawkins altogether if he wanted to be dramatic, or, at the very least, back home to Wayne. 

There was only one problem. 

He didn’t want to leave.

He didn’t want to give Steve up, and everyone else by extension if he fled like a coward. He liked the way things had been going, the friendship blossoming between them, the trust. 

It was worth everything. 

Worth ignoring the attraction, and forgetting about his late-night fantasies. Worth denying his own growing feelings as best he could. And definitely worth having a difficult conversation. 

At least Steve already knew how fucked up he was. If Eddie could just get him to understand that he wouldn’t be good for him, maybe they could pick up where they left off, as friends, and pretend the kiss had never happened.

He found Steve still in the kitchen, sitting on the floor with his head down, body curled in on itself. The sight of him like that made Eddie’s stomach drop, only serving as further proof that Steve wasn’t meant for him. 

One kiss and he’d already blown it.

Though every fiber of his being screamed to book it out the front door before he was noticed, Eddie swallowed the feeling down and crept closer. 

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” Steve muttered near-silently into the space between his knees.

Eddie took a deep, steadying breath before he spoke. “You're not stupid.”

Steve stilled, the only evidence that he’d heard Eddie’s voice at all. He didn’t look up, not even when Eddie sank to the floor next to him, sitting as close as he dared, laying a tentative hand on the other boy’s arm.

“Would you look at me please, Steve?” Eddie begged softly, his throat gone uncomfortably tight.

Slowly, Steve raised his head, his wide, sad eyes searching Eddie’s face. “Are you mad?”

And God if that question wasn’t like a sharp knife in the gut. Only Steve, sweet, sensitive, caring-to-his-own-fucking-detriment Steve Harrington would ask such a thing. 

“Of course not,” Eddie said, willing the truth of it to ring out in his words, but Steve’s face only fell further.

“You’re clearly not happy about it.”

“You surprised me, is all.” A bit of a simplification, but Eddie didn’t know how else to explain it.

“Not the good kind of surprise then—huh?” 

“I just–I don’t understand,” Eddie ground out, in another woefully inadequate explanation of just how lost he was here. Because really—why him? Why now? Didn’t Steve know he could do better? That he deserved someone better? There were so many questions swirling through his mind, not the least of which being… “I thought you were straight?”

Steve dropped his gaze, giving a self-deprecating snort. “Apparently not, or so I’ve realized.”

“Right.” Eddie let his head fall back against the wood of the base cabinet, restraining himself from slamming his skull into it over and over again the way he wanted, until the physical pain was enough to distract from everything else. Despite what was happening, and his own wavering doubts, he was still trying to get better.

To be better.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn't have…” Steve began, trailing off with a little shake of his head. “I get it, if you hate me now.”

The knife already firmly embedded in Eddie’s core, twisted. “Steve, how could you even think that?”

It took a second, and for Steve to flash him a certain side-long look before it sank in, and Eddie remembered that that’s precisely what he’d done to Steve before.

“Okay, that’s fair,” Eddie said, gritting his teeth. “I’m sorry, I shouldn't have walked away from you like that. I just needed a minute to think.”

“And what–uh, w-what do you think?” 

“Steve, I’m—” Eddie looked down at his lap, mindlessly fidgeting with his hands as he worked up the courage to say what needed to be said. “Flattered, which is the understatement of the century. You are one of the best people I know. I feel so incredibly lucky to have you as a friend after everything, but I… I can’t do this.” Eddie forced himself to raise up and meet Steve’s eyes again, needing to make absolutely sure there was no misunderstanding between them about this. “And I need you to believe me when I say it has nothing to do with you, this is all me. Okay?”

Steve bobbed his head in a nod, offering a tight lipped smile. “Sure, y-yeah. I get it. No–no problem.”

Eddie did the same as he pushed himself to his feet, reaching out his hand like an olive branch to help Steve up.

For a moment he thought it would be alright, all things considered, but the tension in the room was palpable as they finished dealing with the groceries in silence. It was incredibly awkward, neither of them knowing what to say to the other now. Where before they’d always danced around each other easily, anticipating the other's movements, Eddie felt like he was constantly in the way.

There was something sadly poetic about that. 

It was purely out of panic, the desperate need to ease the thickness in the air, that he asked about having the kids come over that night. Not that he didn’t want to see them—he did—he just hoped he was up for it.

Steve agreed with a similar air of desperation and painfully forced cheerfulness. 

It made Eddie’s insides squirm, knowing they were each faking it for the other, and he couldn’t help wondering if he’d been selfish, making the wrong choice in staying. He thought that by not running he was being brave, but maybe it just made him a different kind of coward.

To no one's surprise, Dustin was the first to arrive hours later, his mother’s car barely rolling to a stop before he was leaping out of it, flying up Steve’s front walk while Eddie watched from the front windows. 

The kid was barely through the door before Eddie pulled him in for a crushing hug, unexpectedly overwhelmed at the sight of his goofy grin, and baby-like face. It was almost as if this were the first time he was seeing Dustin since the younger boy had sat crying in the dirt, holding his hand while he bled out in the Upside Down. Eddie’s memories of the last get-together were hazy at best, twisted and dark at worst.

Honestly, he tried to just not think about it, or the weeks of wallowing that had preceded it, preferring to block it all out as best he could.

He squeezed Dustin a little tighter before finally letting go, neither acknowledging the longer than necessary greeting or the way Eddie sniffled a little as they separated, something he was immeasurably grateful for.

The rest of the party arrived shortly after, dropped off by Mrs. Wheeler, who gave a tentative wave when she spotted Eddie’s form in the doorway, highlighted by the overhead porch light. It was stiff and unsure, but a wave nonetheless. More than he expected. Maybe public sentiment would change eventually, or maybe Mike was just enough of a little shit that his mom was willing to take the risk of letting him hang out with a formerly suspected murderer if it got him and his friends out of her house.

When the living room was full of the annoying precious voices of their young friends talking over each other and arguing about the choice of movie for the night, Steve finally poked his head out to say hello. He’d been hiding in the kitchen under the guise of cleaning and prepping snacks or whatever, but Eddie knew it was only an excuse. That kitchen had been spotless hours ago. 

It was always spotless. 

Steve was avoiding him, not that he blamed him, but it still stung.

“Did you little shits come to a decision yet?” Eddie asked, partly to distract himself, partly to get this show on the road. Normally he thrived in noise and chaos but tonight it had him feeling a little on edge.

Max huffed. “No, apparently we need a tie-breaker.”

“Okay, say no more. What are my choices?”

“Legend or Teen Wolf,” Dustin said.

“Legend, obviously,” Eddie scoffed. Because who in their right mind would choose to watch Marty McFly turn into an overgrown basketball playing mutt, when Tim Curry as Darkness was right there?! 

His quick reply was immediately followed by Steve’s equally resolute shout of, “Teen Wolf!”

Lucas turned to Max with a proud smirk. “I told you we’d need Robin.”

“Where is she anyway?” Dustin asked.

Right on cue, there was a crash in the foyer as the front door burst open, banging hard against the wall.

“Sorry I'm late!” Robin called out, skidding around the corner. The plastic bag full of candy she held, clearly ‘borrowed’ from Family Video, slipped from her hand, the contents of it spilling out across the carpet.

When she crouched to the floor to collect the dozen-or-so little boxes, Eddie started to get up from the couch to help, but hesitated as Steve leapt to her aid, the two of them having some kind of silent conversation with their eyes, ending with Steve asking her to help him with something in the kitchen.

Subtle, Steve. Real subtle.

But before the two of them could actually escape, Dustin let out a disgusted groan. “Duuuuude, can’t you two make out some other time?”

“Yeah! We’ve been waiting.” Erica added.

Were they serious?

Not that Eddie necessarily expected the teens to have picked up on Robin’s inclinations the way that he had, but if you spent more than a few minutes in the dynamic duo’s presence it was clear they were closer to brother and sister than anything even remotely resembling romantic partners.

Steve let out a long-suffering sigh, throwing his hands up. “How many times, Henderson? How many times do we have to tell you we’re not—it’s never going to happen!” He spared Eddie a worried glance, as if afraid he might believe Dustin’s nonsense. 

Like Eddie would have any right to care after rejecting him that morning.

“But you’re both single! You drive her everywhere… and y’know, you’re a boy, she's a girl,” Dustin pointed out.

Lucas nodded in agreement. “He’s got a point, Steve. You are always together.”

“I think you and Robin make a cute couple,” El said, smiling innocently. Mike, sitting beside her, only crossed his arms over his chest, looking extra surly, while Will on her other side, was similarly silent, but more of the quietly amused variety.

As Eddie watched it all unfold, he couldn’t help noticing that while everyone else was zeroing in on Steve and Robin, Max was looking at him, her eyes narrowed and strangely suspicious. He cleared his throat, tugging his t-shirt collar away from a suddenly clammy neck.

“C’mon guys,” Robin said, laughing nervously. “We’re not—”

Unable to take it anymore, and maybe looking to avoid a certain redhead’s x-ray vision, Eddie jumped in. “Let me get this straight,” he started, facing Dustin since he seemed to be the ringleader of this particular circus act. “Are you saying men and women can’t be just friends?” 

Dustin rolled his eyes. “No, but—”

“And doesn’t Steve drive all of you everywhere? Like, all the time?”

“Well, yeah, but—”

“Gee, you sure do spend a lot of time with Max. Should I start bugging you about it?”

“Hey!” Lucas shouted, indignant.

Steve snorted, covering his mouth a little too late to stop it from slipping out. Eddie grinned, forgetting their earlier awkwardness, and turned to throw him a wink over his shoulder.

“That’s ridiculous, we’re just friends!” Dustin insisted. “She's with Lucas! And I have a girlfriend!”

Eddie tilted his head, blowing out a long breath. “I don't know. I mean, we’ve never actually met Suzy. Do you expect me to just take your word for it that you’re not secretly canoodling with your very close female friend?”

Erica wrinkled her nose. “Ew, don’t say canoodling!”

“Technically some of us did meet—” Mike started to say until Eddie cut him a hard glare.

Dustin scowled, sinking back into the couch with his arms crossed. “Okay! Fine! You’ve made your point.” 

“Good,” Eddie said, with a definitive nod.

“I would never do something to hurt the party like that,” Dustin grumbled under his breath. “For the record.” 

Steve offered Eddie a small, grateful smile before finally fleeing the room with Robin in tow.

With the boredom of waiting returned in full force, the boys' volume did the same, their conversation turning to D&D and something about the last time they’d all attempted to play together before Will moved away. Eddie tried to follow along, but he was out more than he was in, too busy wondering what Steve needed to talk to Robin about in private so badly. 

Him probably.

So really, it wasn’t Eddie’s fault for absently agreeing to whatever Dustin had just said.

“Sure, kid. Whatever you want.”

All at once the room fell blessedly silent.

“Wait, really?!” Dustin squeaked.

Uh oh.

Eddie’s eyes darted from one eager face to another, and he knew he was screwed when even Mike looked moderately interested. “Remind me what I've just signed myself up for again?”

With a smug grin, Dustin informed him that he’d agreed to run a one shot for them, and to call Jeff, Gareth, and Grant to ask them to join too.

“Don’t worry though, Max and El said they’d just watch.”

“And maybe not even that!” Max said, her voice full of sarcastic glee.

Eddie resisted the urge to roll his eyes. As if the number of players was the issue. Reflexively, he opened his mouth to say ‘no way’, but remembered the borrowed notebook he had hidden away upstairs, a carefully thought out adventure already well into the making on its pages. 

“Actually,” he began after a beat. “I’ve been working on something that would be perfect.”

“When could we play?” Will asked excitedly, speaking up for the first time since Eddie had met him.

“Give me a few weeks to get ready, kid, and I promise it’ll blow your minds.”

With matching grins and buzzing excitement, Will, Dustin, and Lucas shared high fives, but their celebration was quickly cut off by the resident negative Nancy of the younger set.

…No fault to his actual sister, Nancy. 

“I don’t know what you’re all so happy about,” Mike spat. “My mom said no more basement and Eddie isn’t allowed in the school. Where would we even go?”

Before Eddie could reply that he’d work it out somehow, even if it meant squeezing them all into his small trailer for an afternoon, an approaching voice spoke up. 

“You could play here,” Steve offered, as he and Robin strode back into the room, arms laden with overflowing bowls of popcorn.

Eddie bit his lip. Even as Dustin was already thanking Steve, he had to ask, “are you sure?” 

Who knew what things would look like in a few weeks. If Eddie would still be staying there, or if Steve would have had enough of him by then and kicked him to the curb. What if they never got over that stupid kiss?

Would they even still be friends?

“Yeah, It’ll be fine,” Steve answered, quickly tacking on, “It’ll be great.” 

Eddie couldn't help feeling like Steve was talking about more than just a game of D&D. 

He wanted to believe things between them would be fine, really he did, but as the chatter stopped and the movie started—Teen Wolf, because Robin was an ungrateful traitor—and Eddie settled deeper into his spot on the couch surrounded by children, with Steve sitting clear across the room, cramming himself into an over-sized arm chair with Robin, the distance felt like a visible representation of the rift he’d caused between them this morning.

This is what he’d wanted though, Eddie reminded himself.

Some space. A buffer. 

Not wanted, exactly, but it’s what he knew needed to happen. A fact that didn’t make it suck any less. 

Eddie tried to relax, turn his brain off, and enjoy the mindless entertainment playing out in front of him, but no matter how hard he concentrated on the screen, his gaze always managed to wander over to Steve, who was steadfastly staring, unblinking at the TV. 

When it got so bad that he’d completely lost the non-existent plot of the movie, he pushed himself to his feet, making a beeline to the other room. 

What he wanted was a stiff drink, but he’d settle for a soda, and maybe some fresh air and a smoke.

Eddie yanked the fridge door open forcefully, the cool air coming out of it washing over him. Instead of bringing relief, the sudden chill sent shivers down his spine. His vision swam as unease made his stomach turn sour, and out of nowhere he had the strangest feeling of being untethered from his body. 

He must have stood in front of this damn thing a million times since that night, when he’d stumbled into the kitchen drunk off his ass after breaking into the fancy liquor cabinet in what he now knew was Steve’s dad’s office, still angry at the world, still wanting to die as he screamed his frustration right in Steve’s face.

But for some reason, this time he found himself being forcibly flung back to those awful moments.

Hard as he worked to shut it all down, the memories kept coming, repeating over and over again in a relentless onslaught as he gripped the handle of the refrigerator hard enough to make the plastic creak. 

“Jesus H. Christ. What a meddling pack of fucking do-gooders you are. So what if they’re after me. Who cares?” “Maybe I don’t want to sleep it off!” “You should have fucking left me there!”

A renewed sense of shame and guilt flooded him in a wave, like it had been building all this time while he’d been ignoring it, thinking—hoping it would go away.

“Open the door, Eddie.” “Fuck off.” “Unlock this fucking door or I’ll break it down.” “You’re not gonna break your own door down.” “Try me.”

How could he have almost done… that, here? Where his friends, where Steve would have had to see it, would have had to clean up the mess?

Would have had to tell Wayne what Eddie’d done. 

Someone who cared about him, who’d liked him enough to kiss him, after everything. 

And still, ashamed and regretful or not, Eddie knew it would be so easy for that switch inside him to flip again.

“Eddie?” A gentle voice called from what seemed like miles away.

Warm pressure on Eddie’s lower back startled him back to the present. He sucked in a breath as he jumped, spinning around to come face to face with Steve. 

One look into those worried hazel eyes was all it took for the dam to break, sending silent tears streaming down Eddie’s cheeks. 

Steve didn’t hesitate to wrap him up in his arms, and just like he did at night to calm him from his nightmares, Steve murmured soft soothing comfort into his ear as he held him tight. “Just breathe, Eddie. It’s okay. I've got you.”

He hadn’t even known he was holding it, but on Steve’s quiet command he took slow deep breaths in through his nose and out through his mouth until his face was dry and he felt like he was solidly back in his own body again.

Steve’s grip loosened, but didn’t let go as he pulled back enough to meet Eddie’s eyes again. “There you are,” he said with a tentative smile. “Do you want me to send everyone home?”

“No,” Eddie said too quickly, with a jerky shake of his head.

Steve only raised an eyebrow. 

If he was honest, he did want that, but he didn’t want to be the cause of another ruined night, and in the back of his mind he was a little afraid that if he kept pushing people away, they’d stop coming back.

“I don’t know what happened, it… it was kinda like a flashback? But I swear it’s fine now. I’m fine.”

It was clear in the stiffness of his body, the ever present concern in his eyes, and the fact that he still held Eddie in his arms, that Steve didn’t like it, but he didn’t argue, only followed close behind as Eddie made his way back out to the darkened living room, their friends faces lit by the flickering glow of the TV.

Soon enough the credits were rolling, and predictably no one made any moves to leave. Chants for a second movie began and by then, Eddie was game. He felt much better after his little breakdown in the kitchen, and it didn’t hurt that while they were gone Robin had taken his seat, so she could braid Max’s hair. 

Spending another hour and a half smashed together in the big chair with Steve sounded like a fine time, and it would have been, if he hadn’t fallen asleep five minutes in.

Eddie blamed the fading adrenaline.

He woke up alone in the chair just as a Steve sized shadow was throwing a blanket over a snoring Dustin-shaped lump, and pulling Robin to her feet, the room around them completely dark now save for the moonlight trickling in through the front windows. 

“Talked you into a sleepover, did they?” Eddie asked once he, Steve, and Robin were on the stairs and safely out of earshot from the sleeping teens.

Steve scoffed, shaking his head like he was annoyed, but a fond grin played along his pink lips. “Hard to say no when they’d already told their parents.”

“Oh dude,” Eddie chuckled softly, bumping his shoulder into Steve’s as they reached the top of the landing. “You’re such a pushover.”

“Maybe if someone had been awake to back me up,” Steve said, bumping him in return.

Robin pushed past them in a rush when they separated, waving a hand over her head as she went right for Eddie’s door. “I’m gonna crash in the guest room,” she mumbled out through a yawn. “See you dinguses in the morning.”

Eddie stood, mouth agape, watching as she shut and locked the door behind her.

“Oh,” Steve began, looking hesitantly between his own room and Eddie’s face. “I-I didn’t think… You take my bed. I can sleep on the floor if you—” 

“Steve,” Eddie cut in. He could already see Steve shrinking in on himself, tension making his shoulders rise up to his ears, and that had to stop right now. “We've been sharing a bed for at least half of every night for a while now.”

Steve shifted his weight from one foot to the other, staring down at the rug. “Yeah, but I thought you might be uncomfortable now, after—”

“I’m not, if you’re not,” Eddie said, taking his hand and squeezing it. 

Steve instantly relaxed. “Okay, let’s get some sleep.” 

Out of habit, Eddie assumed, born from all the nights leading up to now, Steve’s arms slid around his waist as they got settled in Steve’s bed, much larger and more plush than the one in the guest room, and for a moment they fit together as they always had, like matching puzzle pieces.

“Sorry,” Steve whispered, and started to pull back. 

Eddie held his tongue, wishing for the strength to let Steve let go, but he just… he wanted the comfort—needed it, like he needed air. Without a word he grabbed for Steve’s wrists under the covers, pulling his arms right back to where they were.

He silently promised himself that this would be the last time. After tonight he’d learn to sleep on his own again. Somehow he’d stop himself from waking up screaming, summoning Steve to his side. Somehow he’d learn how to be alone again. This was only temporary, after all.

He had to stay strong, keep a little distance—

Steve let out a contented sigh at his back, his hold on Eddie tightening as his warm breath ghosted over the back of Eddie’s neck.

—Emotionally.

It wasn’t long before Eddie himself fell into a dreamless, and more importantly nightmare-less sleep, for the first time since his night terrors had begun.

In the days following the big sleepover Eddie did not, in fact, move back into his own room. It seemed he wasn’t the only one who had a peaceful night’s rest, and the benefit of them both being spared horrific dreams night after night far outweighed anything else, at least for now.

And whether it had something to do with starting their nights out in the same bed together on purpose or not, their shows of physical… whatever you wanted to call it, started to bleed into the day too. 

Eddie couldn’t even lay the blame on Steve. He literally couldn't stop touching the other boy either. No matter where they were or what they were doing, if they were in the same room, they were touching. 

He tried to resist at first, for all the reasons he knew he should, but it was too easy to give in. They’d already been cuddling every single night, at one point or another, this was just an extension of that, without the nightmares and darkness for cover. They were friends, and platonic cuddling was totally a thing—right? 

If it bothered Steve, he didn’t show it, and Eddie was under no illusions. It didn’t change anything, and if it made them both feel better, then what was the harm? 

A little heartbreak between friends?

It was all fine enough, until it wasn’t.

Eddie’d been having such a good dream. The best dream. It was so real that he could practically taste the skin of Steve’s inner thigh, the tickle of fine hair brushing along his chin as he trailed kisses further and further up to where Steve stood hard and aching before him. And when they changed positions, it was almost like he was really feeling the plush roundness of Steve’s ass as he ground into him from behind.

Because he was.

Fuck.

Eddie’s eyes snapped open at the realization, and sure enough his body was curled tightly around Steve, spooning him from behind, cock hard where it was pressed against Steve’s cheeks.

He threw himself violently from the bed, making no effort to not wake Steve, the only thing on his mind to get the fuck out of this room immediately, lock himself in the bathroom, and take a very fast, very cold shower.

Steve’s door stood open when he crept back out into the hall, his bed empty and the smell of coffee drifting up from the kitchen.

He took his time getting dressed but eventually Eddie had no choice but to pad downstairs and face the music. He sat quietly at the counter, like he did most days, feeling absolutely mortified. 

Steve slid a mug in front of him like normal, The same one he used every day. His mug, like he belonged there. 

As if he hadn’t just crossed a huge line. 

Maybe Steve somehow hadn’t noticed being literally dry humped in his sleep? It didn’t really matter one way or another, it didn’t change the fact that it’d happened, and Eddie knew that meant his time was up.

Eddie wrapped his shaking hands around the mug, warming them, and took a small sip of the bitter drink as he struggled to find his words. “Listen, I—” he began, gaze trained down on the countertop. God, he couldn’t even bring himself to meet Steve’s eyes over his cup. “I can’t tell you how much being here has meant to me. Everything you’ve done, it’s so…”

“I didn’t really do anything,” Steve countered. “I was just here.”

“Sometimes that’s all you need,” Eddie went on. “Someone to just be there. No one but Wayne has ever taken care of me the way you did. But I’m doing better now, and I think I should go home before I overstay my welcome. I’m sure you have better things to do with your time than babysit—”

“I get it,” Steve cut in quietly. “You don’t have to explain. I’m surprised you stayed at all after I practically threw myself at you the other day. And you’re right, you don’t need me anymore. I’m just holding you back now, if anything.”

Eddie’s head snapped up. “How the hell do you figure that?”

Now it was Steve who looked uncomfortable, glancing away as he hunched his shoulders. “N-nothing, sorry. It doesn’t matter.”

“Steve?”

Steve sighed, the sound bearing a heavy weight, sad and resigned. “It gets… lonely in this house sometimes. I wanted you to stay if it would help, but I was also being selfish. You make it all feel less—empty.“

It hit Eddie suddenly, something Wayne had said to him a while back. That Steve needed him every bit as much as he needed Steve. They’d both been so focused on Eddie’s issues this whole time that he’d sort of forgotten that. And though he’d never admit it to the old man’s face, Uncle Wayne was hardly ever wrong.

He could deal with the embarrassing consequences of sticking around later, as well as his probable battered heart as he continued to fall for someone he couldn’t have. Now It was Eddie’s turn to be a good friend, to suck it up and be there for Steve the way he was always there for everyone else.

“Okay, then. I’m staying.”

“No. I didn’t mean to…” Steve trailed off, setting his coffee cup down to wave his hands. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to,” Eddie insisted, injecting every bit of sincerity he could into the words. “I thought I should give you your space back, but if you still want me here, I’ll stay a while longer.”

It was the truth, maybe not the whole truth, but enough.

“Okay, yeah. That’s, um—yes.”

“Glad that’s settled.” Eddie upended his own mug, draining the rest of his coffee before it cooled. “So, what’s the plan for today?

“Robin’s been bugging me to hang out again ever since the other night, so I was thinking about taking her to lunch or something. Would you want to come?”

“No, I'm good here. I should really keep working on the new campaign anyway since I promised the kids. Sounds like you two need some one-on-one time anyway.”

Eddie really did try to work on his plans, but it wasn’t long before he became restless, winding up in Steve’s room for some unknown reason.

Fine, he was snooping. 

But that wasn’t the only reason, was it? He missed Steve. The other boy had only been gone for like an hour and Eddie was already acting like a listless housewife waiting for her husband to return from war.

This was officially getting out of hand.

What had he been thinking earlier telling Steve he’d stay?! Every moment he delayed returning to reality would only make it all worse in the long run. To be so close to Steve but not let himself be with him. It was becoming it’s own kind of self-harm, bordering on torture.

Friends didn’t sleep in the same bed every night, no matter what Eddie’d been telling himself. He had to stop living in this fantasy world before he did something reckless and dumb. 

He hurled himself down onto Steve’s bed. Half of his body actually landed on the bed, while the rest hung off the edge, his hair pooling on the carpet below. He glanced around the room lazily as blood rushed to his head, leaving him pleasantly dizzy. Everything looked a little different from this angle. Except for that fucking wallpaper. How was he this gone on a guy who could just live with wallpaper like that? 

With a loud, heartfelt groan he rolled over onto his stomach, head still hanging down and finally spotted something… curious. 

There under the bed, partially hidden behind a deflated basketball and a small collection of forgotten socks, was a plain cardboard box. Nothing remarkable about that, except that the bottom corner was stained the dark rust of old blood, as if it had soaked in it and dried.

Eddie slid gracelessly down to the floor head first, crawling half way under the bed to pull the box out into the light. He was uncomfortably aware that this was a total violation of Steve’s privacy, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself from opening the flaps, and was completely unprepared for what he found. 

Tucked inside, folded neatly despite the fact that it was covered in blood and filth, was his own denim battle vest, the one he’d chucked impulsively at Steve. The various buttons and patches were worse for wear, but all still present and accounted for. It was… nice that Steve had held onto it, but why hadn’t he said anything? 

Why hide it away like this? 

Eddie set the vest aside to see what else Steve had seen fit to squirrel away, finding what looked like the same tactical pants and jacket that Steve had been wearing when he went off to fight Vecna, all covered in the same dark dried blood that had no doubt seeped into the cardboard that held it.

He was still sitting there on the floor, staring in confused disbelief at the open box when a shadow fell over the bedroom door, drawing his attention.

“Oh–” Steve gasped, his face draining of all color as he took in Eddie’s position and what lay in front of him. “Um… I can explain?”

Eddie didn’t know what to think, and could only continue to look up at him, eyebrows raised.

“Okay, I don’t know if I have, like, a good explanation, but—” Steve blew out a long breath, raking a hand nervously through his hair as he crossed the room, sitting down on the far end of the bed. “I’m not sure if I even fully realized what I was doing at the time, a–and y’know, we had no idea yet if you were going to make it or not.” He paused for a long beat, clearing his throat, and looked away to stare out the window at the fading late afternoon sun.

“I would have kept your vest no matter what, to make sure you got it back, or Wayne, if the worst happened. But when I went to throw out my own ruined clothes I just—I couldn’t stop thinking about how it was your blood I was covered in, and if you died, then…“ Steve sniffled, tearing his gaze away from the outside world to look deep into Eddie’s eyes, as if they too were pleading with him to understand. “It would be all there was left of you. I just couldn’t bring myself to get rid of any of it.” 

Eddie chewed on his bottom lip, quietly digesting what he’d heard. Before he could begin to think of a response Steve groaned, covering his face with his hands. 

“Jesus, it sounds even worse when I say it out loud. I’m sorry, I know it was crazy. I-I’m just gonna shut up now.”

Maybe someone a little more stable would have been weirded out by the whole thing, but it was like he and Steve spoke the same fucked up language, and all Eddie could think was how, as strange as it was, it was also kind-of romantic as hell.

“Not crazy,” Eddie said softly, climbing to his feet and coming to stand in front of Steve. He reached out to take Steve’s hands, pulling them away to reveal his beautiful flushed face. “Or if it is, I don't fucking care.”

Forgetting all the reasons why it was wrong, why it was a terrible idea, Eddie let Steve go, instead winding his own hands into that mass of soft chestnut hair as he climbed up onto the bed, straddling Steve’s hips to settle in his lap, and caught his lips in a bruising kiss.

Thanks and love to @penny00dreadful and @pearynice for all your help and encouragement with this!

Permanent taglist(open): @penny00dreadful @pearynice @hitlikehammers @bookworm0690 @wonderland-girl143-blog 

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[penvisions]

gone to the dogs {chapter 3}

Pairing: Boston QZ! Joel Miller x F! Reader ; Implied Boston QZ! Joel Miller x Tess Servopoulos

Summary: A person from your past makes you feel the changes that transformed you into what you are today. A meal shared feels like another change is coming.

Word Count: 4.9k

Warnings: canon typical violence, canon typical language, canon typical gore, outbreak fic, age gap (only by about ten years), dark fic, dark joel miller, mean joel miller, joel miller is uptight, degrading language, sexual language, heated interactions, adult language, fighting, argumentative language, mutual disdain, sexual content, implication of sex work, unprotected piv (mentioned), sexual acts, reader is snarky, reader meets joel toe-to-toe with insults and it's amazing both reader and joel pov, lemme know if there are any i missed!

A/N: this honestly came out of nowhere. i haven't been writing lately beyond jotting down scene notes and vague ideas,so i've taken a step back from forming actual chapters for the many wips i have at the moment. but this was a good thing to get down amid all the stress of preparing to move for the second time in three months

ao3 link || series masterlist || joel miller masterlist || ko-fi

You step back a few paces, instincts reminding you of the last time you saw the man. He looked older, older than he should if only seven years went by. But the stresses of the world made each one seem like a lifetime.

But upon closer inspection, as you realize that maybe he looks…actually in better shape than when you had seen him last. But not being covered in dirt and grime was an easy difference. No, though, he looked healthy. Far better off than your rumpled and stark appearance.

He says your real name and you feel something soften deep inside. You hadn’t heard your actual name since…no, you cut the thought off, not wanting to think anymore about anything to do with the day you lost your brother. You feel the watching eyes of Joel and Tess as the meeting with strangers turns into anything but. Your connection with one of the men seemingly the last of the outcomes they had anticipated.

“Cane.” You correct him. “My name is- it’s Cane.”

“I can call you that, if you prefer. I’m just so glad you’re okay. When that raider dragged you off, I thought-“

“I got away.” You cut him off, not wanting to reveal the way you had ended up being a resident of the Boston Quarantine Zone. It wasn’t important, it was personal, and it was no one’s business but your own now, how it had come to be the reality of your life. It hadn’t been the first blood you spilled but it had certainly been the beginning of the path you walked and paced and snarled your way around today. He must sense your snub, the way you don’t want to dwell on the past. He nods once, eyes glinting as he takes in the two figures behind you. His eyes focus on Tess, a nod to her in greeting as he connects a face to the voice he had been conversing with for a few weeks now.

Frank turns to Bill, his counterpart on the other side of the fence. Allowing you to let out a huff of breath in relief at the passed moment. Or so you thought, Joel’s eyes were heavy on you. Far too weighted and far too vigilant as he no doubt picks up more than the exchange had been.

“Let’s, Bill, let’s get them inside. Get Cane into the shower, you look a little rough around the edges. You didn’t run into any trouble did you?”

The feeling of water cascading hot from the shower head and down your aching body was something you thought you’d never get to experience again. It was such a rare occurrence to get even lukewarm water in the zone, the water pressure weak.

A soft knock sounded through the hush of water, followed by Frank asking if you were comfortable with him coming into the bathroom. You call out a muffled affirmative, body beginning to ache from the way you had trudged through the night to get to the cordoned off city, especially after the way large hands had roughly pushed and pulled at you atop Joel’s shared bed.

“I just…wanted a second alone with you.” The man broke the heavy silence as he settled on a small bench in the room, opposite the vanity. He was worried, you could sense that much.

“That’s okay, it’s your house and I don’t mind.”

“…it could be your house too….if you wanted.”

On the other side of the door, Joel tries to keep his breathing light as he listens in on the conversation. A feeling of protectiveness hard to squash as he saw the other man slink off in search of you. There was something between you two, a shared past. A worry the other man felt entitled to have over you, the utterance of a name foreign to him but meant something to you. Joel wasn’t sure what to think, the way Tess had described him had been all positive and hopeful, a potential trading partner for things they couldn’t find in the rubble of the city remains or within the walls of the zone.

A connection to you was the last thing he had expected out of this trip. And he was on high alert for any issues that might bring to light. He keeps his eyes trained on the end of the upstairs hall, instincts telling him that Bill knows he hadn’t really been in search of a restroom for himself. Another dog with something to protect, with something to defend and fight for. The two men far more alike than they would want to admit and they had only just met. Your voice is quiet, something he had only ever experienced when he walked in on you and Tess alone. So used to you projecting it, to speaking loudly to ensure people heard you and understood the intent behind them.

The vulnerability with a man you obviously knew isn’t lost on him.

“Don’t think Bill would like that.” Cutting under his offer, you want him to realize that it would never work, his life is set up here due to the other man. Even if you were to be minimally evasive and keep to yourself, it was a life you weren’t sure you deserved let alone were worthy of being offered. It would be a disturbance to their way of life, from the gardens they tended to the house they obviously shared as their own.

“Yeah, but even so. We could convince him, if that’s something you’d be interested in. I don’t…I don’t like the thought of you all alone in the zone, fighting everyday for things you deserve to have…”

“I found my brother, I’ll be fine, I promise.”

“Did…I just…I’m sorry to ask but are you- okay after-“

“Yes.”

“It’s okay if you’re not, you know. That kind of thing, that violence changes people.”

“I am…okay, for the most part. Change or no change.”

“You don’t…I just want you to know you have a place here. If you’re…resorting to certain things.” His words are hesitant, but firm. He knows you, had known you through your college years. He had been an artist of local renown, in Baltimore. Where you had moved to go to college and stayed after you graduated. You worked with him in his own studio, helped him to organize classes for those interested in the arts and helped to manage his small gallery. But that was a lifetime ago, a paintbrush traded for the butt of a gun in your palm. A flash of teeth in a gummy smile you had offered too easily exchanged for the snarling of teeth as you bared them for anyone who threatened you.

It was a lifetime ago, the turn of your age into the next decade of your life bringing endless and adaptive change. If it was for the better you weren’t sure, but your survival was dependent on it and that’s all that mattered.

Joel feels a tightness in his chest, the inference of the man’s words of violence that had been acted out on a younger version of yourself not settling well, violence that ripped you from the one person who you had been with at the end of the world. The weight of the realization like rocks in his stomach, churning around in his middle. More weight is added as he hears the admittance of you’re the activities he had caught you in the act of doing to earn ration cards, of the activities he had been all too willing to indulge in with you just the night before.

“I don’t like doing it, but it’s kind of a ‘use what ya got’ kinda world now.”

“Cane…”

“It’s fine, I’m not…I’m not bothered by it.”

“Honey, of course you are. Anybody would be. We used to- we used to spend our days painting and setting up gallery shows and that- that’s gone from the world now. There is no more art, there is no more humanity, there is only-“

“I’m not anybody.” You feel your lips part in a show of teeth, hissing the words out as anger flares and memories of a time passed cross your mind. You were so naïve, to think the world would allow you to be who you wanted. For anyone to be who they wanted, but now it molds you into something inhumane, weather you find yourself infected or not. “I’m a survivor and I have power in the zone, with or without those I traveled with here today.”

“Okay….I’ll let you finish washing up and I’ll get you a change of clothes, that sound alright?”

“….thank you, Frankie.”

“Of course, anything for you. Always.”

Thoughts of a younger you set in front of a large canvas atop an easel flashes before Joel’s eyes as he quietly descends the stairs. A paintbrush replacing the commonality of a gun in your grip, light in your eyes instead of a dark threat. It was an uncomfortable one, to find out just how much you had been altered. He knew the pain of being transformed beyond recognition and he hated for the knowledge of your past as it burrowed into his brain and refused to leave.

A table is set up outside, Frank insisting on enjoying the gentle breeze that graced the day. A lace trimmed white tablecloth atop it for dishes and wine glasses and cloth napkins to be set atop. A meal to try and tide the churning waters of an agreement, the combining of two factions. Everyone is seated at one of the four sides of the small table, an extra chair beside Frank for you two to share one.

Bill’s back is to the house, to allow him a full view of the street and surrounding area within the gate of his land. Joel is opposite him and to your right, Tess is across from you. It’s all so close an imitation of family dinners you used to have before you left to embark on your own life. Though the people surrounding you couldn’t be any different.

The four of them had fallen silent at your appearance once you came down the steps. Hands itching to run over and smooth down the flowing fabric of the dress Frank had gifted you to change into. A white, floral-patterned fabric you would’ve once fawned over. But now it feels like some sick, twisted joke even if you knew the man hadn’t intended for it to be taken that way. He had been working off memories of your preferences, not knowing who you were now.

Tess’s lips had lifted at the corners, though she hid it well at the way your eyes had cut through her when you heard the small chuckle she had tamped down on. Joel’s eyes had roved over you, an expression unreadable and far too harsh in the daylight back outside. Frank had been elated, praising how well it fit you and he was so glad it was the right size, that the pattern looked lovely and you cleaned up nicely. Bill had nodded along, most likely warned by his partner to be nice to you, though he hadn’t looked to thrilled that you had been left alone inside his home. He seemed so much like Joel, though there was no worry for him to reach out and grab you by the throat.

“Well, this really is just- it- it’s amazing.” You keep your eyes downcast at your place setting, the way Tess stumbled over her words unfamiliar. She was trying so hard to keep her own tendency to come off as threatening out of her demeanor and you wondered if it was closer to the that of the woman she had once been. Shirking herself back into that mindset in order to appeal to the men whose trade you admittedly, desperately needed.

The city is getting more dangerous to scavenge as time continues on. Supplies and even everyday items so scarce it doesn’t justify the risk of sneaking out of the zone much. You worry for the future, as things only seem to be getting more dire. As the hangings increase, as the Fireflies gain traction and power among the unrest.

“Right?” Frank smiles so openly and brightly at her across from you, reaching for the bottle of wine in the middle of the table. He reaches over to fill the half-empty crystal glass before her, the scent of it strong as it catches in the wind. You take the final sip of your own glass, catching Joel’s gaze out of the corner of your eye. You feel more than see the way his eyes trace the stain of the dark wine on your lips, how it dampens them as it clings to the plush of your bottom lip. How he shifts in his seat as you swipe your tongue over it to collect the errant drops.

“Mhm.”

“Can you not, please?” Joel’s eyes shift to the gun gripped tightly in Bill’s hand atop the table. Frank’s as well, an exasperated edge in his voice. The roll of his eyes he tries to fight making warmth flare in your chest for being able to recall it so clearly and aimed at you in the past. He’s much the same man he was when you knew him, but almost…happier now despite the fall of the world. He’s found his person and that does change people, you can see it in his boosted confidence and comfortability. He’s protected here, until he wishes not to be.

“I’m the same way.” Joel offers, to bridge the gap and mind the tension in the air.

“Oh, you’re a paranoid schizophrenic too?” Frank chuckles, shoulder bumping yours but you don’t join him in the banter. You feel wildly out of place, aside from having to share an edge of the table. It had been so long since you sat down at a clean table, a dressed table laden down with crystal glasses and fine ceramic. A meal made from scratch, hot and actually tasting like food.

“I’m not schizophrenic.”

“Sure.” Frank moves to fill your glass at the nod of your head, he knows you favored red once upon a time, the perfect paring for the meal Bill had been kind enough to offer you all.

Tess clears her throat and it strikes something in you. She’s acting more like she does when she’s alone with you, letting the glimpse of who she is shine amongst the pair. It’s easy to see now why Joel is by her side, she’s much better spoken than you. She’s good at knowing what to do and when. But then again she does have a decade on you much like he does. More experience in a world that had been whole and allowed for different skills.

“Well, can I just say, uh, gun aside, which I get, by the way.” A nod to Bill, to let him know he’s seen and understood. “How nice this is to have a civilized meal in such a, a beautiful place. It’s been so long.”

The unspoken but very loud ‘can’t get these two to stay in the same room long enough to even eat rations without an argument breaking out’ sentiment hits you like a brick wall. She knows, is the first thought you have, and it freezes the blood in your veins. She knows what you and Joel did but she hadn’t voiced it or confronted you about it. Perhaps she confronted him or had just known the second she walked into the apartment last night but either way, you know you have to be honest when she approaches you.

“I just wanna say, uh, thank you. Even if we don’t end up working together. Which I wouldn’t fault you, these two tend to rub some people the wrong way. I really needed this.”

“We are working together.” Frank raises his own glass to mirror hers, his other hand reaching for yours atop the table to shake it gently and reassuringly. “We are. Even if Cane hadn’t turned out to be the third party of your group. Though it was such a pleasant surprise.”

They clink their glasses together, urging you to do so as well. Your glass now full for a second time as well.

“You know what? Let’s go inside. Tess, I wanna show you something.”

“Actually I have been…waiting to see inside.”

“No. Not inside.” Bill tries to reign them in but neither are paying much attention to the table anymore, already getting up from their seats, full wine glasses in hand.

“Darling, do you want to join us?” Frank offers, reaching for your hand to help you up. But you shake your head, not wanting to go back inside so soon.

“Oh, um, no thank you. The fresh air is…”

“Of course,” He slides a hand over your shoulder, comforting and grounding.

Bill calls out his name once, then again with more force as they begin to walk away from the table, leaving the controlled setting. Both parties are laughing as they disappear inside the house with their wine glasses. He huffs as he looks from you to Joel, not having anticipated this course of events.

“I understand.” Joel speaks up across from him. He’s chewing a bite he had just taken, a second helping taken when offered still on his plate. He doesn’t even look in your direction, his attention solely on the other man at the table. “If my, uh…if mine…brought strangers into our situation, I wouldn’t be happy either.”

“Thought this one was yours.” Bill tips his head in your direction, genuine curiosity thinly veiled in his tone.

“No. This one is on her own.” His voice hardens, giving away his distaste for the insinuation.

“I’m no ones, certainly not his.” You feel the need to speak up, not willing to let them both talk about you as if you weren’t right there. It was not only insulting, but to insinuate that you could be anybody’s was more than aggravating. Joel ignores you, but Bill’s eyes meet yours briefly, gauging you silently.

“But of all the people he could’ve found on the radio, we’re actually decent people just tryin’ to get by.”

“Oh, well aren’t I the lucky one.” Bill scoffs, eyes trained back on Joel and remaining.

“There’s stuff we have in the zone that you don’t have here. Books, medicine, machine parts. We can help each other and get that gun outta my face.” There’s a hint of the man he is in the zone as his voice pitches low, a threat that he would act on in a heartbeat with the slightest inclination. Bill heeds the threat, knowing he would meet it head on. Both aware of the fragility of the situation, both aware of their people inside the house alone with each other and getting along. Bill concedes and the gun is locked before placed back in its holster.

“So, what, you were a…prepper or somethin’?”

“’Survivalist’.” Bill doesn’t continue eating, like Joel does. Ever the picture of controlled ease as he chews bite after bite on his plate. But the language of his body is obvious to you, he’s primed and ready to lunge, ready to fight, to kill. Something you had washed off in the shower with the appearance of someone you once thought long dead. “Maybe you are decent people, Frank vehemently vouches for her. But maybe you aren’t and maybe she’s changed. Doesn’t matter. We’re self-sufficient here. I don’t need you or your friend, or her complicating our lives. Is that clear?”

Even if you aren’t focused on one of them for more than a moment, eyes flitting between them evenly, you see the way Joel glances at the perimeter fence. Seeing something you don’t or can’t, had seen since first approaching it, keeping it to himself and only revealing it with his next words.

“That fence has got a year on it, tops. The galvanized wire already started to corrode. I can get you ten spools of high-tensile aluminum. Last you the rest of your life.” He seems to think better of his words and with another swallow of chewed food, remedies it. “Lives.”

The realization that Joel could be polite, he could be cordial, and he could assert himself in a nonviolent way to appeal to someone and get what he wants without shedding blood, breaking bones, or slinging harsh words is a hard realization. All you’ve known from him is backhanded comments about your skills, about your willingness to let them into the world you had helped shape in the zone. Someone who had come in with the intention of asserting his dominance over those already in charge had faltered only when you showed your own teeth. And he never let you forget the way you had showed your belly to allow them to be a part of it, no matter how mutually beneficial the situation was.

He saw you as weak and it’s glaringly apparent in the way that he tries to appeal to the man across from him now. A man who has things Joel has set his sights on, wants to get his hands on. But it’s much more than them both being men, it’s much more than them both being so similar in nature. It’s about the respect they have for each other, it’s as plain as day. The commonality of a kinder and gentler handler of a partner at their sides. Someone to protect that have bonded with each other.

It further proves how alone you truly are. The wine sours in your stomach, the food spoils and you excuse yourself from the table. Bill’s hand is back over the gun holstered to his side but pushes up out of his chair and follows you. Joel watches until as the man follows you to where you had sought space on the curb of the street, his brow furrowing and his mouth turning down as he thinks you’ve just ruined any hope of finding agreement.

“Save it, neither of you have even considered what I have-“

“Look, I’m not much for being honest these days. The world doesn’t care anymore and I never did even before it fell. But,” He’s sitting down beside you, a grunt at the low level nearly flush with the ground. A few feet separate you, but you understand the meaning of him doing so. Willingly putting himself beside you and at a disadvantage should you be brave enough to try something.

“I wasn’t willing to even entertain the thought of reaching out on the radio. But Frank was determined to wade through the signals. And he did all of it in search of you. He’s devoted so much time to finding you, alive or dead. And when he couldn’t find word, he didn’t leave the bed for weeks. He’s been haunted by your ghost since the day he stumbled onto my land. And yet, God delivered you to him alongside two people offering trade. You say I think of you as fodder, but you don’t know me. I may not really know you, but I know what you mean to Frank. That makes this worth the trouble and the risk. Not some one trying to appeal to me across the table, not some woman who Frank is set on impressing. It’s you. I can see through the act of that one back at the table a mile away, he’s behaving though he doesn’t want to. But you haven’t tried to hide you who are, what you are.”

“I didn’t feel the need to, not here, not with Frankie.”

“I know you may not be the same person he remembers and share stories with, but he’s gone through all the efforts to set this up. He was going to ask them if they had any word of you, he never gave up hope that somehow you had survived that raider tearing you out if his grip as you both ran from the ambush of their group. Something tells me you have the sway the two with you think they have, have become accustomed to because you allow them to reap the rewards of it.”

“It’s a partnership. Protection for equal shares of everything. I provide the knowledge. One person alone can’t hold their own any longer, certainly not in the zone.”

“You have the knowledge.” He agrees quietly, his eyes locking with yours as you look over at him.

“We’re you runnin’ off to?” Joel’s voice doesn’t startle you, but it’s unexpected in the doorway of the back porch. You had slipped out of your room the second you were sure everyone had been settled long enough to sleep, or at least resolve themselves to trying to rest for the night. It can’t be easy for either Joel or Bill to rest knowing the other doesn’t trust them, but you hadn’t anticipated anyone leaving their rooms at the late hour. Stars twinkle above in the sky, visible through the windows unobstructed by screens. You had just wanted to come out and see them, get some fresh air.

“Didn’t want to impose.” Your voice is quiet, though not in meekness, it’s swathed in the worry of waking a house full of people.

“We were offered rooms for the night, wouldn’t call that imposing.” He exhales heavily as he moves to stand beside where you are before one of the large panes of glass, looking out. “Besides, Frank seems to be easy on you, doubt he would say no to anything you needed.”

“Yeah, well, room’s too big, house is too big.” He watches you, catching the sight of your eyes tracing the landscape bathed in night and shadows. You absently wonder if he can smell the body wash you had used earlier, different from your own back in the zone but had washed the lingering scent of him on your skin all the same.

“Can’t get outta the gate on your own.”

“No, but it’s better than being stuck in that house.”

“It bothers you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Truly, you don’t. There’s no way he’s privy to the feelings and desperation to push down memories of the past that have endlessly bubbled up today, trying to drown you as they reach for the surface.

“Don’t play dumb, we both know you’re not.” His hands rest on his hips, the clinking of his belt buckle ever present loud in the silence of the night. Of the open land just beyond the enclosed porch. “You’re uncomfortable because they’re in a room and me ‘n Tess are in one.”

“I couldn’t care less about the sleeping arrangements.”

“Then what is it?”

“It doesn’t matter.” You think to tell him of how suffocating it was in that room, not because you were alone but because of how much it reminds you of where you used to live. But Joel isn’t one for you to be open with, to share honestly with. He’s been nothing but demeaning when it comes to any humanity you dare to show, conversations with Tess cut short the second he opens the door to wherever you are. The reason you don’t linger or share meals, the reason you don’t know why he had allowed for last night’s activities to happen and now they feel heavy, like a mistake you had let yourself fall into that never should have happened.

“Cane.” When you don’t respond, he voices the name Frank had called from behind the fence when he recognized you. It’s like an arrow to the heart, striking true and killing that part of you all over again. A name you had never expected to be called again, let alone by Joel Miller as he tries to get you to speak plainly with him. For once and never likely again.

“Drop it.” Your voice rasps, the scream you feel building in your chest desperately trying to break free.

“Not until you tell me.”

“Just because your mouth’s been on me-“

“That’s not what this- Jesus, fine, be difficult like you always are. I’m goin’ back inside.” He’s turning away, stepping toward the back steps. You hear the sound of his boots on the wood but only the first step before he’s whipping back around with a glare. “If this falls through, it’s on you. Not me and not Tess, you. And if that’s the case, maybe you should begin to consider that offer to stay here. And if that doesn’t pan out, don’t come crawling back to us.”

You don’t look at him or think of telling him the deal has been made because of you, and his steps take him further away from you, leaving you to sit on the outdoor furniture that reminds you too much of your old home. Of the one you once shared with family, of the one you had shared with Franke. Both more than likely just rubble or overtaken by twisted and decayed cordyceps. You feel the scream thicken your throat, swelling it up to make you try to gasp out for air to release it but it comes out as a harsh prattling sob. Your resolve to be strong cracking for the first time in years.

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@tobethlehem

[lexsssu]

NGL, you mentioning Leon Kennedy is now making me think he's clingy af to everyone who loves him, 'cause I've been getting the urge to replay RE2R/RE4 recently just because of him.

To, uh, gaze at him respectfully. Very respectfully. 👀👀👀

Bro yesssssssssssss

I swear that bby boi is so affection-starved after everything that happened to him that the moment he finds real love, there's no way he's holding back <3

And with that, here's what I came up for Leon so far because he decided to invade my dreams-- HAHAHAHA

TAGS: Older!Leon (late 30s-early 40s)/F!reader(early-mid 20s), age gap, pervy thoughts, affection-starved!Leon, headcanons Ko-fi | Commissions (OPEN)

Older!Leon who'd all but given up any semblance of a normal relationship after everything he's gone through. He lazes about in the coach of the cheap apartment he sentenced himself into living in (despite the swanky and secure government housing freely provided as one of the top agents) with a cold beer while some random series was playing on low volume on the TV

Older!Leon who hears knocking on his door and begrudgingly answers it only to be met with the prettiestcutestmostgorgeousmouthwatering person he'd ever seen in his life

Older!Leon gets a full whiff of your strawberries & cream scent even before you opened your mouth and has him thinking of everything that is innocent, good, and worth protecting in this world. He then realizes that you'd already introduced yourself and that he'd been staring at you like a creep this whole time

“Kennedy…Uhhh…Leon S. Kennedy,” he half mumbles and states as he tries not to look too deeply into your eyes lest he finds himself lost in their depths. He doesn’t need to look more of a creep than you might have already thought he was

 And when you don’t immediately run for the hills, he internally sighs in relief. It’s a foreign feeling to him, because after all the horrors he’d witnessed and experienced, the last thing he ever worried about was how other people perceived him

That he was actually worried about what you thought about him despite having only met is both alarming and yet somehow…comforting? It tells him that despite how broken he thinks he is, he’s not so broken as to no longer care at all about anything

…It also helps that you’re such a cutie that it’s impossible for him not to care about you. Especially when you keep bringing him your homemade food all the time

The animal part of his brain rumbles with pleasure at how you were already being such a good mate by making sure he’s well-fed when he’d yet to properly bond you to him. It reinforces the idea that some part of you unconsciously knew that he was the one for you

“It’s the first time I’ve lived on my own, and I guess I’m just not used to making only food for one. I don’t like letting food go to waste either, so I thought maybe one of the neighbors might appreciate it. Safe to say that I never get to any of the other neighbors since you’re always gratefully accepting my cooking, Mr. Kennedy”

Had he been a lesser man, your playful teasing would have resulted in you pinned to the floor as he loomed over you, covering your naughty little mouth with his. He could already imagine the tiny squeak you’d let out in surprise or the delicious whimpers he’d coax from your plush lips that he’d only swallow up

“I think we’re more than acquainted enough to get past our surnames, don’t you think? Just Leon is fine with me, doll.” 

The first time he hears his given name spoken from your lips, his traitorous brain conjures up an image of you with your eyes practically rolling to the back of your head as he fucks your pretty pussy open with his cock 

Was he getting too attached because you were the first person outside of the dangerous world he lived in who showed genuine care without expecting anything in return?

…Perhaps

But did he really care? 

Honestly, no

If anything, it’s only a matter of time until he no longer had to imagine waking up next to you in the morning or getting back home from a mission or the office and having you wrapped in a pretty little apron without anything underneath waiting patiently for him

[ladyyatexel]

Friends, Romans, Tumblrites, lend me your reblogs.

I'm Xel and I live in a society! I think there's a solid chance you do also! So you may relate to the profoundly crappy thing that happened to me and that I once again need a community assist.

I lost a temporary job that was supposed to turn into a permanent job in June because no one there felt safe enough to retire. Only two of us in the apartment were under 50. One of the crew was over 70. Three were chronically ill/disabled. No one felt safe enough to leave in order for me to stay, so I was trained for basically 6 months for nothing.

I have survived on savings from that job until this point, but I'm at the point where I cannot pay rent. I'm looking into getting help from sources more local to me but the internet has always felt like people who cared about me more than the people I share DNA with, really.

Many of the social services that I was signed up for expired the day that I was supposed to be told that I would be a permanent hire, and since that didn't go down, now I have to start it all again from the beginning, and there are gaps in my security net.

I tell you all of that just to say that I am actually trying to do things, I'm not here to just beg and coast along on some sort of lavish lifestyle where I, uh. Keep living in this dodgy apartment with my cat.

I don't want to bore you with an itemized list, but like 2,000 US dollars would get me through September and October without being worried about it like every 3 minutes. My rent is 700 and change, if you would like to know that. So I'm looking for like September and October rent and money to renew my driver's license, pay a few utility bills, buy a bag of cat food, and refill my medications.

If you have the notion to toss help at an internet pal or the extended reblogged acquaintance of an Internet pal, as is more likely the case, probably, that would be super rad of you.

I'm an artist! You could get things with images on them from me! I sell buttons, prints, and commissioned illustrations if that's your thing. My commissions are going a bit slow as of late - I only recovered from being not really able to walk like 2 months ago, and so I'm doing a lot of catch up like everywhere else in my whole life and trying not to spend too much time at a desk since it aggravates the spine thing that was the problem in the first place.

To be honest, it would be a greater help to me to just receive some Aid rather than full-on commissions, but I completely understand feeling fishy about people getting something for nothing and also feeling bad for being a charity case on the internet, so I'm not opposed! If you want to chat about that, I have a commissions post on the side or top of my blog depending on where you're looking at this!

Ko-fi contains my buttons and is a good place to toss digital dead American presidents if that suits you. I will get hit by some PayPal fees in this process but, I'm willing to call that a call for help on the internet tax.

I promise I'm a real person and not a bot who has made up a cat and is pretending to have interests. My blog has been here since 2010! I've met people on this website in person and everything. I've had embarrassing obsessions no bot would bother coming up with. Speaking of:

Similarly to times before, I would like to be able to do something in order to feel like I have earned some kind of support, and as of my birthday last week I have resolved to try very hard in the next year to conquer my fear and absolute mortification about many of the things I make, so I will once again go digging into my archives for things I can post for you to enjoy as thanks and tribute! I also have a poll running right now to see what kind of buttons people want!

Thanks for taking a look! Be nice out there, take care of your spines!

[belethlegwen]

General li'l update

So, things have done anything but slow down for me in the real world. To keep it as vague as possible, there's a chance I'll be losing my job within the next month or so, though we're all currently working on possible solutions to this. Hoping for the best.

I've already done my panicking and preemptive grieving. 18 years in a single career is a hell of a run for someone my age, and if it has to come to an end then I've made at least some peace with that idea.

Still though, working every day to find solutions. To fix things. To keep surviving. It's exhausting, I will not lie. We're doing what we can over here.

There's so, so much good to look forward to this year. These are just bumpy patches of road. And some of the bumpiest roads I've driven on have taken me to the best places I've ever been. I'll be alright. I know I'll be alright. I'll be more than alright, by the time this is all said and done.

Been doing more reading of late, which I've been loving. You all are putting out such amazing work and I love bouncing in to read even if it takes me 3 attempts and a couple of hours to get through a posted chapter. Lovely escapes, all around.

My sister turned me onto a game ("game" kind of seems like an odd word for it but either way) on steam called Spirit City: Lofi Sessions. You customize a character, you have a little room, it plays lofi music at you and you can poke at a few playlists, build soundscapes around it (rain noises, thunder, wind, birds chirping, crackling fire etc etc) while your character mills about in spots doing things as just a beautiful little vibe-generator. You can collect spirit pals to vibe with you. It's just really cozy and nice, I love it. Highly recommend.

It has an optioning for in-app journaling, and I've been meaning to get back into journaling regularly just for the sake of my memory and everything else. That's been a huge boon over the last 2-3 days. It's got a productivity timer, to-do list, daily task/habits tracker.

Anyway, I've been making progress on writing but it's slow, staggered. Hit a bit of a wall last night with some of The Stranding where I wrote 8.5 pages of a scene and then just felt... unhappy with it. I had clearly lost the thread of why I started writing it, and needed to walk away to see if a fresher mind could find a place to rewind to and pivot so I can salvage it, or if I'm just gonna carve the whole thing out and set it in the Cut Scenes doc. The other 20 pages I've got waiting? Fine. Good, even. Proud of those. This one, I'm proud of what I'm writing but again... just feels more like floating aimlessly and bouncing. It was clear I wrote it while heavily distracted or with gaps between focus, so it jumps.

I'll see what I can salvage. Can't promise an update and am avoiding making it feel like I'm 'back on schedule' just to find something I can reduce pressure from in my life for the time being. But: I love you all. The Kudos, the views, the comments, the everything. It means a lot. You're all great.

If I do any generic vent/vibe writing, not necessarily attached to anything, I'll consider sharing it here for y'all. You guys deserve a bit of fun and sunshine <3

Have a great time everyone, love y'all to bits <3

~ Belle

[shadowsandsunset]

I wish nothing but good things for Oliver Stark and Lou Ferrigno Jr.

They gave us such an authentic, gentle, tender experience. I've watched the clip of that kiss several dozen times now.

Oliver, especially, has been amazing in his interviews and social media posts, empathetic and honest and sweet. I don't know his sexuality and I don't speculate in real people's sexualities, but regardless he seems like a true ally. He seems to Get It.

As someone who came out later in life** it really touches my heart what they're doing.

9-1-1 has always seemed to try to do good by their queer characters and I really appreciate that.

Hen and Karen have always been a fantastic and very real feeling example of a wlw relationship.

This show is doing amazing. I wish nothing but good and happy things for the cast and crew who make this happen.

**Under the cut is my coming out/self acceptance story if you're interested.

Tw: repression, self harm, drug use, shitty relationships both familial and romantic.

I tried to come out as a teenager in the early 2000s after I kissed a girl for the first time. It did not go well.

My mother was a complicated woman and she loved me very much, but when I told her I was bi (I prefer pan now but at the time I didn't have that word) she told me it was a phase and that she was disappointed, that she would always love me but that it was wrong in the eyes of God and she couldn't accept it.

Disappointing my mother was worse than her being angry. It felt like my heart was carved out of my chest. I feel like if she had been angry or openly cruel I could have fought back, but her sadness destroyed me. I was 16 then and I continued to live at home until I was 24. I'm in my mid/late 30s now.

So I repressed that part of myself for well over a decade and spent a lot of time depressed and miserable. I self harmed and did A LOT of drugs. I'm clean now except for super occasional weed use. I have a lot of scars from self harm.

My mom died several years ago and it wasn't until after her death that I allowed myself to even think about it, any of it. I was in a relationship with a man for eight years that was loving but he was an alcoholic and I had to walk on eggshells around him because of his mental health struggles; he was emotionally abusive but in a way that was only apparent in hindsight. I thought that my relationship with him was as good as I was going to get. We broke up not long after my mom died.

The only family member I am out to is my older sister, who has been amazing and accepting and loves me completely. Without her support I would be lost.

I have now dated/hooked up with women, men, nb and trans people. I have explored my own gender identity (it's whatever, I don't feel like a woman despite having the female equipment and appearing female in body, I feel pretty masculine but not like a man either, and I don't have strong opinions on pronouns, but I feel like I fail at femininity and masculinity in equal measure so I call myself genderqueer. I don't have any desire to take hormones or have any surgeries, I just want to be a person without having to perform gender).

I live in a conservative small city in the US south and I feel disconnected from the wider queer community. I don't know how to bridge that gap. There is a small queer community here but you can't really be openly out and be safe.

I'll be going to my first pride event this June. I'm excited and terrified because I don't feel like I'm queer enough or The Right Kind of queer, which is such a stupid stress to have, but I don't have many friends to talk about this with and I am hoping to get out there and make some but I'm nervous. I'm socially awkward and kinda weird. I'm also single and trying to mingle, lol.

I like who I am now but it was an incredibly difficult road to get to this place. I'm still on that journey, and maybe I always will be but that's ok. I'm finally myself.

[princeanxious]

are you out of the TSS fandom for good, do you think? just burned out on lack of updates?

I mean, it's complicated.

Edit: pressed answer instead of save to drafts while trying to back out, tumblr what the fuck

Anyway, it's complicated. I've become burnt out creatively lately, and I've been part of the sanders sides Fandom since 2018, it's been a big portion of my life, I'm not letting it go that easily.

However, this is my main blog, and I cant really shift everything to a new side blog, so I do feel bad for those who followed me exclusively for sanders sides are now seeing a v distinct lack of it.

But for the most part, yeah, I'm burned out on a lack of updates, I was a fander creator doing as much as I could to create content to entertain myself just as much as for others in-between the hiatus-gaps while awaiting updates. I love these characters with all my heart, but every gap in between has gotten longer and longer, I can't keep waiting for a year at a time for one single update even if the finished product is grand and *absolutely worth* the time it took to make. I was scrambling, bc I no longer have the time I used to to create my own fanart and fanfiction and animatics for this fandom, and I can only reread the library of my favorite saved works over so many times before I feel hollow and under-stimulated.

It'd be one thing if the rest of the fandom was as active as it used to be, I bounce off others creative energy far easier than single handedly manifesting my own inspirations all the time. But it's not, and interaction with my own content slowed way down. (Not to say that I'm leaving just bc of this or anything, but its become a struggle to feel motivated to keep going when there's literally nothing new from Canon to keep riffing from.)

I have the want to finish my remaining fics, specifically The Lost Guardian in particular at the very least, but I just can't solely be a sanders sides blog like I used to be.

I'll be here when that season finale comes out, but at this rate of progression, I think Thomas has overestimated the fact that this could very well be a series finale, not season finale. And I've come to peace with that, if only Thomas would be more transparent abt it.

Sure, Thomas has other content, but funfact, I've had very relatively low interest in getting super into it, there isn't the same level of comfort in shipping characters of a single person with the versions themselves when other characters played by other people are involved, especially when u know that they are alot of his v close friends. I don't ship real world actors together, especially if they play a character very close to representing themselves. The characters they play, maybe, but that's why I'm far more entertained and comfortable with animated media.

In short, I'm tired and burnt out and for now-for *whatever* reason- the silly lanky clown jesters from fnaf have more of a grasp on my brain than sanders sides does. I'm following the serotonin.

I may still create sanders sides content in the future, but getting maybe 100-500 notes on a piece when u have a fandom following of roughly 11.5k followers from over the years has spoken volumes on how active the community is rn. I'm not leaving, but I can't be stagnant and hyperfixate on this anymore after doing so for almost 6 years straight. Yknow?

And for those who have always left a comment, shared my work, interacted with me in any capacity over the years in this fandom, and have made my time in this fandom worth while, thank you. I love you. U have made every second worth it💜

[philcoulsonismyhero]

Self-indulgent gay crime thriller for the wip meme

Ah yes, my beloved Detective Thing(TM) that I really need to properly title...

I've talked about this one before, and it's basically the result of two lines of thought, number one being: 'I know this crime drama is from the early 2000s and thus is Not going to have queer people in it but Please can I just have one (1) queer hero in this genre? For once? For me?' There's something about the genre conventions of older crime dramas that I just enjoy, but it is Exhausting in that particular regard and I started contemplating the idea of Doing It Myself.

And the other slightly less serious one coming from the fact that I got back into Kingsman while I was also on a Silent Witness kick and had the thought 'isn't it funny how many of my favourite characters are called Harry? Oh no, hang on a minute, I think Harry Hart is exactly the type that Harry Cunningham would have an enormous hopeless crush on...' (Harry Cunningham isn't technically canon bi, but. He is. He just is.)

So I rattled those two characters around in my brain a bit until the serial numbers came off and suddenly a whole story had built itself around the resulting characters, initially referred to in my outline as Doctor and Detective. (And I'm not very interested in writing active romance plotlines, so they became an established couple instead.)

The resulting thing has been snowballing in my brain, picking up complexity and structure and other characters and Themes, and now it's the story of George Glen, detective chief inspector in London's Metropolitan Police in 2005 and closeted gay man who lives with his partner, forensic pathologist Dr Tim Kingswood, who he frequently works with on cases with none of his colleagues being any the wiser as to their actual relationship. George, working with his brilliant Detective Sergeant Naomi Edusei and Tim as the designated pathologist, ends up lead detective on a complicated murder case that slowly develops into a serial killer investigation. But things get more complicated as certain elements of the case start to feel a little close to home for George, who's keeping rather more secrets than just his orientation and home life, and eventually the finger of suspicion starts to drift in his direction...

I love this story, it's basically me having a go at doing Silent Witness, Criminal Minds and various other crime thrillers all at once, and I'm extremely fond of George as a protagonist. Here's a bit I think you'll enjoy, featuring George and Tim's cat, named The Usual Suspect for his habit of doing Cat Crimes:

George stared at the file, lost in memory, until he heard a soft scrabbling at the door. He sighed.  “Go away, Suspect,” he said, softly. “I'm working.” But, unsurprisingly, the cat ignored him and kept scrabbling. George rolled his eyes and pushed his chair back. “If you leave scratch marks on that door, cat, you and I are going to have a conversation that you won't enjoy.” He got up, crossed to the office door, and opened it a crack, balancing on one foot so he could hold the other in front of the gap to stop the cat from getting in.  The Usual Suspect stopped scraping his paws on the door like he was trying to dig through it and looked up at George with his ridiculous lamp-like eyes. “Go and sleep on Tim,” said George, still keeping his voice low because of the late hour. “I'm working.” But the cat just meowed back at him and kept staring. “Oh, alright,” said George, giving in. He moved his foot, and quick as a flash Suspect had slid past his ankles and into the room.  George crossed back to his desk and sat down, and Suspect immediately jumped up into his lap, purring like a lawnmower. George laughed slightly, unable to keep pretending he was cross with him. “You are such an attention hog,” he said, scratching the cat's ears as he rubbed his little head against his hand. “How am I supposed to get anything done with you around, hm? I could charge you with obstructing a criminal investigation.” Scooting his chair back in slightly, although not enough to squash Suspect up against the desk, George went one-handedly back to the files, keeping the other hand occupying the cat. Maybe it would be nice to have some furry company as he navigated the darker corners of memory lane. 

(Technically this thing is probably going to be a comic rather than a novel, but I've been writing bits in prose just to get a handle on character voices and such, and because I'm more familiar with prose than script format. But it exists in my head as a visual thing and I can't make a TV miniseries so comic it probably is.)

[hirami]

Going through one door feels like closing many others forever.

I've been twisting my mind about that a lot lately. All my life just sort of went on. I never really made any "radical" decisions. I always wanted to keep open that door to one day "purchase my dream".

But when I think about purchasing something I want, I realize I have to risk something, leave something behind, close another door.

So I never crossed the door. I never went through. Too scared of the options that get lost on the way.

I thought about purchasing something very often. But I am an overthinker. I ponder and think about all the things I'd have to do and know and learn, and all the things that could possibly go wrong. Sometimes I have good moments, and I think to myself, I'm not that bad, I can solve problems when they appear right in front of me. Some other moments, I lose all confidence and think "I can't do it".

But what always makes me head back are the doors. If i pursue one, I most likely have to give up another one. And then a small voice whispers in my ear. "What if you regret it? What if the other one was the better option?"

It occurs with big and small decisions alike. Commit to meeting someone during the weekend - but what if another person suddenly is free, who I'd prefer to spend time with? The second thing never really happens, but still I skip on the first option.

It's the same with everything.

I'd like a pet... but I'd have to find someone to take care while I'm away; and I'd never be able to go abroad.

I want to spend a few months in Japan. But I'd have to give up my job/life here, which is not really good, but I'm not confident I could reach the same level again when I get back.

I want to work for something or someone I'm more passionate about, something I could stand behind, but I don't know if I'm good enough for that. Lately all I feel is struggle, and no achievement. Negativity and no productiveness; fear of challenges and failure instead of motivation to tackle something new.

It's been so long that I've been passionate about anything. Having something I really want or really enjoy. At the moment, nothing is really bad, but nothing is really good either.

I guess it might have to do with the loneliness. Living alone and spending half of the week at home isn't great. I do things with people as much as I can, but obviously people around me don't have so much free time, so there will always be a gap. I thrive on being able to help people, make people happy, do fun stuff together. But I want to do it with friends, and I'm getting too old and tired for looking for new ones (and too tired and scared of failing yet another relationship). So I'm stuck. Stuck in a stupid circle of (social) anxiety, overthinking and not being able to step through any doors.

Tomorrow I will go skiing, because I love the snow, the mountains, and the feeling of freedom when you gain speed. Alone, because no one of my good friends likes skiing. But it's something. I'll bring my (heavy bulky) camera and hope I can take a few pictures. Hope that there's some inspiration to be found.

Maybe, maybe some time, some day, there will appear a new door, and I will just go through.

[tokiro07]

Was talking to a customer today about media consumption, specifically about the benefits and risks of binging

I've talked about this concept a number of times lately it feels like, but this particular conversation helped me realize a nice framework to look at it with: while binging is quick and to an extent feels good (i.e. "I finished this series in X amount of time!"), it greatly reduces the amount of anchor points that one can form to become attached to the media in question

For example, when I was reading Dungeon Meshi, I ended up reading all 90+ chapters in the span of three days; Dungeon Meshi is made up of a lot of small arcs, each lasting only a few chapters, and I ended up reading all of them in the same context (sitting on my couch at around the same time of day) with minimal exposure to outside factors (other readers, sharing what I was doing with my family or friends, etc.)

Aside from key moments, like those that were particularly funny ("an exact duplicate...?") or particularly emotionally impactful (the ancient magic, Senshi's youth, post-Dungeon Rabbits, etc.), I feel like I couldn't really relay the events of the story to someone else without missing a lot of the best bits because, again, by binging them I ended up mashing all of the events together in my mind. I didn't even end up reading it at a particularly noteworthy time in my own life, so reading it so quickly meant that it didn't end up connecting to my personal life either

Compare to say, One Piece, which I hadn't actually read in its entirety until Gear 4th was revealed; I realized that the significance of this moment may have been lost on me, so I decided that this would be a good time for me to fill in any of the gaps in my knowledge (i.e. Davy Back, Skypiea, Water 7, etc.) and read the full-color version

At just shy of 800 chapters at the time, this process took me approximately three weeks; some chapters I read lying on my bed, some I read sitting in a chair, some I read during breaks in college. Some I read while listening to Three Days Grace, some while listening to 10 Years, some while listening to Rise Against

Even though I was binging One Piece, the sheer amount of time it took me to actually do so ended up giving me a ton of opportunities to create anchors; I remember different contexts, outside conversations, and most importantly, the impacts that they had on me

Rereading Punk Hazard at the time was definitely the highlight, as it altered not only my reading experience but my involvement in the fandom and just generally how I lived my life. Because I was reminded of Monet, I started looking into the theories surrounding her, which led to me looking into other theories and finding forums like Oro Jackson. Monet herself became the ultimate anchor point for me, as she retroactively became the frame of reference that I have for my entire One Piece experience

Reading One Piece took so long that it ended up being a defining segment of my life in and of itself, whereas the time spent reading Dungeon Meshi was so small that it barely registers as a single event, despite the fact that I think it's extremely high quality and a story I highly recommend

It's like when you're studying for an exam - you can't just cram the night before, you'll wear your brain out and only really remember the first and last things you read particularly clearly; but if you space it out and give yourself time to rest, you'll have multiple beginnings and endings that you'll remember a lot better than you would have otherwise, both because they're each their own isolated incident that you can think back to while also giving yourself enough time to recover

So when you're consuming a new piece of media that you've really wanted to get into but you were too late for the live updates, please consider regulating your experience. Limit yourself to 10 chapters a day, or one arc per day, or whatever's the most conducive to that particular medium. Just resist the temptation of "just one more, it's so good and I've got time for it"

You may have the time for it, but like eating a bag of candy, you're going to end up overdoing it and regretting it because A) you don't feel as good as you would have otherwise and B) now you don't have it when you want it later

[thezolblade]

rl and fandom update

Fatigue's been getting better in the last year or so, with at least one cause identified. Since I've gone from a few years of barely managing much, to gradually starting to get a bit more energy to walk around for a few hours per day, I keep trying to do things and tiring myself out, and then napping and zoning out rather than getting other things done too.

Switched my laptop and the old family computer over to linux, to avoid forced copilot on one, and make the other usable again after windows 8 end of life. I may have lost some files despite my best efforts. Backing things up and following the process took a lot of time despite the process being as straightforward as it could be, and I love linux but I'm still picking it up. I wish I'd had that time for other things when there was so much else going on. Hate windows so much for forcing all that bullshit, but at least I've gotten rid of it now.

Goal next year is to retain more energy until the evenings so I can really get back to fun things that require focus. Fandom's been partly on the backburner; on good weeks I've managed to focus on short projects, but I haven't been able to maintain a focus on long projects. The list of games/books/shows/writing that I want to get back to feels motivating, like I'm reminding myself that whenever I have any time, there are still lots of things where I can feel some enthusiasm, even if I can't get through them all quickly like a to-do list. Gathering thoughts on the main ones:

Disco Elysium

When I played it in 2019, it was really good, but parts of it were slightly too much in a grim way, like the death notice; I remember thinking that I wanted to replay, but I needed a gap first.

Heard about the Sacred and Terrible Air fantranslation this year and took that as a cue to replay, and this time it's been fantastic. Knowing what's coming takes some of the bite out of the rough parts, along with getting invested enough to want to explore all the dialogue options to see the characters from all angles. Kim gets so sassy and creative when Harry fucks up. The playthroughs are going slowly but I've seen almost everything that I kept getting spoiled on when I slipped into reading fic earlier in the year. I've made it through a few chapters of the book pdf, it's heavy going though. To be continued.

FFVII

Picked up the reboot, it feels odd to be so late to the party with my fave game. To play when I have the energy for sitting up with the steam deck, rather than resting with something turn-based open on a laptop.

TMA

So so many wips that I want to finish, but I'm still reeling from getting put off from season 4 onwards. That got pretty tangled with pandemic stress, at the same time it was getting unfun and I couldn't get another interest to catch alight the same way to take my mind off things. The wip files are long enough I need a bit of focus back to tackle them.

Now the TMP sequel's out too, and I lost all interest when I found out that Jonah Magnus is still a character, despite the show sounding at first like a universe where he was killed off for real and other characters actually, finally, get to drive the plot with their own character arcs in a cathartic way, instead of everyone just rattling around where they're trapped the whole time. I'll probably read a summary at some point, as it does stuff with characters from TMA, and falling out of date with the canon really shows in fanworks. Don't feel like it yet.

Golden Sun

Every few years I've gone back the to longfic WIP that's still on fanfic.net and spent a few weeks trying to reread/edit/get past the block point, before getting tired out and taking a break from it again.

Lately I'm thinking, I always had point A at the start and point C at the end planned out, but getting there with the long detour through point B, well, that's the part where I'm stuck, and where a lot of the old writing that makes me wince is, which I keep changing without quite being happy with it, and which I can't cut for the way the plot hangs together. So maybe I should just cut out the side plot that takes up most of point B, even though what's posted is all setup so far and it was going to be the payoff next, and there are parts I really like. It'd make the fic much shorter, to go straight from points A to C; chapter 4 or 5 would move on to one or two chapters of wrapping things up, in a relatively quick and easy way for the characters. No big parts for Sheba and Ivan, no flashbasks to the heroes' history from Sheba's pov. I probably won't manage to finish it otherwise, so it's worth a try. Need to wait until I have some time off work to take a run at it.

PMMM

I still need to watch magia record, and read some of the comics... It's been too long since I've rewatched my fave show.

Harvest Moon / Rune Factory / Stardew Valley / Pokemon / indie relaxing games

Relaxation. Gotta pick them up again before I forget where I was up to.

Slay the Pricess

Play the Pristine Cut, and try the Disco Elysium crossover mod.

Fallen London

Nice to have a browser game on my phone. I keep putting off progress with the stories that'll shed some light on the lore, for a better day. Intriguing world anyway.

Omori, Deltarune, Dredge

Play more when my sister visits, and when she's not tired out from work too. Good to have some shared activities.

Fire Emblem 3 Houses

Finish the last route... I don't have to replay the shared chapters again at this point, just finish the blue route...

Saiyuki

See how many more of the comics are out in English than, uh, more than 10 years ago.

Avatar last airbender & korra

Catch up with the comics.

Arcane

Almost through season 2, TV evenings with my parents. Pretty effects. Kinda makes me want to know more, but I don't think I'll ever play league of legends. Maybe something to expore via youtube someday.

Star Trek

I watched ToS with my parents last year. Next, time to watch all the next gen episodes that I somehow never caught when it was on TV growing up, even though watching whatever was on meant I saw some episodes 2 or 3 times. And there's that new short film going around.