#literally one of the first things I did after watching the show

[deansbeer]

𝐓𝐄𝐗𝐀𝐒 SKIES & 𝐂𝐇𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐌𝐀𝐒 TIES

001. ARE WE MORE THAN FRIENDS? ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ִ ݁ ♡ .

✸ 𝐀𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐋 𝟏𝟗𝟗𝟔; four months after you and jensen met.

PAIRING. cowboy!jensen x female reader ꒱

SYNOPSIS. it's been four month since you and jensen met during that stormy december, and now he's around a lot more. between family dinners, stolen moments, and clearing the air about daisy, things between you and jensen are getting sweeter—and a whole lot more complicated.

WARNING(S). fluff | hand-holding | forehead kisses | flirting | romantic tension | developing feelings | playful family teasing | confrontation (toward daisy) | made-up rumors | sisters' tease reader but r supportive of the blossoming relationship | dads' subtle matchmaking attempts | extended family (jensen's family) | past insecurities | self-consciousness | mutual pining | animal interactions (baby foal) | country lifestyle | ranch work references | rural texas.

kari yaps. merry xmas eve! my lil gift to u for the holidays. teehee, i'm already so obsessed w these two, not even kidding. this one is a lil longer than the prologue (obviously) so ur in for a ride !!! i want cowboy!jensen n his charming fine self <3333 yeehaw! 🏇 edit. i don't like how it came out, so im sorry, if it's shitty compared to the prologue :((( + im not feeling as festive & have been crying since earlier over it. anyway, i would hate to ruin anyone else's holiday spirit, so lemme just stop there <3 with that said, i hope ur all enjoying christmas, my loves. and to those who don't celebrate, i hope ur having an amazing day <3

𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓. ୨ৎ 𝐉𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐍'𝐒 𝐋𝐈𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐑𝐘.

APRIL in texas brought wildflowers and warm breezes, painting the ranch in vibrant colors that made everything feel new again. four exact months had passed since that stormy december day when jensen first walked into your life, and somehow everything was different while staying exactly the same.

"he's coming over again?" hannah teased from her perch on the kitchen counter, watching you fidget with your hair in the reflection of the microwave door. "that's the third time this week."

"his dad and our dad are friends," you muttered, though you couldn't hide the flush creeping up your neck. "they're working on something."

kimberly snorted from the kitchen table. "yeah, working on getting you two married off."

"shut up, kim!"

"girls," your mom warned, but her eyes were twinkling as she kneaded dough for her famous cinnamon rolls. "leave your sister alone. though i must say, alan has been mighty pleased with how well you two get along."

you groaned, dropping your head onto the counter. "can we please talk about literally anything else?"

the sound of tires on gravel saved you from further torment. through the window, you could see alan's truck pulling up, jensen climbing out of the passenger side door. your heart did that annoying little flip it always did when you saw him now, but at least you'd learned to hide it better.

"sweetheart," your mom called as you headed for the door, "why don't you show jensen those new foals while your dad and his dad talk business?"

"subtle, mom. real subtle."

but you were already out the door, the spring air warm on your skin as you jogged down the porch steps. jensen met you halfway, that easy smile of his making your stomach flutter.

"hey," he said softly, like he always did, like it was just for you.

"hey yourself." you nodded toward the stables. "want to see the new additions?"

he fell into step beside you, close enough that your arms brushed. "lead the way."

the past four months had smoothed out most of the awkwardness between you, replaced it with something comfortable but charged with possibility. you'd learned things about him—how he took his coffee (black, two sugars), his favorite time of day (dawn, when the ranch was just waking up), how his laugh changed depending on what made him smile.

"you know," he starts, as you reached the stables, "my aunt martha's been asking about you."

you laughed, remembering the energetic woman from last month's family barbecue. "is she still convinced i need her secret recipe for peach cobbler?"

"she says, and i quote, 'that girl needs to know how to make a proper cobbler if she's gonna be part of this family.'"

your steps faltered slightly, but jensen pretended not to notice. that was another thing you'd learned about him—he knew when to push and when to let things breathe.

"your family's really taken a shine to me, huh?" you said, trying to keep your voice light as you led him to the newest foal's stall.

"can you blame them?" he leaned against the stable door, watching as you checked on the baby horse. "you're pretty easy to like."

before you could respond, a sharp voice cut through the air. "jensen! i thought that was your truck i saw!"

the happy bubble around you and jensen burst at daisy's sharp voice. she stood at the stable entrance like she owned it, her blonde hair perfectly curled despite the texas heat, wearing a sundress that seemed impractical for a ranch visit. your stomach twisted—she looked exactly like the kind of girl who belonged next to jensen.

"daisy." jensen's voice was flat, nothing like the warm tone he'd been using with you moments ago. his shoulders tensed, and he shifted slightly, putting himself between you and her.

"i've been trying to catch you at your place," she said, her boots clicking against the stable floor as she walked closer. each step felt deliberate, calculated. "daddy keeps saying you're never around anymore." her eyes flicked to you, a quick dismissive glance that made your skin crawl. "now i see why."

"been busy," jensen said shortly. you could see the way his jaw clenched, the way it did when he was holding back words. he turned back to you, deliberately showing daisy his back. "speaking of, you were gonna show me those training techniques you mentioned?"

daisy's perfectly painted lips curved into a sneer. "i guess the rumors about you two are true, then? funny, i always thought you had better taste, jensen."

"excuse me?" the words left your mouth before you could stop them.

jensen's hand found yours, squeezing gently. "there aren't any rumors, daisy," he said, his voice stern in a way you'd never heard before. "and even if there were, it wouldn't be any of your business. never has been."

she flushed, anger flashing across her face. "i just thought—"

"you thought wrong," he cut her off. "there was never a 'we', daisy. you decided there was something between us without ever asking me what i wanted. you showed up at my ranch uninvited, tried to insert yourself into my family, and spread rumors when i made it clear that i wasn't interested."

her composure began to crack. "that's not—i never—"

"you told half the county we were dating," jensen continued, his voice steady but angry. "even went as far as making things uncomfortable for everyone, including your dad. and now you're here, on private property, trying to do it again?"

"jensen—"

"you're wrong, daisy," he said firmly. "now, if you'll excuse us, we've got work to do. i'm sure you can find your way out."

daisy's face contorted with anger and embarrassment. "this isn't over," she spat, but her voice wavered. "daddy won't be happy about how you're treating me."

"your daddy knows exactly how i feel," jensen replied calmly. "has for months. why do you think he stopped bringing you around?"

she opened her mouth, closed it, then spun on her heel and stormed off. you could hear her volkswagen beetle engine rev aggressively as she peeled out of the ranch.

silence fell in the stable, broken only by the soft nickering of horses. jensen's hand was still holding yours, his thumb rubbing gentle circles against your skin.

"i'm sorry about that," he said finally, turning to face you. "i should've handled that situation better months ago."

"you don't have to apologize," you reassured him. "it's not your fault she..."

"got obsessed?" he supplied with a wry smile. "yeah, well. maybe if i'd been clearer from the start about where my interests lay, she wouldn't have gotten the wrong idea."

your heart skipped. "your interests?"

his free hand came up to cup your cheek, and suddenly you couldn't remember why you'd ever worried about daisy at all.

"listen," he moved closer, his eyes serious. "whatever you heard about me and daisy... it wasn't true. never was. she just... decided things were a certain way, and no matter how many times i told her different, she wouldn't listen."

"oh." you fiddled with the hem of your shirt. "i just thought... i mean, everyone said—"

"everyone says a lot of things," he stepped closer, his fingers catching your chin. "but the only girl i've been interested in since last december is standing right here, trying real hard not to look at me."

your eyes snapped to his, heat flooding your face. "jensen..."

"dinner's ready!" kimberly's voice rang out across the yard, making you both jump apart.

jensen laughed, shaking his head. "your sisters have terrible timing."

dinner at your house had become a regular thing, both families crowded around the large oak table your grandfather had built. your mom had outdone herself tonight—pot roast, fresh rolls, and three different kinds of pie.

"this is incredible, melanie," alan said to your mom, helping himself to seconds. "you've outdone yourself."

"oh, it's nothing special," your mom waved him off, but she was beaming. "though, i did try that new seasoning donna suggested."

jensen's mom smiled warmly. "i told you it would make all the difference."

you were seated between jensen and hannah, trying to ignore the knowing looks both your sisters kept shooting your way. jensen's knee pressed against yours under the table, a steady warmth that made it hard to focus on your food.

"remember when these two first met?" your dad chuckled, gesturing between you and jensen. "her in those pajamas of hers, looking like she'd seen a ghost."

"dad!" you groaned as everyone laughed.

"oh, i remember," alan grinned. "jensen came home that very next day talking about—"

"hey, dad," jensen cut in quickly, his ears reddening. "maybe we should talk about something else?"

hannah leaned over to whisper in your ear. "bet he told his daddy all about how pretty y'looked in those shorts."

you elbowed her sharply, but you couldn't help smiling.

after dinner, everyone migrated to the back porch. the texas sunset painted the sky in pinks and purples, the air cooling just enough to be comfortable. you found yourself sitting on the porch swing with jensen, your families' voices creating a comfortable backdrop of chatter.

"so," you said softly, "what exactly did you tell your dad that night?"

jensen groaned. "you're not gonna let that go, are ya?"

"nope."

he was quiet for a moment, then he spoke up, "i told him i'd met the prettiest girl i'd ever seen, even if she was wearing pajamas and looked like she wanted to murder me."

"i did not!"

"sweetheart, you looked at me like i was the devil himself."

"well, you were smirking at me!"

"because you were adorable," he said simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "still are."

before you could respond, kimberly's voice floated over, "you two want some privacy?"

"kim!" you hissed, but jensen just laughed, his arm sliding along the back of the swing behind you.

"nah," he answered coolly. "just enjoying the view."

your mom then appeared in the doorway, holding a fresh pie. "who wants dessert?"

as everyone headed inside, jensen caught your hand. "hey."

"yeah?"

"just... i'm glad your dad made you help that day. even if you did try to hide from me for weeks after."

you ducked your head, embarrassed. "well, to be fair, i thought you were dating daisy."

"never," he said firmly. "not her, not anyone. been waiting for the right girl."

"is that so?"

his thumb brushed over your knuckles, just like it had that night. "yeah."

"jensen! honey, you want apple or cherry?" his mom called.

he squeezed your hand once before standing, pulling you up with him. "we should get in there before they send out a search party."

"or before my sisters start making more comments?"

"that too." he tugged you closer, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead that left you stunned. "come on, pretty girl. let's go face the firing squad."

later that night, after both families had gone home and your sisters had thoroughly exhausted their teasing, you lay in bed thinking about everything. your mom poked her head in, smiling knowingly.

"you have a good day?"

"mom..."

she sat on the edge of your bed, smoothing your hair back like she used to when you were a little girl. "you know, i remember when i first met your father. he had that same look in his eyes that jensen gets when he looks at you."

"mama," you whined, but you were smiling.

"i'm just saying," she stood, heading for the door. "some things are worth taking a chance on."

as you stared up at the ceiling of your bedroom, you thought about jensen's words, about waiting for the right girl. maybe, just maybe, your mom was right.

𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋 taglist. @deanswidow @a1ecmcdowell @beausling @titsout4jackles @frosttbitessam @aileenunfiltered @deansbite @jasvtsc @fallbhind @ostaramoon @lacydollette @ultravi0lence14 @rubyvhs @s4wdvator @depressionbarbie2023 @spcncershasting @severe-mental-illness @lmg14 @bluestrd @starkeysprincess ◟ ☆ ݁ ⋆ 🏇 ˚⊹ ˖ ﾟ✶ ݁. comment OR send an ask to be added / removed !!!!!

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[kissedloveletters]

IN A WINTER WONDERLAND . ۫ ꣑ৎ . christmas activities w’ them

(˶ ˘ ³˘)ˆᵕ ˆ˶) warnings. fluff、fell-hard boys、gn!reader、established relationship、mild mention of burial [dazai]、minor ooc maybe .. [ jouno + atsushi]、vulnerability(?) ໒ ᩧ꒱ characters. akutagawa ryunosuke、dazai osamu、atsushi nakajima、ranpo edogawa、jouno saigiku、tetcho suehiro ♥ made with lots of love! / wc 3.1k

AKUTAGAWA RYUNOSUKE + MOVIE MARATHON

you knew akutagawa’s density of his general health and specifically his lungs is somewhat weak, he has a sensitive health so it’s bad for him to go outside when it was such cold weather and air. he still insists he has a strong health, he doesn’t want you to view him as weak or incapable.

putting that into thought you recommended a movie, though he actually enjoyed the thought. he urge you pick the movie and he can make the snacks, cue being he asks you what food or snacks you want and he gets or makes it.

you get a little conflicted about which movie you would choose, akutagawa notices this and suggests a random Christmas movie in which you hastily agree to choose and start playing it.

he doesn’t even know what the movie even is, he just overheard his coworkers talking about it T^T..

you both started watching the movie with your arms intertwined and a blanket on the both of you as you lean onto akutagawa’s shoulders, the snacks laid out on the coffee table in front.

you tilt your head up slightly to see akutagawa watching the movie with a blank expression, you know that stupidly cute doe-eye face he makes in bsd wan? he’s making that one.

you tried to fight the urge to ask him if he’s enjoying the movie or not, you let the question slip unfortunately and you’re replied by a strangely flustered akutagawa protesting he enjoys it, picking one popcorn and eats it

“are you…enjoying the movie ryu?” “I AM.”

he was caught off guard when you giggled and squeezed his arm once more and leaned back on his shoulder, the movie catching your attention again. he bites back a sigh and rests his head on yours.

when the movie is over—and his snarky comments—the credits starts rolling out in the screen; signaling you to get up, akutagawa is strangely quick to gently pull your arm back with a silent wait. you look surprised, mouth and eyes go slightly agape, he is also himself but doesn’t show it physically.

the small gesture was unusual for akutagawa. you’d think he isn’t fond of physical touch, maybe from others, but you’re not them. the thought is probably the reason why he likes your cozy touch so much, giving him the relaxation he never quite had since forever.

the words i love you flew out of his lips before he can stop it, he hates how his voice almost cracked. there was slight vulnerability in his voice if it was silent enough. his eyes that were once firm soften only-so-slightly, he bite the back-inside of his cheek on habit. the way your smile and eyes softening gets him every time.

“I love you too, ryunosuke”

DAZAI OSAMU + PLAYING IN THE SNOW

you firstly wanted to spend more time with you boyfriend, it’s the winter time so what’s more better than messing around with him in the snow?

apparently it seemed like dazai enjoyed it at first, he even went out of his way to find a way to annoy kunikida. which is to put—stuff—snow in kunikida’s locker (probably threw one or two snowballs at him when he’s caught), gets behind you when kunikida chases him out of the agency because he’s literally covered in snow ( he did so many snow angels, even one on the road? ) and made little puddles.

dug in the snow and made a literal burial, makes it dramatic and tells you he has a surprise and shows you it with a cheeky smile on his face, also does that thing when you revealing something with your arms and waving your hands. while you’re there looking like you’re sulking at your boyfriend he’s rambling on how great his creation is…

“feast your eyes belladonna!—” then there’s white noise for you after that…

you two did a snowball fight and he may or may not literally climbed on the tree like a animal. he’s basically holding the thick tree branch for his life, he looks so stupid.. whines in a dramatic tone how you’re torturing him..?

after some time, unfortunately, he’s now being more dramatic about being cold and faking his chattering teeth, lot of “my belladonna hates me. she wants me to die in the cold.” emphasizing the hate and die in the sentence while his hands are on both sides of his upper-arm as like he’s trying to warm himself with a pout on his face and a slightly red nose and cheeks.

you couldn’t help but chuckle at him, how couldn’t you when he looks so cute? (you tried to press on both of his cheeks when your hand was somewhat covered by snow and then he swats your hand away like it was hot iron) he looks at you with fake offense and starts whining about how you’re mocking him.

catering his needs, you both went inside. it was almost immediately when he tries to shake off the snow and make a brrr sound accompanying it, earning a major side-eye from you

(un)fortunately you found yourself later sandwiched between a clingyzai and the soft mattress, the cuddling would’ve been a warm moment if his weight wasn’t crushing on you. squeezing you more if you try to get up, you feel as if you’re dying, literally.

your hand found his soft, but moist, hair and started to caress his head. he leans in your hand more and visibly gotten more relaxed (and loosely let his vice grip on you)

you found sleep somehow and you both rested, when you woke up he’s snoring in your ear and drooling on you? you also had to wake him up because he was literally suffocating you.

ATSUSHI NAKAJIMA + BUILDING A SNOWMAN

atsushi had wanted to play in the snow since his childhood, he knew how childish it was, it’s because the orphanage didn’t allow for children to play out in the cold while it or after it snowed. the rule prevented the children to get sick but also leaving them yearning to do something simple like playing in the snow.

so, it was no surprise atsushi still wanted to do the activity, it’s even better when you’re with him. you both could see your own breaths, atsushi offers you his coat since he can use his ability to prevent him from freezing.

the two of you started rolling the snow and it slowly starts to pile on each other, it takes awhile but you swore it was longer than it felt.

atsushi (after awhile tried to do something to maybe impress you idfk ) tried to, like, form it with his tiger hands like it was sand?? T-T it was contrary to what he thought it would be like. it came out ok, but really bulky with lot of bumps and, okay it was not ok it was misshaped; it looked like a oval

kinda got embarrassed from that with you consoling him “it looks good babe, don’t worry!” and that got him feeling better but somehow more embarrassed? ( possibly from the pet name… )

the body was complete (and looked like a disaster) and it was just the head, atsushi was in charge with trying to find rocks and two sticks for the arm, face and buttons. you were making the head which looked like a gigantic snowball.

and then, wallah, the snowman is done! atsushi wanted to put his scarf and hat on it, being the good partner you were like “aren’t you gonna get cold?” and he was puzzled for a millisecond “yeah, you’re right..” you swore that was the most accidental dramatic sigh he let out

news-flash he still did and he got a cold the next day

RANPO EDOGAWA + BAKING COOKIES

ranpo was really just hungry and wanted an excuse to spend time with you, there’s many options to choose from when he needs both of these needs to be taken care of… then the very awesome idea crashed down at him, he was going to make christmas-y cookies with you!

ranpo really sometimes judges how things taste based the way they look, if a cookie is extraordinarily decorated he’ll assume it’ll taste as good as it looks, but simple goods as glazed donuts he enjoys so it doesn’t imply this for all sorts of baked goods, just perfectly in the middle…

he brought up the idea towards to you, and who knew, you of course would liked to! key word, liked.

most of the time you were the one baking it and he was… rambling about all of the cases he’s solved, poe’s recent mystery novel, the people that he called out as the perpetrator declining it idiotically and whatever comes to his mind.

while he was doing that, he ate most of the snacks he gotten yesterday and this morning, sometimes holds the chip bag in front of you as an indication for you to take one if you’d like, same with his half-eaten and wet lollipops…? which met him with a scrunch of your nose as an ew, he casually shrugs and puts it back in his mouth.

oh also eats the cookie batter when you’re away, when you caught him he declares it as taste testing as he takes another scoop of it with his finger and licks it ..

he eventually got bored of the routine and made (badly attempted) hot chocolate, it was a bit bitter than you expected but you’re glad it’s not overly sweet that your teeth would fall off… he putted those sweeteners in his cup

it was awhile when you two were chatting while the cookies were in the oven, the conversation was ranpo mostly doing he talking… per usual maybe? then gets the very bright idea to play in the snow… that may or may not be the best choice.

seconds later after your agreement he literally dashed to get his jacket, snow boots, mittens and hat (also yours dw). impatiently waits by the door tapping his feet while you’re putting on your jacket… “any day now” smh

he goes dashing out with your hand in his in the snow, literally trips and brings you down with him… makes so many snow angels with you it’s hardly countable, comes screaming to you later showing you his snowman, unfortunately … “looks like frosty the snowman’s child if it had a birth defect”

ranpo has the urge to check the cookie again, and again, and again until it was finally done. gets too distracted by the beep of the oven he forgot to put those oven gloves on and gets it anyways without it, but you literally slapped his hand away and handed them to him T_T.

defiantly eats the majority of them when your both done decorating, he also made one that he attempted to look like you and takes a fat bite out of it..?

theres many opportunities that ranpo could do this honestly, he just never found that much of the motivation or point if he got the store-bought ones, but he thinks the way you made it, even if the batter and all came from a recipe, he thinks yours is better than any pastries he tasted

JOUNO SAIGIKU + GINGERBREAD HOUSE

jouno’s eyes twitch in annoyance and grumbles when he got frosty on the wrong place again, he hates this. why would you choose out of any oh-so-festive activities out there in the world? he continues to let out a soft dramatic sigh every so often.

you wanted to spend some time with your boyfriend on christmas, he hates the snow (because it messes up his senses and his hair or something… and you make him do all the snow shoveling) so you recommend such a fun activity to do even though you had the possibility he would hate it, what a good partner you are!

the ugly sweater you basically asked ( forced ) to wear itches at his skin, he keeps shuffling on the wooden seat he’s sat at, uncomfortable. from the radius he’s at from the fireplace that’s no farther away than seven feet, he’s practically sweating from his sensitive senses. it’s taking his all to not ripe himself out of that hand-made sweater you made specifically for him…

you notice this, and he knows that. he pretends to imply he hate this, in result you feel a little guilty for making him do this, even if you ask him about it he’ll dismiss it anyways for whatever reasons…

“sai… you look sweaty an’ annoyed, wanna stop?” “no, it’s alright” “oh—okay!”

having such-a soft spot for someone like he has with you is something he never experienced, his tone changes when taking to you compared to his companions, his smile ever so widening and being softer if you look close enough when he hears your familiar heartbeat and smell.

even if it takes all of the strength in his body to protest what you ask of him, he couldn’t bring himself to.

unfortunately, he got frosting over his sweater… shit, guilt and annoyance tugging at his soul, he furrows his eyebrow, he ignores the feelings and tries to wipe it off with a nearby napkin. grimaces slightly when he hears your snort, looking back up at you like a mad kitten, only fueling you more to laugh.

he ends up taking off the sweater, leaving him in the plain white t-shirt, matching the frosting that he was outlining the house with.

there was no doubt that his house looked like a disaster, the white frosting sprawled everywhere on the architectural creeks. the way the house look so… silly made you giggle in your seat as you reach out to get another house set up and put it in front of him.

you sat closer to jouno, shoulders brushing each-other. you leaned in closer, basically sitting apart of his seat, your hands ghosting over his as you rest your head on his shoulder blade. instructing him silently for him to follow your movements.

you didn’t notice the way he tensed up when you brush your fingers against his and whisper in his left ear “just follow my lead, m’kay?” the mhm and nod of his head was slow and untimed.

there weren’t many, actually, no times where jouno was nervous, this was an expection. his heart quickens the way you’re so close to him, he forgot about this stupid gingerbread house making. all he’s focused on is you, only you. not the way you tried to push the plastic bag for the white frosting, only the way you intertwined your hands with his while doing it.

it feels shorter than it actually was, unfortunate for jouno. he grimaces silently when you let go of his hand, returning them back to your lap as you sat up, looking over slightly at the almost-decent gingerbread house, he made—no, you both made together

he lets out a snarky remark and sighs, leaning on the table with the backside of his hand. “are we finally done with this” he says, turning his head to you. you huffed, the yes you let out indicates him something, he gladly lets out a relieved-dramatic sigh, again.

“thank god, thought we’d be doing this forever” empathizing the thank god. he hastily gets up from his seat, tugging the hand of yours on his left, leading you to your shared room. “maybe we could if you would like?” “fuck no”

TETCHO SUEHIRO + MAKING S’MORES

tetcho was the one who actually asked you if you both could make s’mores. fukuchi left the group take a well-deserved day off after their patrol, being delighted by this, tetchou went to you immediately. he forgot to change out of his military uniform when visiting your apartment, he ended up wearing the clothes he left at your apartment a few times when coming over, or kept it on… he doesn’t mind, really.

due to his work, he’s determined to keep the city peaceful and safe, so on days when he gets the day off he doesn’t really know what to do and just patrols around the city some more… same goes with expenses, ends up buying useless trinkets? buys oddly perfect wrapped gifts for his coworkers with the random-est things inside.

once bought jouno those cheesy best-friends necklaces that haves magnets inside and stick on the side. in the corner of the room there’s teruko who was trying to stifle her laughs with an awkward tachihara on her side, an confused fukichi because he doesn’t know what he walked into, and an irritated jouno in front of him slapping his hand so the necklace with the words best engraved on it would fall.

“jouno, i got us best friend bracelets. they magnetize together.” … “we are not best friends, idiot, I hate you” “but we work together a lot?”—“against my will! and you’re so useless in missions, you’re no use until we’re at the enemy, ugh!” … “PFFF-tetcho is such an idiot, tachihara!” “teruko…” “jouno you could use a few friends” … “captain!?”

there wasn’t really a chance where tetcho would spend with someone, of course he didn’t mind this, he didn’t consider himself a lonely person but there’s times.

(anyways back to s’mores)

it was at a popular and crowded campsite, it already had that s’more-y setup that only needed to be lighted. you both sat at the same wooden bench, getting the (sanitized) wooden sticks out and putting the marshmallows on the tip then stabbing it in.

he didn’t knew how it worked; burnt it once, twice, then five times. he got a little frustrated but then perfected it after you helped him time it correctly.

since you didn’t specify when you asked for chocolate, he got the white Hershey ones, not ideal but it would work… until you thought wrong, he sprinkles salt on his s’more and eats it with his usual blank face.

made another (slightly failed attempted) s’more but gives it to you, encouraging you lightly to try it. he didn’t pressure you though, he knows his taste wasn’t suited for most majority of people (may or may not be from the hard way..)

you loved him too much to decline it… expecting the worse, it wasn’t that bad as you thought, or your taste buds are messed up as his. nevertheless his little smile grew a little more wider when you did, if you look close enough.

you tried to bribe him to try it without the salt, with no offense possible, he surprisingly took the chance, taking the s’more you had without a moment of hesitation with a sure, takes a bite out of it without a moment later. his eyes widen like he didn’t expect it to be delicious.. or decent?

“it’s tasty” “…thought it was gonna be poisonous?” your joke earning an airy-laugh and smile from tetcho as he nods his head, playing along.

© 2024 KISSEDLOVELETTERS. do not copy or modify any of my layouts and writing. do not translate or repost onto any other sites.

[theboredhooman]

okay but kame and asa are literally 100% in love i don’t make the rules ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

long post overanalysing and yapping about these two lesbians + spoilers for the ‘mononoke: phantom in the rain’ movie! go watch it right now if you can 👹👹

kame is literally asa’s most precious thing.

asa was soo flustered and didn’t want to tell kame about this, even blushing?? like understandable it’s basically a confession

one of asa’s first reactions was always to check if kame was okay whenever the mononoke appeared

sure, it could’ve just been a friend thing, but asa was constantly looking out for kame in the ooku

defending her and taking the blame for all her mistakes and trying to protect her from harm, standing up to awashima and mugitani

asa i know what you are i saw that blush when kame smiled after you told her she could work with you instead of mugitani (I get you she was so cute tho)

”Such neat handwriting” asa’s eyes were so soft it actually broke my heart when i saw awashima cutting kame’s hair

the well scene….just…

asa trying to pull up kame, and kame doing the same for her

also asa being sort of lifeless while she hangs there until kame tells her that ‘it’ll be alright!/I’ve got you!’ and suddenly she snaps out of her shock, gaining emotions again

also it was so cute when they were talking next to each other at night

speaking of which, kame making asa promise to not let go while they sleep and asa adjusting to a more comfortable grip while holding hand was just; auGHHH 😩

ALSO ALSO “Kitagawa made me realise what was important, what I should never throw away,” and then KAME TURNING TO SMILE AT ASA AND ASA SMILING BACK WITH THAT ADORING LOOK IN HER EYES?? (note: there was also minor foreshadowing here with the empty doll cupboard but i think that had more to do with kitagawa)

and the cut off after saying she needed to say something important was really suspicious like what did she say??

idk how this related but afterwards she became more focused and hardworking on her job(but also more rigid and firm in her beliefs) and kame tipped out her water instead of drinking it (because she became the opposite? more rebellious/defiant maybe? idk)

speaking to the medicine seller, she said she understood kitagawa’s feelings, which makes me think kitagawa also had a thing for her friend lol like there was absolutely something going on there if she(kitagawa) fell apart after her friend left

only mildly related but i believe karakasa’s next target was probably going to be kame and she was used as bait for it (as something a redditor* mentioned was asa may have sent kame away to protect her rather than the reason kitagawa did, OR lure out karakasa) edit: nvm i remembered wrong it was utayama i believe (due to perhaps resentment within the doll’s umbrella*) or asa (following the logic that awashima and mugitani were both the head housemaids(?) favoured by utayama before asa, although again the end goal was probably to attack utayama)

also when asa was addressing the other maids of the ooku before the birth celebratory ceremony and bowed, kame bowed but nobody else did (which means they didn’t respect asa)

then kame got mad and showed her support for her girl like hell yeah 👏 and asa gained more confidence which i think was sweet

oh and asa was also like “the thing that kept me grounded was lady kame” 🥹🥹

she also said (acc. to netflix subs) “And yet, I yearned for nothing more than to share meals with Kame. And spend countless nights just staying up late, giggling and talking to her.” SHE SOUNDED SO LOVESICK 💔

btw love how the medicine seller instantly knew asa was looking for her boo lmao

anyways i think it mayyy not have been requited on kame’s side, at least canonically, but I have literally zero doubt asa was in love with her. then again homophobes and censorship. uh. it’s alright i ship them very hard either way i need more lesbian rep in anime hehe.

in conclusion. Harold they’re lesbians. thanks for coming to my ted talk. yeah o7

*redditors talked about the choice of karakasa as the yokai.(i reccomend reading it, it’s very interesting imo)

[watercolorsam-arts]

Saw Sonic 3 tonight…. Holy Shit

I have a lot of thoughts, and a lot are really good, I had a blast watching it and I will be going to see it again.

I do however have one “complaint” I guess? Spoilers under break

I need to talk about Maria. But I want to start my little rant with *I did not dislike how Maria was handled in the movie* I quite enjoyed everything she was in. As a stand alone story in the movies, it was awesome (and personally seeing the movies as a sort of au makes the most sense for me). But I want to talk about how one character decision changed a significant amount of Maria and Shadow’s story. (Among other thoughts and things I noticed)

Maria was not explicitly stated to be sick,

It actually seems like she wasn’t sick at all.

Which I feel takes away a lot from Shadow’s creation/discovery.

Shadow in the games was created to be a cure for Maria’s N.I.D.S (Neuro-Immune Disorder Syndrome) his excess chaos energy was a byproduct of being created using Black Arms dna. He was never meant to be a weapon, he was meant to heal.

Maria cared for Shadow beyond just “this will cure me” she and Gerald saw him as himself. He might have been just a cure to Gerald at first, but Maria saw Shadow, not a weapon, or a cure, or an alien, she saw Shadow.

G.U.N saw a weapon, which is why they had to take him, and cut down anyone in their way.

By removing Maria’s sickness, you don’t have any reason for the Ark to exist, and you also don’t need to “create” Shadow. Shadow had to be dropped into the story (kinda literally as he fell from the sky) for him to have a reason to be there.

Maira and Shadow’s relationship in the movie doesn’t have quite the same impact. It even feels kind of… generic? I guess? That the “child” character doesn’t see the “monster/weapon” as one and befriends them. Maria being there isn’t nearly as justified as in the games. “Her grandfather brings her everywhere” and I get why, but still. Even if there was one line of “she gets sick easy, so the professor wants to keep an eye on her.” Instead of just “yeah they go everywhere together”. (Once again, I didn’t hate the version of their relationship in the movie, this is just a comparison to the games)

Maria not being off world also takes away from Shadow’s motivations. Maria wanted to see the world, she wanted to meet the people, and experience everything! She cared so much about a place that would cause her harm just by existing there. No matter what happened, she believed with all her heart that the people of earth deserved to live life to the fullest, even if she couldn’t. So when Shadow gets reminded that he was meant to protect and heal, he chooses to save the world Maria cared so much about.

Movie Maria’s death feels like she was caught in the crossfire for no reason, which, in its own way, has a big impact on Shadow’s arc. She had so much life to live, she was his sister, she didn’t have to die, which fueled Shadow’s hate.

Movie Shadow’s motivations for saving the day are different from game Shadow’s. His motivation is fueled by hate, and hurt, and by love. He hesitates when he hurts Tom after mistaking him for the General. He hurts watching Sonic live a similar horror to what he did. Just like Sonic has to learn, no one wins with revenge, everyone just keeps getting hurt, and he might have wanted to hurt them, make them pay for what they did, he doesn’t want to hurt. He still chooses to heal, and to protect. Maria haunts him in the way a dead star still shines for us, guiding him even though she’s gone, to show love instead of hate and hurt.

They’re both executed phenomenally, and both work in their respective stories, personally, I prefer how the game handled it, but that’s just me. And it’s so interesting to see how different yet similar the two are. The main take away is that all movie Shadow knew was that he was a weapon and chose to actively go against that, while game Shadow knew he could heal as well as hurt.

I will forever cry over the “they’re children!” Line, because… yeah… Shadow and Maria were children, who should have never gone through what they did, I need to hug them and put them back in their blanket fort with a new movie and some snacks.

And this is less of a movie/game comparison, but more so the representation of Maria’s illness. A lot of the time, we see Maria as full of life and energy, but various media like Gerald’s journal, dark beginnings, and the Shadow Campaign in generation has told us she doesn’t always have it that good. She has days where she can barely move, or she’ll need a mobility aid, or she’ll be incredibly sick even with the Arks gravity and atmosphere. Chronic illness’ don’t always impact you the same every day, but you’re still ill, even if you can’t see it, and Maria has become pretty good representation for that, which makes me kinda sad that it was dropped for the movie.

(I feel like my ramblings don’t make sense towards the end? So I think it’s a bit more just, thoughts about the movie and the game. Thanks for reading this far btw :) )

[after-nine-at-the-oasis]

I can't donate right now but I just have to say how much it warms my heart to see what the Lou/Bucktommy/9-1-1 fandom is doing right now. I didn't know till like ten minutes ago but this is so freaking cool

I've seen some other people sharing how it's important to them so I figured I'd throw a bit in myself.

This year has been pretty good for me. There's always rough stuff, but it is what it is. Then, due to some outside circumstances, I ended up way more isolated and lonely than usual. The other place I saw friends became more and more stressful, and I had no place to relax. Except at home, in the evenings, especially when I was watching my shows.

I attached to Bucktommy, hard. I don't truly know why, maybe it was Buck being bisexual and me seeing myself in him, or how sweet they are, or their story, or their acting, or even the hate they received. I don't know. I fell in love with them, and it devastated me when they broke up. I kept watching, I still enjoy 9-1-1. But after everything I'd been going through, including having walking pneumonia at the time, it was rough. I was shocked and angry and sad and already missing them and I was tired. But this community. This freaking community xd.

I go into the tag in the next few days? It's hoping for a helicopter crash, it's jokes, it's a lot of pregnancy lol. It was a bunch of people all going through sucky stuff, and going through sucky stuff with fictional characters too, but still just hanging out and making it worth it. I don't usually make a lot of close one-on-one friends with people in specific fandoms. But even though I don't personally talk to people a lot, I am so happy to be around you guys. I've admired from afar (and been happy with that), chatted about things, related to jumping over to S.W.A.T., been welcomed, participated in a gift exchange (which I haven't done in literal years, since my first fandom on Tumblr)! These characters, this storyline, this relationship, have built a wonderful community that I am so grateful to be a part of. And never have I been prouder than now. You guys are such wonderful people and you're doing such a wonderful thing with these donations.

Everyone who can, I recommend donating to The Trevor Project. I can't personally, but I love seeing what everyone's doing.

Also, I'd like to thank Lou for everything he did with Tommy. I'm so glad Tommy stole my heart, because now I watch S.W.A.T. for Lou and I've seen how much he cares about us and us caring about Tommy. I'm glad we all made sure he knew how much we love Tommy and him :).

Thanks for being amazing guys. Merry Christmas <3.

[peachhcs]

macklin asking only like a week after they see each other again to hang out and they go to the beach or something, something calm and quiet but something they missed

this was actually so so cutie to write :))) adding in more lore about blaire’s relationship with her brothers, so expect that to be a pretty big plot point and the way blaire is the way she is being so closed off and reserved sometimes

au masterlist

mack didn’t really know what too soon was but a little over a week after they saw one another again, they were going to the beach to hang out on one of mack’s days off. he figured the beach was good because they didn’t have to talk if they didn’t want to, but there were always good conversation starters around as people walked by. either way, blaire agreed to going to the beach with him and the brunette couldn’t be more excited.

he saw her in her car when he got there. she quickly waved when he pulled in next to her and the brunette flushed, returning her cute little grin. they met around the back of their cars after climbing out, “hi,” macklin smiled softly.

“hi. i haven’t been to the beach in so long, so i’m glad you suggested this. it’s such nice day,” blaire kicked her back hatch open to grab her beach bag and beach chair.

“i know, i can’t believe how nice it is for october,” he followed her lead down the beach.

“how was your game last night? i saw you guys finally had a win,” blaire glanced back at him and the boy’s face flushed at the idea of her watching his game.

“it was really good actually. our first win of the season, so it felt really nice.”

blaire found them a spot halfway down the beach where there weren’t a lot of people around. the two set their chairs up next to one another. blaire dug into her bag to find her sunscreen. “you want any?” she asked mack.

“i should probably put some on,” he laughed a bit.

“right, you burn so easily,” a giggle slipped past her lips making mack blush. she remembered so many little details about him that he thought she would’ve definitely forgot after two years.

he watched her (not in a creepy way) apply her sunscreen. when she reached her back the boy flushed thinking she was gonna ask him to help get her upper shoulders and he was right because she did, “i can’t reach the awkward middle. can you?”

mack, who tried not letting his nerves show, stepped forward and gently rubbed it into the girl’s skin. it was kind of strange to him being so relaxed around one another after literally not talking or seeing each other for two years, but mack wasn’t complaining. he was actually glad blaire still felt so comfortable around him despite them literally breaking up (and possibly finding their way back to one another.)

“i think i got it all,” the brunette mumbled, dropping his hands back to his sides.

“thank you. want me to get you?” blaire quickly offered.

now rubbing her sunscreen in for her was one thing, but her doing it for him was completely different because mack didn’t know if he’d be able to even function properly when her hands touched his bare skin.

“sure,” he said nonetheless and pulled his shirt off.

the cream was cool against his skin, he squirmed at first, but relaxed the more blaire eased her fingers into the divots of his back.

“so what else has been new with you besides becoming a big shot hockey player?” her tone had a teasing edge to it like how they used to talk to one another when they were 15. it was a good thing she couldn’t see mack’s embarrassing red blush.

“not a lot, i guess. hockey’s been taking up most of time since august,” the boy shrugged lightly.

“yeah, same with figure skating. we have competitions every weekend. when i’m not doing that i’m studying,” the girl agreed.

“you were really good the other day, by the way. i mean you’ve always been good, but..wow. i was impressed,” mack confessed and he wondered if blaire was blushing because she didn’t respond right away.

“thanks, celly. that means a lot,” blaire finally responded, her voice soft.

she moved her hand away from his back and he took that as her cue that she was done. he spun back around, meeting her soft gaze as she handed him the rest of the sunscreen.

“because we’re here you have to play mermaids with me later,” blaire grinned widely and the hockey player laughed.

“okay, deal. i love mermaids,” they shared a laugh and macklin applied the rest of his sunscreen.

for now, the two just sat out on their chairs tanning and people watching. they’d occasionally point out people walking by, but for the most part, they just caught up. the conversation flowed like they never spent any time apart. macklin talked about his year at boston university and blaire told him about her freshman year at santa clara. it sounded like both had really good years.

that feeling macklin’s had since he first saw blaire last week continued growing as the day went on. his chest tightened and exploded each time her eyes lit up when telling him a funny story from freshman year.

it was pretty obvious he’s never been over her. as much as he tried moving on and finding other girls, something always drew him back to blaire like maybe they’d reconnect one day and reconcile whatever happened between them—and surprise, surprise, he was getting that chance. the young rookie was not letting her go this time.

“how are your siblings?” blaire shifted the subject to him, feeling bad she’s done so much talking about her life and hardly asking him about his.

“they’re good. aiden’s playing hockey at boston still. rj’s playing for a little league team and charlie’s doing tennis still,” macklin explained his siblings’ whereabouts.

“i’m glad to hear they’re all doing good. carter and mason are pretty good, too. carter’s finishing high school and mason’s a senior at university of washington,” blaire hummed and macklin could hear the crack in her voice. he always knew she never had a very close relationship with her brothers because of everything that happened with their mom.

“wow, a senior already?” the rookie chuckled.

“tell me about it. he’s moving to ireland once he graduates. he found a crazy good job and he wants to be abroad for awhile,” blaire continued.

“ireland? that’s crazy. good for him.”

“yeah, it is crazy. carter’s pretty sad about it, but he’s gonna do good,” the dirty blonde hummed, her fingers tapping against the armrest of the chair. even though she didn’t say it, mack knew her better than that. he knew she was also sad about it.

“how are you feeling?” he dared to ask.

there was a pause and the boy quickly worried her overstepped by asking. “okay..i guess,” she was vague which mack expected. he wondered if he should push for more, but he didn’t wanna test his luck considering they just started talking again.

blaire kept talking though, “it kind of feels like he’s leaving because he doesn’t wanna be around us anymore though. even though our mom dying was like seven years ago, it still really affects all of us i think. mostly because none of us really processed it right, but i don’t know. mason’s never been the same since. he like hardly wants anything to do with carter and i. me specifically.”

“shit, i’m sorry. that really sucks,” mack sympathized but blaire shrugged. “it’s fine. i can’t really do anything about it. i just try not to think about it.”

a silence fell around them after that discussion. macklin stared out at the beach, suddenly grateful that at least his siblings were somewhat close even and family was still together even though attention got really divided sometimes.

“hey, i think i wanna get in the water now. you up for mermaids?” blaire stood up, clearly trying to break the tension she just created. mack smiled.

“of course,” he grinned and threw his towel off him.

he watched her slip out of her tank top and shorts, his breath hitching when he saw her in nothing but her bikini. he adverted his gaze when she looked back at him, a blush coating his cheeks. “race you?” she smirked.

macklin didn’t even get a chance to respond before she started racing towards the water. he quickly chased after her, some of the other people on the beach giving them a side eye for being so rambunctious. blaire had a pretty big lead and successfully made it into the water before mack could catch her. she dove right in, the cool water feeling good on her warm skin.

mack dove in after her. they came back up at the same time, shaking their wet hair out. “it feels so nice. i miss coming to the beach,” blaire grinned and dipped her head back.

she pushed back so she was floating on her back like a starfish. mack admired her again. the sun was reflecting off the water and onto her skin perfectly that it looked like she was glowing. she hadn’t even changed a bit—still looking like the same girl he fell in love with when they were fifteen.

they played mermaids for a good half hour which just consisted of them splashing one another and diving under the waves. they hurried back up to the beach with pruny skin, grabbing their towels to dry themselves off.

“so what are the chances you could get me tickets to your next home game?” blaire wondered as she squeezed her hair out. mack’s gaze flicked to hers, a look of surprise on his features.

“you wanna come to one of my games?”

“well, yeah. i wanna see you on the big rink with the big guys,” blaire grinned and mack was pretty sure his heart exploded right then and there.

“i can see what i can do, but chances are high,” the boy smiled back.

“good because i really wanna come. i already have an outfit in mind,” she cheesed and there was no way mack wasn’t getting her back.

the two packed up their things for the day and trudged back up towards the parking lot. mack helped blaire load her chain into her car before the two awkwardly stood in the parking lot wondering when their next hang out would be and what this was going to mean for their friendship moving forward.

“this was really fun, thanks for coming,” blaire said first.

“of course. i had a lot of fun too. we should do it again,” he smiled.

“literally just text me, i’m freeish..well, i’ll just tell you when i’m free, but it’s been really good getting to see you again. i’ve missed this,” the girl admitted shyly.

“me too. i’ve missed seeing you. i will definitely text you and let you know about the next game,” he opened his arms for a hug. blaire quickly reciprocated, stepping into his embrace that smelled like sand, salt water, and remnants of sunscreen.

“get back safe,” mack said when they pulled apart. blaire nodded and they finally got back into their cars where mack couldn’t stop smiling like an idiot.

[lsunstreakerl]

Famiglia-Familie

Chapter two analysis:

chapter two analysis is here!

- Starting with the boxes- Max feels like he needs to be useful when he's staying with GP, needs to contribute to the household, so he's unpacking boxes in the kitchen even though his arm is completely fucked. GP is really, really confused about that when he realizes, because GP still hasn't realized Max has trauma prior to the crash, so he's like "??? why are you unpacking boxes you're literally hurt please go sit down?"

- The fridge has essentials for breakfast in it, clearly, because GP ends up making omelets, but Max goes for the celery because he thinks he's not allowed to touch the other things, and that they're "Gianpiero food", which is separate from Max food. Celery is also very low on calories, so it's a food Max is allowed to have.

- Max scared GP on the counter because GP has completely forgotten he has a teenager now when he woke up. Kind of like how when you get really disoriented in a hotel room sometimes, or the morning after you get a pet- GP wakes up and he's like "oh my god someone is in my house" and then has to be "wait that's the fourteen year old he's supposed to be there".

- GP is surprised at the celery for breakfast, again because that's not only an odd choice, but also because they clearly have other items.

- "...or if he's trying to make Max jealous..." It does not even occur to Max initially that GP is also making him breakfast. He thinks maybe GP is just being a dick and rubbing it in his face that he's about to have an omelet while all Max is having is celery. (obviously, if Max thought about that for more than two seconds he would realize that's dumb, but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯)

- "If Gianpiero wants to turn down free labor, that's his business, not Max's." Max thinks GP is weird. GP thinks Max is weird. They're still figuring each other out.

- Max being unsure on if he's allowed to use GP's nickname or if he needs to be formal and keep calling him Gianpiero, and there's no way for him to just ask, so instead he's stressing about it. (You'll notice in chapter three Max is much more relaxed about switching between GP and Gianpiero. He uses GP in a more casual sense, and Gianpiero when he's thinking about him as his dad/thinking emotionally.)

- Max being weirded out when GP feeds him first and washes his dishes first because that's not ever how things have worked in Max's world, but GP is just treating him like a parent does a kid. (Their needs before yours)

- This story very easily could have been Max being adopted by Hayden instead. I don't bring it up a whole lot, but Hayden as a character stays very close with Max and GP, they're family friends. There were a few times after the accident where Hayden had his own nightmares about pulling Max out of the crash, so sometimes he would come over and just hang out for bit. Seeing Max okay with GP helped soothe some of that anxiety. (Or he would text GP, be like "hey Max is okay right" and GP would confirm, or, when Max got more comfortable, they'd send little selfies)

- Max doesn't have issues karting personally, but he does get serious flashbacks when he's the passenger in a car, or when it's raining. It takes him a looooong time to work on that.

- GP knows the flashbacks need to be addressed, but at the first one he decides their short term solution is just going to be a shit ton of public transportation. (Mentioned in chapter three is that they bike places a lot- this is also one of their solutions)

- Word gets out eventually via rumors and gossipy karters that Jos died in an accident, and the parents are all very hush-hush about it, but the kids are like "hey we haven't seen Max since then either did he also die" so George is really freaked out when he sees Max in the bookstore. Between that, and the fact that Max drags him where other people can't see, doesn't talk to him, and never ends up texting him, and George also watches too many spooky shows and movies, instead of thinking "oh, max didn't die, max is here in the UK", George goes back to the other kids and is like "BEDFORD IS HAUNTED I SAW THE GHOST OF MAX VERSTAPPEN"

- GP just trying to be a good adult and getting Max a house key and a phone and a keychain and Max is like ??????

- When Max is trying to make GP understand that he's "doing too much" and that Max is overwhelmed, GP doesn't even consider that it's about everything, because he's just doing what any good guardian should do, which is why he tells Max they can always just order a keychain. (He assumes Max is overwhelmed just by the store)

- GP keeps Max's pain meds in his pocket, and he's diligent about making sure Max eats and drinks water when he has them, so of course he notices when Max is hurting, and obviously he buys him a water at the checkout counter. Max is thrown off by this because the water at the front is always overpriced, everyone knows this, and Jos would never have done that for him, would have told him it's his own fault for not bringing any with him.

- Max starts actually thinking Jos' name after the doctors appointment, because it's starting to chip away at him that everything is real. He can't cut himself off as easy, can't pretend it isn't actually happening, so the reality of the situation is starting to sink in, unavoidably.

- Micheal Schumacher does actually own a red Mercedes. It's cool as hell. Look it up.

- Poor Hayden is just trying to get the house set up and make it a home for one of his best friends and the new kid, and he's doing a really good job, getting everything all homey, and then fucking Michael Schumacher is knocking on the door, and obviously he's going to let him in? Because like. stranger danger and all that but also again this is Michael Schumacher. So Hayden is freaking the entire time bc there's a world champion just chilling on the couch while he's trying to decorate.

- Michael had immediately started hunting down Max as soon as he heard about Jos, because Max was the first thing on his mind. Tiny Max, baby Max, little track menace Max. All Michael can think is "what if this was Mick" and he's on a parental rampage, hunts down the EMS department to find out what hospital they went to, hunts down the hospital to find out who Max went home with, hunts down Colin at Force India to find out where GP lives, and then drives directly to his house.

- Michael is 100% prepared to bring Max into the family. He's kind of expecting it, he's ready to do whatever needs to be done in that aspect, but he's incredibly surprised at the home GP has put together, and he also notices the subtle things. The way that Max doesn't let go of GP, the way GP is willing to stand between him and Max, just because Max seems scared.

- GP earns Max's lifetime loyalty the moment he steps between him and Michael, because this is the first adult who has never cared about who's on the other end, who's put themselves there to protect Max. Michael is such an influential, powerful man, and Max doesn't at all expect anyone to step between him and something he wants, which is why he's so stunned when GP does.

- It's worth noting GP is intimidated out of his mind in this scene. Here is Michael, who could ruin his career, get him banned from the paddock, any number of things, and who has also seemed like a pretty nice guy all the times GP has met him or heard of him. But then here is Max, who GP is now responsible for but doesn't know anything about, and GP isn't sure how Michael knows him, he just knows Max is afraid, and doesn't want Michael getting close to him, and if that's what Max wants GP is going to make it happen, so he's willing to put his job and his career on the line for this kid.

- This impresses Michael a lot, it's one of the reasons he allows Max to stay with GP at all. It's a show of GP's character, and his willingness to take care of Max.

- Michael and GP are still kind of posturing at each other when Max has his breakdown, at which point all of that is tossed aside to help Max. They're working as a team to try and calm him down, and it helps both of them to see and realize that each others priority here is Max.

- GP carries Max up to his room, which Michael also checks out, and then they're going downstairs to talk logistics and discuss the whole situation.

- Michael explains that Max has family, a mother and a sister, but that they haven't seen each other in years, and Sophie is a single mother with a girl, and Max hasn't talked to his sister in a long time, and that Sophie and Jos had at some point in an emergency entrusted Max's safety to Michael. He's made the executive decision that Max is better off sticking close to what he knows, with racers, where Michael can keep an eye on him, rather than sending him back to the Netherlands with family he doesn't really know. (Is it the right decision? Who knows. They're all just people, and they're trying to do the right thing.)

- Max overhears GP and Michael talking in the kitchen, but he doesn't comprehend in the fic just how threatening Micheal is actually being to GP. He's basically saying he has eyes everywhere, and that all these drivers, these powerful men with millions of dollars, are looking out for Max, checking that he's cared for, and if GP fucks that up even a little bit Michael is going to know.

- At the same time, Michael is also saying that he's paying for Max's surgeries, for his schooling and eventually uni, that Max is still protected as part of the Schumacher family even if it's not by name or by blood. Max and GP both have a card linked to an emergency fund that is funded through Michael.

- The phone gets used as an easy way for Max and GP to communicate with yes/no even when they're not in the same room, and over time Max gets more comfortable sending actual words, though he still keeps his messages short.

- Yes, the alarm GP uses when he wants Max to get up is the same one from Chapter 1. Yes, Max still hates it. Yes, GP thinks it's hilarious.

- Max having two months to do a project and waiting until the week it's due is SO REAL.

- MP/mini-piero is so family nickname of them. Redbull loves Max just as much as Force India did, if not more, and he's smart, and little bit sassy, and he likes to help, and it's like having a garage kid basically.

- Yes, Redbull does think Max is genuinely mute for a physical reason.

- Daniel and Daniil adopt Max as a kid brother. They roughhouse sometimes and give each other grief, but the Dan's are very fond of him. The whole garage views him as a little GP attachment the same way the rest of the paddock does.

- Max and Mick have the Silverstone room because the rest of the paddock doesn't get it, especially after Michael's accident. He was so revered, and everyone respected him, but sometimes the boys just needed a space to be angry about the whole thing, which is how the Silverstone room happened. It's their safe space to vent and rage with no judgement.

- An employee saw Charles crying and directed him to the room, because that's where they send upset racing children, they covered it in orientation.

- Charles thinks the note is somehow making fun of him, which is why he's so pissed off at first, and he doesn't even know who Max is, and the employee told him this was an okay room to be sad in but it's clearly occupied.

- Charles then assumes that MP is an engineers kid (not entirely wrong) that somehow got to know Mick, based on the homework and the teamkit. He does get confused though, because for an engineers kid to know Mick the engineer would have had to work with Michael, and MP is wearing Force India and Redbull gear, but Michael didn't drive for either of those teams.

That's all I got! Feel free to ask questions if there's something here I don't cover or that you've been wondering about 🫶

[imjustavenuxwithaboomerang]

just learned that people are like legitimately pissed that mackenyu buffed up for season 2 ???

[i-will-physically-fight-you]

Going to therapy is great because you can rant to your therapist about the untapped potential of Star Wars Sequel Characters for ten minutes and they are a captive audience forced to hear your very reasonable valid points and you can do this instead of talking about your issues hope this helps <3

[mako-island-moon-pool]

I really do deserve a fucking apology for all the times my friends and family valued strangers on the internet and their opinions more than me

How am I supposed to be just fine with being ignored for years and years or bullied for openly liking what I like, only for those same fucking people to then turn around YEARS LATER, AFTER THE DAMAGE WAS ALREADY DONE, and be like "actually this is cool, so glad I found it" while still ignoring me. Why am I not allowed to be fucking pissed about it? Why is it considered ""gatekeepy"" when I get upset someone who deliberately ignored me for years and insulted the shit I enjoy when I asked them to get into it cuz I thought they'd like it suddenly finds interest in it because it got popular online, not because I'd been begging them to give it a chance and to listen to me for years???? Why is that not allowed????? THAT'S SUCH AN ASSHOLE MOVE, WHY IS IT 'NOT OKAY' TO BE MAD? WHY DON'T THEY GROW A SPINE AND APOLOGIZE FOR DISMISSING ME FIRST? HOW ABOUT THAT?????

[silentsockfeet]

every person i’ve met that despises caitlyn is also a self-proclaimed hardcore vi stan except somehow they always completely misunderstand vi as a character it’s insane how consistent this is

[bookworm-2692]

I gotta say the tags you left on that reblog on why you followed me are by far one of the best collections of tags I've ever gotten. but you've awakened my curiosity. What was the Twitch chat that started this? What did I say???? I'M SO CURIOUS BECAUSE BOY HOWDY I'VE SAID SOME INTERESTING THINGS-

I couldn't remember exactly, so I went back and searched Discord for images I sent and apparently it was just a super tame message.

The thing that made it significant, however, was the fact that I had never heard the Diggy Diggy Hole song before this year... despite having watched minecraft youtube videos since 2012. Somehow I missed that. A month or two ago I mentioned something from a different Impulse stream about diggy diggy and my friend @bibliobasilisk forced me to watch several iterations of the song (which I'm grateful for. It's a bop. As you would know).

So anyway I sent that screenshot to her like "hey look someone in chat said this" because i thought it was hilarious and then I was like "also I recognise their name from tumblr. unrelatedly". And then she was like "ah swedish tumblr, just looked them up" and then, being half swedish myself, I got hella excited:

And then I proceeded to scroll on your tumblr for like 20 minutes before unpausing the Impulse vod to continue watching. And I've been following you ever since then.

So a combination of me recognising your name, and my friend sussing out that you're Swedish (and the fact that diggy diggy is still relatively new to me) and bam. I'm here now.

Also in looking for that screenshot, it turns out that I screenshotted a second message of yours from a different stream:

Because Hermitgang my beloved

[priisakilljoy]

They gave her a choice. She choose.

INTERVIEW WITH THE VAMPIRE (2022 - ) I I Could Not Prevent It

[itsalwaysdark]

thank GODDD the doctor is taking time to work on himself maybe now he can stop ruining womens lives .

[street-smarts00]

in omnia paratus

Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Summary: Spencer's been on the fence with his feelings for you. Due to his past traumas he’s decided to keep his feelings hidden. Until you’re caught in a dangerous situation at work

WC: 3.5 k

A/N: I am SO SORRY this took so long. I’ve been sitting on this for two months because I was being a perfectionist and had writer's block. Thank you so much to the person who requested this idea and I hope ya’ll like it! beta read by @whats-yesterday00

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Fluff, Protective!spencer, Friends to lovers, age gap (25 and idk 33 or 34), during season 9 (sadly no post prison Reid, I refuse to watch the show after Derek & Hotch leave), Maeve is implied 

Warnings!: mentions of murder, stalking, gunshot wounds, hostage situation and incorrect info about hostage situation cause Idk I'm not in the FBI

Everyone knew Spencer Reid had a soft spot for you. Well, everyone except for you. 

Since the moment you met you’ve been on his mind. 

“Do you know how old she is?” 

“No, how old is she?” 

“25!” Penelope squeaked before being shushed by Rossi. 

“Wow, she’s gotta be the youngest person to ever be in the BAU. Well, second to genius over here,” JJ commented while pointing to Reid. 

“That’s if she gets the job,” Morgan added. 

They were all crowded around the desks in front of Hotch’s office. The blinds were cracked and they could just barely make out the woman seated across from their boss for an interview. 

Due to the increase in caseload after Alex joined, Hotch made the request to add an additional member of the team. After interviewing a few people that didn’t pan out, he heard quite a bit about you from your supervisor saying how well you’ve done with the FBI and you’d be an exceptional fit for the team.

Then of course Penelope looked up everyone who was interviewing with Hotch. You being her most recent victim. 

“How long has she been with the FBI?” Alex questioned. 

“Three years,” Penelope answered 

“What? Did she join right after college?” 

“Not right away. She graduated early and got experience with law enforcement first.” 

Spencer sat at his desk quietly while everyone was peering into Hotch’s office. Not to say he wasn’t nosy as well. You were already behind the blinds when he arrived for work. 

“Oh they’re shaking hands! That has to be a good sign,” Penelope cheered. 

Morgan turned to the window, “It’s definitely not a bad one.” 

Her eyes widened before loudly whispering, “Oh no they’re leaving. Disperse.” 

She scurried off in her heels towards Derek’s desk while he followed behind with a grin. JJ, and Rossi averted their eyes from Hotch’s office and found Alex’s desk far more interesting. 

All while Spencer’s attention was brought to the woman led down the stairs by his boss. It felt like his heart stopped beating when he saw how beautiful you were. He was brought back to earth as Hotch introduced you to the rest of the team. 

“This is Dr. Spencer Reid,” he gestured to the man sitting at his desk. 

You offered him a small wave and a kind smile, “Nice to meet you.” 

It became quite obvious you two would get along very well. From very early on conversation flowed incredibly well between the two of you. There were very few people that he felt were easy to talk to because of his niche interests and the way he would ramble spitting facts left and right. 

But he never had to worry about saying the wrong thing or talking too much with you. You often were a content listener or you would even match his passion on certain subjects. Most were topics Spencer already knew about. 

When you first met Spencer you didn’t know the Dr in his name meant he held 3 PhD’s or that he was quite literally a genius. 

So you were often telling stories or facts you found interesting that he already knew. In fact, almost every “fun fact” you brought up, he knew about already.  

But he never interrupted you. He always was listening intently to what you had to say. Like he was hearing about it for the first time. 

At some point you learned of his eidetic memory and how vast his knowledge was. It was during a case where you found out and mentioned it to him. 

“Reid, remember when we were at the harbor and I mentioned that thing about sharks?” You hesitated, “did you know that already?”

“Yes,” he guiltily admitted. 

You partially deflated suddenly feeling that the whole tangent you went on was pointless. “Why did you let me go on and on if you already knew?” 

His eyes softened, “because I wanted to hear you talk about it.” 

That was when his feelings started to peek through. As the months went on it only grew and grew. And you were none the wiser.

To the average person, it might not seem like much. Perhaps you were just good friends. But to a team of profilers (and best friends) it was painfully obvious. 

It was almost painful the way he looked at you with a longing in his eyes. Or when his gaze immediately turned to you to catch your reaction or smile. 

It was obvious by the way he found any excuse to bring you up in conversation. Or how in conversation with you he would mirror your mannerisms and lean closer to you. 

As well as the things he remembered about you or the little things he did for you. Like the countless coffee cups he bought for you from his favorite coffee shop before work. And when he saw you struggling to find something or open something he was always right there to help. 

Spencer Reid had feelings for you. Feelings so deep that he couldn’t pull the roots out even if he tried. 

He didn’t know what to do with his feelings exactly. He hadn’t felt this strongly for someone since … well for a while. He was terrified of history repeating itself. 

He couldn't lose you. He’d seen first hand what this job did to him, what it did to Hotch. Their loved ones ripped away from them too soon.

So for now at least, he kept his feelings to himself. 

Well, until your last case. 

The BAU was called in on a case that just turned serial. They found the unsub to be a man named Mark, who started killing because his girlfriend cheated on him. The first two victims reminded him of the man she cheated with. When that didn’t satisfy him, he hunted down and killed the other man. 

Now the team and SWAT was stationed outside a bus that Mark was holding hostage. He stalked his ex-girlfriend and tracked down the new city bus she took. 

The officers couldn’t get a clear shot of him because of where he was standing and he kept using the passengers as shields. Rossi was currently on the phone with him trying to make negotiation terms and get some of the people off the bus. Mark however was incredibly stubborn and didn’t want to let his leverage go. 

So Rossi asked about the children on the bus and if Mark would be willing to let them off. They were met with silence on the other end of the phone, contrary to his previous behavior where he loved to hear himself talk. 

After a short pause the phone spoke. “I’ll only send out the kids if you send in an agent.” 

Rossi shifted his weight and crossed his arms. “Are there any other circumstances you’re willing to send out the children for?” he asked. 

“Nope,” he said with a pop at the end of the word. 

A look of concern was quickly exchanged between Rossi and Hotch. While their faces didn’t reveal much, their eyes spoke volumes. 

“How about this,” the unsub continued. “I’ll send out their moms too.” 

Rossi’s eyebrows furrowed slightly at the eagerness to comply from the criminal. “You’ll send out the children and their mothers if we send in one of our agents?” 

“I promise.” 

Rossi returned his eyes to Hotch who stood rigid and tall with his arms folded. He was met with an approving nod before returning to the call. 

“Alright, we can agree to those terms.” 

“Oh and agent Rossi?” Mark perked. 

“Yes?”

“Send in a girl.”

There was a tension that quietly branched out between the agents listening to the phone call. 

“Why do you want a woman?” Rossi asked, clearly changing the dialogue used.

“I’m losing too many ladies sending out these moms. I want one back,” he replied with a cockiness to his voice. 

Ross confirmed they could send in a female agent. Almost immediately after the unsub hung up, you volunteered to be the agent going on the bus.  

“I’ll do it.”

Spencer’s head shot in your direction. “No you're not.” His voice was laced with concern and a hint of demand.  

“Reid-”

“He specifically asked for a woman. We don’t know what he’s planning, he’s devolving.”

“And I’m willing to take that risk to make sure those kids are safe,” You defended yourself. 

You turned to your boss waiting for his thoughts. Hotch knew you’d been exposed to enough high tension scenarios to know what you were doing. But just like any member of his team, he silently hesitated, worrying for your safety. 

He took a breath before meeting your eyes again. “Send her in.” 

Right before you were led to the bus, Hotch took off the holster on his ankle and handed it to you. “Some extra protection in case something happens.” You couldn’t hear the concern in his voice, but you saw it clear as day in his eyes. 

You made your way to the bus and saw through the window Mark holding a gun to the driver and telling him to open the door. You stepped on and the doors closed quickly behind you. The unsub took a long look at you, panning up and down. 

“Well how about that. Aren’t you a beauty? He said with a cheeky grin. 

You tried your hardest not to look disgusted with him. Instead you kept your composure and spoke with courage and a confident demeanor. 

“You this flirty with all your hostages?” you asked plainly.

As he gazed down at your legs his eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed. He bent down and with the gun in his hand, pushed away the bottom of your pants leg. When he saw the gun in the holster, he tsked. 

“You always carry this much dead weight on you?” 

He stood back up and put his hand out, “hand it over, I told them no weapons.” 

You reluctantly took off Hotch’s holster and placed it in the unsubs hand. Your one line of defense was gone. 

The longer you were on the bus, the more anxious Spencer got. He knew you were an exceptional profiler, and you had enough experience and skill to handle yourself in situations like this. 

But that couldn’t stop the ache in his stomach or the fact that his heart rate could power a car by now. 

He stood closer to the bus now to get a clearer view of the windows. They managed to successfully get the children and moms off and to safety, but you weren’t safe. Spencer figured you were trying to negotiate with the unsub, but that was going nowhere. This was confirmed when Rossi tried calling him again but every call was ignored. 

This unsub was stubborn as hell. He knows he trapped himself, but didn’t want to back down. At least he didn’t want to go quietly. 

Spencer was talking with the rest of the team trying to devise a plan when the gunshots were fired. The team immediately ran back to the cacophony on the bus. 

More shots were fired, he didn’t know where from. He didn’t care. 

He just needed to get to you. 

When he got a decent view through one of the windows that hadn’t shattered he saw you. Your hand over arm in pain but still standing in front of the civilians to protect them. The unsub stalking over to you, gun in hand and smacking you over the head with it. You slammed against the chairs and fell to the floor. 

Spencer's face paled. He swore he was going to throw up. 

Through the fog of his mind Spencer saw Morgan escorting Mark off the bus, his hands now behind his back in cuffs. 

He rushed past them, clambering through the door and up the stairs to get to you, calling your name. 

“Reid?” he heard your small tired voice through the crowd. 

He followed it to you, laying on the ground struggling to open your eyes and clutching your left arm. 

He crouched down to your level with a gentle hand on your uninjured arm. 

“Hey, I’m here. I’m right here,” he comforted. 

“My head hurts,” you mumbled.

His eyes softened, “I know. I think you might have a concussion, you need to go to the hospital.” 

You slowly started to fade out of consciousness. Spencer’s heart dropped and his hand moved from your arm to your face. 

“No no no no stay with me okay?” he caressed your cheek with his thumb.

“Stay with me sweetheart,” he consoled.

Your eyes stopped struggling to stay open and finally made their close. His other hand rushed to your pulse point as he called for a medic.

Time seemed to stand still while Spencer sat next to your hospital bed waiting for you to wake up. He couldn’t leave your side. He didn’t want to. 

You were okay. You were laying in the bed in front of him. But of course in his mind he ran through all the possible scenarios of how things could’ve gone worse, how things could’ve gone better. What would’ve happened if you didn’t have your gun taken away, or if the unsub got angry that you tried to bring a gun in. What if he didn’t lose his cool and start firing. What if you never went inside in the first place. 

And with all of those possible scenarios, the same thought plagued him. 

He was wrong. 

Before he was too scarred from past traumas to reveal just how much you meant to him. Not wanting to repeat the past and lose yet another person he loved cared for. 

But now, after seeing you in danger right in front of him, now he was terrified at the thought of you never knowing. He was now more scared you would never know how much he loved the way your nose crinkled when you smiled. How he thought the sound of your voice could cure any ailment he had. How he admired your strength and desire to protect others. How you could light up anyone's mood by just being you. How he could listen to you for hours, even if you were lecturing him on things he’d known like the back of his hand.

To him it was a whole new experience hearing it from you. 

Spencer was pulled from his thoughts as you stirred awake. He saw your eyes adjust to the bright fluorescent lights ahead. He quickly got up to dim the lights for you. 

When he returned to his seat you smiled at him, “hi.” 

“Hi,” he smiled back.  

“How are you feeling?” 

You sighed. “Like shit,” you complained with a hint of humor. 

“The doctor said you have a minor head injury, bruised ribs, and the shot to your arm thankfully didn’t break any bones.” 

“Fun,” you said sarcastically. 

A moment of silence passes between you two. He doesn’t exactly know what to say. How do you casually tell your friend and coworker you have a crush on them? 

There is no casual way. 

“You called me sweetheart,” you broke the silence. 

He furrowed his eyebrows, “What?” 

You fidget with the blanket, “earlier, when I passed out on the bus. You called me sweetheart.”

He searches his mind for the memories of the day. When he finds the memory he realizes in the heat of the moment the term of endearment slipped out. 

He wasn’t aware you heard it. 

“I did,” he confirmed as his ears flushed.

“Why?” you asked curiously. 

He didn’t know how to tell you that he’s wanted to call you that for weeks now. So instead he settled with-

“It just … felt right.” 

“Oh,” you replied quietly.

Spencer tensed up at your response. 

“If I crossed the line-“ 

“No. Of course not,” you interrupted with a comforting voice. 

The corners of your mouth lifted and cheeks dusted pink. “I thought it was sweet. You don’t normally say stuff like that.”  

His heart warmed at your confession and a smile spread on his face. 

“You thought me calling you sweetheart was sweet?” he lightly teased.

“Shut up,” you chuckled, rolling your eyes. “You know what I mean.” 

Your laughter was cut short by a sharp pain in your abdomen. You bit down on your lip and gripped the side of the bed in pain. 

The reality that you were injured on the job was rushing back to him. 

He licked his lips, his nervous unconscious habit. 

“I was really worried about you.”

“I know.”

“No, you don’t,” he interjected. 

“The entire time you were on that bus I was sick to my stomach. Terrified that something bad was gonna happen and it did,” he started to ramble. 

You leaned closer to him. ”But I’m okay Reid.”

“You still got hurt. He shot you for christ sake!” his voice raising in pitch and volume. 

“Reid-”

“He lashed out at you! You could’ve died!” 

“Spencer,” you said firmly, pulling his attention towards you. 

He never heard you say his name before. No matter how many times he said you could call him Spencer, you still called him Reid. Hearing his name fall from your lips was like the consistency of honey.

You placed your hands on his face caressing his cheek. His golden eyes meet yours. 

“I’m alright. I’m still here,” you consoled. 

“But if-“

“Spencer.”

“Please,” he pleaded. “It’s important.” 

You nodded your head, signaling for him to continue. He gently grabbed your wrists and brought your hands in his. He took a deep breath before he decided to spill the thing that had been eating away at his heart. 

“I have feelings for you. I have for a long time. Almost as long as you’ve been at the BAU,” he started. 

With your hands in his he started tracing his thumb over your knuckles. 

“If we don’t have work I count down the days until I can see you again. When I do see you I desperately want to see you smile, see you happy. And if I’m the one that causes that smile, it makes my whole day. That’s why I never interrupted when you talked about something I already knew. The way your face lit up when you talked with such passion was the highlight of my day.” 

“For months I was scared of my feelings and I kept them to myself. I was too scared to admit how much I liked you because I-” his hold on your hands tightened.

“I know what it feels like to lose someone. This job takes so much from us; I never wanted it to take you.” 

Spencer let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in. 

“Today I realized it would be more painful if I went the rest of my life not telling you, than having even a fraction of a moment with you.”

A moment of silence danced between you two. Your head reeling from his confession, heart beating so hard you could feel it in your bones. Your palms sweaty from holding onto Spencers, but still neither of you let go. 

The silence was deafening, plaguing him. 

“Please … say something,” he begged. 

Your lash line was collecting tears that you simultaneously tried blinking away. Your eyes found his tie less intimidating than his gaze.

“I never thought you would like me back,” you said with a soft tone. 

Spencer's cheeks turned red as his heart started melting. “I do.” 

You brought your eyes back to his. That precious smile on his face was infectious. 

“Listen,” you squeezed his hands. “I’m not going anywhere. So you have as much time with me as you want.” 

Spencer's eyes softened at your words. He raised your hands and placed a loving kiss on your knuckles. 

The two of you were too lost in eachother to notice the footsteps towards the room. 

“Hey, I found some Jello for her if she-” Alex abruptly stopped once she noticed what she walked into. 

You both awkwardly pulled your hands away from each other; you fiddling with the hospital blanket, him rubbing his palms on his slacks. 

“So, feeling better?” she asked hesitantly. 

“Much,” you answered, still a bit flustered. 

“Good, good to hear,” She tried not to sound too smug, but the small smile on her face said otherwise. 

She raised and shook the jello container in her hand. 

“I’m gonna leave this here,” she placed it on the table. “I’ll be back in a bit.” 

“Thanks Blake,” you thanked as she left. 

Once she was gone you quietly giggled and mumbled “oh my god,” under your breath. 

“You know, she kept teasing me asking when I was going to ask you out. And don’t even get me started on Morgan,” he chuckled, shaking his head. 

Your jaw dropped and eyes furrowed. “Did everyone else know but me?” 

He pressed his lips in a thin line, “pretty much.” 

“I must be a shitty profiler,” you half joked.

“Absolutely not,” he said in the most comforting voice. He brushed the hair that had fallen in front of your face behind your ear. 

“You’re an amazing profiler.” 

You smiled that smile he loved so much. The one where you couldn’t hide your joy and your nose crinkled. 

“So, how do you think you’ll spend all those moments with me?” you inquired with a bit of a teasing tone. 

“Doing anything sweetheart,” he answered seriously. He looked at you with awe written all over your face. “I'm ready for anything with you.” 

“in omnia paratus” - ready for anything

Tag asks: @adrienneleclerc @ladybirdbeetle7

[sceletaflores]

well, all right i’m bad, but then you’re no prize either…

pair: joel miller x fem!reader

wc: 8.6k

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, no ellie, general violence (only referenced), age gap (56/26), swearing, so many spacers lmao, not quite friends to lovers and not quite enemies to lovers but a weird other thing, kinda mean!joel for a good sec, dressing wounds, joel miller TUMMY, loss of virginity (reader is a virgin but she's not completely oblivious and weirdly infantile about it lmao), fingering (fem!receiving), p in v, unprotected sex whoops, size kink, belly bulging, pussy pronouns, porn with a tiny plot, no use of y/n.

nat’s note: well, i finally caved y’all. baby’s first tlou fic! this literally took me forever to write and even longer to post cause i was so terrified LMAO so please give me some grace if it’s shit and he’s ooc and timelines are a little fuzzy cause i barely know what i’m doing. thank you chickens love you mwah mwah mwah. kisses!

dividers by lovely @saradika-graphics!

joel found a lodge house…

You don’t know what you did to make Joel Miller hate you so much.

He's never outright said it, but you know it’s there—in every sharp glance, every clipped word, every deliberate avoidance.

Besides, his silence is worse than anything he could say. A quiet condemnation that settles in your chest like stone.

You tell yourself it doesn’t matter, that you don’t care what he thinks, but the truth is harder to swallow.

You do care—more than you want to admit. His approval, his respect, hell, even a sliver of kindness from him feels like an impossible prize you’ll never win.

And you hate yourself for wanting it. For needing it.

It's not just the weight of his disdain that eats at you, it's the not knowing why. God, do you wish you could ask him why.

What did you do to make him look at you like you’re some necessary evil he has to tolerate. Why does he hold some unspoken grudge that's manifested itself into something you couldn't dream of ever comprehending.

But the thought of confronting Joel feels like standing on the edge of a cliff, staring down into a void that might swallow you whole.

So instead, you do what you've always done. You keep your distance, try to match his indifference with your own, and tell yourself it’s better this way.

You were young when the outbreak hit, six years old.

You’re sure that’s part of it. That that’s how Joel sees you, as some bumbling, naive child who’s more of a hassle than anything else.

Another mouth to feed, another back to watch, baggage.

You've been with him for almost seven months now, traveling side by side when you may have well been miles apart. Trekking through abandoned cities, overgrown highways, and every godforsaken patch of wilderness in between.

In the beginning, you did everything you could to prove him wrong.

You pushed yourself past your limits, hunted, scavenged, fought, kept up. You did everything that needed to be done without hesitation.

All to show that you were more than what he made you out to be. It never seemed to matter much.

After you lost your parents in the early days of the outbreak, it was just you and your sister. She taught you everything you know, taught you how to survive.

It's because of her that you know how to shoot a rifle, how to skin a rabbit, how to start a fire with nothing but sticks and dried moss, how to snap bones and locate which vital arteries bleed out the quickest.

It's because of her that you've been able to hone some sick skill in the maiming of clickers.

A skill you never thought you'd need to use on her.

You were supposed to be safe in the QZ. You weren't supposed to be fifteen years old, aiming a gun at the one person you had left.

Your own flesh and blood wasn't supposed to be the very first in a long list of red tallies under your belt.

It’s been years and you’ve still never forgotten that day. December 19th, 2012, the date burned into your brain like someone took a branding iron to the tissue.

You can’t count the amount of times you’ve been ripped from your sleep drenched in a cold sweat with the tail end of a scream tearing at the skin of your throat.

The image of what was left of your sister, slumped on the ground lifeless as her blood painted the wall behind her flashing behind your closed eyelids. The sound of her last labored breath ringing in your ears louder than any shotgun blast.

You ran that same night, with the weight of her death on your shoulders.

Your entire world spinning out around you as you clawed through barbed wire fencing, not caring where you were going or what would happen to you—just needing to escape.

There was nothing left for you to do after that but survive. And that’s what you did, for years, scraping by in a world that had already chewed you up and spit you out a mangled mess.

You learned how to be ruthless because of it.

How to harden yourself against the loss, the pain, the brutality. But there were cracks, too. Cracks you hid well, buried deep beneath layers of stubbornness and distance.

The endless days blurred into each other. Empty houses, hollow streets. A life reduced to scavenging, hiding, and the occasional, fleeting moment of human connection that inevitably ended in loss. 

And then you found yourself with Joel.

You hadn’t exactly found him, though. More like crashed into his orbit by accident.

A few desperate days spent scavenging through the ruins of a small town, a chance encounter that left you both wary and unwilling to turn your backs.

But, inexplicably, you somehow became part of his traveling routine.

He wasn’t like any of the others you’d met before. At first, you thought he might be different. A man who seemed broken, but different nonetheless.

As the days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, you began to see the truth. Joel Miller wasn’t concerned with you. He didn’t need you. And, more than that, he didn’t want you around. 

You didn’t know what to do with that.

It’s a bitter kind of irony. You’ve survived all this time completely on your own, fought tooth and nail to stay alive, but with him, you might just crumble.

Joel found a lodge house. It's a small, weathered place tucked away in the dense trees of the wood surrounding it.

He only deemed it suitable after an extensive perimeter check and a thorough sweep of the interior.

It's not much—just another run-down place in the middle of nowhere—but for the first time in what feels like forever, it’s a roof over your head for the night.

The walls are sturdy, though the windows are cracked and half of the floorboards creak like they're about to give out at any moment.

You explored the second floor alone, creeping through the desolate rooms and taking in all that was left behind.

Old family photographs covered in thick layers of dust, worn clothes riddled with holes still hung in the few closets you stumble across.

The oddest of all was an old jewelry box tucked away in a dresser draw, tarnished silver dull and muddy.

The sound of familiar footsteps comes from somewhere behind you. The door creaks open slowly.

Joel. Of course.

He clears his throat, the sound abrasive in the quiet of the house.  

“Fire’s low,” he says, voice rough from its lack of use today.

You don’t turn around, not yet. You take the box in your gloved hand, running your fingers across the intricate design of the lid, touch trailing over winding vines and small roses.

“Okay,” you mutter, your voice coming out quieter than you intended. “I’ll grab some more wood later.”

Another beat of silence. Then, “It’s gettin’ cold out, I’ll go.”

Your fingers pause their ministrations, moving to flip the lid open. Empty.

“Suit yourself,” you reply after a moment, your tone just as neutral as his.

Joel doesn’t leave right away. You hear the floorboards groan beneath his weight, his presence lingering in the doorway. 

You wonder what he’s waiting for, or if he’s waiting at all.

Finally, he speaks. “Don’t touch anything.”

With that he turns and leaves the room, you wait until you can’t hear his footsteps trailing down the stairs anymore to let out the scoff festering in your chest.

You snap the jewelry lid shut with a little more force than necessary. “Asshole.”

Joel's been gone for a while now. Longer than it takes to chop a few logs for firewood.

You came down from the upstairs a few minutes after hearing the tell-tale sound of the heavy door opening and closing. The main room is quiet, save for the soft crackle of the dwindling fire.

You're perched on an old armchair near the entrance, peering out the dirty window that has the best view of the treeline as you nervously pick the skin around your nails.

You tell yourself not to worry. He’s probably fine, he’s been doing this a lot longer than you. And if Joel is anything, it’s annoyingly competent.

Still, a nagging doubt itches at the back of your mind. It's been at least half an hour, maybe more.

You’re just about to grab your own pack and go looking for him when the front door creaks open.

Joel stumbles inside, the frigid evening air rushing in behind him before he slams the door shut. At first glance, he looks fine—no more haggard than usual. 

But then you notice the way he favors his left side, the way his free hand is pressed against his ribs, blood seeping through his fingers and staining his torn undershirt.

You’re on your feet in an instant.

“Fuck,” you say, voice sharper than you expected. “What the hell happened?”

“Raiders.” Is the only explanation you get as he tries to brush past you like it’s nothing. The stiff way he moves and the tightens of his jaw betray him. “S’just a scratch.”

“Bullshit,” you snap, stepping in front of him and blocking his path to the fire. “Sit. Now.”

He gives you a look, one of those deep, withering glares you’ve seen him use to intimidate countless others into submission. But you stand your ground, chin raised and jaw set–defiant. 

His stubbornness finally meeting its match in your own. 

Finally, with a low growl of frustration, he drops onto the couch. “Happy now?”

"Not until you let me take care of that." You motion toward his side, where the blood is still spreading.

“I’m fine,” he mutters, lolling his head back to rest more heavily on the couch.

“Sure you are,” you snap, crossing the room to rifle through your bag. “And I’m the fucking Queen of England.”

"Said I’m fine," he bites through gritted teeth, but you’re already moving, heading back to him with the first aid kit from your pack.

"You want to bleed out on this ugly-ass couch? Be my guest," you shoot back, dropping to your knees in front of him. "Otherwise, shut up and let me help."

Joel surprisingly doesn’t argue any further, just sighs heavily and reluctantly sinks further into the couch cushions.

You push the front of his jacket open to slide it off his shoulders as gently as you can, peeling back the layer of his flannel next.

The smell of blood hits you immediately.

The gash is about five inches long, trailing the span of his ribcage. It’s deep—but not fatal—just an angry red and oozing blood.

Definitely not the simple 'scratch' he made it out to be.

Your stomach churns at the sight, but you push it down. No time for that.

“Jesus, Joel,” you mutter under your breath, reaching for the alcohol in your kit. “You really know how to underplay a situation, huh?”

He doesn’t respond, just watches you with those dark, calculating eyes of his. Always watching, always assessing.

It’s unnerving, but you focus on the task at hand, grabbing a clean cloth and soaking it with alcohol.

“This is gonna hurt,” you warn, though there’s a part of you that doesn’t mind the idea of causing him a little discomfort.

A petty, vindictive part that still stings from all the scorn he’s thrown your way.

“Just get it over with,” Joel grits out, his voice low and gravelly.

You don’t give him any more warnings as you wipe the soaked cloth over the wound. He flinches, a harsh curse slipping through clenched teeth, but he doesn’t pull away.

You work as quickly as you can, wiping away the blood and dirt with steady hands, your movements as gentle as possible given the situation.

You let out an annoyed huff when the torn fabric of his shirt gets in the way of your hands for a second time.

You lean back on your heels, glancing up at Joel. “You need to take your shirt off.”

Joel raises a brow at you, his lips pressing into a thin line. “That really necessary?”

“Yes, it’s necessary, Joel,” you huff, already losing patience. “Unless you want me to sit here and cut around every thread of this ratty thing while you bleed out, then by all means—”

He sighs heavily, cutting you off as he shifts forward and grabs the hem of his shirt. He tugs at the fabric, grunting in pain each time it strains his ribs.

You roll your eyes at how slow he’s moving, and your patience—already worn thin by the day's events—snaps.

“Jesus Christ, let me help,” you huff, reaching forward and grabbing the fabric.

Joel jerks back slightly, his hand shooting up to stop yours mid-motion. “I got it,” he growls, a sharp edge in his voice.

You glare at him, your hand still caught in his grip. His palm is calloused, his hold firm enough to make your pulse jump unexpectedly. 

For a moment, the two of you just sit there, locked in a silent standoff.

Then he releases your hand and pulls the shirt over his head himself, wincing as the movement pulls at his side.

You wait with your arms crossed, trying to ignore the awkward flutter of nerves in your stomach as the fabric peels away to reveal his chest.

Joel’s broad, solid frame isn’t new to you. You’ve seen him shirtless before—brief glimpses when bathing in rivers or changing in run down houses between stops.

But this time feels different, more intimate somehow.

You’re staring, and you know it.

The firelight cast shadows over his skin, illuminating old scars, faint lines of muscle, the barely there jut of his stomach over the hem of his jeans.

You had been getting more game kills recently, two hunters are always better than one.

Joel clears his throat, dragging your focus back to the present. “You gonna gawk all night, or can we move this along?”

You snap out of it, scowling to cover your embarrassment. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t get your panties in a twist.”

You finish cleaning the gash and grab the small needle and thread lying next to you.

“This’ll hurt worse than the alcohol,” you say, threading the needle easily.

Joel snorts, a rare sound. “Figures.”

The needle pierces his skin, and this time, you catch the smallest hitch in his breath. He doesn’t make a sound, but his jaw tightens, the veins in his neck standing out like cords.

His hands grip the edge of the couch hard enough that his knuckles turn white with it, but he doesn’t tell you to stop or slow down.

He’s too damn proud for that.

You shift closer, your knee brushing against his leg as you position yourself to work from a better angle. You feel his eyes on you, that intense, scrutinizing stare that makes your skin prickle.

“You’ve done this before,” Joel says after a moment, his tone less sharp than before. It’s not quite a question, more of an observation.

You shrug, keeping your hands steady. “Of course I have.”

“Who taught you?”

The question catches you off guard, Joel’s never shown much interest in what your life was before you met him. You glance up briefly, catching his gaze. There’s no malice there, no judgment—just curiosity.

You swallow hard, dragging your eyes back to stitches, half way done now. “My sister.”

You don’t elaborate and Joel doesn’t push.

Maybe it’s the sudden tightness in your tone or the look you know must be clouding your face that keeps him quiet.

You finish off the stitching, tearing the thin strand of thread with your hands before you’re leaning away again.

“Good as new,” you say, dabbing some more alcohol on your own hands to disinfect. “Try not to tear these open anytime soon.”

Joel leans back, strong arms spread across the back of the couch, his face unreadable as he peers down at the fresh stitching on his side. 

“Could’ve done it myself,” he mutters, but the edge in his voice is gone, replaced with something softer, almost resigned. 

You roll your eyes with a scoff, not even trying to hide your irritation as you rise from the floor. “Sure you could’ve, right before you passed out. You’re welcome by the way.”

You gather your supplies and turn to head back to your bag, but Joel’s voice stops you in your tracks.

“You’re always like this, y’know,” he says, and the words carry that same gravelly drawl, but there’s something new there—something heavier.

You pause, your hands tightening around the kit in your grasp. “Like what?”

“Pushy. Stubborn,” he replies, his tone cutting, though it lacks the usual venom. “Like you’ve got somethin’ to prove all the damn time.”

You whip around, your patience officially gone. “You think I’m stubborn?” you shoot back, your voice rising. “Coming from the guy who would rather bleed out on a fucking couch than admit he needs help?”

Joel’s jaw tightens, and his hands flex against the couch cushions, but you don’t stop. Not now. Not after months of this.

“I’ve been busting my ass since day one to prove that I’m not dead weight to you. I’ve fought for us, for you. And for what? Just to get more of your bullshit attitude?”

“You don’t know what the hell you’re talkin’ about,” Joel snaps, pushing himself upright despite the obvious strain it puts on his freshly stitched wound. “You don’t know a goddamn thing about me.”

“Because you won’t let me!” you fire back, stepping closer, your voice rising. “All you do is look at me like I’m some burden you can’t wait to get rid of.”

Joel’s glare sharpens, his lips parting as if to respond, but you cut him off.

You really can’t stop yourself now that you started, all the anger and frustration reaching a fever pitch hot enough to burst the tight lid you’ve kept on your emotions.

“If I’m such a hassle, why didn’t you just leave me back there, huh? Why didn’t you just walk away like I know you wanted to?”

Joel’s breathing is heavier now,  his broad chest rising and falling as his dark eyes bore into yours.

For a moment, he doesn’t say anything. Then, he stands, and the sheer size of him forces you to tilt your chin up slightly to keep your glare fixed on his face.

“You think I wanted this, kid?” he growls, his voice low and strained, like he’s barely holding himself together. “You think I wanted to be responsible for someone else? To have someone else’s fuckin’ life on me?”

“Don’t call me kid,” you spit, shoving a finger into his chest, ignoring the way his jaw ticks at the contact. “I’m not a fucking kid.”

He scoffs, casting his eyes to the ceiling disbelievingly. “Could’ve fooled me.”

“Fuck you, Joel,” you growl, fists clenching at your side. “If you hate me that much, why the hell are you still here? Why didn’t you tell me to fuck off the second you met me?”

“Because I couldn’t!” Joel snaps, booming voice filling the small space.

The confession slips out like it pains him. His fists clench at his sides, and for a moment, he looks like he might break something.

You’ve never been scared of Joel, even though you’ve seen first hand just how scary he can be.

Now, as he looms in front of you, eyes blazing and jaw working furiously beneath his skin, it’s the closest to scared you’ve felt.

“I’ve seen you out there,” he continues, tone low and dark. “You’ve got a fuckin’ death wish. You’re too damn stubborn to just stop, and I’m not gonna let you go so you can run off and get yourself fuckin’ killed.”

Your heart pounds in your chest, his words hitting far too close to home.

“I’m just trying to survive, Joel,” you snap, your voice shaking. “That’s what we do, isn’t it? Survive.”

“Survive,” Joel repeats bitterly, his gaze burning into yours. “That what you call it? Throwin’ yourself into every goddamn fight, gettin’ stabbed and shot right fuckin’ in front of me and expecting me to brush that shit off?”

You let out a humorless laugh, nodding your head exasperatedly. “Yes, yes I do expect you to just brush it off, because that’s what you always do.” 

“Well I can’t,” he grates out, taking a step closer. “I can’t ‘cause despite whatever it is that you may think about me, I don’t hate you. I care about you too damn much and that's my goddamn problem.”

That shuts you up, your mouth snapping closed with a sharp click of your teeth as you stare at him, shocked.

Joel holds your gaze, lips pressed into a thin line. “That what you wanted to hear?”

It’s in that moment that the fire finally fizzles out, the dull hiss of it the only sound left in the room.

You’re quiet for a beat, stunned into silence. The heat of his anger, his frustration, it radiates off him, and you realize suddenly that this isn’t just about you. 

It never was.

“Then show me,” you challenge softly, your heart pounding in your chest. “Show me that you don’t hate me.”

Joel’s eyes darken, his head cocking to the side as he searches your face for a sign. You don’t say anything, you only square your shoulders and raise your chin, your eyes just as hard as his own.

“I want you to prove it.”

The tension snaps like a rubber band stretched too far. 

You shouldn’t—this shouldn’t—happen. Not like this. Not after everything that’s been said.

But when Joel’s lips crash against yours, hot and desperate and urgent, it makes everything blur into nothing. 

It’s not gentle, not soft—this is anger and longing and frustration all wrapped into one. It’s messy, frantic, like a fight that’s been brewing for too long.

He grips your arm, pulling you closer, almost too roughly, but it feels like it’s everything you’ve both been avoiding.

His other hand moves to cup the back of your neck, grounding you as his lips press harder against yours, like he’s trying to pour everything he can’t say into this single moment.

You respond just as fiercely, nails digging into the skin of his shoulders as you kiss him back with all the pent-up emotion that’s been simmering beneath the surface.

The coarse hair of his beard scrapes against the skin of your chin deliciously, the scent of blood and firewood filling your senses as his arm wraps around your waist, dragging you impossibly closer.

Close enough that you can feel the wild beat of his heart booming against your chest.

You pull away for a second, breathless, both of you looking at each other, your eyes wide and pupils blown.

“Goddamn it,” Joel mutters, his voice thick with frustration and something else you can’t place. He presses his forehead to yours, the deep brown of his eyes dark than before. “What the hell are we doing?”

You don’t have an answer. You’re not sure if you even want one.

You reach for him again, arms looping around his neck to drag his mouth back to yours.

This kiss is nothing like the first, it isn’t a clash of frustration–it’s filthier, rawer. A near feral thing, all teeth and tongue, a surge of hunger and need that borders on violence. 

Joel groans into your mouth, a low, guttural sound that sends a shiver racing down your spine. His teeth catch your bottom lip, pulling just hard enough to make you gasp.

He takes advantage of the sound, his tongue sweeping into your mouth to slide against yours with wet, messy desperation, like he’s trying to claim every inch of you.

The taste of him—salt and iron and something distinctly Joel—makes your head spin. 

Your fingers knot into the chocolaty curls at the nape of his neck, surprisingly soft to the touch. His own hands roam the soft curves of your body, rough and insistent, like he can’t decide where he wants to touch you most.

“Joel—” His name spills from your lips like a plea, and he answers with a deep, guttural noise that sends heat pooling low in your belly. His tongue follows the path of his teeth, soothing the bites with lazy, deliberate strokes that make your knees weak.

You’re moving before you even realize it. Joel dragging you across the room and down onto the couch with him, using the strength he’s built up after all these years to manhandle you until your thighs are spread wide on either side of his lap.

“Joel,” you gasp again, rearing back enough to break the kiss. “Your stitches–”

He cuts you off with a sharp nip to the sensitive spot behind your ear, tearing a high whine from your throat. “Can hardly feel ‘em.”

You make a displeased sound, but it’s undermined by the way you tilt your head to give his wandering lips more room. His hands find a home on your hips, one slipping beneath your shirt to press against the soft skin of your stomach. 

His fingers splay wide across your skin, his palm callused and rough. His pinky just barely brushes the underside of your breast, and you’re suddenly rearing back. 

“Wait,” you say, your voice barely a whisper.

Joel’s hands immediately loosen their grip on your hips, his brows knitting together in concern. “You okay?”

You nod quickly, your heart pounding in your chest. “I just...I need to tell you something.”

His jaw tightens slightly, but he stays quiet, waiting for you to speak.

You take a beat, chewing at the skin of your bottom lip nervously.

“I’ve never...” You pause, swallowing hard as your cheeks heat up. “I’ve never done this before. I mean, I’ve never been with anyone like this.”

Joel pulls back slightly, his expression unreadable as he processes your words. For a moment, you think he might pull away completely, but then he exhales a long, slow breath.

“Christ,” he mutters, scrubbing a hand down his face. “You’re tellin’ me this now?”

“I didn’t exactly plan for this to happen,” you snap back, crossing your arms over your chest defensively. “It’s not like I had the luxury of a high school sweetheart to pop my cherry out here.”

Joel’s gaze softens at your tone, and he reaches out to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin. “Hey, hey, I didn’t mean it like that.”

You glance away, suddenly feeling self-conscious under the weight of his stare. “I just...I wanted you to know. But I want this, Joel. I want you.”

His thumb stills against your cheek, and he swallows hard, his adam’s apple bobbing as he considers your words.

“I don’t...” He pauses, the most hesitant you’ve ever heard him. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

It’s the most vulnerable he’s been around you, round eyes shining with something so raw and so earnest it makes your heart ache in your chest. 

“You won’t,” you insist, your voice steady despite the nerves fluttering in your stomach. “I trust you.”

Joel’s jaw clenches, and for a moment, he looks like he’s going to argue. But then he nods, his shoulders relaxing as he cups the back of your neck, pulling you closer until your foreheads touch again.

“At least let me do this right,” he murmurs, his voice so soft you almost don’t hear it. “Not here. Not on some goddamn couch.”

You blink up at him, surprised by the tenderness in his tone. “What?”

“Upstairs,” he says, his thumb tracing lazy circles against the side of your neck. “There’s a bed up there. It ain’t much, but it’s better than this.”

You can’t do anything but nod, your pulse racing beneath your skin fast enough to combat the cold night air seeping through the walls.

“Okay,” you say softly, voice barely above a whisper. “Upstairs.”

Joel stands, gently pulling you to feet and taking your hand in his. He leads you upstairs, each step feeling heavier with anticipation. The small bedroom is dimly lit, the faint glow of moonlight filtering through a broken blind. 

The bed isn’t much—an old mattress on a worn frame, covered with a patched-up blanket—but it doesn’t matter.

Joel shuts the door behind you, the sound of the latch clicking into place sending a shiver down your spine.

“Last chance,” he says, his voice a low rumble. “You say the word, and we stop. No questions asked.”

Your throat tightens at the sincerity in his tone, the way he’s giving you an out even though you can see the strain in every line of his body, the way his hands flex at his sides like he wants nothing more than to reach out and touch you.

But you don’t hesitate.

You step closer, placing your hands on his bare chest. You bite back a smile at the goosebumps that break out all along his skin at your touch. 

“Jesus, Miller,” you mumble teasingly, nails lightly scratching through the salt and pepper hair scattered along his chest. “How long are you gonna drag this out before you get it through your thick skull that I want to fuck you?”

"Christ." Joel huffs, shaking his head as the corners of his lips turn up in a small grin. “Like I fuckin’ said,” he starts, big hands kneading the meat of your hips. “Pushy.”

Joel walks you backward until the backs of your knees hit the edge of the bed, and you fall onto it with a soft gasp.

He follows you immediately, crawling over you, his body covering yours, his weight a comforting pressure. “I’ll take care of you,” he murmurs, his lips brushing yours. “I’ll make it good for you, I swear.”

His fingers are everywhere, unbuttoning your shirt with a practiced ease that has your pulse racing. His lips follow the path of his hands, each touch a branding mark, each kiss leaving you wanting more.

“Pretty girl,” he mutters softly, pressing a kiss right between the valley of your breasts.

You feel his cock stirring against your stomach, and it makes the ache between your legs flare to life, the weight of it, the hardness of it, driving you crazy with need. 

You want him so badly you can barely think straight, but when his lips graze over your collarbone, you can’t stop the quiet whine that escapes your throat.

Joel growls in response, a sound that resonates deep in his chest, and you know then that he’s as far gone as you are. His hands slide down to the waistband of your pants, tugging them down your legs with urgency. 

As your skin is exposed to the cool air, you can feel the heat of his gaze on you, like he’s memorizing every inch of you.

“You’re fuckin' perfect,” he mutters, his voice thick with desire.

Joel's hands find your thighs, parting them with a deliberate slowness that makes your breath catch in your throat. He positions himself between your legs, his body weight pressing you into the mattress, his chest rising and falling with the same frantic rhythm as yours. 

The anticipation is almost unbearable as his fingers trace the line of your panties, the fabric damp with want.

“Jesus, she’s drippin’ for me already,” he mutters, voice rough, as he slides the material to the side, his thumb brushing over the sensitive swell of your clit.

Your body jerks at the contact, a desperate sound escaping your lips, but Joel doesn’t relent.

“You touch yourself down here, baby?” he asks, working tortuously slow circles over your clit.

"Please," you beg, your hands grasping at the sheets, pulling at them as if they can anchor you to the moment.

He looks up at you, his gaze dark and filled with an intensity that makes your stomach tighten. “Asked you a question, honey.”

You whine, high and loud in your throat as your thighs clench desperately around his wrist. “Yes, I touch myself.”

Joel’s lips curl into a satisfied grin, sliding his thick index finger through the messy wetness to slip inside your clenching hole, making you gasp. Your hands grasp at the sheets, pulling at them as if they can anchor you to the moment.

“Good girl,” he breathes, eyes darkening at the broken moan that bursts from your lips. “When’s the last time you touched yourself?”

Your brain feels hazy as you search for the answer, pleasure clouding your mind slow and sweet as molasses. “A–a few nights ago.”

Joel hums idly, slipping a second finger alongside the first. The stretch has you whining, his fingers a lot more to take than your own.

Your hands come up to claw at his shoulders, relishing in the way his broad muscle ripples and shifts beneath your greedy palms.

“Joel,” you whine, hips canting down against his hand impatiently.

He just shushes you softly, free hand brushing soothing circles along the skin of your inner thigh. “I know, honey,” he mutters, the pace fingers speeding up. “But I gotta get her nice and ready if you wanna take my cock.”

The gush of your pussy around his fingers is loud in the stillness of the room, a filthy wet noise that burns your ears each time he plunges them into your aching hole.

“I am ready.” Your breath hitches as your body begins to tremble beneath him. “Please, Joel—fuck—please, I need—”

“Need what?” His voice is thick with dark amusement, but there's a hunger in his eyes that has your stomach twisting. “Tell me, baby. What do you need?”

“I need you,” you rasp, your nails digging little crescent moons into his skin, your body pleading for release. “I need you inside me.”

Your hands grab at his hair, pulling him back up to meet your lips in a feverish kiss. 

The pressure of his body on yours, the way his hard cock grinds against your trembling thigh, drives you to the brink of madness. 

Your hands trail down his chest, past the waistband of his jeans, finally reaching the bulge straining against the fabric.

Joel groans when you rub him through his pants, feeling his cock twitch in response. He pulls back, breathing heavily, his lips curling into a smirk. 

“Yeah?” he asks, his voice thick with lust. “You want my cock in this pretty pussy? Want me to show you how good it feels to be fucked?”

“God, yes,” you answer, desperation lacing your tone as your hand moves to unbuckle his jeans. “Want it so bad.”

He lets you push his pants down just enough to free his cock, and you gasp, your eyes drawn to the way his length stands, thick and hard, just waiting for you. The tip flushed an angry red, drooling pre-come onto the scratchy sheets.

Joel pulls his fingers from you, using his hands spreading your legs wider, positioning himself between them with such careful precision that you can barely stand it.

The head of his cock drags through the mess between your legs, slipping all the way down till it catches on your soaked entrance.

Joel pauses, looking down at you, waiting for your signal, but the only answer you give is a pleading whimper, your hands pulling at his shoulders, urging him to move.

His mouth captures yours once again as he slowly slides into you, the stretch of his cock filling you steadily, making you gasp into his mouth. 

The slow burn of him carving a place for himself inside of you is almost too much, your body trembling as you adjust to the feeling of him.

“Fuck, baby,” Joel mutters against your lips. “You’re so tight, so fuckin’ perfect for me.”

As he sinks deeper into you, his thick cock finally buried to the hilt inside of you, the feeling is overwhelming. You gasp, nails digging into his back as the pain slowly shifts into pleasure.

Joel groans into your mouth, his hands moving to your hips, guiding you as he rocks gently against you. 

The rhythm is slow at first, deliberate, as if he's savoring every inch of you. Your body quivers beneath him, every inch of your skin tingling with sensation. You clutch at him, your legs tightening around his waist, needing more, wanting more.

"That's it," he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. "Take it, baby."

You screw your eyes shut tightly, trying to steady yourself as he thrusts deeper, harder. The angle shifts just enough to make your breath catch in your throat. 

Every stroke feels like it’s hitting the deepest part of you, sparking heat in places you never knew could burn so hot.

"Fuck," you gasp, the sensation too overwhelming, too much in the best way. "Joel... please..."

"Please what, sweetheart?" He pulls back slightly, teasing you with a slow roll of his hips before driving back in with a grunt.

Your nails dig into his shoulders, urging him to move faster, harder. "Don’t stop," you breathe, your voice trembling. "I need you to fuck me, Joel. Faster. Harder. Please."

The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room as Joel finally picks up the pace, each thrust harder and deeper than the last.

Your back arches off the bed, chest pressing flush to his as your body coils tighter and tighter, already so close to the edge.

Joel reaches up to take your wrist in his, dragging your hand down to press flat against your lower stomach.

“Feel that?” he asks breathlessly, the speed of his hips knocking the dingy bed frame into the wall with every thrust. “You feel how deep I am?”

His own hand blankets yours, pushing down so you can feel the way his cock punches up against your palm on the next thrust.

Your pussy clenches desperately around him at the feeling, your slick lips dropping open on a loud moan.

You can barely hold on. The heat in your stomach tightens, coiling painfully as your free hand scrambles to find purchase on his skin. "I can't—I'm gonna—"

He grits his teeth, his jaw clenched as he drives deeper, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. "Come for me, baby," he growls, his voice dark and commanding. "Let me feel it."

With a strangled cry, you finally release, your body clenching around him, every nerve igniting in a white-hot explosion of pleasure. 

You’re lost in it, your world spinning, your senses overwhelmed by the sensation of Joel’s body pounding into yours, the way his cock brushes against that sweet spot behind your clit enough to make sparks go off behind your eyelids.

Joel pulls out of your velvety warmth, hand coming up to fist his dripping length until he’s bowing over you tightly and coming with a deep groan of your name.

His release paints your stomach with milky strands of white, rope after rope of warm come claiming you in a way no one has before.

He finally collapses against you with one last shuddering breath, both of you breathing heavily, your chests rising and falling together in the quiet aftermath.

For a few moments, neither of you speaks, the only sounds are the soft creak of the bed and the quiet hum of your racing hearts. 

Joel rests his head against your shoulder, his breath warm against your skin, and you can feel the tension begin to slip away, the weight of everything that’s happened between you both settling into something new—something different, but still there.

Your hand slips down the sweaty expanse of your stomach, your fingers swiping through the sticky mess of his release curiously.

“Christ, quit that,” Joel groans, tearing his eyes away from the sight to press his forehead against your shoulder.

“Why?” you hum, brow raised in amusement as you drop your hand back to the mattress. “Can you even get it up again?”

Joel pinches your side hard enough to make you squeal, your body flinching away from him as a surprised laugh bubbles from your chest.

“Watch it,” he warns, though there’s no bite to his tone. You only laugh in response.

The two of you settle into a comfortable silence, wrapped in each other as crickets chirp from outside the window.

Then Joel clears his throat, fingers idly tracing different shapes on the skin of your hip as he gathers the courage to speak.

A circle, a square, a diamond, a circle, a heart, a heart, a heart.

“I’m…” he starts, trailing off softly. “I’m sorry. I’ve been a real fuckin’ prick, and you didn’t deserve it. You never did.”

You turn your own gaze to his chest, hand coming up so you can trail your fingers along the jagged scar decorating his shoulder. Your touch featherlight over the rough patch of skin.

All the anger seeps from your body, a heavy weight gone until you feel so light you could float off the mattress and into the cold night air.

“It’s okay,” you whisper softly, so soft you think it gets lost in the quiet darkness of the room. “I understand now.”

And for the first time in what feels like forever, you both just lay there, tangled in each other, not worrying about the world outside, about the chaos that waits. 

Just you, him, and the soft glow of moonlight.

tags are now in the comments! if you want to get tagged for any of my works just fill out this form!

mini nat's note: should i add joel to my taglist...i do kinda want to write more for him in the future but i'm not sure yet...lmk chickens <3 bee tee dubs sorry the ending absolutely sucks i could not for the life of me figure out how to end this LMAO