#really hoping an actual writer to find this post and be inspired

[yanderenightmare]

Saw you post about being in a rut a little while ago, but it seems like you’ve bounced back. So, question for the helpdesk, how do you fight off writer's block?

On Writer's Block!

This is a timeless question! And sort of one without any good answers, because each battle with writer’s block is different. Still, I’ll walk you through my process this time around and hope it can be of use!

I got writer’s block shortly after I finished and published my book, College Years. For a long time during this period, I’d been solely working on these twenty stories, and in the final month, I was mainly only reading, rendering, and doing very minimal actual creative writing. And so, after publishing, I was kind of stumped by needing to start everything over again and write stuff from scratch.

It was rough! That blank page is really tough, especially when the ideas just aren’t coming or the interest in whatever ideas that do come just isn’t there.

So, how did I bounce back? Well, first and foremost, I took a break. I rested my creativity and let it simmer so that it could grow restless and itchy to get back into writing. But even then, it was almost as if I’d forgotten how to write, and everything I was writing just felt forced, like I was writing something all for the sake of not feeling utterly useless.

It didn’t feel good.

I needed to identify the problem, and the problem I found was that I wasn’t really enjoying writing, even though I desperately wanted to. And why was that? Plenty of reasons. I’d been working on a really big thing, my book, and now that I was going back to smaller things again, that sense that stuff needed to be on the same level was all but stifling. In short, it was pressure.

And pressure comes in many forms. It wasn’t that I felt pressured by my followers or anything like that. It was simply that starting anew with fresh blank pages suddenly felt really daunting and, in a way, boring—and it all sort of just sapped me of energy before I’d even barely begun.

So, what did I end up doing? Well, if writing is feeling daunting, all you need to do is remind yourself that it’s anything but—at which point I decided to reintroduce myself to the art of writing from scratch.

And what does that mean? Well, it simply means going back to basics—giving yourself easy and non-risky writing exercises that allow you to play and have fun, where you reteach your imagination to do more work than the actual typing, so that it stops feeling like a chore and becomes your favorite thing to do again.

Now, there are a lot of these exercises—just search for short creative writing exercises in your search engine or on YouTube, and you’ll find tons of fun little prompts and games you can test. It’ll sort of feel like you’re back in school, but that’s the point.

You can use those standard exercises that come with time limits and prompts, or you can choose some simple ones that fit your genre better.

Here’s some I did to get into the groove again:

♡ Apex predators

The clientele of hybrid bunny reader.

This is something easy-going and fun I’ve done a lot throughout the years, which is simply to use the existing traits and characteristics of any given animal in order to characterize. 

When doing this, I like to just sit with the original animal for a while and think of all the things that are associated with them. For example, take dogs—I think hunters, pack, carnivores, police—and then boom, wouldn’t it be fun if dog hybrids were police? 

On top of that, I’m also a guilty fan of puns and idioms, so I tend to search for those types of things as well. And so, inspired by the simple idiom of dirty dog, I immediately figured hybrid dog police were all dirty cops, which in turn set the premise for the rest of the clientele… lion senators, leopard stockbrokers, vulture mobsters, reptile lawyers, etc…

♡ Yandere Days of the Week

Here, you incarnate the seven days, using things tied to each day to create a personification of that day. For example, Sundays are holy, and given their religious connotation, I made Sunday act as a missionary worker.

♡ Yandere Seven Deadly Sins.

Here, again, you incarnate the seven sins. This one might be a little easier, as they’re all already based on a core emotion or act that you can use as a focal point. 

Another similar exercise that I did years ago is assigning each character within BNHA a deadly sin. This is a bit more challenging as it really forces you to dive deep into each character and find an angle that works with the sin they’ve landed with. I remember that giving Bakugou the sin of pride wasn’t hard, but as I ran out of sins for the other characters, it steadily became harder, and I had to get really creative when I was left with no other option but to give Hawks the sin of sloth. But that was the good thing about that exercise! It really forced me to play with different angles and perspectives in order to make it work.

But anyway, summing things up. The core idea is that animals, weekdays, and deadly sins all have associations you can play with, making it fun for you to really bring forth the essence in each one.

There are plenty of other similar categorical tropes you can utilize to do this. 

I'll make it its own Prompt list for those interested!

[koitaxa]

very many thoughts, half of them are a Moulin Rouge inspired au with benedict bridgerton with an opera singer!reader/oc

the other half are an aemond oneshot based on the song hellfire from the hunchback of notredame with aemond absolutely obsessed with a velaryon!reader, daughter of rhaenyra and harwin strong

[rootedinrevisions]

Holiday to Remember

SUMMARY: When plans with your family fall through, an unexpected invitation leads you to spending Christmas with Glen - and his lively, close-knit family. You find yourself swept up in the warmth of holiday traditions and the undeniable pull of a connection you never saw coming. Between stolen moments under twinkling lights and whispered confessions, the boundaries of friendship blur, leaving you to wonder if this Christmas could be the start of something extraordinary or just a fleeting holiday dream.

A/N: So I was hoping to have this out before or on Christmas but then I got writer's block and struggled to finish it. And then I got inspiration...maybe too much inspiration. I watched Anyone But You and then a couple Hallmark movies so this definitely has a rom-com/cheesy Hallmark vibe to it. That's also why this is so long because as I was watching those movies I got ideas for moments to add to the story. But hopefully you all enjoy this!

WARNINGS: Some light cursing, maybe? Otherwise I don't think there's any warnings. Just 17k words of cute fluffy wholesomeness.

WORD COUNT: 17.5k (I got a little carried away with this one.)

TAGS: In Comments

The warm glow of string lights hung delicately along the restaurant's windows, casting a cozy hue on the bustling Los Angeles sidewalk. You took a deep breath, smoothing your sweater as you stepped inside, the gentle hum of conversation and clinking glasses enveloping you.

Approaching the host stand, you offered a polite smile. "Hi, I’m here for Glen Powell’s reservation."

The host, a young woman with a sleek bob and a professional smile, glanced at her list before nodding. "Of course. Right this way." She grabbed a menu and gestured for you to follow her through the dimly lit dining room.

As you weaved between tables, your nerves fluttered faintly, though you weren’t sure why. It wasn’t like this was anything new—just dinner with Glen. Something you’d done dozens of times.

The host led you to a table tucked in the back corner, offering a little more privacy from the busy main floor. Glen spotted you almost immediately. He set his phone down and stood up, his familiar, easy grin spreading across his face as he opened his arms.

“There she is,” he said warmly, pulling you into a hug as soon as you reached him. His cologne—a blend of something woodsy and clean—wrapped around you, as comforting as the embrace itself.

“Sorry I’m late,” you murmured against his shoulder before pulling back. “Traffic was a nightmare.”

He waved off your apology as you both sat down, his smile never faltering. “You’re in L.A.—isn’t traffic always a nightmare?” He leaned forward slightly, his elbows resting on the edge of the table. “Besides, you’re here now, and that’s all that matters.”

The way his gaze lingered on you for just a second too long made your stomach flutter, but you quickly pushed the feeling aside. It was Glen, your friend. Nothing more.

You picked up the menu and skimmed over the options, even though you weren’t really focusing on the words. Glen sat across from you, flipping his own menu open but still managing to glance your way every few moments.

“So,” you asked, breaking the comfortable silence. “How’s the movie coming along? Are you still filming, or are you finally getting some time to breathe?”

Glen chuckled softly, setting the menu down as he leaned back in his chair. “We wrapped a few days ago, actually. Post-production is in full swing now, so it’s out of my hands now. Now I can take a break and get some normalcy.”

“Normalcy,” you repeated, arching an eyebrow. “For you, that probably means jetting off somewhere, doesn’t it?”

He smirked, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Okay, maybe my version of ‘normal’ is a little skewed. But I’m just going back to Austin for a few days. Nothing too crazy. What about you? How’s work? Are they letting you off the hook at all this holiday season?”

You sighed, your eyes drifting back to the menu as you tried to keep your voice light. “It’s fine. Busy, as always. But I guess that’s better than having nothing to do, right?”

He frowned slightly, studying you with an intensity that made you squirm just a little. “You sure you’re doing okay?”

“Yeah,” you said quickly, forcing a smile. “I’m good. It’s just—work has been hectic, and I haven’t really had time to think about the holidays.”

His brow furrowed. “Wait. Don’t tell me you’re not going home for Christmas.”

You hesitated, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “It’s just… complicated,” you admitted, your voice quieter now. “My family’s so far away, and with work, I just couldn’t make the timing work. So, yeah, I’ll be here this year. But it’s not a big deal.”

Glen’s jaw tightened, and you could practically see the wheels turning in his head. “You’re spending Christmas alone?”

You shrugged, trying to play it off. “I’ll survive.”

“No way,” he said firmly, shaking his head. “That’s not happening.”

You blinked, startled by his sudden intensity. “What do you mean?”

“I mean you’re coming with me,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “To Texas. You can’t spend Christmas alone—that’s just… wrong.”

“Glen,” you began, already shaking your head. “I can’t just crash your family’s holiday. That’s not fair to them—or to you.”

“They’d love you,” he interrupted, his tone leaving no room for argument. “And it’s not crashing if you’re invited. Which you are. Officially. Come on, what’s holding you back?”

You opened your mouth to protest again, but the way he was looking at you—earnest, determined, like he wouldn’t take no for an answer—made the words catch in your throat.

“It’s just a couple of days,” he added, his voice softening now. “And I promise, it’ll be fun. Think of it as an adventure.”

You hesitated, your resolve wavering under the weight of his sincerity. Maybe, just maybe, he was right.

“Glen, I can’t just pack up and leave,” you said, trying to keep your tone firm. “I only have a couple of days off for the holiday, and—”

“Perfect,” he interrupted with a grin. “I’m only staying three days anyway. We’ll head out the morning of the 23rd, and we’ll be back by the 26th.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “It’s not that simple. Do you know how expensive last-minute flights are right now? Not to mention the hassle of even finding one—everything’s probably booked solid.”

His grin didn’t falter. “I’ll help you find a flight. Hell, I’ll even cover it if that’s what’s holding you back.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “Glen, no. You’re not paying for my ticket.”

“Why not? Consider it my Christmas gift to you,” he said, leaning back in his chair with a casual shrug, as if he hadn’t just offered something outrageous.

You scoffed. “You’re insane.”

“I’m resourceful,” he corrected, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “And if it really comes down to it, I’ll fly you there myself.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, shaking your head. “Now that seems like a gross misuse of your pilot’s license.”

“Desperate times call for desperate measures,” he said with a smirk.

You rolled your eyes, but his determination was starting to chip away at your defenses. “Glen, I appreciate the offer, but I really don’t want to intrude on your family’s holiday. It’s their time with you, and I’d just be—”

“A welcome guest,” he cut in, his voice softer now. “Trust me, they’d love to have you there. My mom’s been asking when she’s going to meet my mysterious ‘friend’ I talk about anyway. This is the perfect chance.”

Your cheeks warmed at that, and you looked away, suddenly very interested in the pattern on your napkin. “I don’t know…”

“Come on,” he urged, leaning forward and resting his forearms on the table. “It’ll be fun. You’ll get to relax, eat some great food, and experience the chaos that is my family at Christmas. What do you have to lose?”

You sighed, knowing he wasn’t going to let this go. “What about the fact that I’ll probably end up sharing a room with one of your nieces or sleeping on the couch? Not exactly my idea of a restful holiday.”

“Wrong again,” he said with a triumphant grin. “We will be staying at my place. I have plenty of space. I’ll even take the couch if you want the nice bed.”

You laughed despite yourself, the mental image of Glen curled up on his own couch making it impossible to stay serious. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re running out of excuses,” he pointed out, his grin widening. “So? What’s it going to be?”

You hesitated, your gaze meeting his. There was something in his eyes—an openness, a genuine warmth—that made it hard to say no.

“Fine,” you said finally, throwing your hands up in defeat. “You win. I’ll go.”

His face lit up, and he reached across the table to squeeze your hand. “You won’t regret it. I promise.”

“You’d better be right,” you teased, though you couldn’t help but smile back at him.

* * * * *

The late afternoon sun cast a golden glow across the Austin skyline as Glen navigated the bustling city streets, the hum of his truck filling the comfortable silence. You sat quietly in the passenger seat, staring out the window at the vibrant murals and quirky storefronts that zipped past. Normally, you’d be chatting nonstop, asking Glen a million questions about the city or teasing him about his questionable playlist choices. But now, your hands fidgeted in your lap, and your lips pressed into a thin line, your mind elsewhere.

“You’re kind of quiet over there. You’ve said about five words since we got here,” Glen remarked, his voice light but tinged with curiosity. He glanced at you briefly, his brows furrowing in concern before turning his attention back to the road. “That’s gotta be some kind of record for you.”

You blinked, his comment pulling you from your thoughts. Turning to face him, you tried to muster a small smile. “Sorry. Just... a lot on my mind, I guess.”

Glen didn’t look convinced. “Uh-huh,” he said, his tone skeptical. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with meeting my family, would it?”

You sighed, leaning your head back against the seat. “Maybe a little.”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Relax! You’ve got nothing to worry about, you know. They’re going to love you. I’m the one they’re stuck with, remember?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, but the sound was short-lived. “It’s not that I’m worried they won’t like me,” you admitted. “It’s just... I don’t know. What if I say something dumb? Or trip over the Christmas tree? Or—”

“Hey,” Glen interrupted, his voice gentle. At a red light, he reached over and placed a warm hand on your knee, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “You’re overthinking this. My family’s not expecting perfection, okay? They’re just excited to meet the person I’ve been talking about nonstop for the last couple of months.”

Your eyes widened at his confession, heat rushing to your cheeks. “You’ve been talking about me?”

Glen grinned, the light turning green as he started driving again. “Obviously. What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t brag about how great you are?” He paused, then added with a teasing smirk, “Although I may have left out the part where you can’t handle spicy food. Don’t let my mom’s salsa scare you off, alright?”

That earned a genuine laugh from you, and Glen shot you a quick, satisfied look before turning his attention back to the road.

As the city gave way to sprawling suburbs and then the open, winding roads on the edge of Austin, Glen’s demeanor remained steady—calm, reassuring, and lighthearted. He pointed out landmarks along the way, sharing stories about his time growing up in the area and cracking jokes to pull you out of your nervous headspace.

“You doing okay over there?” he asked after a while, glancing at you again.

“Yeah,” you said softly, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Thanks for putting up with me.”

“Putting up with you?” Glen repeated, feigning offense. “You think I invited you out here because I had to? Please.”

The sincerity in his tone caught you off guard, your heart skipping a beat. Before you could dwell on it too much, Glen reached over to nudge your shoulder playfully. 

“Seriously, relax,” he said with a grin. “You’ll fit right in. And if anyone gives you a hard time, they’ll have to answer to me.”

You smiled at that, the knot in your stomach loosening slightly. Glen had a way of making you feel like everything was going to be okay, even when your own thoughts tried to convince you otherwise.

When he finally pulled into the gravel driveway of his house, nestled on a quiet piece of land just outside the city, the sun was beginning to set, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. Glen parked the truck and turned to you with an encouraging smile.

“Alright,” he said, unbuckling his seatbelt. “First stop: my place. Let’s drop off your stuff and then we’ll head over to my parents’ house. Sound good?”

“Yeah,” you said, taking a deep breath as you climbed out of the truck. “Sounds good.”

Glen led the way up the front porch steps, his boots thudding lightly against the wood. He unlocked the door and pushed it open, stepping aside to let you enter first.

“Welcome to Casa de Glen,” he said with a grin, sweeping his arm theatrically as you stepped inside.

The interior was exactly what you’d imagined—a perfect blend of cozy and modern. Warm wood floors stretched throughout the open-concept space, and the living room featured a large leather couch and a stone fireplace that was clearly the centerpiece of the room. A framed poster of Top Gun: Maverick hung on one wall, balanced by shelves filled with books, photos, and a few sports trophies.

“Wow,” you said, taking it all in. “It’s nice. It feels... you.”

“That’s what I was going for,” he said, closing the door behind you. “Come on, I’ll show you around.”

He guided you through the living room and into the kitchen, which was sleek and modern with stainless steel appliances and a large island in the center. “This is where the magic happens,” he said, patting the countertop. “By magic, I mean reheating leftovers and making the occasional breakfast taco.”

You laughed, running your hand along the cool stone of the counter. “Very impressive.”

He pointed out a small office that doubled as a gym, then led you to the back door, which opened onto a sprawling patio overlooking a modest backyard. Twinkling string lights were strung across the patio, and a firepit sat off to the side, surrounded by chairs.

“This is great,” you said, stepping out onto the patio and taking in the peaceful view.

“It’s my favorite spot,” Glen admitted, leaning against the doorframe. “If you need to escape the chaos over the next few days, feel free to sneak out here.”

The offer warmed your heart, but before you could respond, Glen pushed off the doorframe and motioned back inside. “Come on, let’s get your bags upstairs.”

He carried your suitcase up the staircase, which was adorned with simple but tasteful decorations—a mix of family photos, framed movie posters, and a few awards he’d picked up over the years. At the top of the stairs, he turned to the left and opened a door.

“This is the guest room,” he said, stepping aside to let you enter.

The room was cozy, with a plush queen-sized bed covered in a navy-blue comforter, a small desk by the window, and a few decorative touches that made it feel welcoming—a basket of rolled-up blankets, a lamp with a warm glow, and a stack of books on the nightstand.

“This is nice,” you said, setting your carry-on bag down by the bed.

“I figured you’d want your own space,” Glen said, setting your suitcase by the desk. “Bathroom’s just down the hall, and there are extra towels in the closet if you need them.”

“Thanks,” you said softly, meeting his eyes.

He hesitated for a moment, as if debating whether to say something, before giving you a small smile. “Alright, let me show you the rest of the upstairs.”

You followed him back out into the hall, where he pointed out the bathroom and a smaller guest room that had been converted into a second office. Finally, he led you to the master bedroom at the end of the hall.

“And this is where the magic really happens,” he joked, pushing open the door to reveal a spacious room with a king-sized bed, a walk-in closet, and a sliding door that led to a private balcony.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help laughing. “You and your magic. I’m starting to think you have a pretty loose definition of the word.”

“Hey, I have my moments,” he said with a wink.

He led you back downstairs, where the tour ended in the living room. “Alright, that’s the grand tour,” he said, clapping his hands together. “What do you think?”

“It’s great,” you said honestly. “It feels very...you. Like even if I didn’t know this was your house I could see you fitting in here.”

And you meant it. You’d been to Glen’s place in Los Angeles before. And it was comfortable and fine enough. But it felt more like a bachelor pad. But this house here in Austin felt like him. It felt like home.

“Good,” he said, his smile softening. “I’m glad you like it. Now, you ready to meet the chaos that is my family?”

Your stomach flipped nervously, but Glen’s easy smile was enough to settle you. “Ready as I’ll ever be,” you said.

“Perfect,” he said, grabbing his keys off the counter. “Let’s do this.”

*****

The truck rumbled to a stop in front of the charming two-story house, its exterior painted a warm cream color with dark green shutters. Wreaths adorned the windows, and strings of twinkling lights outlined the roof, giving it a postcard-worthy holiday glow. Glen shifted the truck into park, but before he could even cut the engine, the front door burst open, and a wave of people spilled out onto the porch.

“Here we go,” Glen muttered with a grin, glancing at you. “Brace yourself.”

Your heart raced as his mom was the first to step forward, her arms already open as she made her way down the steps. Cyndy Powell was the picture of warmth, her hair perfectly styled, and her face glowing with excitement. Behind her, Glen’s dad, Glen Sr., stood with an easygoing smile, hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket. His sisters weren’t far behind—Leslie, the youngest, bounced on her toes with a wide grin, while Lauren, the oldest, followed at a more measured pace, one hand gripping the tiny hand of Glen’s nephew. Glen’s niece trailed behind, clinging to Lauren’s husband.

“Glen!” Cyndy called, waving both hands like she hadn’t seen her son in years, even though he’d assured you it had only been a couple of weeks.

You opened your door cautiously as Glen hopped out of the truck, meeting his mom halfway with a hug. 

“Hey, Mom,” he said, his voice filled with affection.

Cyndy pulled back just enough to cup his face. “You look too thin,” she said, making him laugh. “Are you eating?”

“I’m fine, Mom,” Glen assured her, glancing over his shoulder at you.

You hesitated for half a second before stepping out of the truck, suddenly feeling like every pair of eyes was on you. Cyndy’s expression shifted immediately to one of pure delight as she made a beeline for you.

“And you must be the one Glen keeps telling us about!” she said, pulling you into a hug before you could even respond. “Oh, it’s so good to finally meet you. I’m Cyndy.”

“Hi, Mrs. Powell,” you managed, your voice slightly muffled by the hug. “It’s really nice to meet you, too.”

“Oh, please, call me Cyndy,” she insisted, pulling back to hold you at arm’s length. “You’re even prettier than Glen said.”

“Mom,” Glen groaned, rubbing the back of his neck as he came to stand beside you.

“What?” Cyndy said innocently before ushering you both toward the rest of the group. “Come on, everyone’s dying to meet her.”

One by one, you were introduced—Glen Sr., who gave you a firm handshake and a kind smile; Leslie, who immediately wrapped you in a hug and declared you were “way too cool to be hanging out with Glen”; Lauren, who gave you a warm smile and said she’d heard so much about you; and finally, Lauren’s twins, who peeked out from behind their dad shyly until Glen crouched down to scoop them up in a playful hug.

“Alright, alright,” Glen said, standing with a twin on each hip as he turned back to his family. “Let her breathe, would you? She’s not used to all this chaos.”

“Chaos?” Cyndy said, feigning offense. “This is love, Glen. Pure holiday love.”

You laughed, but Glen caught the way your shoulders tensed, and he stepped closer, his hand resting lightly on your lower back. “You okay?” he asked softly, his tone just for you.

“Yeah,” you said quickly, offering him a reassuring smile. “It’s just... a lot.”

“Don’t worry,” he said with a wink. “I’ll run interference if I have to.”

Before you could respond, Cyndy was ushering everyone inside, rattling off questions about the drive and insisting you must be starving after traveling all day. You followed the group into the house, which was every bit as welcoming as its exterior—soft, cozy furniture, a roaring fire in the living room, and the scent of something sweet wafting from the kitchen.

You shrugged out of your coat and Glen stepped closer, his hands brushing against your shoulders as he helped slide it off. The gesture was so natural, so easy, that it sent a little flutter through your chest.

“Here, I’ll take that.” His voice was casual, but the faint smile he gave you as he carefully hung your coat on the rack was anything but.

As he turned back to you, Cyndy leaned in with a knowing smile, her voice low enough that only you could hear. “He’s been so excited to bring you home. You should’ve heard him talk about it.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the comment, your cheeks warming as her words sank in. “Oh,” you managed, a little breathless.

Cyndy’s hand lingered on your arm for just a moment, her expression soft with unmistakable affection. “You’ll see,” she added with a wink, before stepping away to call to her husband about something in the kitchen.

When you turned back to Glen, he was watching you, his head tilted slightly. “What was that about?” he asked, his tone light but his curiosity clear.

“Oh, nothing,” you said quickly, trying to wave it off. But you couldn’t quite keep the smile from tugging at your lips—or the slight flush from creeping up your neck.

Glen’s eyes narrowed playfully. “Uh-huh. Sure.” He didn’t push, though, instead gesturing for you to follow him. “Come on. Let’s grab something to drink before everyone starts peppering you with questions.”

The moment lingered as you followed him into the house, Cyndy’s words echoing in your mind. The idea of Glen talking about you—being excited to bring you here—was hard to shake. Maybe it was just his family’s charm, or maybe it was something else entirely. Either way, you couldn’t help the quiet smile that stayed on your face as Glen led the way.

* * * * *

With a steaming mug of cocoa warming your hands, you smiled politely as Glen's mom chatted animatedly about the Powell family Christmas traditions. You nodded along, but the flurry of introductions and the cozy chaos of his family had you feeling a little overwhelmed. Sensing your chance for a breather, you leaned toward Glen.

“Excuse me for a minute,” you murmured, setting your mug down on the counter.

He shot you a curious look but nodded, letting you slip away.

You wandered down the hall, grateful for the moment to collect yourself. After freshening up in the restroom, you made your way back toward the kitchen, but you stopped short as voices drifted toward you from the other side of the doorway.

“...she’s adorable, Glen. Seriously,” one of his sisters—Lauren, you thought—said with a teasing lilt.

“And you brought her home for Christmas?” Leslie chimed in, her voice lilting with mock surprise.

Glen groaned, and you could practically hear him rubbing his hand over his face. “Guys, come on. We’re just friends.”

“Right,” Lauren said, drawing the word out like she didn’t believe him for a second. “Just friends, and yet you insisted she come here instead of spending Christmas alone. Sounds like something a boyfriend would do, don’t you think, Les?”

“Definitely boyfriend behavior,” Leslie agreed, clearly enjoying herself.

“You two are impossible,” Glen muttered, though his tone carried more amusement than frustration. “I didn’t want her to spend the holidays alone, okay?”

Your breath caught at his words, warmth spreading through your chest.

“Sure, sure,” Lauren said, her tone sly. “But just so you know, Mom’s already planning the wedding.”

Glen let out a sharp laugh. “There isn’t going to be a wedding. Let’s dial it back a little, huh? She’s nervous enough as it is without you two scaring her off.”

You took a step back, considering whether to linger a moment longer, but the sound of chairs scraping against the floor signaled that Glen’s sisters were on the move. Quickly, you stepped into the doorway, pretending you hadn’t heard a thing.

“Oh, there she is,” Leslie said with a grin as she and Lauren passed you.

Glen leaned back against the counter, arms crossed, his brow lifting as you stepped inside. “You okay?” he asked, his voice soft and genuine.

You nodded, though your gaze lingered on him for a moment longer than you intended. “Yeah, just needed a minute. Your family’s really nice, by the way.”

A small smile tugged at his lips. “They’re a handful, but they mean well.”

You walked over to retrieve your cocoa, the rich chocolate aroma grounding you. “They seem really excited to have everyone together.”

“Yeah, it’s kind of their thing,” Glen said, watching you closely. “What about you? You hanging in there?”

You shrugged lightly, a small smile playing at your lips. “It’s a lot, but… in a good way. It’s been a while since I’ve been around a big family like this.”

Glen straightened, stepping closer so his arm brushed against yours. “Well, they already love you.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. His grin widened, but before he could say more, his mom’s voice rang out from the living room, calling for him to help bring in the extra chairs for dinner.

He sighed dramatically, earning another laugh from you. “Duty calls,” he said, but his hand lightly touched your arm as he passed. “Don’t let them rope you into anything too crazy while I’m gone.”

You smiled, watching as he left the room. Something about being here—with him—felt unexpectedly right.

* * * * *

The kitchen buzzed with activity as Glen’s mom and sisters dove into dinner preparations. The smell of roasted turkey and fresh-baked rolls filled the air, making your stomach rumble despite the cocoa you’d just finished. Cyndy was meticulously checking the oven temperature, while Lauren and Leslie were chopping vegetables at the kitchen island.

“Need any help?” you asked hesitantly, stepping further into the room.

Lauren glanced up with a warm smile. “You’re sweet to offer, but trust me, this kitchen is already at max capacity.”

“Speak for yourself,” Leslie said, pointing her knife toward the pile of unpeeled carrots. “Here, grab a peeler. You can help me out before Mom has a meltdown over the timing.”

Cyndy turned from the oven, mock-offended. “I heard that!”

Leslie just smirked as she handed you a peeler and a couple of carrots. “Ignore her. She loves when we tease her. Keeps things interesting.”

You laughed softly and settled in next to Leslie, grateful for something to do with your hands.

“So, how are you holding up?” Leslie asked after a moment, her voice quieter, more personal.

You glanced at her, surprised by the question. “Oh, um… good, I think. Your family’s been really welcoming.”

“We’re loud, though,” Lauren chimed in, pausing her slicing to grin at you. “Hopefully Glen warned you about that.”

“It’s a good kind of loud,” you said honestly, feeling more at ease with them. “I’m just… not used to it, I guess.”

Leslie nudged you lightly with her elbow. “Well, if you can survive the Powell family Christmas chaos, you’re pretty much invincible.”

“Noted,” you said with a laugh, peeling another carrot.

Lauren tilted her head, studying you curiously. “So, how did you and Glen meet, anyway?”

You hesitated, glancing toward the doorway like Glen might walk in and save you. “We met through mutual friends,” you said carefully. “It’s kind of a long story, but we just… clicked, I guess.”

Leslie smirked, clearly enjoying the topic. “Clicked, huh? Like, just friends clicked? Or ‘maybe there’s something more’ clicked?”

Heat rose to your cheeks, and you focused intently on the carrot in your hand. “Definitely just friends,” you said quickly, your voice a little too firm.

“Hmm,” Lauren said, exchanging a look with Leslie.

Before they could press further, Glen walked in, carrying a couple of folding chairs from the garage. He stopped short when he noticed the three of you huddled together.

“What’s going on in here?” he asked, his eyes narrowing suspiciously as he set the chairs against the wall.

“Nothing,” Lauren said, her voice entirely too innocent.

Leslie shrugged. “Just getting to know your friend.”

Glen sighed, giving his sisters a pointed look before turning to you. “Don’t let them gang up on you. They’re relentless once they get started.”

“I think I’m holding my own,” you said with a small smile, though you were grateful for his presence.

“Good,” Glen said, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms. “Because dinner’s almost ready, and if they scare you off before dessert, Mom’s going to kill them.”

The laughter that followed eased the lingering tension, and for the first time since you’d arrived, you felt like you were starting to find your footing amidst the whirlwind of the Powell family.

“Alright,” Cyndy said, clapping her hands together. “Let’s get everything to the table before it gets cold.”

The dining room table was a feast for the senses. Platters of turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, and roasted vegetables were arranged in the center, surrounded by bowls of cranberry sauce, rolls, and casseroles. Soft holiday music played in the background, and the warm glow of the chandelier added to the cozy atmosphere.

You found yourself seated between Glen and Lauren, while the twins took turns giggling and sneaking bites of their food despite their mom’s warnings to “at least wait for everyone to get their plate.”

The conversation started casually, with everyone complimenting Cyndy’s cooking and trading jokes about who had eaten the most last Christmas. It wasn’t long before the table was buzzing with overlapping chatter and bursts of laughter.

“So, what’s everyone’s plans for New Year’s?” Lauren asked as she helped her daughter cut her turkey into smaller pieces.

“Will and I are thinking of taking the kids to the park downtown for the fireworks,” Lauren said. “What about you, Glen?”

Glen shrugged, reaching for the mashed potatoes. “Haven’t decided yet. Depends on if this one’s dragging me somewhere” He nudged your shoulder with a playful grin.

You laughed, shaking your head. “I’m not dragging you to anything. You keep inviting yourself to my plans.”

“Semantics,” he quipped, earning a chuckle from Leslie.

Cyndy, ever the gracious host, leaned toward you with a warm smile. “So, what do you usually do for the holidays with your family?”

You hesitated for a moment, caught off guard by the question. “Well, when I can make it home, we usually have a quiet Christmas. Just my parents and my siblings. Lots of food, games, and, uh, my mom’s famous fudge.”

“That sounds lovely,” Cyndy said, her tone genuine. “You’ll have to share the fudge recipe sometime. Maybe we’ll add it to our dessert rotation next year.”

“I’d love to,” you said, feeling a little more at ease.

Throughout dinner, Glen made sure to keep you involved in the conversation, throwing in lighthearted jokes and even sharing an embarrassing story from high school that had everyone in stitches.

“Remember when Glen tried to sing karaoke at the Christmas talent show?” Leslie said, her face lighting up with glee.

“Oh, no,” Glen groaned, burying his face in his hands.

Lauren jumped in. “He thought he could hit the high notes in ‘All I Want for Christmas Is You.’ Spoiler alert: he couldn’t.”

The table erupted in laughter, and even you couldn’t hold back a giggle. Glen peeked at you through his fingers, feigning betrayal.

“Sorry,” you said between laughs. “But I need to hear this someday.”

“Not happening,” Glen said firmly, shaking his head.

By the time dessert was served—a towering plate of Cyndy’s homemade pecan pie—you were full, content, and starting to see why Glen loved spending the holidays here so much.

After dinner, the energy in the house began to settle. The twins had all but fallen asleep at the table, and Lauren and her husband said their goodbyes, bundling their sleepy children into coats before heading out for the night.

“I’ll see you both tomorrow,” Lauren said, pulling you into a warm hug. “You did great tonight. Don’t let these guys scare you off.” She winked, glancing briefly at Glen.

With the house quieter, you, Glen, and Leslie remained behind to spend a little more time with his parents. Cyndy brought out another round of cocoa, insisting on adding an extra dollop of whipped cream for everyone.

The fire in the living room had burned low, but Glen Sr. stoked it back to life, filling the room with a warm glow. You took a seat on the couch near the hearth, your fingers curling around the mug of cocoa as you soaked in the comforting crackle of the flames.

The warmth of the fire helped, but the Texas winter chill still lingered, and you found yourself shivering slightly as you sipped your drink.

Glen, sitting in an armchair nearby, noticed immediately. Without a word, he stood and grabbed a thick, soft blanket draped over the back of the couch. Crossing the room, he carefully draped it over your shoulders, his hands lingering for a moment to ensure it was snug around you.

“Better?” he asked softly, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

You nodded, your heart warming at the small, thoughtful gesture. “Much better. Thank you.”

Instead of returning to his chair, Glen sat down beside you on the couch, the corner of the blanket brushing against his arm as he stretched out. The closeness was both comforting and a little distracting, the ease of his presence pulling you further into the moment.

Across the room, Cyndy and Glen Sr. shared a knowing look, their quiet conversation halting as they observed the two of you. Leslie, seated in the armchair Glen had vacated, leaned over to whisper something to her mom, her expression amused.

Glen Sr. gave a subtle shake of his head, murmuring something you couldn’t quite catch, though his tone held a hint of playful exasperation.

The whispers and exchanged glances didn’t go unnoticed by Glen, who shot his sister a pointed look. “You guys good over there?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Totally,” Leslie replied, a little too quickly, her smile innocent in a way that wasn’t fooling anyone. “Just enjoying the show.”

You glanced between them, confused. “What show?”

“Nothing!” Cyndy said quickly, her tone light but clearly trying to steer the conversation away. “It’s just nice to see Glen bringing a friend home for the holidays.”

You felt your cheeks warm under her gaze, and Glen let out a small sigh, clearly used to his family’s antics.

“Alright, that’s enough,” he said, though his tone was more amused than annoyed.

Leslie smirked but didn’t push further, and Cyndy changed the subject to talk about the Powell family’s Christmas morning traditions.

The room was dimly lit, the fire crackling softly in the background. The evening had settle dinto a quiet calm, with Glen sitting on the couch, his arm stretched across the backrest. Despite your best efforts to stay engaged in the chatter between Glen and his family, your eyelids grew heavier with each passing moment.

Cyndy and Leslie paused mid conversation when they noticed you were asleep. Your breathing was slow and even, your head nestled against Glen like it was the most natural thing in the world. Cyndy and Leslie exchanged a look, both already grinning.

“She’s so sweet,” Cyndy whispered, her voice barely above the crackling of the fire.

“And you’re adorable together,” Leslie added, leaning closer to her mom as if she were sharing a juicy secret.

Glen’s eyes flicked toward them, his lips tugging into a faint, knowing smirk. “We’re just friends,” he said, keeping his voice low to avoid disturbing you.

Leslie arched a brow. “Sure, you are,” she teased, crossing her arms. “Because friends totally look at each other like that.”

“What are you even talking about?” Glen asked, rolling his eyes, though his free hand instinctively adjusted the blanket draped over you, tucking it more securely around your shoulders. You stirred slightly, leaning into him more, and his arm moved without hesitation, wrapping lightly around you to keep you comfortable.

“Like that,” Leslie said pointedly, gesturing at him with a playful smirk.

Cyndy’s eyes were full of warmth as she added, “Leslie’s right, honey. It’s the way you look at her. Like she’s the only person in the room.”

Glen sighed, running a hand through your hair but careful not to jostle you. “I’ve thought about it,” he admitted softly, his gaze dropping to you as you slept peacefully against him. “Probably more than I should have.”

Leslie’s teasing grin shifted into genuine curiosity. “So what’s stopping you?”

“It’s not the right time,” Glen said, his voice low but thoughtful. “My schedule’s insane. The next six to eight months are booked solid with filming, press tours… I’d barely be around. Starting something with her when I know I don’t have the time to make it work or for it to be healthy? It doesn’t feel fair to her. Or to me.”

Cyndy tilted her head, her brows furrowed slightly. “But you’ve managed to keep your friendship going despite all that. You both make time for each other. If you were dating, it wouldn’t be that much different, would it?”

Leslie chimed in, “Exactly. You’ve already proven that you make her a priority, even with everything you’ve got going on. If you really like her—and it’s obvious you do—why not take the chance?”

Glen glanced down at you again, the flickering firelight casting a warm glow across your peaceful face. His arm tightened just slightly around you, as if the thought of letting you go, even metaphorically, was too hard to bear.

He didn’t respond right away, the weight of his family’s words settling in as he watched you. Maybe they had a point. But taking that leap still felt like a mountain he wasn’t sure he could climb—at least not yet.

“I’ll think about it,” he said finally, his voice soft and a little distant.

Leslie opened her mouth, ready to press him further, but Cyndy gave her a gentle nudge and a pointed look. “Let it go, Leslie,” she said quietly. “He’ll figure it out when he’s ready.”

As they turned to leave the room, Cyndy glanced back at Glen one more time, her expression full of motherly understanding. Glen caught her look, gave her a small, grateful nod, and then shifted slightly to settle more comfortably against the couch, his arm still securely around you.

For now, he decided, this moment was enough.

The warmth of the fire flickered softly, casting golden light across the room. Between the gentle crackle of the logs and the soothing rhythm of your breathing, Glen found himself starting to relax in a way he hadn’t in weeks. Your head rested against his shoulder, and the weight of it, combined with the soft rise and fall of your chest, brought an unexpected sense of peace.

Glen shifted slightly, careful not to disturb you, but the movement only made you nestle closer, your arm brushing against his. He glanced down at you, a small smile tugging at his lips. The firelight danced in his eyes as his mind wandered, replaying his mom and Leslie’s words.

She’s sweet.

You’re adorable together.

What’s stopping you?

His gaze lingered on you, and a soft sigh escaped him. He knew what they meant. Knew how easy it would be to let himself fall. Maybe he already had.

The fire crackled again, pulling him from his thoughts. The room was growing quieter, the warmth enveloping him like a cocoon. His head tilted back slightly, his eyes growing heavier with each passing moment. Despite his best efforts to stay awake, the comfort of the moment proved too much.

It wasn’t long before Glen’s breathing matched yours, slow and steady, his chin dipping slightly toward his chest as sleep overtook him. The two of you sat there, heads close, his arm still loosely draped around you while the blanket kept you both warm.

Some time later, Cyndy padded softly into the living room, a smile spreading across her face as she took in the scene. You were still tucked against Glen, your hand now resting lightly against his chest. Glen’s head leaned toward yours, his features relaxed in a way only sleep could bring.

Cyndy stood there for a moment, her heart warming at the sight. She grabbed another blanket from the linen closet and approached quietly, careful not to wake either of you. With practiced ease, she draped it gently over both of you, tucking it around your shoulders before stepping back.

She turned to the fireplace, stoking the remaining embers and making sure it was safely extinguished. The room dimmed as she turned off the lights, leaving only the soft glow of the moon filtering through the curtains.

Before heading to bed, she paused once more, her gaze softening as she looked back at the two of you. A small, knowing smile played on her lips as she shook her head lightly, then whispered to herself, “Just friends, huh?”

With that, she turned and left the room, leaving you and Glen to rest peacefully in the quiet glow of the night.

*****

The soft light of morning filtered through the curtains, casting a faint glow across the living room. Glen stirred, his body shifting slightly against the couch cushion as he blinked groggily, trying to orient himself. His eyes felt heavy, and for a moment, he couldn’t figure out why he felt so warm.

He shifted again, feeling something—or rather, someone—pressed against him. He froze, his heart skipping a beat as he realized he wasn’t alone.

Looking down, he saw you curled into his side, your front pressed snugly against his chest, your legs tangled with his. One blanket was wrapped around you, tucked in as though you’d done it instinctively, and another—one he didn’t even remember grabbing—covered both of you. His arm was draped protectively around you, his hand resting lightly against your back.

Your breath was warm against his neck, soft and even, and he could feel the steady rhythm of your heartbeat where your chest touched his. The realization sent a jolt of awareness through him. How had this happened? The last thing he remembered was sitting upright, with you asleep on his shoulder.

He let his head fall back onto the couch for a moment, exhaling slowly as he tried to make sense of it. Well, this is... comfortable, he thought wryly, though he couldn’t deny the quiet peace that came with waking up next to you.

As his brain started to wake up, he rubbed at his eyes, his other arm instinctively tightening around you as you shifted slightly in your sleep, murmuring something he couldn’t quite make out.

The sound of soft footsteps made him glance toward the archway leading to the kitchen. His parents stood there, his mom holding a coffee mug while his dad held the morning paper.

Cyndy stopped mid-step when she saw the two of you, her lips curling into a knowing smile she didn’t even try to hide. Glen groaned quietly, his free hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck as he looked up at them.

His dad raised an eyebrow, folding his arms across his chest as a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Well, good morning,” his dad said, his tone amused. “Sleep well, son?”

Cyndy swatted his dad lightly on the arm but didn’t say anything, her smile widening as she looked between Glen and you.

Glen cleared his throat, his voice low and rough from sleep. “Morning,” he muttered, trying not to move too much and wake you.

Cyndy stepped closer, lowering her voice. “You looked so peaceful last night. I didn’t have the heart to wake you,” she said, her gaze warm and teasing.

Glen gave her a look, half-exasperated and half-grateful. “Thanks, Mom,” he murmured dryly, though there was no heat in his words.

“You should probably wake her before the others come down,” his dad added with a chuckle, nodding toward the stairs. “Don’t want to give Leslie too much ammunition.”

Glen sighed, his eyes flicking back to you. You were still sound asleep, your face relaxed and peaceful against him. His dad wasn’t wrong—Leslie would have a field day if she saw this.

“Yeah, I’ll handle it,” he said quietly, shifting slightly to try and rouse you without startling you.

Cyndy leaned closer to her husband as they turned to head back to the kitchen, her voice just loud enough for Glen to catch. “I think they’re adorable,” she whispered.

Glen groaned again, though he couldn’t quite hide the small smile tugging at his lips as he looked down at you, still nestled against him.

Glen sighed softly and glanced down at you, his heart doing an odd little flip at the sight of you so peaceful against him. For a moment, he hesitated, not wanting to disturb you. You looked so content, your face relaxed and framed by a strand of hair that had fallen loose.

But his dad was right—he needed to wake you before anyone else saw this and started making jokes he’d never live down.

“Hey,” he murmured, his voice low and gentle. He shifted slightly, his hand moving to lightly brush against your shoulder. “Time to wake up.”

You stirred faintly but didn’t open your eyes, your brows furrowing as you shifted closer, burying your face into the crook of his neck. The movement sent a wave of warmth rushing through him, and for a split second, he froze, unsure how to handle the sudden closeness.

“Come on,” he tried again, his voice soft and laced with a hint of amusement now. “You’re going to miss breakfast.”

This time, you let out a soft hum of protest, your voice barely audible as you mumbled, “Five more minutes...”

Glen couldn’t help but chuckle, the sound rumbling through his chest. “Come on, you need to wake up before the others come downstairs.”

Your eyes fluttered open at the sound of his voice, and it took you a moment to register where you were. When you finally looked up at him, still half-asleep, your cheeks flushed as the realization hit.

“Oh,” you said softly, your voice hoarse with sleep. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to...”

“Don’t worry about it,” Glen cut in quickly, his tone reassuring.

Your eyes dropped to where his arm was still draped around you, and you slowly began to sit up, the blanket falling away as you shifted. Glen helped, his hand steadying you as you moved, though he couldn’t quite hide the slight reluctance he felt at the loss of warmth.

“I, uh... hope I wasn’t too heavy,” you said, brushing a hand through your hair as you tried to smooth it down.

Glen smirked, leaning back against the couch. “You’re fine. But you do steal blankets, apparently,” he teased, motioning to the second blanket draped over him.

You blinked, confused, then looked down at the blanket and frowned. “Wait, where did that even come from?”

“Mom,” he said simply, the corners of his mouth tugging upward. “She came in last night and covered us up. I think she wanted to make sure we didn’t freeze to death.”

Your cheeks reddened further, and you groaned softly, hiding your face in your hands. “Oh, great. So your mom saw us like that?”

“Don’t worry,” he said, reaching out to tug your hands away from your face, his smile softening. “She thought it was cute. So did Dad, for the record.”

“Wonderful,” you muttered, though there was a hint of a smile tugging at your lips now.

Glen watched you for a moment before standing and stretching, his hand running through his hair as he glanced toward the kitchen. “Come on,” he said, offering you a hand. “Let’s get some coffee before Leslie sees us and decides to turn this into a running joke for the next decade.”

You laughed softly, taking his hand as he pulled you to your feet. His touch lingered for just a second longer than necessary before he let go, his gaze flicking to yours briefly before he led the way toward the kitchen.

As you and Glen walked into the kitchen, the rich scent of freshly brewed coffee hit you, immediately comforting in the way that only mornings at someone else's home could be. His parents were already seated at the island, sipping their own coffee, looking up with warm smiles as you entered.

“Good morning, you two,” his dad, Glen Sr., greeted with a grin, his voice low and warm.

“Morning,” you replied softly, moving to grab a mug from the cabinet. Glen’s mom, Cyndy, shot you a look, an almost mischievous twinkle in her eyes.

“Did you sleep well?” she asked, her voice friendly, yet filled with a knowing edge.

You nodded, your face flushing again as you took a seat next to Glen. “Yeah, I did. Thanks for the extra blanket.”

“Of course,” she said with a smile. “I couldn’t have you freezing to death in here.” She paused, her eyes flicking between you and Glen for a moment. “Though, I must say, it was nice to see you both so cozy last night.”

Glen let out an exaggerated groan, shaking his head. “Mom, please.”

You chuckled softly, looking over at him, your hand wrapped around your mug of coffee. “It’s fine,” you said, offering a reassuring smile. “No harm done.”

His dad chuckled, clearly enjoying the moment. “You’re lucky. I don’t see Glen like that much.”

“I bet,” you responded, teasing, taking a sip of your coffee. “I wouldn’t have guessed he’s such a softy.”

“Oh, you have no idea,” Cyndy said with a wink, earning a playful nudge from her husband.

Glen rolled his eyes, then leaned back against the counter, his eyes flicking to you. “So, I was thinking we should head back to my place in a bit,” he said, casually stirring his coffee. “We’ll change clothes, then I’ll bring you back here. Sound good?”

You nodded, sipping your coffee again, grateful for the warmth in your hands. “That sounds perfect.”

Leslie walked in at that moment, still wearing her pajamas, her eyes narrowing in on you and Glen still in the clothes you had on yesterday. “Did you guys sleep here last night?”

Glen groaned again, clearly not ready for another round of teasing. “Leslie, please, not now.”

But Leslie was already grinning, turning to their parents. “They fell asleep and slept on the couch, didn’t they?”

“Mind your own business,” Glen said, his voice half-amused, half-annoyed, as he stood up from the counter. He shot a glance at you, his expression softening. “Alright, let’s go grab some things from my place.

As you and Glen walked toward the door, you could hear Leslie's voice rise from the kitchen, her tone laced with playful teasing.

"I mean, it’s so obvious," she said, her voice carrying easily to where you both were standing.

"I heard that, Leslie!" he called out, his voice a mix of annoyance and amusement. "Knock it off."

Leslie’s laugh echoed from the kitchen, followed by a muffled comment you couldn’t quite make out, though you were sure it was another jab at him.

Glen rolled his eyes and shook his head, but there was a softness to his expression when he looked at you. "Sorry about that," he said, his tone light. "She’s relentless."

You couldn’t help but smile, feeling a warmth in your chest at how natural this all felt. "It’s fine," you said, chuckling.

He held the door open for you, letting you step out first, his hand brushing against yours as you passed. The drive back to his place was quiet at first, the hum of the engine and the soft sounds of music on the radio filling the space between you. You found yourself glancing out the window, watching the suburbs of Austin pass by as the sun began to rise higher, casting a golden glow over everything.

Glen’s hand rested casually on the steering wheel, his fingers tapping lightly in rhythm with the beat of the song. Every now and then, he’d sneak a glance at you, a slight smile curling on his lips as if something was playing in his mind. You caught him once or twice, but neither of you said much, content to simply exist in the quiet comfort of each other’s company.

Finally, as you turned onto the street leading to his place, Glen broke the silence, his voice low but warm.

“So, what do you think?” he asked, glancing over at you, his eyes twinkling with curiosity. “You’re not regretting agreeing to spend the holidays with my family, are you?”

You smiled, shaking your head. “Not at all. It’s been… nice. Really nice, actually.”

He gave a small, satisfied nod, then pulled into the driveway of his house. As he parked, you both sat there for a moment, the truck gently rocking as the engine turned off.

As you both entered the house, the familiar warmth wrapped around you, making you feel at ease. Glen led the way toward the stairs, his movements easy, casual—like nothing had changed. But you couldn't ignore the shift, the quiet tension that seemed to have settled between you after spending the night curled up together. It wasn’t awkward, not exactly, but it was different. You both seemed a little more aware of each other than before.

"Bathroom's upstairs," Glen said, breaking the silence as he gestured to the staircase. "You can use the guest bathroom, and I'll take the one in my room."

You nodded, following him up the stairs. The house was quiet now, the early morning stillness hanging in the air. When you reached the top, you stopped briefly in front of the guest room. Glen was a few steps ahead of you, but you caught the way his gaze flickered to you for just a moment. His eyes lingered, and you felt the weight of it—the subtle shift you’d both sensed. He quickly looked away, his lips curling into a casual smile, but it wasn’t the same as before. There was something unspoken now, something you couldn’t quite name.

"Alright," Glen said, his voice a little softer than usual. "I’ll meet you downstairs in a bit. Take your time."

You hesitated for a second, feeling the strange pull between you, but nodded and stepped into the guest room. The door clicked shut behind you, and for a moment, you just stood there, the silence pressing in. It wasn’t uncomfortable—just different. You couldn’t help but wonder if he felt it too, that quiet shift in the air, the one that had somehow made the space between you seem just a little smaller.

You shook your head, trying to push away the sudden thoughts swirling in your mind. This was still Glen—your friend. Nothing had changed, right?

But as you started to get ready for your shower, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had.

The hot water helped clear your head, and you focused on the simple task of washing off the sleep from your body. The shower was quick, just a few minutes of cleansing and letting the steam fill the space, but you didn’t want to take too long. Glen was probably already waiting, and you didn’t want to leave him hanging. You turned off the water, stepping out and grabbing the towel from the hook.

As you dried off, you realized your mistake. Your clothes were still in the guest room, neatly folded on the bed. You hadn’t thought that far ahead, assuming you’d just grab them when you finished. You sighed quietly to yourself, wrapping the towel securely around you, careful not to let it slip.

You checked yourself in the mirror for a moment, making sure everything was in place. Satisfied, you opened the bathroom door and stepped out into the hallway, glancing toward the guest room. It felt strange walking across the house like this—towel-clad, with nothing but the soft padding of your bare feet on the floor to accompany you.

You moved as quickly as you could, trying not to draw attention to yourself, but the slight breeze of the air made you acutely aware of just how vulnerable you felt in the moment. When you reached the guest room, you took a quick glance down the hallway, just in case, before slipping inside and closing the door behind you.

You quickly pulled on the clothes you had set out, opting for something comfortable but still presentable. After slipping on a soft sweater and a pair of jeans, you grabbed the brush and ran it through your damp hair. You added a little product, hoping it would hold up for the day, but you didn’t want to stress too much about it. After all, you were just heading downstairs with Glen—nothing too formal.

You took a deep breath and made your way toward the door, hoping the day would continue as smoothly as possible. But as you stepped out of the guest room, you nearly collided with Glen. He was just emerging from his room, his shirt still in his hand, his chest and abs exposed in the moment before he pulled it on. His muscles were defined, his skin still warm from the shower, and you found your gaze involuntarily drifting down for just a moment.

You quickly snapped your eyes away, trying to ignore the rush of heat that flushed your face. You gave a nervous smile, your heart thudding in your chest, and practically rushed past him. Your steps were quick, almost too quick as you hurried down the stairs, praying to some higher power that Glen hadn’t noticed your lingering glance.

The sound of his footsteps following behind you reassured you that he wasn’t focusing on the moment. You let out a quiet breath, hoping you could push the moment from your mind and keep everything normal.

"So, what do you think? Want to hang out here for a bit? Enjoy the quiet before we head back to the chaos?" he asked, his voice casual, but there was an unspoken invitation in his words.

You glanced toward the living room. The cozy, inviting space was practically calling out to you. The thought of staying here, just the two of you, no teasing, no distractions. The idea of getting alone time with Glen was tempting.

But as you stood there, a tug of guilt gnawed at you. You could already picture Glen, laughing and joking with his family, enjoying moments that he didn’t get to have often due to his hectic schedule. He didn’t get much time with them, and you knew that all too well. The last thing you wanted to do was take him away from that, especially when you knew how much he cherished it.

You had more time with him than they did. You saw him regularly, had long conversations over coffee, shared lazy afternoons together on his days off. They were lucky to have him home, and you didn’t want to be the reason he missed out on these rare moments.

The thought of staying here, just the two of you, was appealing, yes—but not at the expense of his family. You didn’t want to be selfish. They didn’t have the luxury of seeing him every day, and you knew that if you stayed, it would be taking away from that time they had.

Finally, you shook your head slightly, offering him a small, apologetic smile. "I think I’d rather head back over," you said, trying to push aside the selfish urge to keep him all to yourself. "You don’t get to see them much, and I don’t want to take that away from you." With a final glance at the quiet room around you, you gave Glen a small smile. "Shall we?" you asked, your voice light, trying to push the lingering tension aside.

He nodded, his smile softening, understanding exactly what you meant. "Yeah, let’s go."

As you followed him to the door, the weight of the quiet moments you shared earlier in the day seemed to hang in the air, but there was something comforting in it. A subtle shift, one you couldn’t quite put your finger on but couldn’t ignore either.

The cool air greeted you as you stepped outside, and the drive back to his parents' house was peaceful, the car filled only with the sound of the engine and the faint rustling of the wind. You both had your own thoughts, but the comfortable silence made it feel like there was no need to fill the space.

When you pulled up to the house again, the familiar warmth of the lights shining from the windows seemed inviting. Glen turned to you before you opened the door, his gaze lingering a little longer than usual. "Thanks for letting me have so much time with them" he said quietly, his voice sincere. "I appreciate you understanding."

You smiled at him, a quiet understanding between you that didn’t need words. "Of course, I know how important they are to you," you replied, giving him a look that was just as much reassurance as it was a soft acknowledgment of the unspoken bond you shared. And with that, the two of you stepped out of the car, ready to head back inside, where the sounds of family laughter awaited.

* * * * *

The warm scent of cookies filled the kitchen as you worked alongside Cyndy, Lauren, and Leslie, mixing dough and rolling it into perfect little balls. The rhythm of your hands, the soft scrape of the spatula against the bowl, was comforting. The kitchen was a cozy flurry of flour, sugar, and laughter.

As you moved the dough onto the baking sheets, the sounds of laughter echoed from the living room. Glen’s voice was unmistakable, full of warmth and joy, accompanied by the high-pitched giggles of the twins. You couldn’t help but smile, a soft chuckle escaping you as you glanced up.

“Seems like he’s a fun uncle,” you commented, rolling the dough into another ball.

Cyndy and Leslie shared a knowing look before Leslie grinned. "Oh, he’s the favorite uncle, hands down," she said, shaking her head with a teasing smile. “I mean, he’s practically a big kid himself when they’re around.”

You laughed, imagining Glen’s easygoing nature blending perfectly with the chaos and energy of his niece and nephew. It was clear that they adored him.

Lauren continued, her tone light and affectionate. “I think the twins might actually think of him as their second dad sometimes. He spoils them rotten."

After a few moments, Glen appeared in the doorway, slightly out of breath but grinning from ear to ear, his hair a bit messy from wrestling with the twins. His cheeks were flushed from the fun, but as soon as his eyes found the cooling rack of freshly baked cookies, he couldn’t resist. He made his way toward it, trying to sneak a cookie without anyone noticing.

You raised an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at your lips as you saw his move. You grabbed the spatula from the counter and, with a quick swipe, playfully swatted at him.

“Don’t even think about it,” you teased, but before you could even get close, Glen’s hand shot out to grab your wrist, stopping the spatula mid-air.

He chuckled, his grip gentle but firm, his fingers brushing against your skin in the briefest of moments. His gaze locked with yours, and for a second, the playful banter seemed to fade as the space between you both felt charged with something a little different.

“Really?” Glen raised an eyebrow, his voice soft with amusement.

You laughed, trying to pull your wrist free, but his hand stayed in place, still holding you with a steady but warm grip. “They aren’t ready yet,” you said, laughing as you tried to wiggle out of his grasp.

The laughter from Cyndy and Leslie behind you broke the moment, and you both turned, noticing their amused expressions.

“Are we interrupting something?” Cyndy asked with a teasing smile.

Leslie, barely containing a grin, raised an eyebrow. “You two are really cute together, you know that?”

You shot her a playful glare, but Glen gave a sheepish chuckle, releasing your wrist and straightening up. “We're just friends,” he said with a lighthearted shrug, though the hint of something unspoken lingered in his tone. “But I am taking one of these cookies.”

Before you could respond, Glen grabbed a cookie from the cooling rack with a victorious grin. You rolled your eyes in mock exasperation as he happily bit into the cookie, clearly pleased with himself.

“You’re lucky I like you,” you said, shaking your head with a smile.

Cyndy and Leslie exchanged a knowing glance, but neither said anything else, letting the moment hang in the air between you two, filled with warmth and an undeniable connection.

Lauren gave Glen a mischievous grin and, without warning, tossed a small pinch of flour in his direction. The flour puffed up in the air, and Glen let out a surprised laugh, his hands immediately going to his hair and face to brush it away.

“Hey!” Glen laughed, glancing around at the chaos unfolding. “You’re going down for that!”

In an instant, the flour fight was on. Leslie, quick on the draw, took the opportunity to sprinkle flour over Glen’s shoulder. He retaliated with a handful of flour that he flung in her direction, his aim slightly off, hitting the edge of the counter instead. You couldn't help but laugh, your hands covered in flour as you tried to avoid getting caught in the crossfire.

Glen shot you a playful look, and before you could duck out of his reach, he tossed a small pinch of flour at you. It landed right on your nose, and you gasped in mock horror.

“Oh, it's on now,” you said, wiping at your nose. “You’re going to pay for that one.”

The kitchen erupted in more laughter as flour and frosting flew between the family members, and before long, the "fight" ended just as quickly as it started, with everyone covered in flour and sugar but still grinning from ear to ear.

You went to wipe the frosting off your cheek, but as your finger brushed over it, you only seemed to smear it further. Glen, watching you with a teasing smile, leaned in slightly, his gaze softening as he shook his head. “You’re just making it worse.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Oh, really? Got a better idea?”

He didn’t say anything at first, just reached for the kitchen towel. His fingers brushed against your chin as he gently took your face in his hands, tilting your head slightly to get a better angle. His thumb carefully wiped away the frosting from your cheek, and you held your breath, caught in the moment, his touch gentle and thoughtful.

“There,” Glen said softly, his eyes still focused on your face. “All better.”

You met his gaze for a moment, feeling something stir inside you. His hand lingered just a little longer than necessary before he dropped it to his side, giving you a sheepish smile.

Glen’s mom, Cyndy, appeared in the doorway, holding a broom in one hand and a Swiffer in the other. She surveyed the flour-coated kitchen with an amused smile, shaking her head at the mess.

“Start cleaning this up, Glen,” she said with a grin, holding out the broom to him.

Glen, still wiping frosting from his hands, gave her a mock salute. “Yes ma’am,” he replied, his voice teasing as he took the broom from her with a sigh.

Cyndy smiled and turned back to the counter, the familiar, easy banter filling the air. “I swear, uou start a food fight every time we bake cookies around here.”

“Hey, I didn’t start it. I was just defending myself,” Glen shot back, sweeping a pile of flour into the dustpan with care.

You glanced over at Glen, a grin tugging at your lips. It was hard not to notice how much he resembled his mom in that moment—easygoing, playful, and always the one tasked with cleaning up after the fun.

“Don’t look so smug, you’ve got your own work to do,” he teased, gesturing at the counter where the remaining cookie dough sat ready to be rolled.

You just laughed and walked over to help Cyndy and Leslie, trying to distract yourself from the small, fleeting moment you’d just shared with Glen.

The kitchen felt warm with laughter and good company as you all continued to work together, and for a moment, everything seemed perfectly in place. Glen was hard at work, and you were right where you wanted to be—with the people who mattered most to him, helping make new memories.

After the cookies were finished and the kitchen was tidied up, the festive energy of the day shifted to the living room, where the Christmas tree stood, waiting to be transformed. Glen’s mom, Cyndy, had made it clear—no tree decorating until everyone, including Glen was home. So, even though Christmas Eve had arrived, the tree still sat untouched, its branches bare, twinkling lights tangled in a mess of cords.

You and Glen made your way to the storage tote, ready to tackle the daunting task of untangling the lights. Glen grinned as he opened the lid, revealing the well-loved decorations inside. "Every year, this takes longer than it should," he muttered, already pulling out a jumble of strings.

"At least you’re here to help now," you teased, grabbing a section of lights and trying to work through the knots. "I’m sure your family appreciates that."

Glen shot you a playful look as he started to untangle his own section. "Yeah, yeah, they know I’m the official light untangler. No one else can be trusted with this responsibility."

You both worked together, your laughter and conversation mixing with the sounds of his sisters in the living room. Cyndy and Leslie were busy sorting through the assortment of ornaments, laying them out in neat piles to be hung on the tree. The occasional clink of glass and soft chatter filled the space as they talked about the best places to hang each ornament.

The mood was lighthearted, and there was a cozy comfort in the room as the tree slowly started to take shape. You glanced over at Glen, catching the familiar glint of mischief in his eyes as he struggled with a particularly stubborn knot.

"Need help there?" you asked with a smirk, leaning closer.

"Nope, I’ve got it," he replied, his voice teasing but also faintly apologetic. "I’m a professional at this by now."

As he worked on the tangled mess, you couldn’t help but notice how the sight of him—focused and determined, yet still making light of the situation—made your heart flutter in a way that was different from before. You shook it off quickly, telling yourself it was just the holiday spirit getting to you.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of struggling with knots and wires, the lights were untangled. You plugged them in to make sure they worked, and sure enough, the tree lit up with a soft glow, casting a warm, comforting light on the room.

Cyndy clapped her hands together with excitement. "Alright, now the fun part! Everyone grab an ornament, let’s make this tree sparkle."

Glen’s sisters eagerly began pulling their favorite ornaments from the piles, each one carefully examined before being placed on the branches. Glen handed you an ornament with a small grin. "I think this one’s for you," he said, handing you a glass star ornament that had a delicate silver shimmer.

As the tree filled with decorations, you couldn’t help but feel the warmth of the moment. It was peaceful and festive, and even with the occasional playful jab from one of Glen’s sisters, you couldn’t deny that it felt right.

Glen stepped back for a moment, surveying the tree as the last few ornaments were added. He gave you a soft smile, and you both exchanged a quiet moment before returning to finish the final touches.

As the final ornaments were being placed, the room seemed to hum with festive energy. The tree was almost done, with the soft glow of the lights reflecting off the glass baubles and tinsel. You stepped back to admire the view when Cyndy, holding the delicate star topper, made her way toward you.

"Here," she said with a warm smile, holding it out to you. "I think you should be the one to put the star on top. After all, you're the special guest this year."

You immediately felt a slight panic. "Oh, no, no, someone in the family should do it," you said, shaking your head, trying to pass the ornament back to her. "This is your tradition."

But Cyndy, always insistent, simply raised an eyebrow and gave you a playful smile. "You’re part of the family now," she said, her tone leaving no room for argument. 

Before you could protest any further, Cyndy shot a glance over at Glen, who was leaning casually against the wall, watching with a smile. "Glen, help her up."

Glen’s eyes twinkled mischievously as he moved toward you. "You heard her," he teased, holding out a hand. "Up you go."

You gave him an incredulous look, but there was no backing out now. Glen bent down slightly, motioning for you to climb onto his shoulders. With a deep breath, you carefully moved onto his broad shoulders. Glen straightened up, your legs now on either side of his neck, and you were perched on his shoulders, a little wobbly at first, but he steadied you easily.

"Alright, ready?" he asked, his voice close to your ear, making you feel a little more unsteady than you had been just moments ago.

You nodded, and Glen slowly straightened his back, lifting you higher so you could reach the top of the tree.

With his support, you leaned over carefully, stretching just enough to place the star on top of the tree. You could feel his arms beneath your legs, his grip steady as he held you in place. As you aligned the cord with the top strand of lights, the star clicked into place, and the top of the tree lit up with a soft, radiant glow.

The room seemed to pause for a moment, everyone looking up at the tree as the star twinkled brightly, casting a warm glow over the entire room. You couldn’t help but smile, feeling a sense of pride and contentment as you admired the result.

"Perfect," Cyndy said, her voice filled with approval. "It’s beautiful."

As Glen slowly lowered you back to the ground, his hands slid to your waist, steadying you as you regained your footing. You both stood there for a moment, a shared silence settling over you as you looked up at the tree. The lights glowed softly, casting a gentle warmth over the room, and the star at the top shone brilliantly.

The atmosphere was calm, peaceful. You couldn’t help but feel a small flutter in your chest as you stood close to Glen, the warmth of his hands still lingering on your hips. It wasn’t anything overt, just a quiet moment where the connection between the two of you felt more real than ever. The world around you seemed to fade away for a second, leaving only the soft hum of the Christmas tree lights and the quiet of the room.

You both stood there for what felt like an eternity, neither of you saying a word. The only sounds were the soft crackle of the fire in the background and the distant laughter from the others. And then, without warning, Glen seemed to notice the looks from the corner of his eye. Leslie and Lauren were standing at the other side of the room, their eyes fixed on the two of you, their smiles too knowing for Glen’s liking.

Caught in the moment, Glen quickly pulled his hands from your sides, his fingers brushing against your skin just enough to send a small shiver down your spine. He cleared his throat and turned toward the others, trying to act nonchalant.

“Alright, alright,” he said, chuckling awkwardly.

Leslie grinned and gave him a playful wink, but it was Lauren’s knowing smile that lingered in your mind. You and Glen shared a fleeting glance before you both turned to rejoin the others, the moment still hanging between you two.

* * * * *

Later that evening, after the lively chaos of dinner had settled, you found yourself stepping out onto the deck of Glen’s house. The crisp air of the winter evening wrapped around you as you leaned against the railing, a cup of warm tea cradled in your hands. The steam curled up into the cool night, and the soft hum of the distant streetlights was the only sound you could hear. It was a peaceful contrast to the laughter and chatter that had filled the house earlier, and you welcomed the solitude.

As you sipped from your cup, your thoughts drifted back to the night’s events. Glen’s family had been warm and welcoming, and though you could see how much they all cared for him, you couldn’t help but notice the way Cyndy had spoken earlier. It lingered in your mind, that softness in her eyes when she spoke of how much happier Glen seemed since you arrived. It made your chest feel tight, both in a comforting and nerve-wracking way.

The door behind you creaked open, and you turned just as Glen stepped onto the deck. He moved toward you with that familiar easy stride of his, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jacket. For a moment, he stood beside you, silent, just taking in the night air with you. The way the soft glow of the house lights reflected off his features made him seem almost impossibly handsome in the moment.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice low and gentle, as if he knew that his family’s energy could be overwhelming at times. “I know they can be a lot.”

You offered him a soft smile and took another sip of tea, the warmth of the cup soothing against your palms. “I’m enjoying myself, really,” you assured him. “Your family’s great. It’s just... nice to have a little peace and quiet for a moment after everything today, you know?”

Glen gave a small, understanding nod, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than usual. The comfortable silence stretched between you both, but then, as if on cue, a gust of cool air swept across the deck. You couldn’t help but shiver slightly, the chill catching you off guard.

Before you could react, you felt a warmth at your shoulders. Glen’s arm wrapped around you instinctively, pulling you closer to him, the solid feel of his presence comforting against the cool night. His touch, the gentle weight of his arm around you, made your heart race for reasons you couldn’t quite explain. It felt natural, like he was just trying to make sure you were okay—but there was something else there, something unspoken that hummed beneath the surface.

For a brief moment, you thought he might lean in, maybe say something that would break the quiet tension between you. But he didn’t. He just stood there, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from him, but not close enough to cross that invisible line.

The silence stretched on, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was the kind of silence where two people simply existed in each other’s presence, the world around them fading away. Still, something about the stillness between you and Glen made you aware of the subtle shift in the air. You glanced up at him, catching the thoughtful, almost distant expression on his face.

“You okay?” you asked, the question slipping out before you could stop it. There was something in his demeanor that made you wonder if something was on his mind, maybe something he wasn’t sharing. He seemed more serious now, the playfulness from earlier replaced by a quiet vulnerability you couldn’t quite place.

Glen turned his head to look at you, blinking as if he had been lost in thought, and then he let out a low chuckle, brushing it off. “You don’t want to know,” he said, his voice light but guarded, as if the answer to your question was something he wasn’t sure he wanted to share.

You raised an eyebrow, a playful grin curling on your lips. “Try me.”

His gaze flickered to yours, and for a second, you could see the flicker of hesitation in his eyes. It was a small thing, but it was there—a brief moment of vulnerability that he quickly masked with a deep breath. He didn’t say anything at first, just looking out at the dark sky, the stars twinkling above.

“I’m just…” He trailed off, then ran a hand through his hair, clearly unsure of how to continue. “I don’t know. Just... thinking about how much things have changed recently.” Glen sighed again, letting out a breath like he was releasing something heavy. “I guess... it’s just been a lot. Work, family... and now you. It’s all good stuff, but it’s a lot to juggle sometimes, you know?” He paused, his words becoming slower as if he were processing something in real-time. “I don’t want to mess things up. With my family, with you...”

The air between you and Glen felt thick with unspoken things, so you did the only thing that felt natural. You shifted slightly, closing the space between you until you were pressed against his chest. Instantly, his arms wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you in, and you rested your head just beneath his chin, feeling the steady rhythm of his breath against you.

For a brief, fleeting moment, you thought you might’ve felt something—something soft and sweet, maybe even a kiss. But when you lifted your head to look up at him, you realized it wasn’t that at all. He’d just rested his chin on the top of your head, his touch warm and gentle, like a quiet reassurance that you didn’t know you needed until now.

You pulled back a fraction, just enough to tilt your head and meet his eyes. Your fingers brushed against his chest lightly as you took a breath, wanting to say something—anything—that would keep this moment from slipping away.

“You couldn’t possibly mess things up with me,” you assured him, your voice steady but filled with a quiet confidence. You didn’t know why you said it, but you meant it. The last thing you wanted was for Glen to feel like he was doing anything wrong by simply being himself.

Glen laughed softly, though it was a little unsure. “Don’t be so sure about that,” he teased, his voice still carrying that hint of vulnerability beneath the humor. He didn’t let go of you, though—his hands resting lightly on your shoulders, almost like he was grounding himself to you in this moment.

You couldn't help but smile at the mix of playfulness and seriousness in his tone. It was typical of him—strong and self-assured, yet still somehow uncertain when it came to matters of the heart. But the way he was holding you, the way his arms had wrapped around you so naturally—it told you everything you needed to know.

“You’re not as big a mess as you think you are, Glen,” you said, your voice soft, a playful smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “At least not when it comes to me.”

Glen smiled back at you, the warmth of it reaching his eyes. The distance between you two, both physically and emotionally, was narrowing with every second.

Another breeze stirred the air, cool against your skin. It caught a strand of your hair, whipping it across your face. You instinctively reached up to brush it away, but before your hand could meet your face, Glen shifted. His fingers grazed your cheek softly, his touch warm as he gently tucked the errant strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers lingered there, resting along your jaw for a heartbeat longer than necessary.

You looked up at him, and in that moment, the world seemed to slow down. His eyes, dark and unreadable, met yours, searching, almost like he was wondering what you were thinking—if you were feeling the same pull he was. His breath caught slightly, the air thick with everything unsaid between you two.

For a long, fragile moment, you were certain neither of you wanted to break the connection, but it was like the world was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen. Glen’s fingers lingered on your face, his touch almost electric, and you could feel the heat rising between you.

He parted his lips like he was about to say something—anything—but then stopped. Something held him back, that same hesitation that had kept him quiet, kept him at a distance all evening. His breath faltered, but you could tell he was fighting himself.

The words left you before you could even think twice about them. Soft, barely a whisper, just enough for him to hear: “Kiss me.”

You weren’t sure if he caught it at first. It was so quiet, almost too soft for him to hear. If he didn’t want to, he could easily dismiss it, pretend he hadn’t heard and let the moment pass. The uncertainty and the weight of the words hung between you, like a fragile thread.

But then Glen’s tongue darted out to lick his lips, and the gesture was enough to make your heart race. Without another word, he closed the distance between you, his lips pressing against yours in a kiss that was soft but full of promise. There was no hesitation now, no second-guessing.

The world melted away, and all that remained was the warmth of his mouth, the sweetness of his breath mingling with yours

The world melted away, and all that remained was the warmth of his mouth, the sweetness of his breath mingling with yours. You could taste the hint of his cologne, feel the heat radiating off his skin as his lips gently moved against yours, a quiet but insistent promise.

You reached up, your hands trembling slightly, and grabbed onto the fabric of his shirt, as if grounding yourself in this moment. His touch was everything—strong, steady, and a little desperate, like he was holding on to something precious. One hand found its way to the back of your neck, his fingers threading through your hair as he gently pulled you closer, his lips urging yours to open. The soft pressure was almost a question, and you answered it without hesitation, your lips parting as his tongue slid in, exploring you with slow, deliberate movements.

The kiss deepened, and everything else faded. His free hand moved to your waist, pulling you against him, making you feel the undeniable heat of his body. The way he held you tightly, possessively, ignited a spark inside you that set your skin on fire. You felt every inch of him, the strength in his arms, the warmth of his chest pressed against yours, his heart racing in time with yours.

Without breaking the kiss, he gently pushed you back, guiding you until you were pinned between his solid body and the railing behind you. You could feel the cool metal against your back, the contrast of it to the heat radiating from him, but it only made the moment more intense, more real.

His mouth never left yours, and you were lost in it—lost in the way he kissed you, in the way he made you feel like you were the only thing that mattered in that instant. His tongue moved against yours, a slow, sensual dance that sent shivers down your spine. He was patient but relentless, as if he couldn't get close enough, as if he wanted to drown in this feeling, in the taste of you.

For a moment, you lost yourself completely in him. The kiss became everything—the way his lips molded to yours, the heat of his body pressed against yours, and the deep, almost desperate need that surged between you. It was as if nothing else in the world existed but the two of you.

When he finally pulled back, just enough to let you both catch your breath, his forehead pressed to yours, his breath ragged. He didn't let go, his hands still on your waist, his body so close you could feel the warmth of him seeping into you. His eyes searched yours, almost like he was asking for permission, or maybe trying to figure out what this meant.

Glen took a slow, deliberate step back, his hands lingering for just a second longer than necessary on your waist, as if reluctant to let go. His gaze locked with yours, still heavy with unspoken words and that same intensity that hung thick in the air. His lips parted slightly, as if he might say something, but the moment lingered—unsaid, just like everything else that had passed between you two.

He reached down, his fingers brushing against yours, and when he grasped your hand, it felt grounding, but at the same time, like a promise. He gently pulled you inside, his touch still warm against your skin, the heat from the kiss still lingering between you.

You stepped closer to him, his hand never leaving yours, and the world outside seemed to fade away once more. The air was different inside—charged in a way that made everything feel more intimate, more real. Glen glanced at you over his shoulder, a subtle smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, his eyes dark with something unreadable, something that only added to the tension building between you.

And then, with a quiet, almost playful tug, he led you further into the house, closing the door softly behind you. 

* * * * *

You stirred slowly, the warmth of the bed and the soft, rhythmic press of Glen’s lips against your shoulder coaxing you out of sleep. His gentle kisses trailed up to your collarbones, each one sending a pleasant shiver down your spine. The sensation was soft, tender—like he was savoring the moment, as if he didn’t want to break the stillness of the morning.

You couldn’t help but smile to yourself, your eyes fluttering open just enough to catch the sight of him—his face only inches from your skin, eyes closed in quiet reverence. His arm tightened around you, pulling you closer as though you were the only thing anchoring him to this moment. It felt so natural, so right, that you could almost forget it was Christmas morning.

With a soft sigh, you rolled onto your back, the bed creaking slightly as you shifted. You turned your head, your gaze meeting his. He hadn’t noticed you were awake, his lips still lightly grazing your skin, his breath warm against your neck.

A small, sleepy smile tugged at the corners of your lips, unable to hide the happiness bubbling up inside you. It was a moment of peace, of simplicity, and you knew it was one you’d carry with you for a long time.

When Glen finally met your eyes, his expression softened, a quiet tenderness in his gaze that made your heart flutter in your chest. He leaned in again, pressing a kiss to your lips, brief but full of meaning. “Merry Christmas,” he whispered, his voice low and rough from sleep.

“Merry Christmas,” you whispered back, your fingers gently brushing against his cheek, the moment feeling so intimate, so perfect.

Just as you were starting to drift back into the peaceful warmth of the moment, Glen’s phone rang, breaking the silence. He groaned and reached for it, clearly annoyed by the interruption. "Not now," he muttered, glancing at the screen and seeing it was Leslie calling.

"Seriously?" you teased, raising an eyebrow. "She can’t let us have five more minutes?"

Glen chuckled, though it was laced with mock frustration. "Guess not. She probably wants us to hurry up and join the rest of the chaos." He answered the call and put it on speaker, letting out another groan. "Leslie, it’s Christmas morning, cut me some slack."

You heard her voice, cheerful but insistent. "Yeah, I know, but you need to get over here! We’re all waiting for you to start the presents."

Glen rubbed a hand over his face, looking over at you with a grin. "Alright, alright. We’ll get up and head right over."

But Leslie, ever the sharp one, picked up on the tone in his voice. "Wait a second," she said with a teasing smirk in her voice. "You said ‘we’ll’ get up? So that means... you’re both still in bed?"

You felt Glen stiffen, his eyes locking onto yours as the corners of his mouth twitched. Before he could respond, Leslie continued, sounding far too smug for 8 AM. "And she’s with you, huh? In your room?"

Glen groaned dramatically, putting a hand to his forehead. "Leslie, it’s too early for this," he muttered, clearly embarrassed by the line of questioning.

Leslie wasn’t letting up, though. "Oh, I get it," she said in a sing-song voice, a little too amused for her own good. "I’ll take that as a ‘yes.’"

Glen looked at you, mouthing, "I’m gonna kill her."

He sighed, sitting up on the bed, clearly trying to change the subject. "Okay, okay. We’ll be over soon, alright? Stop prying."

"Sure, sure. Just don’t take too long, or I might have to send Mom in there to drag you both out," Leslie teased before hanging up with a cheerful goodbye.

Glen, still looking mildly exasperated, dropped the phone onto the bed. He laughed and leaned back against the headboard, stretching his arms over his head. "Alright, guess we should get up and face the madness."

You and Glen exchanged sleepy smiles as you both began to rise from the bed. Glen stretched his arms overhead, letting out a long yawn, before he slipped on his slippers and headed toward the bathroom. You turned toward the guest room, mentally running through the few things you had to do to get ready for the day.

As you dressed, you couldn't help but replay last night in your head—the kiss, the closeness, the way it felt like the world had just slipped away, leaving only the two of you. But now, in the cold light of morning, you couldn’t shake the uncertainty that lingered. What did it mean? What were you to Glen after everything that had happened? Your heart raced as the thought crossed your mind. Was this something you were supposed to talk about? Or would it be just another fleeting moment, like so many others in the past?

You finished getting dressed, smoothing your shirt and running your fingers through your hair, trying to calm the nerves that had appeared out of nowhere. When you stepped out of the guest room, you found Glen already ready, his jacket on and his keys in hand. He was standing by the door, waiting for you.

He gave you a soft smile when he saw you. "Ready?" he asked, his voice warm but with an edge of hesitation that matched how you were feeling.

You nodded, trying to brush off the unease. "Yeah.”

You followed him to the truck, your mind still racing with questions. The drive was quiet at first, the hum of the engine filling the space between you. As you passed the familiar landmarks, your eyes wandered to Glen, who was focused on the road. You wanted to ask him everything, to know where the two of you stood after everything, but you didn’t want to make things awkward.

Finally, Glen broke the silence. “I’ve been thinking,” he started, his voice steady but quiet. He glanced at you for a moment before turning his focus back to the road. “About last night. About us.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “Yeah?” you prompted softly, unsure of where he was going with this.

He let out a breath, his lips curving into a faint, almost self-conscious smile. “Look, I know my life isn’t exactly… simple. My schedule is a mess, and I’m gone a lot. I don’t want to pretend like that’s not going to be a challenge. But,” he paused, his voice growing more certain, “I want to see where this goes. With you. If you’re willing to, that is.”

For a moment, the world seemed to narrow down to just the two of you. You could hear the nervous edge in his voice, the way he shifted slightly in his seat like he wasn’t sure how you’d respond.

You let the weight of his words settle over you before you replied. “I’m willing to,” you said, your voice soft but sure. “I wouldn’t have let last night happen if I wasn’t.”

A flicker of relief crossed his face, and he smiled—an honest, open kind of smile that made your chest feel warm. He reached over, his hand finding yours where it rested on your lap. His touch was gentle but firm, like he was grounding himself in this moment.

“Okay,” he said, his thumb brushing lightly against the back of your hand. “Then we’ll figure it out. Whatever it takes.”

You squeezed his hand, your heart lighter now, but the lingering uncertainty still hung between you. “So, what do we do about your family?” you asked, tilting your head toward him. “Do we tell them, or…?”

He sighed, his lips quirking in a wry smile. “That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it?” His fingers tapped against the steering wheel, his mind clearly turning over the possibilities. “Part of me thinks it’s better to just get it out there. But another part of me… I don’t want to make today about us when it’s supposed to be about family.”

You nodded, understanding his hesitation. “We don’t have to decide right now,” you offered. “Let’s just see how the day goes.”

Glen smiled again, his gaze soft as it flicked toward you. “Yeah, that sounds like a plan.”

The rest of the drive was filled with a sense of quiet anticipation, the air between you lighter now but still charged with the potential of what was to come. Glen didn’t let go of your hand the entire way, and you couldn’t help but feel that, no matter what, the two of you were in this together.

Glen stepped inside first, his hand still firmly clasping yours as he guided you over the threshold. The sound of laughter and conversation spilled from the living room, filling the house with the unmistakable hum of family.

Glen paused just inside the door, turning to face you. His hand lingered in yours for a moment before he gently released it, reaching instead to help you shrug off your coat. His fingertips brushed lightly against your arms as he slid the thick material off your shoulders. You glanced up at him, catching the faint smile tugging at his lips.

"Thanks," you murmured, offering him a small smile of your own as he hung your coat on the nearby rack.

He gave a slight nod. "Anytime," he replied, his voice low and quiet, just for you.

With that, you made your way toward the living room, Glen trailing close behind. The sight that greeted you was as welcoming as the sounds and smells: his entire family gathered around the tree, mugs of steaming coffee and hot cocoa in hand, their laughter blending with the soft crackle of the fireplace.

"Well, there they are!" Leslie called out, her grin widening as she spotted the two of you.

At her words, all eyes turned to you and Glen. You felt a momentary flush of warmth—not from embarrassment, but from the sheer warmth of the welcome in their gazes. Glen’s mom was the first to rise, crossing the room to pull you into a gentle hug.

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” she said, her voice as soft and kind as ever.

“Merry Christmas,” you replied, smiling as you returned the hug.

Glen hung back for a moment, his gaze sweeping over his family before it landed back on you. When his mom released you, he stepped forward to exchange his own hugs and greetings, his presence grounding you in the lively room.

As you settled into the living room, Leslie’s sharp eyes darted between you and Glen, a knowing glint lighting her expression. “You two look cozy,” she teased, raising an eyebrow.

Glen shot her a warning look but didn’t rise to her bait. Instead, he placed a steadying hand on your back as he guided you toward an empty spot on the couch. “It’s still too early for your commentary, Les,” he said dryly, though there was a faint smile tugging at his lips.

You couldn’t help but laugh softly as you sat down, feeling Glen’s hand linger for just a moment longer than necessary before he joined you. The family resumed their chatter, and you felt yourself relax into the warmth of the room and the easy dynamic Glen had with his family.

There was an unspoken understanding between you and Glen as the morning unfolded. Whatever the day might bring, you were in this together, and that made everything—his teasing siblings, the bustling energy, the unrelenting sense of closeness—feel a little less overwhelming and a lot more like home.

The morning carried on with a joyous rhythm, the room buzzing with laughter and the crinkling of wrapping paper as Glen’s mom began handing out gifts from beneath the tree. One by one, brightly wrapped packages found their way into eager hands, and the sound of tearing paper soon filled the room.

You found yourself nestled comfortably on the couch beside Glen, warmth radiating from his side. At some point, almost without thinking, you leaned into him, resting your head lightly on his shoulder. His arm instinctively came up to wrap around you, pulling you just a little closer.

The moment felt effortless, like breathing, and you let yourself savor the comfort of it.

Unfortunately, it didn’t go unnoticed.

“Ohhh, would you look at that?” Leslie’s voice rang out, her tone dripping with mischief.

Your head snapped up, a blush creeping up your cheeks as you realized all eyes were now on you and Glen. His parents exchanged exaggerated grins while his older sister’s gaze softened with a mix of joy and curiosity.

“Well, this is new,” somebody teased.

Glen let out a long-suffering groan, running a hand over his face. “Can we not make this a thing?” he muttered, though there was no real heat in his voice.

Leslie was undeterred, her grin widening as she leaned forward. “Oh, no, this is absolutely a thing. Care to share with the group, Glen?”

He sighed, glancing at you. The flush on your cheeks deepened, but there was no judgment or pressure in his expression—only quiet reassurance.

Finally, he turned back to his family, his shoulders squaring as if bracing himself. “Fine. Yes, we’re… seeing where things go,” he admitted, his voice steady but soft. “And that’s all you’re getting out of me right now.”

His mom clasped her hands together, her face lighting up like the tree behind her. “Oh, Glen,” she said warmly, her joy unmistakable.

The teasing and comments came in waves after that, a mix of playful ribbing and heartfelt congratulations. You felt your face grow impossibly warm, but Glen’s arm around you tightened, grounding you.

Eventually, Glen turned to his family with a pointed look. “Okay, you’ve had your fun. Can we get back to the presents now?”

Leslie laughed but relented, reaching for another package beneath the tree. As the room shifted back to its lively rhythm, Glen leaned in close, his lips brushing against your ear.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah. Are you?”

His eyes softened, and he gave a slight nod. “Yeah.”

And as the morning carried on, the lively chatter and laughter of his family surrounded you, filling the room with warmth. Glen’s arm stayed comfortably around you, an anchor amidst the joyful chaos. For the first time in a long time, you felt at ease—like you belonged, not just in this house but at his side.

Whatever this was, whatever it might become, one thing was clear: this was the beginning of something worth holding onto.

[pomefioredove]

so, I could request jamil, leona, vil, rook, azul, jade, rollo, malleus and lillia with a heroic fantasy lover reader (well, not so much fantasy, since it's basically a fantasy world. i mean, jaskaja, malleus is a freaking fairy prince). a reader who wakes up reading, watching series or movies in the genre, who makes his own maps of his worlds in the back of his notebooks in class, who in potions class takes notes for his own inventions, who starts inventing recipes in the kitchen and when he's supposed to be studying he's actually writing his fantasy stories or novels, maybe he's not even yuu, he's from another dimension! just another x student who is a bookworm. but that his sleep schedule starts to be affected by these habits when midterms come and at the same time he wins a major writing contest, and that between the hobby and the studies he sleeps, eats and rests less.

thanks and good day 💗💗!

of course! this is actually quite cute

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ fantasy writer reader

type of post: headcanons characters: leona, azul, jade, jamil, rook, vil, lilia, malleus, rollo additional info: romantic or platonic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu

well, well, well

for all his teasing, and there has been a lot, Leona actually starts to like you

damn it...

you were just another wide-eyed, naive herbivore to him

and a little bookworm, too

and now...

strangely, he finds himself missing you

thinking about the stories you'd told him...

...even wanting you to ask him about his magic

which he did find annoying, but now, it's kind of endearing...

you do strange things to this man

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Azul will admit that he was... a little wrong about you

after all, when you first met, he took you as a rather naive person

so... curious

asking him about magic, the sea, potions and spells and...

well, he read that as innocence

for weeks, he answered all your questions, even showed you a few simple spells, all free of charge

...hoping that you'd come to trust him

then, you vanish

he later reads a fantasy story published in the school newspaper

...about him

you were just using him for fantasy character inspiration all along!?

...

...actually... that's quite flattering

he'll let you get away with this one

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Jade is drawn to you

and by that, I mean he finds you before you find him

so curious...

he can tell you've adapted to life at Night Raven College much quicker than most would

quicker than he did, even

and he's actually from Twisted Wonderland

magic doesn't surprise you, nor does the politics or history of this world...

how... interesting

he'll follow you around, asking question, reading your stories, never too far away from you

he's never met anyone so strange, really

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Jamil can't imagine being from a world without magic

...and, apparently, neither can you

disregarding your... ahem... heroic interests, you fit right in at NRC

seriously, a few months here and you're already ahead of Kalim

...he could learn a thing or two from you...

it starts making sense when you tell Jamil that books from your world are full of magic

where you lack experience, you make up for in knowledge

he... respects that, actually

you're more well-read than most of his peers!

now, if only he could do something about that terrible sleep schedule of yours...

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Rook thinks you have such a beautiful eye for detail

and a creative soul

of course, he knows a writer when he sees one

and you catch his eye right away

he just can't help it! such imagination, such talent... you inspire him just by being!

...okay, maybe he's a little overexcited

being a poet himself, it's not often he meets someone who understands the beauty of life like a fellow writer

he will eagerly read everything you give him

every story you write, every map you draw, even your own notes and potion recipes

...and he'll give you detailed praises on each one

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Vil is already used to writer shenanigans

...too used to them, maybe

the last thing he wants is another Rook waxing poetically about a bug you saw on the north stairwell

at least you seem quiet

what really captivates him, though, is your interest in potionology

you're already at such an advanced level that you're making your own recipes

even if it's just for your stories, that takes some skill

you'll have to forgive him for fussing over your health and wellbeing

he can sense your potential

goodness, at this rate, you could replace him as housewarden by the end of the year

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

there's nothing Lilia likes more than a good story

after all, he's got lots of his own

so, to him, writers are the greatest thing since... whatever the hell he eats

and he can be a little... pushy

leering over your shoulder, pestering you to show him what you're working on...

he can't help it!

he's just so curious!

the one thing he's good for, though, is details

you ask him if this language, or outfit, or invention, is appropriate for the time period, and he'll be able to answer

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Malleus is always flattered by your curiosity

one might think that a human from a magicless world would be frightened by his appearance and his title

but you...

you're just curious

he likes answering your questions

you seem so interested in magic, he can't help but show off a little

he's already promised to show you around Briar Valley

and, of course, he loves hearing your stories

the ones you write, the ones you remember from home...

you're just a fascinating little human

and he always feels special when he's the first to read something you've written

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

now...

Rollo doesn't quite understand you

no, actually-

he's jealous

not that he'd ever admit it...

but the thought of a world that is so devoid of magic that its people make fantasy of it is so very enticing...

...he's willing to excuse your childish interest

and indulge you in your maps and your potions and your stories

you don't know any better

but to him, your world is the fantastical one, not his

[theliteraryarchitect]

I don’t know if u still answer questions but I need some advice. My passion has always been writing simply because I have so many ideas and so many thoughts and I love creating stories (theoretically). Lately though I’ve hit this roadblock. I’ll never be able to write like the people I admire, because at the end of it all I feel like I’m not learning. I’ll reread my old stuff, point out and rework my mistakes, and still feel like I’m not going anywhere. I haven’t written anything for years because of this block and I feel like I’ll never improve and find the motivation to keep writing. I’ll never be like the greats with seemingly endless inspiration and talent. Ig my question is just… how do I improve? How do I finally feel satisfied with what I do? How do I love my writing again??

First off, I hear you. So many writers—especially the ones who care deeply—go through exactly this. You love storytelling in theory, but when it comes to writing, it feels like you’re stuck in a cycle of self-doubt and disappointment. That’s not a personal failing. That’s just what happens when your standards grow faster than your skills.

The mistake most writers make (and one I see repeated constantly) is thinking that learning = immediate improvement—as if you study the craft, tweak some mistakes, and suddenly level up. But writing doesn’t work like a skill tree in a video game. It’s messy, non-linear, and full of invisible growth. The work you put in today might not show results for months, or even years. And that’s frustrating as hell, but it’s also normal.

And the writers you admire? The ones who seem endlessly inspired and effortlessly talented? They aren’t immune to this feeling. The difference is, they write through it. They let themselves write badly. They embrace inefficiency. They trust that even their worst drafts are part of the process. AND (top secret info here)... frankly a lot of the big names have editors at their publishing houses that are practically doing ghostwriting work: fixing their mistakes, rewriting their stuff, or even composing sections for them so they can pump out the next bestseller in record time.

But here’s my advice: stop waiting to feel satisfied before you start writing again. You’re not going to think your way out of this. Improvement comes from doing. Let yourself write terribly, inconsistently, joyfully. Take the pressure off. And when your brain tells you it’s pointless, remind yourself: the only way to get better is to keep going.

You don’t need to be “one of the greats.” You just need to write.

Hope this helps, friend.

P.S. I get Asks like this so much that I'm actually working on a whole long book about it, since it's really more than I can handle in a short post. Stay tuned for details. xo

[quarterlifekitty]

not to be unkind or tell you how you should feel, but fwiw your reaction to a stranger/potential new friend having the courage to share their raw, uninhibited joy & excitement at something you made is the exact reason I don’t comment on fics, even ones I love enough to write a hype book report about, bc unfortunately you’ve reinforced a learned aversion— that I should never submit an ask/interact with an author, for fear of receiving this exact kind of publicly embarrassing response on social platforms. bc it goes both ways, ya know? it’s lowkey devastating to discover being my authentic self would be unwelcome & “too much” for fandom (since i’m already “too much” for people IRL, lol rip), bc there’s too much risk of committing an unintentional faux pas if I don’t water myself down. it’s exhausting & saddening to know I’d have to police myself here, too, and so I choose to not bother with any of it. 

ironically, I’m also a stranger who loved that vamp!soap post too & felt similarly excited about it. which is how I feel about most of your stuff, actually, bc tho I may be a stranger I’m also a very shy & quiet longtime follower. 🫠😬🤷‍♀️

just thought you should know it’s easy to accidentally alienate someone out of ever engaging with fandom in the future. do with that what you will.

Listen man. There’s a difference between telling someone “I really liked this!! It was a really cool idea and I would love to see more if you’re feeling inspired.” Vs “MORE MORE I WANT MORE”. I’m not asking you to change yourself. I’m asking to be treated like a fucking human being as opposed to a content machine. The truth is that when you’re interacting with people you do not know, the idea is that you behave politely until they know you well enough to be able to interpret your mannerisms the way you intend for them to come across.

I literally do not know how to be kinder about it. I told the person that I find it discouraging and tiring to receive comments that are just “part 2 when?” And “I need 60k words of this stat”. If you want to engage with me and my work, I don’t think it’s a hard ask to request that you actually speak about what you liked and give me some form of meaningful feedback instead of just demanding more.

Fandom dies without comments. It’s why writers get discouraged and give up. No one is asking you to “water yourself down”, writers are asking to be treated with the decency and respect you would, I sincerely hope, treat someone you’ve only just introduced yourself to. Would you say things like that to an author you met in real life? Or any artist?

Also, quite frankly, if you’re the type of person who just writes MORE MORE I WANT MORE PART 2 as a comment? I want to alienate you because the “engagement” you’re bringing here does nothing but discourage and tire me out and make me feel dehumanized. And if you think it’s disrespectful of me to erect that boundary on my own personal blog where I am sharing my personal things for free, I kindly request that you block me and move on, because I do not want to associate with you. I want to associate with the people who can interact with me while understanding my boundaries and that I’m just a person and that you need to get to know me if you want friendship and community before making demands.

I ask again, would you ever say something like that ask said to and artist you had just met in real life? And maybe you would, but you need to understand that text is not a comprehensive indicator of tone, emotion, or intended sentiment on its own.

[enterthetadpole]

Enterthetadpole's "Long Awaited" Solo Completed Sherlock BBC Fandom Stories List

Hi everyone!

Now that I am really trying to put focused effort on completing my WIPs, I have decided it may be helpful to create a list of my (for now) finished solo and collaboration stories in the Sherlock fandom. There will be links below, along with a little blurb about the story, and as an extra bit of fun, I will also add some trivia/BTS about the story itself.

As far as the collabs, they will go in a separate post because my collab partners deserve their own posts for me to gush on and on about.

But first, here are the stories that I have battled alone with the help of many cheerleaders.

Ok then, let's go!

Completed Solo Stories

Far Away From Casual

Summary:

One-night stands aren't something that John does anymore. He's too old and Afghanistan took more out of him than he thought was possible. Unfortunately, a night of laughs and lots of drinks changes things.

Words: 19,828 Chapters: 18/18

Johnlock AU Different meeting. Light and comical with a fairly emotionally mature Sherlock, a "still figuring himself out" John, and Harry, Mike and Mycroft in the mix.

Fun Facts/BTS: I spent the better part of a year and a half just trying to get an idea of what this story was going to be about. It was a Fandom Trumps Hate auction story, and I struggled hard as to a plot to go with. Then finally it came to me one day. The visual was of Sherlock Holmes, asleep in bed , naked with a bruise in the shape of a hand on his ass. I laughed, couldn't get the image out of my mind, and a fic was born!

Just Before Christmas

Words: 1,014 Chapters: 1/1

Summary:

John left the clinic after a long Christmas Eve shift to come back to a dark and empty flat.

Small little ficlet about the warmth that comes from caring about the people you are with, and how a little tree can make a big difference. John and Sherlock are friends only, with maybe a little bit of wondering under the surface.

Fun Facts/BTS: This story came after a long bit of writer's block that was helped along by me reading the stories of Berty and listening to @podfixx. The inspiration for the tree came from my own little store bought tree gotten that same year. The book cover for this ficlet also is a photo of that same tree.

Through the Silence

Words: 11,547 Chapters: 12/12

Summary:

John watched the best man he ever knew fall from the rooftop of St. Bart's but refused to give up hope that somehow Sherlock may still be alive. If he was, John would find him. No matter what or who stood in his way.

Fairly heavy angst. John Watson in pain and self-destructive. Multiple POV shifts for the first half of the story. Post Reichenbach.

Fun Facts/BTS: This story was a very difficult one for me to write, not because of the subject matter itself, but because of the mood I would need to be in/get into to keep the overall flow of the story intact. The story is one of my first real attempts at more descriptive and poetic prose. Also, perhaps it isn't noticed, but the POV changes to only John's POV after a very specific realization occurs.

The Sh- Word

Words: 1,971 Chapters:1/1

Summary:

What happens when Sherlock accidentally has both a tranquilizer dart and a John Watson in the same flat? Chaos, and perhaps something more.

Pure crack fic. Out of his depth Sherlock and Understandably Oblivious John.

Fun Facts/BTS: This is technically part of a two-part prompt connected to @elldotsee. I actually used my spouse as a "test body" for this story. My spouse is a wonderful person who knows the insane writer they married.

The Theoretical Argument of Cats and Cake

Words: 575 Chapters: 1/1

Summary:

Cats, cakes, John's exasperation and Sherlock deducing everything. In no particular order.

Small ficlet about John and Sherlock being essentially John and Sherlock. Also featuring Molly's cats.

Fun Facts/BTS: This ficlet was completed at my first @221bcon, and I share Molly's love of cats as a fellow cat mom myself. Have a problem with it? Fight me.

Detachable

Words: 2,563 Chapters: 1/1

Summary:

John has only been dating Sherlock for three weeks. He doesn't deserve this type of humiliation, and yet here we are. Poor John...

More pure crack. Sherlock being peak Sherlock. John being baffled, embarrassed, but still in it for the long haul.

Fun Facts/BTS: The other ficlet that was directly connected to @elldotsee. There is a podfic that goes with this story that I adore so much. This is also one of the fic pieces I direct readers to who are interested in my stories, but unsure of what to read first. This story is my writing style in a small, digestible package. I suggest not swimming for at least three hours after consumption.

The Christmas Notes

Words: 2,821 Chapters: 25/25

Summary:

Sherlock writes notes to John. John tries not to strangle Sherlock. Insanity ensues.

Grumpy Sherlock. Patient John. Feelings realized through passive-aggressive notes.

Fun Facts/BTS: This was a series of writing prompts by Kat for the Xmas 2020 Collection. It was fun having to think of a different letter idea for every day in December up to Christmas. Would do it again. 10/10 no notes.

A Spark of Clarity in a Very Specific Moment in Time

Words: 927 Chapters: 1/1

Summary:

John is a very observant man. When one lives with Sherlock Holmes, one has to be...

Another crack ficlet, starring Sherlock's slumbering nudity and John's internal screaming. I regret nothing.

Fun Facts/BTS: This story came to life because of a photo of Benedict as Sherlock sleeping on the BBC Sherlock famous sofa. Sherlock being starkers was added by me. You're welcome.

Dissecting The Universe

Words: 37,163 Chapters: 29/29

Summary:

Series Four of Sherlock and so much pain has left what Benedict and Martin had in nothing but ruins. However, perhaps things can change if a series of events occur to make everything good, bad and unspoken float back up to the surface.

A real person fanfic that I still placed in the BBC Sherlock section because it is Freebatch (Benedict Cumberbatch/Martin Freeman) but it is centered around the Sherlock series. Lots of inside jokes and behind the scenes plot points.

Fun Facts/BTS: It was a lot of fun switching between character perspectives in this story, and how Ben and Martin may have dealt with the fandom and fallout. I understand that RPF isn't for everyone, but I did try to make this story as respectful as possible, and none of Ben or Martin's children ever directly appear in the story.

However Improbable

Words: 15,748 Chapters: 15/15

Summary:

Dr. John Watson had been through many things in his life, but can anyone truly prepare for meeting the world's only consulting detective, Sherlock Holmes?

This is a different first meeting AU. John is freshly out as Bisexual, and Sherlock is very direct about his feelings. Also Harry has both an attitude and a cat.

Fun Facts/BTS: Harry's cat Ginger ended up becoming a real-life cat for me. We adopted an orange cat about two years after this story began, who ended up being named Ginger before we changed her name to Mousaka. However, unlike the Ginger in the story, Saka is a lot less grumpy but just as feral.

Thank you for taking the time to read my fandom stories. I appreciate all, and reblogging is always such a help. Please let me know if you want to be tagged or not be tagged!

@peanitbear @copperplatebeech @naefelldaurk @dragonnan @lisbeth-kk @sgam76 @kettykika78 @binx72 @butterflygrl62 @dw91165 @izhunny @helloliriels @starkraivennemad @wizama @jobooksncoffee @safedistancefrombeingsmart @totallysilvergirl @johnyouareamazingyouarefantastic @discordantwords @ghostofnuggetspast @notjustamumj @friday411 @calaisreno @mydogwatson @redmondcollege @daziechane @chinike @ninasnakie @whatsnext2020 @writeoutloud @kccarmine @lololollywrites @chocolamousse @kittenmadnessandtea @lolcarina @chriscalledmesweetie @7-percent @jbaillier @missdeliadili @meetinginsamarra @khorazir @cumbercurly-blog @13monkton @thalialunacy @221beloved @johnlockismyreligion @imnova @notjustamumj @a-victorian-girl @onesmallfamily @snowfilly1 @readingwithgwen @izhunny

[celestetumbledryer]

batfamily(´∀｀=)

TL;DR i have encountered a predominantly white area of this fandom. If possible, please humanise poc characters like you do or would love to the rest of the cast. please scroll to the bottom of this wall of text to see the inspiration for this post as well as some amazing batfamily blogs!!!!

hello!! i don’t usually make posts by myself, but i am not longer secretly passionate about this topic. this post is more about POC issues than batman. upon saying that, i will only really cover batfamily characters that the stereotypical fandom engages with.

it is ironic that i would usually just skim through a post this length so think of this as a brain…dump..? ehe. also, i have an small device so this post may seem longer to me than it is to you.

i know that i am fairly new to this part of the DC fandom, but i assure you, much unlike many other tumblr blogs, i actually do read comics!

i have been getting into batman family related comics and decided to see some fan content because i loved seeing people with shared interests!!!!

unfortunately, like any place on the internet, i have encountered prejudice and shallowness(i may contribute a little to the latter hehe….)

1.

The Kane(Batwoman) Family are non/practicing Jewish. They are also ethnically Jewish, though i am apologetic to say that i am not sure of the exact ethnicity.

2.

i am aware of Richard Grayson/Robin/Nightwing’s Romani heritage(I couldn’t find a reliable source regarding a specific group, sorry!😖 most likely Kalderash!). This character (sadly, among many others) has been heavily objectified in both the fandom and the canon. Romani characters still have often been reduced to racist jokes and stereotypes in fiction. One thing I'd like to share is the cooking thing from my last post. I feel like cooking is a great skill to have when representing culture. It's okay to be clumsy or not the best at cooking. Not always achieving a good result when cooking is fine. However it is a life skill. Only ever ordering takeout is not the most healthy for anyone especially someone who needs alot of energy and nutrients. Take care of yourselves !

3.

Cassandra Cain/Batgirl/Orphan is usually characterised as reserved and non-verbal in the fandom space. I don’t hate this, but unfortunately leans towards a generally negative archetype in Asian women characters.

She is often depicted using very repetitive and simple words. Though her struggles with language have been portrayed through her comics, she is able to form grammatically correct sentences. Please do not infantilise this character. this is not just a problem with fiction; it happens too much with Asian people in reality. i have no ill intention against agere.

She does take things to the extreme if she so desires. You just couldn’t handle a strong traumatised woc/hj.

people really don’t like it when i say that i like this character. i have received threats. i wonder why..

Not really related, but I’d like to say that ASL is not objectively easier to learn than spoken languages regarding a popular headcanon.

4.

i've seen a lot of headcanons of a Latino Jason Todd/Red Hood(i don’t really have anything against this), so i looked more into it. I've seen people say they enjoy this headcanon simply "because he is poor" which i'm sure is not in all what it means to be Latino. i cannot speak for this group; i hope my message is received well.

5.

i’ve seen popular headcanons of a Black Steph Brown/Spoiler. i don’t really have anything to say about this. what are your thoughts?

6.

Black hair, bowl cut, intelligence and under 6ft are reasons I’ve seen people headcanon Tim Drake/(Red) Robin(which writers intended to be Jewish) as NEAsian. i think you can infer why. However, it is not a problem whether you fit into a specific group in within your identity or not.

7.

i’ve been told by multiple people that Duke Thomas/Signal is nothing more than a “token Black” character which is in itself a trope stemming from racism. Black characters are often reduced to a comic relief given little or no depth. i understand that he is a character only introduced in the last decade so there are not as many iterations compared to other bat family members, but it doesn’t make him any less interesting to be explored!

8.

I generally dislike the “demon spawn” super serious characterisation of a child Damian al Ghul Wayne/Robin. Yes, he is traumatised, but he is still a child. i know that in some iterations he is quite uptight or arrogant. this does not stop him from being a youngest child. i don’t think he would have the emotional spectrum of a rock. i believe that he is a quarter Arab(and/or Iranian??) and Han Chinese!

*this post has many flaws, please leave a message in replies or my dm if you are upset or would like to add and edit to this post!!!!

this post was inspired by @/zoomiie.net on tiktok. they explained it much better than i could ever.

“you could tell if a specific fandom in particular is explicitly majority white by the way they treat their POC character[s]”

link to video will be in notes

“let people have fun”

i do not intend to stop you.

i am speaking out about the casual racism present in fandom spaces.

here are some dc comics blogs that do not stop me from having fun.

@numberonedukethomasapologist Len creates a blog focused on the bat family character Duke Thomas(The Signal) that humanises the character in his unapologetically Black culture. it is actually the first batfamily blog i encountered !! please go support him PLEAS PLea p

@brucestalia is a Talia al Ghul centric blog that is very active(multiple posts a day), usually posting about BruTalia. the ship is usually presented with visual media, song lyrics and fan fiction.

@nightwingsgypsyrep the usertag speaks for itself! she doesn't have many posts, but there are some fun Romani Grayson(x Kory) moments !!

Holy racism, Batman!

Celeste Tumble Dryer ☆〜（ゝ。∂）

[mrs-stans]

For God’s Sake, Let’s Talk About a Different Movie

By Angelica Jade Bastién

For months, cinephiles have claimed to find substance in a certain body-horror movie. I am politely asking you to look elsewhere.

About 40 minutes into A Different Man, the face of Edward Lemuel, the striving actor played with wounded insecurity by Sebastian Stan, begins to fall off in reddened, meaty chunks.

Edward is a man with neurofibromatosis, which manifests most noticeably as tumors on his cheeks, forehead, and chin. In public, he is vigilant, picking apart the ways people gaze upon or ignore him, viewing himself from the outside like a passenger in his own story. In more private moments, he is awkward, needy, and hopeful, like in interactions with the burgeoning playwright Ingrid (Renate Reinsve), who moves in next door. When he opts to participate in a drug trial whose clinicians market it as a cure, he accepts a cast of his face as a premature token of remembrance for when the drug proves efficacious. His is a kind of pathetic that inspires neither scorn nor pity, but a universal, sorrowful connection — his yearning for a different face is a consideration of what makes a human being legible and thus able to be understood, known, even loved. That Edward is a struggling actor only renders this consideration more acute.

As Edward’s fretting hands peel off the wet and bleeding parts of his post-trial face, the body horror is shown primarily in the darkened glass of a framed photograph. The chunks drop into his hands and he lets out gasps, and in each breath, Edward is reborn. The slim montage of transformation continues over the next three minutes, and a rhythm locks in place. He stumbles into his bathroom with a white undershirt stained with blood. He looks at himself with awe and confusion, observing whatever pockmarks and roughness still remain. His face itself is a liminal space: not quite who he once was, but certainly not who he will end up being. In the meantime, he spends evenings looking at Ingrid through his door’s peephole and eating microwavable dinners on the kitchen floor while inane whistle tutorial videos echo in his dingy apartment. Until one day, he closes the mirrored cabinet in his bathroom and confronts the face of a fully transfigured man.

Edward tentatively explores the city by foot with his new face. Shot from behind as he moves through the candy-colored lights of nighttime New York, his shoulders are hunched. He’s still on guard. When he sees his own reflection, he stands straighter. Marvels at himself. Is this what beauty feels like? The ability to take up more space without question? To look at yourself and not wince? As he spends more time with his handsome face, Edward decides to metaphorically kill his former self, taking on the new name of Guy — telling one of the doctors from the clinical trial who comes by his apartment that Edward is “really, really dead.”

Guy is a cutthroat Realtor with a spacious apartment who infiltrates new pools of society, auditions for the play Ingrid has written about her former neighbor (she doesn’t recognize Guy and Edward as the same man in ways that become increasingly hilarious and galling), and gets cast. That’s when a figure disrupts the new stasis of Guy’s life: Oswald, a charismatic Brit with neurofibromatosis, whose face is an echo of what Edward’s once looked like. But Oswald has none of the baggage Edward continues to heave around and is embodied with wit and charm by actor Adam Pearson, who actually has neurofibromatosis. Writer-director Aaron Schimberg spins a darkly comedic, profoundly existential, and gimlet-eyed film from this narrative setup, with Oswald eventually weaving himself intimately into Ingrid’s play, her life, and Guy’s imagined future.

When I first watched A Different Man, my mind immediately turned to The Substance. The Coralie Fargeat–directed body-horror onslaught is pure blunt-force trauma, a cocktail that is one part fairy tale, two parts hagsploitation, focusing on a woman named Elisabeth Sparkle (Demi Moore), a former Oscar-winning actress who hosted an aerobics morning show for decades before getting unceremoniously fired for the sin of turning 50. That’s when she’s introduced to an underground product that offers people a way to recapture their youth and become “simply a better version” of themselves.

Elisabeth injects herself with a neon-green liquid, only for a younger, prettier version of herself to be birthed bloodily from her back in the form of Sue (Margaret Qualley). They must switch places every seven days to maintain the balance of their dual existence; one body remains conscious, the other unconscious, spinal fluid crassly transferred from Elisabeth to Sue for stabilization. As Sue rockets into the stratosphere of fame, auditioning for and nabbing Elisabeth’s old role, the older woman watches from the sidelines as the younger one disregards their time limitations and forces Elisabeth to age into a cartoonish elder so grotesque the characterization dovetails into cruelty.

These movies do not invite neat one-to-one comparisons, but The Substance and A Different Man — released last year within a few months of each other — are two films inadvertently in conversation. They play with similar thematic terrain: doppelgängers, the body, disability, self-loathing, misguided desire, nihilism bred from consistently looking outside yourself for a definition of who you are. Both won awards when they premiered at film festivals; Stan earned the Silver Bear for Best Leading Performance at Sundance, Fargeat got the Best Screenplay award at Cannes. Both lead actors won Golden Globes for their work, giving committed performances set in hyperstylized worlds (the former existing in a fun-house, ’80s-inflected version of Hollywood inhabited by hopeless image-obsessed women; the latter in the conniving, parasitic world of New York theater).

Moore and Stan have also been nominated for Academy Awards, though Stan is being recognized as a Best Actor nominee for his far less impressive work in The Apprentice. (That Pearson wasn’t nominated in the Best Supporting Actor category is a discussion for another time.) In the public eye, The Substance is the comeback contender that could earn Moore what many perceive to be an overdue accolade. Yet it’s only A Different Man (nominated only for Best Makeup and Hairstyling, and up against The Substance in that category) that has anything meaningful to say. One of the biggest sins of this Oscar season is that critics and audiences are projecting upon Fargeat’s movie a substance it doesn’t actually have.

Where The Substance is unrelentingly direct, A Different Man is deliberately slippery. Where The Substance’s camp is too enamored with itself, causing it to trip into self-seriousness, A Different Man has genuine pitch-black humor wrung from discomfort and angst. Where The Substance is engaged in surfaces, bolstered by tremendous prosthetic work and special effects, A Different Man plunges into the murky depths of its characters, rendering the fallout of its lead character’s transformation as far more subterranean. Moore appears in mirror scenes not unlike the ones that occur in A Different Man, though in Fargeat’s the camera pores over Moore’s every feathery wrinkle, every ripple of flesh under harsh bright-white light. Let’s keep it buck; Demi Moore looks amazing at 62 years old thanks to all the privileges at her fingertips. But the camera sneers at her, creating a distancing effect that undermines the complexity of Moore’s performance. For all the film’s interest in the body, it has a remarkable lack of intimacy. The closer the camera gets to a legible face, the less you see of a soul.

Meanwhile, A Different Man’s camera treats the body’s appearance and movements as the richest way to connect. The body is still a site of horror, as the single sequence of Edward’s transformation implies. But more crucially, the body is rendered as a consistently fraught site on which identity is fomented and complicated, turning Schimberg’s film into a slyly constructed and powerfully caustic doppelgänger tale. Late in the film, Edward finds himself at a karaoke spot with Oswald. Against a backdrop of glittering red tinsel, Oswald performs a rendition of “I Wanna Get Next to You,” by Rose Royce. While everyone vibes to Oswald’s crooning, Edward’s face is masked with confusion. His eyes jut around, searching for a truth with which he can’t come to terms. In real time, through Stan’s pellucid physical performance, the audience experiences Edward coming to an understanding of the gulf of experience standing between him and Oswald. Edward has everything people have been culturally told in this country to desire: money, a social life, sex. But none of these gives him meaning or pleasure. It’s as if his own truest desires remain incomprehensible.

Meanwhile, Oswald lives a capacious life in spite of the very disorder Edward believed doomed him. Pearson plays Oswald with a light-on-his-feet charisma that becomes a stunning counterpoint to the heavy sorrow of Stan’s performance. It’s the most revelatory decision in the film, allowing Schimberg to bypass simplistic moralism about disability. The further Oswald encroaches upon Edward’s new existence, eventually swooping into the role Edward was meant to play on Ingrid’s stage and ultimately disrupting his romantic relationship with her, the more it dawns on Edward that his problem wasn’t his face but something more tricksy.

By contrast, there is no real pleasure in existing within any body in The Substance. Even when Sue, jejune and perfectly calibrated to modern beauty standards, stumbles onto her feet after tearing through Elisabeth’s back, she admires herself the way the camera does: with a leering quality, reflecting a hunger with no end. The visual language of The Substance is rendered in the machinations of gleaming advertisements meant to trade upon the fears embedded in women by a culture that argues death is preferable to aging. Fargeat adopts the dehumanizing gaze of 2000s beer advertisements or modern porn to heighten the exploitation of Sue’s dewy skin and taut figure, her eyes gliding over her own flesh, drinking herself in. Where the film sees abjection in Elisabeth’s body, it sees endless possibility in Sue’s.

But these possibilities are a closed circuit. All Sue desires is more. More youth, more beauty, more fame. That those possibilities curdle into exploitation is a result of Elisabeth’s own making. The film roots women’s problems not in the patriarchy that ushers them into single-minded desires, but in their choice to remain young — as if they really have a choice. Ads like Carl’s Jr.’s are unsubtle seductions, but what is The Substance trying to seduce its viewers into experiencing and considering otherwise? These aren’t characters but containers for derision.

Schimberg’s characterization looks outward as much as, if not more than, inward. His work here demonstrates a remarkable interest in the ways the ideas we hold of ourselves clash into the reality of other people. His direction, the script, and Reinsve’s performance in particular explore the extractive ways of artists who worm their way into the lives of others and steal meaning for material. While having sex one night in the hushed darkness of her apartment, Ingrid asks, “You have the mask? Put it on,” referring to the cast of his face taken by the clinical doctors before he was “cured” of neurofibromatosis, which he used to audition for Ingrid’s play. Edward balks, “Why?” “Just do what I tell you,” her tone harsh enough to bruise. Edward tentatively goes into another room and returns naked save for the mask entrapping his face. When they start having sex again, Ingrid erupts in laughter. “This is so fucked-up. You look ridiculous!”

Scenes such as this reveal A Different Man to be the best kind of doppelgänger story — each figure brought to life in tight performances, offering enclosed, fully realized emotional and psychic realms. Stan often wears a strained, venomous smile when around Oswald, but the only person it’s poisoning is himself. You’re constantly waiting for him to succumb. And he does. After losing the role in Ingrid’s production — which goes on to find great success with Oswald in the lead — he crashes a performance, wearing the mask of his old face. His attempt to strangle Oswald leads a large prop door hanging above the stage to fall and crush Edward’s limbs, which are henceforth contained in thick casts. Oswald and a now-pregnant Ingrid handle Edward’s care, with his anger and dejection only growing. After his in-house physical therapist makes a remark about how the hell Oswald got with Ingrid, Edward snaps, stabbing the physical therapist and killing him in a sloppy fight in the kitchen.

The Substance ends in an even more violent fashion: a parade of blood and viscera involving Elisabeth’s fully deformed body and the consequences of Sue using the substance on herself. The finale recalls Brian Yuzna’s 1989 flick Society; The Substance is nothing if not committedly referential, though it never quite synthesizes its inspirations to give us new language in the forever fraught conversations around women and aging, or even what horror can do as a genre. After all, bodies in The Substance aren’t venues for truth but obfuscation, suffering, and self-loathing. Every body in Fargeat’s film is a hall of mirrors caving in on itself. When you take a look at the shards, it’s clear they’re reflecting nothing at all.

A Different Man has a coda to the violence Edward impulsively remakes his life with. Edward, out of prison, much older and graying, runs into Oswald — or, more accurate to their dynamic, Oswald runs into him. They decide to have dinner at an upscale sushi restaurant with Ingrid by Oswald’s side. “I’ve achieved everything I’ve ever wanted. I’m ready for the next phase,” Ingrid says about her decision to retire as a famed playwright and move with Oswald to a nude commune in Canada. Oswald calls Edward by his real name, confirming that his arrest would have finally outed the true identity of Guy. “Oh, my old friend, you haven’t changed a bit,” Oswald says, as Edward’s face fills the screen, Stan’s tight smile and gaze directed at the camera. Edward is paralyzed by the realization that shedding your skin, your name, and your history isn’t transformation but a futile disavowal. Written upon the bodies of the characters in both these films is a story their respective filmmakers obsess over, but only A Different Man understands that there’s narrative potential under the skin.

[stranger-feathers]

The Byler miscommunication in Season 4, and why I find it so interesting

This is a continuation/inspired by what I said in this post, you can think of it as a preview of this.

Miscommunication plots are usually hated in fiction, and it's easy to understand why. They're often trite and uninteresting, only existing by chance and contrivances to create pointless conflict. We all have seen that scene where a character walks in or out, at the exact wrong moment, and ends up making up a completely outlandish scenario, or completely misinterprets someone's intention while we're left sighing and hoping for the end. It's annoying, everyone hates it, but we all live with it regardless. You may then ask : why do I like the miscommunication conflict used in ST4 so much if I normally hate them ?

At its core, it is a miscommunication conflict, there's no real denying it. Mike and Will are somehow both convinced the other doesn't care anymore, despite the audience knowing that this assumption doesn't make much sense. The interesting part though is why they end up thinking so. Buckle up, and let me tell you a story of why this conflict was actually very well done on the part of the writers.

1) Backstory : Mike & Will's relationship before the conflict (S2 and before)

Mike and Will are presented as a special pair from the beginning of the show, I don't think this needs to be demonstrated here (there are countless analysis that have done so better than I ever could). During Season 2, we are shown a Mike who is constantly looking out for Will, and reaching out in ways that others do not. He tries to call the Byers' house to check up on Will when he misses school, and, most importantly, he's the only one who actually goes there to find Will when calling does not work. Put a pin on that, Mike going to see Will when calling fails will come back. This motif of Mike reaching out to Will is so fundamental that it is highlighted as being the very way they became friends. They were both alone and Mike reached out : "And I just walked up to you and… I asked. I asked if you wanted to be my friend."

(he's such a sweetie pie sometimes).

Mike is the leader of the group, and it really shows in this tendency to initiate things. It's easy to realise that, early in the series (and presumably before as well), Mike makes the plans to hang out. The writers use the D&D games to showcase that fact : they happen at his house, and he is the DM. He prepares them for weeks and clearly puts efforts into them, all so his friends can have fun with him. He initiates things and expect others to answer present : that's simply how he prefers to communicate. But what does that have to do with Will ?

Will as a character is reached out to in a lot of his interactions. The plot of Season 1 is heavily focused on reaching out to Will stuck in the Upside Down, be that with Joyce's lights or with El's powers (the talkies and the void both). Here, Joyce and El are allies in communication, and El particularly so where Mike is concerned. Put a pin on those two, they'll also come back (less positively unfortunately). However, Will as a character rarely initiate interactions. Will seems to strugle with opening up if the people around him don't make an active effort to reach out, which is why we so often see Jonathan and Mike actively asking him if he's okay and initiating their scenes. That's why Mike is such a good fit for Will : he knows how to coax him out of his shell and reach out, which Will treasures immensely.

The other side of the coin then is : why does Mike treasure Will ?

Will seems to be one of the rare characters to react positively to Mike being vulnerable, and one of the rare characters Mike opens up to in the first place. After all, most of his overtures of closeness with Nancy are rebuffed, his relationship with his mother is in an awkward middle ground between apparent care and lack of good worded communication, his friendship with Lucas tends toward confrontation in early seasons... Mike apparently struggles with expressing himself and his vulnerable emotions fully. Or well, he would, if it wasn't for Will, or so the show implies.

If we take the crazy together scene as an example of their usual friendship (which is up for debate, but I usually assume it to be the case), Mike feels comfortable enough with Will to calmly express his feelings towards El and her death, and they manage to meet each other in the middle, ending the scene with the mutual declaration that they'll go crazy together. This is a question initiated by Mike : Will is simply the one answering it. However, this exchange still puts Will in a pretty restricted and cherished category for Mike : someone who answers positively to Mike's overtures of closeness and vulnerability.

Interestingly enough, Mike asserts in that scene that El would understand too : after all, she's the one who understood him in Season 1, when Will was unreachable. Sadly, we see that understanding diminish with time, leaving Mike more and more isolated : two examples that come to mind would be the "blank makes you crazy" scene (where El fails to answer Mike correctly) and the complete shutdown of his attempt to empathise about being bullied during their Season 4 fight. (This is mostly a tangent, but it fits the overall theme of this analysis so I'll let it stay here)

Will answering positively to Mike's reaching out is also the one thing Mike chooses to highlight about their dynamic during Will's possesion, proving how deeply appreciated Will's answers are : "And you said yes. You said yes."

As Mike says : "It was the best thing I've ever done". Letting himself be vulnerable with Will, and Will reacting positively, was the best thing ever for 13 year-old Mike.

Do note that I'm French and the French version is specifically "[you saying yes] was the best thing that ever happened to me", which supports my point here even better. That probably colors my perception of this scene, but the underlying idea is still there in English in my opinion.

And Will rewards Mike being vulnerable again by responding extremely positively : he starts tapping in Morse code, an answer to Mike's desperate reaching out.

Now that we've layed out the ground work for how they work at their best, let's see what happens when this dynamic falls apart.

2) The big conflict : Season 3's fallout

It's summer of 1985, and Mike spends most of his time making out with El. He seemingly stopped reaching out to Will, or at the very least, doesn't do it half as much as he used to. Will, feeling left behind, decides to be the one to reach out this time : he plans a D&D game, the same way Mike used to do. This is Will attempting to clumsily replace Mike in their usual dynamic : if Mike doesn't want to initiate things anymore, then Will will try to do it instead. He quite literally replaces Mike's role as the DM (aka the initiator and planner in D&D), but the game still happens at Mike's : this is, after all, Will's way to reach out to Mike specifically. The others are never really accused of leaving Will behind, and rightly so since they seem to have kept up with him much better.

Unfortunately for Will, that plan does not go smoothly at all. Freshly-broken-up-with Mike is not in the headspace to answer positively to Will's reaching out, and they end up fighting, presumably for the first time in a long time (or ever) if Mike's surprise is anything to go by. Mike digs his grave more and more before realising that he truly fucked up, and decides to try to fix things by, you guessed it, reaching out to Will. He bikes to Will's house under the pouring rain, profusely apologises (not that Will actually hears it, but the intent is there), and keeps looking for Will until he finally finds him at Castle Byers. Unfortunately for Mike, this is too little too late : we never get to see Will's answer, nor do we know what Mike did to apologise once he found him. The conflict is slipped under the rug rather than resolved (as Lucas' discussion with Will in the next episode highlights). What Will learns from this interaction is that reaching out to Mike when Mike fails to do so isn't a solution : it simply seems to make things even worse.

Fast forward to the end of the season, and Will uses D&D to get this point across : "I'll just use yours when I come back. I mean, if we still wanna play." Whatever happens next, Will leaves it to Mike to reach out.

Mike reaches out to Will one last timen before he leaves : "What if you want to join another party ?" And Will answers the exact thing Mike wanted to hear : "Not possible." Both of them end up seemingly on the same page : back to their usual dynamic, smiling brightly at each other with an unsaid promise that things won't change. Unfortunately, things do change, and not for the better.

3) Post-conflict : THE miscommunication (Season 4)

It's March of 1986, and Mike is on a plane to California. We know from the first episode that Mike and El sent each other letters, but we have no information on the communication between Will and Mike. Then comes their first meeting on screen and it is more than awkward.

Will is prepared for a big hug, yet Mike is keeping his distance for unknown reasons. It's obvious something happened on Mike's side between their last conversation and this, but what it exactly is is left up to our imagination for now.

The start of an answer is given in their fight at Rink-O-Mania : "[Mike] called maybe a couple of times [...] meanwhile [El] has like a book of letters from [him]". Whatever happened on Mike's side isn't a one time thing, but a continuous issue in communication between them. Mike seemingly doesn't want to reach out to Will anymore, leaving Will hurt and feeling abandoned by one of his favourite persons. (Jonathan's behaviour in California also does not help remedy that fact, since he has never been as distant from Will as he is this season)

However, a few episodes later, we are given a very strange piece of information by Dustin : "Joyce has this telemarketer job, she's always on the phone. Mike won't stop whining about it." Now why would Mike whine about the phone, if he barely even called Will ? It's not like Mike was calling El, we established both at the end of Season 3 and at the start of Season 4 that they communicate by letters (as Will confirms) and talkies. A plausible conclusion for those two pieces of information is then that Mike did reach out to Will more than Will thought, but just couldn't get through. (this is the conclusion I use in this analysis, even if it has not been confirmed to be the case)

But wait, remember that pin about what Mike does when phone calls don't work to reach Will ? He goes directly to his house. A shame that the Byers moved to the other side of the country then, wouldn't you say ? Mike is therefore left to stew in his hurt feelings, convinced that Will doesn't want to answer like he used to. With that, Mike loses one of the rare persons that he can be fully honest to (and as we've established, El's understanding of Mike is also looking worse and worse as time passes).

The move is an obstacle to the very premise of their communication, and that's what makes it a great conflict. Will feels like Mike doesn't want to reach out anymore, and Mike feels like Will doesn't want to answer. This isn't a conflict that exists in spite of the characters, but because of them.

Speaking of external obstacles to communication, remember that pin we put on Joyce and El being allies in communication ? Well, it's certainly not the case anymore. Here, Joyce is the obstacle that prevents Will from answering Mike's calls. And El is the obstacle that prevents Mike from reaching out by letters. As he puts it himself, "[El] has a book of letters from [him] because she's [his] girlfriend". And Will, who obviously isn't Mike's girlfriend, doesn't need letters.

And with those informations, we can now reconstruct what happened on Mike's first day in California.

Mike is feeling out of touch with Will ("I feel like I lost you") and is therefore awkward as hell. This makes Will think Mike doesn't want to talk to him anymore ("you're not interested in anything I have to say"), which means Will doesn't answer the way Mike wants ("you were rolling your eyes, you were moping, you were barely talking"), which leads to their fight. That whole day at its core is Mike failling to initiate correctly, which makes Will freak out and answer incorrectly : this is them not being on the same wavelength anymore, and a clear indication that their usual dynamic has been deeply disturbed by the last few months (or year, because as Joyce says, we're all time travelers, but especially if you're gay pining for your best friend).

Another very interesting detail to me is the implication that, while Will clearly still cares about Mike, wanting a big hug at the airport, we hear very little about Will's own attempts at reaching out. Mike points out the same thing when they fight : "Well maybe [Will] should've reached out more. Why am I the bad guy ?". And he isn't wrong per se. Will could/should have reached out more. But given their previous conflict in Season 3, and their history of communication before that, Will didn't feel comfortable reaching out. He tried last summer, and it ended up blowing up in his face : once bitten, twice shy. He's waiting for Mike to make the first move, even if that means not communicating at all. Will won't let himself ask more of Mike than Mike is willing to give him, or so he tries to convince himself as a deeply ashamed gay teen in the 80s (he does still get pissy about being the third wheel, which is understandable). It's a very juicy and dramatic series of events, but it still manages to feel very organic to me, and deeply in character. Will is more than understandable, despite being somewhat in the wrong and unknowingly self-sabotaging. Another interesting part is that Will himself does seem to come to the conclusion that he wasn't being entirely reasonable. When Mike comes to apologise, Will attempts an apology as well (quickly shut down by Mike though), because Mike's words made him recontectualise the situation.

In that same apology, they manage to make the first step towards fixing their relationship. Now that the situation allows it, they go back to the exact dynamic that worked out so well for them before : Mike initiates and seeks Will out with an overture of friendship, and Will answers gratefully (even grabbing his painting, the very proof of his love and understanding of Mike).

Later down the line, Will covertly apologises for not reaching out more : "if [I] was mean to you, or if [I] seemed like [I] was pushing you away, it's probably because [I'm] scared of losing you". Since this comes from his speech about the painting, Will's name isn't on those words, but it's still progress for Will to admit and word it aloud, even if it's only to himself.

Besides, feelings don't always need to be said (as they put it themselves "I didn't say it." "You didn't have to"). The painting itself is proof enough for Mike that Will thought about him despite the distance. Mike really needed to know that, more than he needed an apology. Will finds the right answer to reasure Mike in the van scene, and they truly fix their friendship there (for now at least, since Mike has yet to realise Will broke their other rule of communication : "friends don't lie").

This plot is very dear to my heart because both of them have fucked up and hurt each other (and themselves) without meaning to. They acted out of carefully built familiarity with the other's behaviour (but also informed by their unresolved fight) even when the situation itself didn't allow their usual communication to work. That's why it blows up in their face, leading to the Rink-O-Mania fight. But this deep familiarity is also why they're so quick to build their relationship back up, seemingly stronger than ever. This is miscommunication done right folks, take notes.

[plasticflowersinahistorycemetery]

please diva stop starting things and never finishing, i'm dying re reading all over your fics and this sounds like a hate message but actually it is, i hate u! finish all ur fics now so i can sleep in peace at night i can't this feels like an addiction! i open ur page and hope that u posted but u posted something new THAT U NOT GOING TO FINISH we are in a toxic relationship, im sorry if u always give and i always take but i can't i try to find another writer that it's better than u but not of them have what u have but they finish everything and u write masterpieces but let me wanting more I CANT DEAL every time u post a new fic i just know u not going to finish it so i read with a hole in my heart

okay i think this was satire (i hope??) but waking up to it still kinda stung ngl 💀

just for the record, bestie: i do finish most of my series! the only open ones right now are malevolence and eyes too close to let me, and even those are in-progress, not abandoned, i swear. inviolable and don’t lie to me were completed—i just got inspired to maybe add a final part to them later. the colour!/lustre! series is a little more spontaneous, but that’s the nature of it.

i’ve been quiet lately because i’ve been slipping back into depression after a two-month stint of pure mania, where writing felt like a full-time job (which was amazing but also, uh, definitely not sustainable). so if it feels like i’m starting and not finishing—i promise it’s not neglect, it’s just me trying to recalibrate and not burn out. <3

i love that people care about the stuff i write (i love that you care about the stuff i write!!!) this much, but i also need space to take care of myself between posts. pls know i’m still here, still writing, still planning to finish things—just a little slower than before.

also!! the new series i just started—it’s a cruel summer—is something i’m genuinely obsessed with. it’s made me feel excited and motivated to write again, and i will be finishing it as soon as i can. i’m already deep in it and loving every second. so pls don’t worry—this one’s not going anywhere.

i love you guys so much. really. i’m sorry if it ever feels like i’m letting you down—that’s never my intention. thank you for caring, even when the delivery is unhinged lmao. <3

edit: i just need to add that i do also have a job that i have to work on behind the scenes, as well as a 4 year old son i'm raising. so this blog is kinda, my safe space... which means i am already spending all of my free time pumping out fanfic.

[thatnonameuser]

Hi, glad to see you posted this part, I really liked it. You did a great job, you wrote very interestingly and most importantly many things that satisfied my hunger for reading. But I have questions.1. How is it that humans have not ended yet? It's just that if this continues, everyone will die out.2. Will the parents of the students he killed kill Crowley for not keeping an eye on him. And will the headmaster be punished for this?Personal questions:How do you feel after publishing?At what moments were you strong for stupidity and why?Did you like the story that you were able to write?And I have an idea. If in this world there is a curse that is cast on the yandere: For example, a curse that does not allow the yandere to remember his beloved and he constantly searches for her, but cannot find her. And he cannot form a connection with another, because he is tormented by visions and a wall of a couple with whom he cannot meet. Thanks again for the head. Google translator.

I’m glad you like it! Now for the questions.

I don’t think it would. With the whole ‘you have one true love that will make you whole’ thing, it doesn’t mean that people just won’t try to seek companionship from others because they’re waiting for their darling. Even if someone doesn’t have a darling, the whole within them can be partially filled by having relationships with other people. Which can result in them having kids with other people, even when they don’t have their darling. Though it’s just slapping a bandage on a bullet wound, it’s still something that happens. 

Not everyone will one day find their darlings, never finding them and death are a good reason for some darlings to never meet their yanderes. But when love is needed by the desperate, they’ll do anything to have it. And the products of the substitute love will eventually be conceived.

2. This is kind of inspired by @deceitful-darlings evil au. 

Once again, I don’t think so. Sage Island allows for most darling capture/ rival disposal methods to be legalized to prevent underhanded tactics from turning the island into a warzone. Whether you attend NRC or RSA, you get the perks of lax laws should you meet your darling there.So essentially, by agreeing to attend you’re agreeing to risk your life, but usually there’s minimal issues. If you’re willing to kill someone on the isle to get what you want, you also better be willing to risk that yourself. 

Sure, some people might want revenge, but yanderes work on a no-snitching policy. Without any witnesses, you have no idea whether or not they died in a tragic accident, or from murder. Besides, if there’s nobody, how can you tell whether they were killed or just vanished?

3. Ok, I’m gonna be  honest, I actually wait to see whether you guys like it or not. 😅 For the last chapter, I was relieved that it was over after three or so months of a lot of writing, burn out and writer’s block. But in general, I am someone that craves validation and compliments for their work so about an hour after posting, I go ‘I hope they like it’. 

It doesn’t matter if you don't, that's just how I feel especially considering how fast this kind of started.

Despite the fact that I do enjoy writing, even I have to stop and admit, ‘Yeah, that was a little cringe’. I’m not sure if you guys see it, but I think there’s a difference from when you’re reading a scene and writing it. Scenes that feel like they flow easily, actually require me to get up, stall for 30 mins, and then sit down to write it again, only to just skip to the next scene so I can avoid it. But hey, I get there in the end.

And I do like it, I really have a lot of ideas for it and I can’t wait to get to those ideas. It’s just that sometimes getting from point A to B is like climbing Mt.Everest. 

Now for your idea, I have to say the thought of a curse made to make them forget their darling forever is absolute torture to a yandere. Making them forget their darling completely tears whatever feeling of wholeness and life that they got, and replaces it back with that desperate agony. 

If they’ve been forced to completely forget them, then they’ll likely spend the rest of their lives trying to find their darlings again, but even if their darling is right in front of them they can’t feel the pull in their hearts. The yandere will likely go the way of serial yandere, attaching to whoever gives them the slight pull of their original darling desperate to feel that joy again.

That curse might be a freeing thing for darlings, because being completely forgotten from their yanderes minds is an utter blessing. With that curse, they can be freed if they desire to escape as their yandere can’t remember them being ‘the one’. 

[writersbloxx]

Any tips for someone who completly stuck in writeblock with no actual reason? I wasn't writing in years but i can't let it go either.

Hi @afusiek!

Writers block can be really tough and as someone who has struggled with it off and on, I'd love to help with some tips!

I have a similar post here about how to enjoy writing/staying motivated, but I'd like to dive deeper into dealing with writers block, as I've seen a lot of people ask about this.

Dealing With Writers Block

Finding inspiration is key. Diving into other creative works is a great way to do this. Read any books or fics you love, watch a great movie, listen to a podcast even. And if you encounter something you don't like, write what you would've done differently.

Change your environment. A new space offers a new perspective.

Literally force yourself to write. It doesn't have to be for a novel, but a way to get creative juices flowing again is by starting small and freewriting. Set a ten minute timer and write about your day, describe the room you're in, or even a recent dream you've had like its a story. Put your phone and all other distractions away and just write, even if it isn't perfect. If you create a routine, soon you can set this timer for thirty minutes or an hour and start working on a story.

Poetry. A way I overcame writers block was through free verse poetry because this can literally be anything, through any format, and with any length. Write down whatever comes to mind, whether it rhymes or not and whether it makes sense or not.

Brainstorm. If you want to craft a story, get a piece of paper, set a timer and write down every idea you can come up with, whether you find it interesting or not, and see where one of them can take you.

Lower your expectations- no first draft is ready to be published. A bad paragraph is more to work with than a blank page.

People watch. Its a weird suggestion, I know, but look out the window, or sit outside and first describe what you see, then build a story around it. Simply writing down what you are seeing gives you a concrete jumping off point.

Talk to someone, take regular breaks when writing, avoid comparison, try new methods/genres, and revisit old works

Hope this helped and happy writing!

[healmydesires]

forever in your eyes (j.m)

pairing: joel miller x fem!reader

summary: It wasn’t like you hadn’t dated before. You had been on plenty of dates since you’ve been in Jackson, too many actually, you’ve even been in a semi serious relationship, but unfortunately, nobody had really charmed their way into your heart like they were supposed to. You’ve never been in love, always thought that falling in love wasn’t meant for you. Until one day, you meet a certain grumpy man.

genre: fluff + romance + angst + smut (18+ mdni)

word count: 15k+

tags/warnings: age gap (reader is 27, joel is in his early 50’s), takes place post s1, very minimal use of y/n, soft!joel tbh, kinda shy!reader… at least with joel, flirty joel, joel deserves to be loved, assumed unrequited love from both sides, reader described as shorter than joel, mutual pining, inexperienced/virgin!reader, unprotected sex, piv sex, loss of virginity, soft!dom joel, sub!reader, vaginal fingering, oral (f!receiving), joel has high key an oral fixation, kinda pleasure!dom?, multiple orgasms, creampie, some breeding kink, overstimulation, size kink, joel is huge… literally packing oof, lots of pet names (darlin, sweetheart, angel, baby girl, etc.), reader has a sister (named emilie, so if that’s your name I’m so sorry 😭😭😭 you can imagine another name then 🥺. I didn’t want it to be y/s/n because that would be so annoying to write imo).

a/n: this is my first joel fic. this is kinda more soft tbh… might be a bit oc? I don’t know but I love it. It’s pretty self indulgent !!! I’ve always loved writing but I got a lot discouraged in the past, giving up on it. I was inspired to start writing again by some of my favourite writers @joelmama and @joelscruff. also english is like my third language so please be nice/gentle with me. do not give me unsolicited advice pls <3 anyways! I hope you enjoy it 🥺

please don’t forget to interact, reblog or let me know if you read/loved it! <3 thank you ily 🥺

AO3 ● playlist

You knew you had feelings for Joel Miller. You’ve always liked and cared for him, even when you first met.

You still remember the day you met him. Clear as day.

It was such a warm and beautiful day, like a year and a half ago. The sun was beaming down on you as you were reading a book that you found on one of your trips outside Jackson — on your front porch of your house. The blowing mid-summer wind was hitting your face, cooling, as if to apologise for the almost unbearable heat that Jackson was currently subjected to. The soft breeze was caressing your skin and hair making the heat a lot more bearable as you enjoyed the day.

You were so immersed in your book that you didn’t hear the people approaching you until there was a shadow descending over the pages of your book. Someone was standing in front of you, their body blocking the sun.

“Yes?” You said with a smile without looking up from your book.

“I would like to introduce you to some people.”

The voice belonged to Tommy. Tommy Miller.

Your eyes widened at that, and you looked up from your book and saw that there were two other people behind Tommy looking down at you.

“I’m sorry,” you said before you cleared your throat, giving them a sheepish smile before standing from your lounger, shielding your eyes from the sun to get a better look at the strangers in front of you.

A teenager gave you a polite smile as she introduced herself. As you gave her your name in return you finally noticed the man next to her, gave you a curt nod when you locked eyes with him. He had a broad build, dark eyes and brown peppered hair. You assumed he was around the age of fifty and you couldn’t help but find him incredibly handsome.

“This is Ellie and my brother,” Tommy smiled as he gestured to both people next to him. “They’re your new neighbours.”

You knew Tommy had an older brother but you didn't know what you had been expecting. Maybe someone less handsome. As you continued to take him in you realised you were staring. You felt your body becoming more warm as you felt him stare back at you.

“How’s it going? I’m Y/N.” You gave him a small smile as you stepped forward to extend a hand out to the man.

"Hello," he repeated your name with a deep southern accent, which did nothing to calm your racing heart. You don’t think you’ve ever heard a voice that attractive in your entire life and it made heat flood to your cheeks. His hard expression melted into a more soft one as he took your hand in his. "I’m Joel, how’s your bench going?”

Your eyes widened at his words, “My bench? How did you—”

“We saw you through the living room window earlier this morning or more like Joel did.” Ellie, the teenager said with a huge grin on her face.

“Ellie.” He warned under his breath. His ears turned red and the two of them began to argue in hushed whispers, but your mind was elsewhere as panic began to set in.

Oh my god. He noticed me?

You grew embarrassed as you realised that he saw you struggle to fix that old bench on your porch. You’re painfully aware of how clumsy you are and that you’re not handy at all but you don’t like to ask other people for help. It was not because of your pride or any of that sort, you’d hate to burden someone else with your issues, so you mostly keep trying to fix things yourself.

"Oh yeah..." You said, looking back towards the bench that has been the bane of your existence these past few days. Your words effectively pulled Joel and Ellie out of their current argument. "It's a bit broken and needs some fixing."

Joel just looked at you for a moment before speaking up again. “You know, if you want, I could come check it out?”

You felt your cheeks heat up again at his offer and you glanced over at Tommy. “Uhm…”

“We both used to be contractors back in the day, so if you ever need anything repaired or something built, we are your people. Well… Joel specifically.” Tommy laughed.

“Oh, that’s cool. I think I’m good for now though, I don’t need any help but thanks for offering.” You declined politely with a small smile. You knew you could use their or his help with repairing the bench, but you didn’t want to burden anyone. And the older brother was already making you feel flustered, you didn’t want to make a fool out of yourself when you just met.

“Alright, you know where to find me if you change your mind.” He gave you a small but genuine smile before the three of them walked away from you.

As they walked away, you released a breath you didn't realise you were holding. The hammering of your heart only registering as the distance grew between you. You felt a bit of disappointment once they were gone, a sense of longing setting in your heart as you thought about the tall and older man that you know you’ll grow to care for.

—

“God damn it. Work with me please.” You grumbled as you tried to fix one of the loose wooden planks of the bench. Sweat was dripping down your forehead as you concentrated on your task at hand. You were on the floor, crouched underneath the bench you were so desperately trying to repair. You’ve been trying to put it off for a couple of weeks now but you knew you couldn’t keep doing that. You knew you should ask someone for help but you didn’t want to give up just yet. Curse words wouldn’t stop leaving your mouth as you struggled. “Fuck.”

“I didn’t take you as a girl that could curse like a sailor.” A low and deep but still soft voice resounds behind you.

“Ah shit!” you gasped as you heard the voice behind you. You’d smacked your head on the edge of the bench when you’d startled at the sudden intrusion. You recognised that voice. Joel Miller. The man that’s been consuming your thoughts for weeks now. You hissed as you rubbed at the already sore spot and landed on your butt as you looked up at him.

The bemused expression morphed into one of concern as he crouched down to your level. “Are you okay?” He replaced your hand with his own, making sure there was no visible injury.

His touch made your body turn hot as he continued to study you.

“Yeah I-I’m fine. Although, I do think it will be a nice bump later.” You chuckled. “You shouldn’t sneak up on me like that, it’s not good for my heart.”

“And your head,” he said as a grin replaced the one of concern. You were glad to be sitting because that smile has been making you weak in the knees lately. Ever since you’ve been introduced you’ve been talking and hanging out here and there, finding out that the man can smile sometimes. You’re not entirely sure why he felt so at ease around you but you were truly grateful that he was spending time with you. (It might be for the fact that Ellie grew fond of you and loved to ask you a million questions whenever she was around.) He had the prettiest smile you’d ever seen and it lit up his whole face, you truly wish he would smile more. Subconsciously you started biting your lip as you admired him.

“Are you sure you don’t need any help?” He questioned with a chuckle as he looked at the state of the bench next to you.

Your face grew warm as you moved to focus your gaze on your hands. “I’m fine.” You whisper softly as you continue to look at your hands in your lap.

You heard him sigh before he took your chin gently in his hand to tilt your head back, making you look into his eyes.

“You know it’s okay to ask for help sometimes?” He said as he studied you intently. It was hard to maintain his eye contact, your face heating up more under his intense gaze and because of the close proximity of both of your faces.

His brown eyes stared into yours and you couldn’t help but find them the most beautiful eyes you’ve ever looked at. Your eyes flitted all over his face, not being able to stay in one place. You couldn’t get over how handsome he was. His head tilted to the side and he gave you a questionable look. You felt embarrassed as you realised you hadn’t replied to him yet.

“Sorry,” you bit your lip nervously as warmth spread even more to your cheeks. Your eyes moved away from his face to a spot behind him as you stared into the distance. “I just don’t want to burden you.” Your voice sounded so small and squeaky that you cringed internally. Embarrassed, you quickly drop your gaze to your lap.

“Oh, Darlin’,” he said gently, his expression turning more soft. “Sweetheart, you could never be a burden.”

“I’m sorry,” you bit the inside of your cheek as you tried to keep yourself from getting emotional. “I didn’t mean to… I just— I just always feel like it’s best I do everything myself all the time because I don’t want to annoy anyone with my problems.”

You’ve always been someone to wear your heart on your sleeve. You’re a very sensitive person and very in tune with your emotions most of the time. People saw you as a very caring and helpful person but when it came to your own things you mostly tended to yourself. You’re aware that most people aren’t like you, at least not anymore ever since the outbreak happened, but you didn’t care. There’s strength in sensitivity.

“You could never annoy me,” Joel frowned. “especially not when it comes to you struggling to do something on your own.”

You weren’t used to people caring for you the way you cared for others. So when Joel reassured you or took the time to hang out with you, you couldn’t help but feel appreciated.

His reassuring words gradually eased your anxiety. You let out a long sigh before looking up at him again. “O-okay, I-I think… I might need your help.” You stutter, hoping he didn’t catch it but he smiled at you warmly instead.

Shit, he’s so pretty. Come on, forget it. He could never have feelings for you.

“Good. Because I’d love to help.” He winked at you with a crooked smile.

Warmth flooded your body as you stared at him, you couldn’t help but feel flustered around him. You’re certain that your heart is running two hundred miles per hour, because it felt like it was about to burst out of your chest.

It’s just a silly crush. You told yourself.

—

Turns out, Joel Miller, your hot new neighbour, could be very handy.

He was able to fix the bench you've been fighting with for weeks in less than an hour. You were truly impressed.

As he brought back the supplies he used to repair the bench back inside to your supply closet, you couldn’t help but want him to stay a little longer. Besides, you wanted to thank him for being so helpful. You’re relieved and so grateful that the ‘demon bench’, as you had called it, was now fixed

“Thank you for helping me out, Joel. It means a lot to me.” You said as you smiled up at him as you both walked towards your front door.

“Oh darlin’ it’s no problem. I loved helping you.” He said with a grin. He moved closer, making your breath hitch which made him smile even more. “You can ask me anything. Whenever you need.” He winked and you felt your insides melt at his words and his actions.

“I-I want to be able to thank you. Give something in return for your help.” You smiled shyly at him.

“You don’t have to do anything for me sweet—”

“Please, let me make you dinner. It’s the least I can do after what you did for me.” You cut him off as you looked up at him with wide eyes. “Ellie is welcome too!” You added nervously when he took a bit longer to reply.

He snorts softly at your words before clearing his throat. “Ellie isn't in tonight,” he says as he avoids your gaze for a few seconds “she’s at this girl’s place she hangs out with a lot. So it’s just me.”

“Oh that’s okay! I’m sure she can join us next time.” You flashed him a bright smile. “But, I’d love to make dinner for you tonight… if that’s okay?” You asked with pleading eyes.

He chuckled fondly at your expression as he shook his head with amusement. “Of course. I’d love that.”

You felt like you were going to burst out of excitement. Internally you’re screaming, kicking with your legs like a schoolgirl thinking about her crush. You really loved spending time with the man.

Joel followed you back inside as you quickly disappeared down the hall and into the dining room that’s connected to your kitchen. You saw him admire the walls of your dining room from your peripheral view as you’re rummaging in one of the cupboards of your kitchen for a cutting board. Most of the paintings were either more abstract gradient paintings or heavily inspired by the Impressionism art movement.

“You have lots of paintings. They are very pretty.”

“Thank you. Some of them are made by me or my sister.” You smiled genuinely as you made your way back to him.

“Really?” He asked curiously.

Your smile turned timid as you looked up at him, Joel's inquisitive look making you even more shy.

“Yeah… we both love art. Especially making our own sometimes.” You cleared your throat with another bashful smile, before looking down at your shoes.

“Is your sister…?”

“Is she alive? Yes” you finished his question. “She lives here in Jackson with her boyfriend actually.”

“That’s nice.”

“Yeah. I’m truly grateful to have her in my life.” You told him. “She’s my best friend.”

“That’s beautiful” he nods at you as a small smile graces his features. You can’t help but feel yourself get more warm at his soft expressions. He’s so beautiful. “How did you two find your way to Jackson?”

“It’s a long story. I don’t think I’ve ever told you this but, originally my sister and I weren't from here… the USA I mean.” You told him.

Joel’s eyes widened at your words. You giggled at his expression.

“We are originally from Europe, I was still very young when the outbreak happened. I was around? Seven years old. We were in San Francisco when it happened and my sister and I haven’t really moved from that place for a long time ever since everything went down.” You said as you walked back to the kitchen.

“Christ. That’s very young.” He said, he looked shocked as you told him as much as you wanted him to know.

“Yeah but Emilie was four when it happened.” You said as you bit your lip.

“It must be hard being trapped in a foreign country. Especially when you’re a child.”

“Yeah… My parents eventually died when I turned eighteen. So it was just Emilie and I for a long time. One day a couple of years ago she went outside the San Francisco QZ and I hadn’t heard from her for a long while. I just… I had to look for her, she’s my sister, she means everything to me. I would literally travel through this whole country just to find her. I always felt like I needed to protect her. I’ve always been very overprotective of her, just like I know she is with me.” You chuckled as you shook your head with amusement at your previous words.

“Overprotective huh?” He said as he flashed you a grin as he came to lean against a wall close to you.

“Yeah,” you giggled. “I am the big sister but sometimes it does feel like she’s more overprotective than I am.”

“Your sister seems very nice. I do understand her being overprotective though.” He smiled as he leaned closer to you.

“Oh really?” You bit your lip as you continued to prepare everything for dinner.

“Yeah, I mean you’re a precious little thing so I do understand her overprotectiveness.” He muttered.

Heat rose up in your face at his words. You couldn’t look up at him, feeling too flustered to look him in the eye. Your heart felt like it was about to burst out of your chest as you kept repeating his words in your head. He thought you were precious.

Was that flirting? No. He would never flirt with you.

“Y-you think so?” You question shyly, still not meeting his gaze.

“Uhuhm” He hummed softly, “I don’t only think that, it is so. You’re very precious.”

“O-oh.” You were at loss for words.

Joel chuckled, probably because of your flustered state, before he noticed you struggled with the ingredients. “Let me help you sweetheart.”

“No, it’s okay.” You said. But as most people knew, Joel was a stubborn man.

“Darlin,” he looked at you pointedly, letting you know that you wouldn’t be able to stop him from giving you a hand.

“I’m making dinner for you, to thank you. You shouldn’t be helping me.” You huffed as you crossed your arms in front of your chest. You’re aware you probably look like a child but you can’t help it. Dinner was supposed to be made by you, and only you.

“Oh angel, being in your presence is rewarding enough for me.” He says as he leans closer to your ear.

Butterflies erupted in your stomach at his words. The sound of his deep voice close to your ear, and the feeling of his breath against your skin, made you fight the urge to shiver.

Joel smiled playfully, eyes looked down and locked with yours for a couple of seconds. The close proximity made your skin set on fire. He could lean down a bit more and then his lips would be on yours. You slowly pulled back, clearing your throat while you did.

“A-a-anyways.” You stuttered. You hated stuttering, you never really stuttered but somehow this man could turn you into a flustered, stuttering mess. His smile widened at your state which made you want to run and hide. You decided to change the subject. “I had to go through some states to find her and eventually I found her. Then we travelled together through Wyoming and then some people from Jackson surrounded us and that’s how we got here. That was almost a year ago.”

“So… You are pretty new here?”

“Yep.” You said as you smiled at him.

It was silent for a moment as both of you were preparing everything for dinner. Until your eyes widened at the realisation that you hadn’t offered him anything to drink yet.

“Oh shit, sorry. I can’t believe that I haven’t offered you something to drink yet.” You said as you abandoned your current task, running towards another supply closet, looking for something good for the both of you. “Give me a second.”

You could hear Joel chuckle, knowing he was probably looking at you with an amused expression on his face. You were looking for a specific bottle of red wine, your favourite, the ones you always keep for special occasions. Once you found it you couldn’t help but squeal excitedly. “Aha! Here it is!” You smiled triumphantly as you held it in your hands.

You were grinning widely as you came back into the kitchen. “I’ve got some red wine, I hope that’s okay.” You said as you placed down the bottle on the kitchen counter.

“More than okay.” Joel smiled.

You beamed up at him and opened one of the cabinets, you stood on the tip of your toes as you struggled to reach for some wine glasses.

“Fuck,” you muttered to yourself. “Why did I put those glasses so high and so far in the back?”

“Let me,” he chuckled softly as he stepped behind you, his body pressing softly against yours. Your breath hitched at the action and warmth spread all over your body. You mentally cursed yourself as you felt a heat pool between your legs. Different kinds of scenarios started going through your head as you felt his body pressed against yours. You wished his arms were wrapped around you as he stood behind you. But one of his arms extended over yours as he reached for two glasses easily. “Here they are.” He whispered as he leant down to whisper close to your ear.

You truly felt as if you caught a fever. He’s so close and so big. As his chest brushed against your back you felt as if your brain short circuited for a second. He was so broad and tall while you were so much smaller than him, he could quite literally swallow you whole with his frame.

You felt his body slowly retreat from yours, giving you the possibility to collect your thoughts again.

“Show off,” you grumbled teasingly, warmth still filling your chest and face.

Joel snorted, shaking his head amused. “You’re just tiny.”

You gasped dramatically, turned around and feigned offence at his words. “Am not!”

“Sure you aren’t.” He teased, a grin forming on his face.

You giggled at that, “you’re just awfully tall.”

“Right.” He nodded along to your words, tried to look as serious as he could, he tried to stifle a grin and you could see right through him.

“I am right.” You pouted.

“So am I.” He retorted playfully, a loud laugh left his lips as you continued to pout, before he took a step closer to you.

Your cheeks warmed, but you tried to hide your embarrassment by crossing your arms and sticking your chin up in the air. Huffing you turned around, “get back to work Mr. Miller.”

“Yes ma’am” he said in mock seriousness as he went back to making dinner with you.

“You’re so silly,” you giggled as you teasingly bumped your shoulder against his arm. You went to open the bottle of wine before pouring some of the liquid in both glasses. Once the glasses were filled you held a glass out to him.

“Only with you darlin’,” he gave you a wink before he took the glass from your hand. Flushed, you tried to ignore the way your heart skipped in your chest when his fingers brushed against yours.

This man is going to be the death of me.

—

Dinner was very nice. There was lots of banter, lots of words exchanged from Joel that felt awfully like flirting but still you tried to push those thoughts away. He wouldn’t flirt with you. You’re pretty certain of it. The tension sometimes was killing you though. You think it was sexual tension but then again that would be impossible because he wasn’t flirting with you.

But you also noticed that the more you hung out with Joel the more relaxed he was around you. You loved that for him. Underneath all that rough exterior he has so much depth to him. He’s very caring, protective, helpful, funny, and so intelligent. He’s so sweet to you too, you didn’t know why. But all you knew is that you care for him so much. You felt comfortable around him too, safe. You couldn’t help but associate him with warmth, safety. Home. He felt like home to you.

Empty plates were still on the table and for a while you were enjoying the comfortable silence between you two. Eventually you broke that silence.

“The wine is so good.” You whispered as you looked at your wine glass then brought your gaze softly to the man sitting across from you. He seemed like he was lost in his thoughts, staring off in the distance as he looked through the window outside towards your garden.

He brought his gaze back to you as he heard your voice, he cocked his head to the side. “Hmmm what did you say sweetheart?”

“It’s good right?” You ask as you motion with your head to the drink in your hand.

“You’re not wrong. It’s very good.” He nods with a soft smile.

“It’s my favourite,” you flashed him a grin before you took a generous sip of your wine, the liquid burning down your throat.

“Oh really?” He questioned with a curious smile.

“Yeah, I keep them for special occasions.” You said as you bit your lip, feeling bashful.

“Is that so?” Joel’s smile turned into a full smirk as he looked straight into your eyes. “I am assuming this is a special occasion then?”

You hummed your agreement, shrugging your shoulders with faux nonchalance as you continued to bite your lip. Warmth was overwhelming you. Not only because of the alcohol you consumed but that man always made you heat up.

“I’ll consider that as a compliment.” He said as he leaned back in his chair.

Excitement bubbled inside you. Feeling bold, you winked at him. “As you should.”

He was visibly surprised, Joel didn't expect you to finally flirt back. You giggled at his reaction, pleased to see that you could surprise him.

You stood up from your seat with a smile as you took the empty plates from the table, bringing them to the sink.

As you’re about to turn the faucet on you heard him stand up from his chair. He muttered your name, his voice coming out a lot deeper than usual. Fighting back a shiver you slowly turned around to look at him. Your eyes were wide with curiosity and your heart was pounding so hard you could barely hear over the sound of blood rushing in your ears. He looked at you, a desperate expression on his face.

“Darlin’,” he said, his voice hoarse as his dark eyes continued to hold your gaze. For the first time of the night you couldn’t fight back the shiver from going down your spine. Heat flooded your body, your cheeks burning, the warmest you’ve ever felt them.

Joel must have noticed the way your body was reacting to his voice, as he dragged a low shuddering breath at the sight of you.

“Joel?” Your breath turned heavier as you waited for him to say or do something. Your wide pleading eyes stared into his hungry eyes. He continued to stand there just looking at you, his chest moved quicker as he breathed more heavily. Your heart pounded so fast and hard that you were worried that he could hear it from across the room.

Your eyebrows pulled together as you stared at him, your eyes shining with curiosity. You waited with bated breath for Joel to say what he was meant to tell you. He looked at you desperately before he moved from his spot, striding towards you but before he could reach you, someone barged through the door of your home with a loud bang.

“Hey! I knew I’d find you here.” Ellie yelled without looking at both of you. Once her eyes settled on both Joel and you her mouth fell open. “What’s happening?”

You were breathing heavily as you looked at Joel. Eventually you brought your gaze to the teen. “N-nothing, Ellie bean.” You stuttered out quickly, moving away from the kitchen towards the younger girl. “We just had dinner.”

Her eyes widened, “without me?”

Your face flushed with embarrassment before you turned around to look at Joel. “I thought she was at—”

“I’m assuming you told her I wasn’t home tonight, right?” Ellie cut you off, raising one of her eyebrows as she looked at him.

Wait what? Did he want to be alone with me?

Joel swallowed and then avoided both Ellie and your gazes. “Alright.” She snorted.

“I think it's better if we go home.” Joel finally spoke up, before walking towards Ellie. You feel yourself deflate at his words and you can’t help but feel a bit disappointed.

“O-okay.” You whispered, looking down as you entwined both of your hands nervously.

Ellie looked at you with sympathy before glaring up at Joel. “You’re so stupid.” She grumbled under her breath as she gave him a shove as she made her way to the front door.

“Ellie,” he warned her.

“You are.” She sneered.

Joel sighed deeply as he pinched the bridge of his nose. He dropped his hand before looking at you. “Thank you for dinner,” he said with a small but grateful smile.

“Thank you for fixing my bench on the front porch,” you gave him a faint smile. “I enjoyed spending time with you.” You said as you looked away timidly.

“Sweetheart, you don’t have to thank me.”

You bit your lip as you avoided his gaze. He said your name softly before he held your chin gently with one of his hands, tilting your head towards his face which made your eyes lock with his own.

“I always enjoy spending time with you.” Warmth rose to your face at his words. He gave you a warm smile before releasing your chin.

You walked with him towards your front door, leaning against it as you tried to say your goodbyes to each other.

“I really enjoyed tonight.”

“Me too.” You said as you bit your lip.

“Goodnight darlin’.” He said with a barely noticeable smile before he walked out your door.

Your eyes met Ellie’s waving at you from in front of your porch. You return the action with a small wave.

“Goodnight.” You whispered before you closed the door behind them. You rested your back against the door, exhaling a long breath you realised you didn’t know you were holding in.

—

You were in too deep.

As months went by, you were more and more aware of how strong your feelings were beginning to grow for Joel. So strong that they were starting to terrify you. Not because you didn’t want to have these feelings for him, no that was certainly not it. You just never experienced feelings this strong for someone before.

It wasn’t like you hadn’t dated before. You had been on plenty of dates since you’ve been in Jackson, too many actually, you’ve even been in a semi serious relationship, but unfortunately, nobody had really charmed their way into your heart like they were supposed to.

You’ve never been touched intimately before, never had sex either. You knew how inexperienced you were but so far, you just hadn’t found someone to be worthy of your time.

You’ve never fallen in love with anyone before. And these new feelings were truly scaring you. For so long you were so certain that you’d never fall in love with someone. That falling in love wasn’t meant for you. That those feelings would never exist for you. The apocalypse hadn’t made things easier either so it wasn’t like falling in love was an option for a long time. But now that you’re relatively more safe, it was a possibility.

It was so much easier when it was just a crush, or an infatuation, despite the fact that you knew that crushes usually wouldn’t make your heart swell so big or your lungs feel so tight when you think of them or see them. But now, it’s a lot harder to pretend that it’s not more than that.

You always dreamed of the day you’d finally fall in love but now that those feelings were here they made you feel like you wanted to run and hide.

You’re not sure you’d be ready to confess those feelings to him any time soon. You were quite certain that they would be one sided, so you’d prefer to keep those to yourself. Because why would someone like him ever see you the way you see him, the way you feel for him. You were a lot younger than him, around twenty years or so. You’re twenty seven. So it seemed impossible for you that he could regard you in the same way you did.

So you decided to do just that, keep them a secret. And you were completely fine with that, with your feelings remaining completely unknown to anyone but yourself.

Or so you thought.

—

On a beautiful warm spring day, you decided you were going to indulge in your favourite hobby. Drawing.

You’ve always loved art, specifically, you loved sketching. If it wasn’t for the fact that the world ended, you’d like to think you would’ve studied art or tried to become an artist.

You were pretty good at it actually, not to sound too full of yourself. But with the way things were, your skills weren’t at their full potential. And besides you didn’t like to tell most people, keeping it a secret because you were always too shy or embarrassed to show people your talents. So you sketched as much as you could in your free time.

You loved to draw all sorts of things, nature, still life, animals and sometimes, people. But on top of your innocent drawings you also had a specific secret sketchbook that you only drew in when you were certain you were alone.

This sketchbook was dedicated entirely to indulging in your massive crush on Joel Miller. (Okay, crush is an understatement.) It was usually difficult to draw a specific person when they weren’t standing right in front of you, but you had seen his face so many times that it was nearly photographically imprinted in your mind. You would often summon his face up whenever you were alone. As many times as you could. Most of these were just his face, the sketchbook was definitely filled with several of him smiling. Some were just details of, for example, his hands or his eyes. Or even his nose or lips.

Everything about him made you feel warm inside. You would always be a flustered mess around him and it would even make you heat up when you’d draw him. Sometimes you’d have to take breaks from drawing him because you’d start getting too hot from thinking about him.

You often felt like you were doing something bad or wrong, like you were some sort of stalker when all you did was admire him.

It was a specific drawing you were currently working on, after checking and double-checking that you were truly alone. It was a beautiful day and you had the day off, so you figured what better way to spend it then by sitting on your front porch all day while enjoying the weather and sketching out what you’d seen the man do during your shared patrol the day before.

The drawing was him holding his gun as he concentrated on a target in front of him. You were so focused on sketching him as well as you could, wanting to capture every feature of him in the best way possible. You recalled his intense expression, the way his jaw clenched while he was so focused yesterday. His dark brown eyes and his handsome side profile—

“What are you drawing?”

You practically jumped and yelled as you heard the voice close to you. Hurriedly you tried to close the sketchbook as you addressed the person standing close to you. “Ellie! You scared me. What are you doing here?”

“I’m just done with school and thought I’d drop by. I kinda wanted to spend some time with you.” She smiled at you as she was leaning against the wall. The soft expression slowly turned into a more mischievous smile as she cocked her head to the side to study you. “You okay there, Y/N?”

You swallowed nervously before giving her your best smile. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well… you’re looking pretty nervous or flustered. Embarrassed even.” She said as she smirked deviously.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m perfectly fine.” You said as you tried to keep your composure.

You could never tell Ellie about the fact that you’re drawing Joel. He’s practically her father figure. Besides, you were quite certain it would make the whole situation awkward.

“You sure?” She asked as she leaned closer to you. “Could it have something to do with… what you’re drawing?”

“I— no. I mean no.”

“Hmmm.” Ellie hummed as she looked at you suspiciously.

Before you could react, Ellie snatched the sketchbook out of your hands at lightning speed.

Fuck. fuck. FUCK. Please no.

“Ellie—”

You sprang to your feet and quickly tried to grab the book back from her, but Ellie pulled it just out of reach at the last second with a huge teasing smirk on her face. Your face burned with shame.

“It’s nothing Ellie, please give it back!” You couldn’t hide the terrified desperation in your voice.

“You sure it’s nothing?” She said as she hid the sketchbook behind her back.

“Yes!” Apprehension fills your bones at her actions.

“Ah, then I’m sure you wouldn’t mind letting me take a peek at what’s inside right?” Ellie grinned dangerously as she moved the book in front of her.

“Please give it back.” Tears started to well up in your eyes as you pleaded for her to give it back.

Shit. It’s over.

As she opened the book on a random page, a gasp left her mouth. “Oh my god?!”

“Ellie, I’m—”

“You’re drawing Joel?” She whispered with wide eyes as she flipped through the pages.

You’ve never felt your face warm up this hot in your entire life. “No?” You said nervously but it came out more as a question.

Ellie said your name softly as she looked at you with a huge smile. “You have a crush on Joel?”

“I— I-I’m— uhm I don’t know, I just—” you stuttered as you tried to retrieve the sketchbook. Ellie pulled back which made you want to scream internally.

“It’s okay, I’m not mad.” Her face softened as she saw you look utterly terrified. “If anything, I’m very happy.”

“What?” You asked as you blinked your tears away.

“How could I be mad at you? I’ve always wanted Joel to be happy. He deserves that, even if he often doesn’t think he deserves that himself.” She smiled at you before looking back at some of the drawings inside the book. “They’re very beautiful by the way. I love drawing too.” She stepped closer to you as she went to put the book back in your hands. “Besides,” she shrugged nonchalantly, “he has a crush on you too.”

“Oh.”

Warmth flooded your body as you listened to her. You quickly felt overwhelmed by her words and everything that happened, you needed to sit down to process it better. You went to sit down with the book in your lap, looking down at it as you were at loss for words. It was very difficult for you to wrap your head around what she said. Joel having feelings for you? You couldn’t allow yourself to believe it. As you let her words sink in, she took a place next to you, placing a hand on your arm and giving it a small reassuring squeeze. Ellie gave you enough time to collect your thoughts and you were truly grateful for that.

You heaved out a long sigh. “I don’t have a crush.” You finally spoke up but not meeting her gaze just yet.

“What? But—”

“Saying it’s a crush is an understatement.” Your voice trembled as you finally looked at her. “I’ve never felt like this in my entire life, so it’s hard for me to deal with what I’m feeling.”

“Oh.” She said as her eyes widened. “You’re… In love?”

“I am pretty sure I am, yes.” You nodded with a small smile.

“Okay. Well he has feelings for—”

“Ellie, I’m pretty sure he doesn’t have feelings for me.” You interrupted her.

“Oh my god,” she groaned as she hid her face in her hands, mumbling, “you’re both so oblivious.”

“What?”

“You’re both so stupid. So oblivious.” She groaned once again as she threw her hands in the air. “You both think that the feelings are one sided.”

“I don’t know…” you trailed off as you let yourself lean back on the bench. You’re quite certain that you’re the only one being so consumed by these emotions. You’ve pretty much made your mind up about the fact that it’s impossible for him to return any of those feelings that you have for him.

“The atmosphere when I came in the last time both of you had dinner, just the two of you, certainly didn’t look like it was one sided.”

“Barged in.” You corrected her teasingly as you bumped your shoulder into hers.

“Okay, whatever. My point still stands.”

“Ellie, that was months ago…” you sighed deeply and shook your head at her words.

“Stop. Why do you do this?” She asked exasperated.

“Wh—”

“Why do you believe that he wouldn’t have feelings for you too?” Ellie questioned as she leaned closer to you. “Like, you’re so pretty and have such a lovely personality.”

“I-I I don’t know. I just find it hard to believe. Besides,” you shrugged with a frown “I find it very hard to deal with my own emotions because I’ve never been in love before so this is so new to me.”

Her eyes softened as she listened to you. Slowly, she brought her hand to squeeze your arm reassuringly. “I can understand that. But love is a beautiful thing.”

“True…” you whispered.

“I can understand being scared, but Y/N you’re so worthy of love. Just like Joel is. I am convinced both of you are meant for each other.” She said with a hopeful expression.

“Ellie—”

“I’m serious. Just, please think about it for a while. You both deserve more than this secret pining for each other.” She grumbled at the last sentence.

“Okay I will. Can we please talk about something else now?”

“Sure.” She shrugged with a smile.

“Thank you, Ellie bean.” You said gratefully.

It’s quiet between you two, as you two sit in comfortable silence for a while, just enjoying the beautiful weather and each other’s company.

“So… drawing huh?” She grinned.

—

As Ellie and you were talking about your shared love for drawing you heard someone approaching the both of you. Ellie is the first one to look up and she greets the person with a wide smile.

“Hi Emilie!” Ellie beamed as your sister stepped foot on your front porch.

“Oh, here are my favourite girls!” She said with the biggest grin on her face. Emilie brought her hand up to high-five Ellie. “Hey ravioli.” She said as the youngest girl hit her hand.

Ellie scoffed and rolled her eyes dramatically. “Jeez, just because I love ravioli doesn’t mean you have to call me that. Can’t a girl love food in peace.”

Your sister doesn’t reply to the teen and averted her attention to you, greeting you too. Emilie gestures for Ellie to scooch over, before she plops down on the bench between both of you. “So what are you guys talking about?”

“Hey! That bench was recently repaired! There’s no need for you to let yourself fall on the seat like that.” You groan at your sister's silly behaviour.

“Recently? That was months ago.” Ellie counters with a playful smile.

“Ah yes, the bench that the love of your life repaired.” Emilie said with a dreamy expression.

You gasped at her words, feeling your cheeks heat up instantly. You gave her a light shove, “Emilie!”

“What?” Your sister shrugs nonchalantly, “it’s true.”

“Love of your life?” Ellie beams.

You sighed dramatically before leaning against the back of the bench. “Look at what you just did.” You gestured towards Ellie.

“Oh quit the theatrics.” Your sister rolled her eyes teasingly. “Everyone knows you have feelings for Joel except for that man himself.”

Your eyes widened as her words registered in your mind. “Everyone?” You squeaked.

“Yes, just like everyone knows that man is pining over you except for you!” Your sister said exasperated.

You shook your head frantically. “You’re ly—”

“Oh my god, Y/N.” Ellie groaned. “Wake up.”

“Yeah, lovely sister of mine,” Emilie placed a hand on your shoulder, giving you a serious look, “respectfully wake the fuck up.”

“Disrespectfully, Emilie, shut up.” You said to your sister, shrugging her hand off you. You crossed your arms in front of your chest, pouting as you still leaned against the bench.

“Why are you pouting? This is a good thing.” Ellie huffed.

“Yeah, this is a good thing. Why don’t you want to allow good things into your life?” Emilie asked, looking at you seriously.

Silence fell for some moments, before you whispered, “I don’t feel like I deserve it.”

“Yes, you do!” Both Ellie and your sister said simultaneously.

You bit your lip as you looked at them silently. You knew deep down that you deserved to love and be loved in return but it was so hard for you to accept that someone could genuinely have feelings for you. It wouldn’t make any sense, you were always used to people that were attracted to you to expect something from you that you weren’t ready to do or they wouldn’t genuinely care about who you are as a person. You knew Joel was different, he showed you enough through the past year. But somehow your mind tried to tell you otherwise.

“This is driving me insane,” Ellie sighed, shaking her head.

“Ellie,” your sister said pointedly at the younger girl before turning back to look back at you. “Y/N… you are so worthy of love. I know you’ve never experienced this type of emotion or feeling ever before, but you deserve to feel safe with someone and to love someone deeply and for them to love you just as fiercely. I know you keep thinking because of past relationships, friendships or situationships that people aren’t truly interested in you or that people don’t genuinely care for you. But, those people do exist. Ellie cares for you, I do, and I am completely certain that Joel cares for you too. You deserve to feel loved, cared for and to be happy.”

Tears welled up in your eyes at your sister’s words. You felt truly overwhelmed by everything she told you. Deep down you knew she was right, you were trying to believe her words but you knew it might take a bit of time.

“Thank you.” You whispered, tears flowing down your cheeks as you hugged her side. “You don’t know how much that means to me. It might take some time for me to truly believe everything you said but I want to try.”

Both girls went to envelop you in a warm hug, squeezing your body tight. You felt your body relax in their embrace.

“I love you.” Ellie whispered, at her words you hugged her body tighter.

“I love you too, Ellie bean.” You smiled, tears still in your eyes as you leaned your head against the crown of her head.

And for the first time in a long time you felt like your heart could breathe again.

—

A month passed and you still hadn’t confessed your feelings to the man that’s been consuming your very brain for a year. You still hung out whenever you could, but telling Joel how you felt about him still terrified you. But as time passed, you allowed yourself to believe the words your sister and Ellie told you. It was very freeing.

One thing that didn’t change though was your stubbornness. You are certain you will always hate asking people for help. Like for example, the fact that your shower head was acting up so much you couldn’t take proper showers which made you have to use Emilie’s shower at her place sometimes. Until the shower head actually broke.

That’s why a few days later, you were standing in front of Joel’s door, contemplating if you should really ask him for his help. You bit your lip as you thought about it. Sighing, you told yourself that you should just do it. As you were about to knock, the door opened.

Your eyes widened as you came face to face with Joel. Your cheeks heat up as you lock eyes with him. You know you shouldn't be flustered right now because he is the only one who can help you. And he did tell you that you could always come to him if you needed his help. Or for anything really. But somehow, you still couldn’t help but feel shy around him.

“Sweetheart?” Joel looked at you worriedly.

“H-hi?” You smiled sheepishly. “Am I coming at a bad time?”

“No, ‘course not.” He shook his head slightly, a soft smile curled upon his lips. “Everything alright?”

“I am alright, it’s just,” you trailed off as you looked away shyly. “I think I might need your help.”

Joel closed the door behind him as he kept his gaze on you. He motioned for you to show the way. “Let’s go.”

You giggled as you shook your head light heartedly. “You don’t even know what I need your help for.”

“That’s where you're wrong darlin’. A little birdie told me your shower head is broken.” Joel’s mouth twitched in mild amusement as you just gaped at him.

Oh my god… Emilie.

Your face burned once again. You couldn’t believe that your sister would tell the person you’re desperately in love with about this. You felt embarrassed, knowing that he knew about you struggling. As if he could read your thoughts, “I only know since yesterday, but I wanted you to come to me when you were ready.” He said as he looked at you, a gentle smile on his lips.

“O-okay.” You said, groaning internally at your stuttering. “Anyways, yes. I need your help with fixing my shower. I hope that’s okay?” You asked hesitatingly.

“‘Course it is. Show the way, pretty girl.” He winked, beckoning for you to move along.

He thinks I’m pretty?

—

Joel was standing in your shower as he tried to fix the shower head. He smiled as he threw you a thumbs up.

“Ah, here we go. This should work now—” Joel’s smile faltered as water started unexpectedly spraying out of the shower head. Surprised, it slipped out of his hands, dropping to the floor, the spray pointing up at him, which drenched Joel quickly.

Your eyes widened as you took Joel in. His white shirt and jeans are both drenched and sticking to his body. You could see the outline of everything. Your body turned flush with heat as you continued to stare at him. You couldn’t help but find him so hot, with his shirt clinging to his body. He grumbled as he looked down at the state of his clothes. Eventually you moved into action, “O-oh let me get you a towel!” you blurted out. You quickly made your way to one of your closets in your bedroom, rummaging for some spare towels.

“Y/N stop being such a creep.” You grumbled to yourself, embarrassed that you were staring at him so unabashedly. You’re worried that he might think you’re creepy, staring at him like he was the sexiest man you’ve ever seen. Well, actually, he was the sexiest man to you. But you didn’t want him to think of you as some sort of weirdo. That’s the last thing you want, for him to think you’re creepy. As you found the towels you were still in such a deep inner monologue while you walked back into the bathroom.

“I found the towels—” you gasp, accidentally dropping the towels on the floor as you took Joel in.

The man had taken off his shirt, most likely because he didn’t like the feel of the fabric clinging to his body. He took your breath away. As you once again stared at him you couldn’t help but let your wide eyes wander all over his chest. He was broad, he wasn’t really muscular but he had a solid build. He was strong and large, and soft in the right places. There were some scars littered over his skin here and there, as a result of the years of fighting to try and stay alive. Some hair was scattered over his body, your eyes trailing along his happy trail, eventually disappearing underneath his jeans. You felt yourself ache between your legs as your eyes continued to roam over his form, studying him with so much intensity. You were still admiring him when he spoke up.

“I’m not really nice to look at.” He mumbled.

Your heart ached at his self deprecated words. You couldn’t believe what he said. How could he think of himself so lowly? You thought he was the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. “W-what?” You said as you shook your head frantically.

“I’m not—”

“Joel Miller, you better stop bringing yourself down.” You said sternly, surprising both of you. You sighed loudly as he looked at you with wide eyes, “I’m sorry. I just don’t understand the need for you to put yourself down when you’re far from unattractive.”

Silence fell for a couple of moments. Until Joel exhaled shakily. “You-you think I’m attractive?” The man asked, he seemed so doubtful.

“I thought that was pretty obvious…” you trailed off shyly as you looked at the tiled floor between your two feet. “I mean, it’s pretty obvious to everyone else.” You chuckled nervously.

You heard him grunt softly before hearing his wet, heavy steps, as he slowly made his way to you. Joel grasped your chin gently, tilting your face towards him. You felt your cheeks burn, you don’t think you’ll ever get used to his touch. Your eyes lock with his as he looks at you desperately.

“You think I’m attractive?” He repeated his earlier question more pleadingly.

“I don’t only think you’re attractive… you’re so beautiful. So pretty. Handsome…” you trailed off as you duck your head timidly. “Sexy.” You said apprehensively, before looking away from him. “I think you’re the hottest man I’ve ever seen.”

“I think you’re beautiful as well. The prettiest little thing that has ever walked this earth.” He whispers, his voice coming out a lot deeper. “Words can not describe how beautiful you are. Inside-out.”

You felt your breath catch in your chest as you felt your body tremble at his words. You slowly looked up at him, your eyes wide with curiosity. You couldn’t help but like how he was towering over you. He was so broad, so strong. You felt your face burn, biting your lip and feeling incredibly weak as his gaze stayed locked with yours. You felt light headed at the close proximity. You could barely think straight.

He brought his hands down to your waist, holding your body close to his as he smiled warmly down at you. He whispered your name, breath hitching as he looked at you intently. “Sweetheart…”

You breathed his name softly before his lips connected with yours in a gentle kiss. You gasped in surprise at his actions, but you quickly closed your eyes as he deepened the kiss. Joel’s large hands cupped the side of your face in such a tender way it made your insides melt. Never did you think you’d ever be able to feel his lips on yours. And here he was, kissing you. Your arms wrapped around his back, your fingers digging in his back the action making him grunt. His beard was rough against your soft skin, but was so welcomed. You kissed him back just as deeply, hands stroking up and down his back in a soothing manner.

He held you tighter against his body before slowly pulling away, resting his forehead against yours as both of you breathed heavily against each other's lips.

“I hope that was okay.” He said with a gentle smile. Tears welled up in your eyes as you processed what happened, having a hard time to believe that their kiss really happened. Never in your life were you ever able to keep your heavy emotions in control. Certainly not when you were overwhelmed. His forehead furrowed, concern flashing through his eyes. “What’s wrong Darlin’?”

God, why do I have to get so emotional?

“I am so sorry I just. I feel a bit overwhelmed because I always thought you’d never feel anything for me.” You rambled anxiously and your fingers trembled as they swiped under your eyes. “If you have any feelings for me, that is.”

“Really? I thought it was pretty obvious.” He smiled gently, his hands cupping your cheeks. Softly, he brushed your tears away with his thumbs. “Especially after… you know, kissing you.” He said with a teasing lilt in his voice.

“Yeah maybe…” you shrugged with a giggle, “you do have a point.”

“I do, don’t I?” He smirked playfully.

“You’re so silly.” You rolled your eyes lightheartedly.

“Only with you darlin’,” he winked.

You felt the heat rise in your face once more. You don’t think you could ever get used to his teasing or his flirtatious behaviour.

“So corny…” you snorted as you shook your head with amusement, “you’re lucky I love you.”

You quickly covered your mouth at the realisation that those words were said out loud. Your heartbeat was beating loudly in your chest, as your wide eyes met his. You wonder if he could hear your heart practically beat out of your chest.

His breath hitched in his throat, as his eyes bored into yours. “You mean that?”

Heat overwhelmed your body, feeling as if you’re on fire. Your mouth felt extremely dry, still you tried to swallow, nodding slowly anticipating his next reaction. “I do.”

The molten intensity made you unable to look away as both of you just breathed and stared into each other’s eyes. You felt as if time stopped in that moment, your bodies so close, yet they felt so far. As he held your gaze, he moved his body closer to yours again.

“Joel—” you whispered breathlessly.

He cut you off, kissing you by surprise. Capturing all the words you were about to say. Completely shocked, your whole body froze as you felt his lips claim around yours, hands pulled your face towards his as he kept pressing his lips further, almost to the point it hurt.

All your thoughts overwhelmed your brain, disabling any rational understanding of what was going on. Like a magnet, you felt your body move closer to his, moving your hands around his shoulders as you kissed him back just as fiercely.

You nibbled on his bottom lip lightly, eliciting a moan from him. Slowly, he pulled away from your lips, to press kisses to your cheek. His lips slowly travelled all over your face. You whimper as his mouth moved from your jaw to your neck, pressing open mouthed kisses all over your neck, your hands moved towards his hair, tugging lightly at the roots.

“How long have you been feeling like this?” He questioned, his beard scratching your neck as he continued to kiss your neck. Your body trembled against his as he continued to suck, kiss and lick your neck.

“Hmmm?”

Joel groaned and stopped his actions when you didn’t reply to his question, pulling back to look at your face. You feel his stare, waiting for your response. You hadn’t realised your eyes fell closed as you were enjoying his kisses. Unhurriedly, you opened your eyes, looking right into his.

You swallowed dryly at the intensity behind his eyes, your heart beating madly in your chest. A flare of heat rushed to your cheeks as you decided to tell him the truth. How could you not? When he’s looking at you with so much desperation.

“Like… at least a half year ago?” You answered, your hesitant eyes looking into his own.

Joel groaned loudly, enveloping your lips with his once again. He kissed you with so much passion, giving you everything that had to offer. His mouth moves against yours so hungrily. As he continued to give you long and deep kisses, you felt the heat rising within you. The throbbing between your legs felt unbearable as you whimpered desperately against his lips.

“I love you too baby, so fuckin’ much.” He rasped against your lips.

A gasp left your lips at his words and he deepened the kiss even more, as he quickly took the opportunity to slip his tongue past your parted lips and swirling it around yours. You felt as if your whole body was on fire as you continued to kiss each other ferociously, your fingers raking through his peppered hair.

He grunted as he pushed your body against the wall. His arms wrap around your body, holding your body close against his. You whimpered as his lips travelled from your lips to your throat, nipping at the skin which resulted in you squirming in his hold. Your hands busied themselves with exploring his exposed back, caressing his skin.

He moved his mouth towards your ear, “you have no idea how long I’ve been dreaming about holding you.” He murmured. Joel’s lips travelled towards your shoulder while littering your skin with soft kisses. “Kissing you.” His hands wandered unhurriedly against your back, his hands eventually settled on your lower back, just above your ass. “Touching you.”

“Please,” you whined as you tried chasing his lips again, gripping his strong arms with your hands.

“Tell me what you need, baby girl.” He whispered raspily into your ear. A shiver went down your spine at his words. Joel’s voice carried so much emotion. So much desperation and adoration for you. “I love this baby blue dress on you. Although it’s really killing me right now.” He groans against your neck as his hands finally move to your ass over your frilly summer dress, grabbing a handful of your cheeks.

You felt even more wetness pool between your legs as you thought about the fact that you weren’t wearing any lingerie underneath.

You turned into a bigger whimpering mess as he kept littering your neck, shoulders and face with kisses. You felt one of his legs sliding between your legs, pressing his thigh against your exposed core.

“Fuck,” you moaned.

Joel lifted his head and your eyes caught his, his lips finding yours in a rough kiss, not wasting any time as he slipped his tongue past your lips. The man is wrapped around you completely, a hand caressing your back, the other holding your ass. Your body trembled as Joel started rubbing his thigh against your soaked core. You’ve never wanted someone more in your whole life.

“Joel,” you whined desperately.

“Tell me what you want kitten.” He groaned.

A loud whimper escaped your lips at his words. The pet name turned you on extremely. Your hips moved against his thigh, grinding against the clothed material.

“I want you.”

A string of moans slipped past your lips as Joel moved his head up to lick into your mouth.

“Pleaseee.” You whined against his lips as you rubbed your sensitive pussy against his jeans. “I need you.”

“Fuck, you’re so wet.”

“Ah!” You gasped as he picked you up effortlessly. Quickly, you wrapped your legs around his hips. The both of you continued to kiss each other passionately as Joel carried you to your bedroom. Once he reached your bed he softly placed you down the sheets.

You felt the bed dip before he hovered above you. Joel’s dark eyes stare into yours as his hands move underneath the skirt of your dress, his fingers trailing up your thigh. You felt yourself grow nervous at his touch.

“W-wait.” You whispered.

His movements halt immediately at your words. He looked at you worriedly, “you okay, sweetheart?”

You wanted him so badly and you were extremely wet but you would be lying if you weren’t a bit nervous. Everything seemed more real once his touch moved closer to your intimate parts.

You exhaled deeply. “It’s just… don’t get me wrong, I want this. I literally want you so badly, but I’ve never been with someone intimately.” You said nervously as you waited for his reaction.

“Oh baby girl,” he whispered, looking at you tenderly. “Don’t you worry about that. I will take good care of you.” He smiled as he leaned down to rub his nose gently against yours. “But, we don’t need to do anything if you’re not ready.”

“I am ready, I just don’t want to disappoint you.” You nibbled anxiously at your bottom lip.

“Baby, you could never disappoint me with this. You'll always be a good lover to me. You’re literally perfect. I promise.” Joel smiled gently, looking at you with so much adoration before he pressed a kiss to your forehead. You felt your whole body relax once his lips touched your skin. You trusted him, he was your everything.

Your lips moved to his neck before you placed an open mouthed kiss to his skin. “Please Joel, I need you.” You whispered seductively into his ear.

He groaned loudly before engulfing your lips in a heated kiss. You whimpered against his mouth as his hands started slowly caressing both of your thighs. Your head was clouded with so much lust, you felt so much love for him. Your brain turned quite literally into mush as you continued to kiss each other deeply.

You moved your hips desperately as you moaned against his lips, hoping Joel would get the hint.

“Such a needy kitten.” He chuckled against your lips.

“Only for you.” You whispered as you looked up at him pleadingly. “Please, touch me.”

“I am touching you.” He counters playfully.

“Please.” You whined desperately as you wiggled underneath him.

Moments later his lips pressed against yours again. The kiss got more heated the more you kissed each other. Your hands wander to the back of his head and you pull at some strands softly making him moan into your mouth. One of his hands slowly trailed up your thigh once again. Your whimpers came out more frequently the closer his hand moved to where you needed him the most. Once his fingers come in contact with your heat you mewl loudly.

“Fuck,” he moaned against your lips, you’re certain because he felt how soaked you were for him. “You’re so fuckin’ wet baby girl. All for me?”

You were overwhelmed with warmth, it felt like a hot storm — as he spoke those words. You nodded frantically. You were sopping wet, you managed to speak but your voice is strangled and pathetic. “P-please. T-take off your clothes.”

“And leave you in this dress? Out of question.” He chuckled as he moved the hand that was touching your wetness to your thigh.

“Who said I wanted to stay in this dress?” You said as you raised one of your eyebrows at him.

“Baby—”

“Undress me cowboy.” You smiled as you pulled your bottom lip with your teeth seductively.

“God, you’ll be the death of me.” He groaned loudly.

“My name is Y/N but god sounds good too.” You giggled.

Joel shook his head with an amused grin on his face. His fingertips find the hem of your dress and you sit up a bit. You raised your arms quickly to help him get rid of your baby blue dress.

You felt your body tremble in anticipation, as his eyes roamed all over your naked body, his eyes not being able to stick to one place. You felt your heartbeat picking up as his hands reached for your hips, holding them and pressing your body closer to his. His lips moved to ghost over your neck, slowly moving below your ear. “You’re out of this world. So beautiful.” He whispered into your ear.

His lips then crashed against yours as you gasped openly into his mouth, desire growing, and took it upon yourself to guide his hand back down to your heat. His mouth fell from yours to unleash a heavy groan into your neck at the first slip of his fingers between your wet lips.

It's very, fucking wet, more wet than you'd honestly ever been and certainly more wet than he could've imagined in his wildest dreams.

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful sweet girl,” he muttered again in a very raw tone, his voice strained. His lips trail slowly down to your neck, all the way to your chest. Joel breathed in through his nose, you flush harder at his words and shivered when he exhaled warmly through his mouth and onto your nipple. “The prettiest little thing I’ve ever seen.”

That’s all you’ve been given before he wrapped his lips around one nipple, teeth just skimming your skin as he sucked and licked passionately, as he also pushed one of his fingers inside your pussy.

The whine that came out of you only drove Joel to seek out more of those heavenly sounds.

“Fuck, you’re so tight.” He moaned, as your pussy clenched around his digit. “I need to prepare you as much as I can for my cock.”

Your whines became louder as you felt the pleasure overwhelm you. His fingers are so much bigger than yours, one of his fingers is more pleasurable than any of your fingers.

His tongue began licking, long licks with the flat of his tongue over your hard nipple as his other hand kept pumping his finger in and out of you at a leisurely pace.

You whined as your core started clenching around his finger, begging for more. Instinctively you began moving your hips, grinding against his hand, as he groaned against your skin. His lips left your breast with a wet pop and he looked at you intensely as he continued to fuck you with his finger. You were panting heavily, barely able to think straight as he slowly slipped another finger inside you. He moved his face back to meet yours, engulfing you in a passionate kiss, swallowing all your little mewls.

“Good girl, you’re doing so well for me.” He panted against your lips.

You bucked your hips up towards his hand in response, silently begging for more. He noticed and slipped a third finger in, moving them slowly at first as your tight pussy tried to adjust to the addition. Little whimpers left your lips as he fucks you slowly with his fingers. You felt so full, you can’t help but imagine him fucking you with his cock, you’re quite certain he’s massive. His pace eventually speeds up as you move your hips along with his movements. His lips moved back to kiss you, whining against his mouth. Your hands clutched the bed sheets as you moved along with the pace of his fingers, feeling him curl them and spreading them.

“That feels good doesn't it baby? You like it when I play with your little pussy? You like me fucking you with my fingers?" Joel moaned and his thumb connected with your clit, rubbing it at the same pace as he fucked you with his fingers. You bucked your hips and nodded as you moaned. "Use your words kitten," he taunts.

“Fuck, yes. Yes, please oh my god. Joel, please.” You writhed against the sheets as you whimpered. “Please keep calling me that.” You bit your lip as you squeezed your eyes shut.

“You’re such a good kitty for me,” he said, a smug smirk playing on his face. You were impressed how easy it was for this man above you to turn you on and make a mess of you.

Joel leans his head back down, trapping your lips in yet another heated kiss. You felt your legs spread even more open for him as you felt yourself get close to your first orgasm of the night. His tongue slipped into your mouth after another gasp fell from your lips. You couldn’t help but moan, whine and whimper as he continued to pleasure you. Your hands wandered to the back of his head pulling at hair softly making him moan into your mouth.

“Fuck, I need you so bad.” He groaned as his thumb applied more pressure on your little nub. He curled his fingers forward with every penetration until your thighs shook.

“I need you more.” You whimpered as your body trembled underneath his.

His eyes stared into yours, lust and love written all over them. When he fastened his motions inside you, you moaned again and squeezed your eyes shut. A burning intense feeling, a tight coil in your lower abdomen made your back arch beneath him.

“Open your eyes for me, my baby.”

You opened your eyes slowly, looking straight into his eyes. His intense gaze was what it took for you to come undone. The hot feeling spread all over your body, your body tingled, your hips moving at their own accord against Joel’s hand.

“You’re doing so well for me angel,” He said proudly as his fingers slowed down, slipping out of you to rub your slit softly, still helping you ride out your orgasm.

As you came back to your senses, you felt his fingers slip away from your heat. You felt your pussy clench around nothing every now and then and were dripping down the sheets, which made you whimper helplessly. You needed him so bad. And now. Joel climbed off the bed, making quick work to remove all of his clothing. You were still in a daze, closing your eyes for a minute. Moments later you felt the bed dip.

You felt your legs being spread further apart with his strong hands. A loud broken moan left your lips at the feel of his mouth meeting your soaking wet pussy. He dove between your legs, licking a stripe up through your folds and teasingly dipping his tongue into your entrance before he travelled up to your clit, spreading your lips with his wet muscle and sucking your button into his mouth.

You practically screamed at his actions, arching your back slightly off the bed once again. You felt your body trembling terribly. You needed more. You tried to grind your wetness slowly against his lips as your body continued to shake.

Strong arms were suddenly locked around your thighs, securing your hips with his biceps, holding you still despite your attempts to grind your pussy against his lips.

“You taste so good, baby girl. I could eat this pussy all day.”

You felt heat overwhelm your senses more as you felt Joel chuckle against your heat. His tongue was lapping sloppily at your lower lips. Squeaky, senseless noises came out from your throat. You were squirming, it was so good you could barely even figure out what he was doing with his tongue.

“Fuck, Joel baby, oh my goooood” you cried out loud. You were certain that if people walked outside your house that they would have heard you by now. He sucked lazily at your clit while he moved to slip two fingers into you. Joel eventually sucked harder on your clit, still occasionally swirling his tongue around your little bud while moving his fingers inside you a bit faster. You kept chanting his name between moans as you now hold onto his hair with both of your hands.

“Please, I’m so cloooooose.” You whined.

As Joel sucked your clit harder, you gasped loudly as you felt your whole body trembling even more and then you felt your body tense as you came against his mouth. Your whole mind felt like exploding and all you could see were stars. You felt truly overwhelmed by the amount of pleasure and emotions you were experiencing. Your body continued to tremble as you felt yourself come down from your high.

You felt Joel’s tongue still licking up your pussy as he retreats his fingers from your pulsing hole. His mouth felt heavenly, but you whined at the sensitivity. He moaned as he licked against your tight hole, licking up your release, his tongue prodding your entrance.

“T-too much.” You whimpered at the overstimulation.

Joel ignored your pleads, moaning against your heat as he continued to eat you out. The man you love so much that was between your legs kept sliding his tongue up and down your sensitive slit. Your little mewls and other noises spur him on, to move his lips back up to your clit. He sucked the nub softly between his lips. You were grinding your hips against his face as moans kept spilling off your lips. This time he didn’t hold you back from fucking his face. Eventually he leaned down, slipping his tongue into your entrance, he curled the muscle upward to brush your walls, the sight of your fingers bunching the fabric of the sheets in a tight grip encouraging him to do it again.

You were a mess of his name, you chanted his name over and over again. Your hips moved against his face as you continued to whimper and moan breathlessly underneath him. Writhing below him, you felt him lick up and press against a sensitive spot inside that had you seeing stars, while your hips bucked against his face uncontrollably. Defiance and greed consumes your thoughts, your fingers once again gripped onto his peppered hair rather harshly and hips pushed against his face to shove his tongue deeper into your hole.

“Ahhh Joeeeeel—” you drag out. You were really so close, you just needed one more little push.

“Come for me kitten,” he whispered against you, before plunging his tongue back inside you as his thumb came up to press against your little bundle of nerves. That does it, your dam broke down as you came against his mouth as your whole body wouldn’t stop trembling. You came with a loud whine, your hips stuttering as your vision turned white. You cry out his name, your voice unable to remain steady. Your fingers were tightly woven through Joel’s hair and your hips pushed so far against his face, you almost thought you were suffocating him.

“You’re always doing so good for me baby, I love you so much my sweetheart.” Joel whispered against you. As you slowly came down to reality again and you tried to catch your breath, you heard him praising you softly while he continued to lap at your wetness gently, until you whined because the overstimulation was getting too much for you. You Nudged your leg against his face as you tried to squirm away from him, Joel’s mouth finally detached from your heat.

He quickly licked the wetness off his lips and the places he could reach before he crawled up to you with a smile, to kiss you deeply, cupping your face in his hands. You moaned at the taste of yourself against his tongue, your eyes fluttering against his skin while you kiss, his wet beard against your face, your arms wrapped around him to pull his body closer against yours. You sighed, against his mouth, you felt yourself melt in his embrace already. You can feel his soft mouth smiling against yours, as the kiss gets more heated.

Soon your hands start to grip his body tighter against yours, your legs tangling together. It's like you're both starved, this insatiable hunger for each other.

You couldn’t help but roll your hips against his to feel his cock. It turned slick as you kept grinding yourself against him, and he had no trouble gliding his hips against you and rutting it into your clit.

“Oh, fuck” Joel rasped, and it was because he reached down and grasped himself to line up between your lips and slide. He kept rubbing the head of his cock from your entrance, up to your clit, circling until you squirm underneath him, and back down. He loved the sounds you made as he spread his precum around your slit, where you are still dripping for him.

You gasped openly into his mouth, desire growing quickly. You quickly realised by the way he felt while he rubbed against you that he was huge. You were still so wet, but the thought of him finally entering you with his big cock made you wetter. Joel swallowed your whines with his lips against yours, hips rolling against yours. He kissed you full with fervour, his grip on you intensifying heatedly.

You were trembling against him, filled with anticipation. His broad body covered your body with his. Loving how bigger and taller he was than you. You writhed against him, wishing he was just in you already and filling you up and making you see white.

“Are you ready for me darlin’?” He whispered as he looked deep into your eyes. “Let me know if you want me to stop and I will.” He promised.

You bit your lip and nodded, too shy and excited to talk, as you rubbed your pussy against his dick.

“Fuck,” he grunted, “I need you to use your words kitty.”

“Yes,” you whispered breathlessly.

“I’ll try to go slow at first, okay, sweetheart?” He said before leaning back down to kiss your lips again, he reached down and grasped himself to line up between your lips and slide. He rubbed the tip firmly over your swollen clit then moved down to your wet tight hole and your mind was all over the place.

“P-please J-Joel…” you stuttered as your body trembled even more underneath him.

He rubbed himself up and down your slit for a while longer before one of his hands lean down to spread your outer lips sliding his dick teasingly around your core. You arched your back slightly and whimpered loudly out of frustration.

The moment you want to beg him again he leaned down to line it up with your entrance. Your legs trembled underneath him, a mix of nerves and excitement. Joel slid the tip in so slowly it was agonising. Your lips part with a gasp. He was careful, like he was afraid you might break. You let out a long broken whine as he gradually pushed more of him inside you. You whined at the stretch of him. He was so big. You thought big was an understatement, he’s huge. Your tight pussy clenched around him as it tried to accommodate his massive girth. Joel continued to push more of his cock inside you. He leaned down to kiss your lips gently as he moved more inside, hoping the sweetness of the embrace will soften the sting.

His hips stilled once he heard you gasp loudly. “So full…”

“Do you think you can handle more?” He smiled tenderly as he looked down at you.

“T-t-there’s m-more?” You stammered with wide eyes.

“Yeah,” he said breathlessly.

“Please,” You closed your eyes and whined as you nodded. You gripped the bed sheets between your fingers as you begged him for more.

“Good girl,” he groaned softly. You thought there wasn’t a possibility to get more wet but as he said those words you felt your heat get sopping wet. Your pussy continued to pulse and clench around his cock as he moved deeper inside you.

Once he bottomed out, you felt his tip kiss your cervix. Joel let his body rest against yours as he allowed you to adjust to his size. You felt so full, as if he was made for you, and only you. The feeling of him filling you up so completely had you seeing stars and digging your fingernails into his shoulders.You felt one of his hands finding your hand, lacing them with yours as the other one reached up to your face.

His breathing was heavy as you squeezed his cock repeatedly. Small whimpers left your lips as you squirm underneath him.

You needed more.

You slowly opened your eyes to look up at him with pleading eyes. “Please, Joel.”

“My sweet girl needs me to move?” He asked teasingly, as he cocked his head to the side.

“Yes, please.” You begged as your pussy clenched around his thickness rather hard which made him moan. “I need you to fuck me so bad.”

He licked his lips before he nodded quietly and started moving slow and deep, one hand reached down to play with your clit, while the other held your hand tightly. The sting was hurting for a while, but it easily morphed into a more pleasurable feeling as he moved against you. You’re so overstimulated from all your previous orgasms that the sensation he was giving you is mixed between pain and pleasure.

He grunted as he dropped his head to your ear to kiss and lick at the sensitive skin just below it.

“Such a tight pussy,” he groaned.

The angle was so good, but when his pace picked up he finally leaned down to wrap his arms around you, the action made you gasp and you grab at the sheets around you, to fuck you harder and faster.

“You’re taking me so well, baby. Doing so so, good for me. Y-you’re so perfect.” He whispered as he nuzzled his face against your neck.

You whimpered as his lips moved back up to your lips, enveloping them in a passionate kiss. At a certain point you felt the end of his strokes slide into a pressure point in your core that has you clenching like a vise around his dick. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head from the pleasure he was providing you. A loud noise like nothing you’ve ever made escaped your throat, a strange cry of his name.

“Feeling good sweetheart?” He grunted, a small smirk forming on his lips.

His mouth covered your own instead as he swallowed your mewls, you could feel the tightness return in your belly, the tight coil that pulled tight, tight, tighter. His lips slid away from yours, wet and swollen and his breathing harsh as he tried to suck in air again, and everything was too much. It was just too much for you to handle.

He quickened his pace, his hips snapped up to yours to a fast tempo. “This pussy was made for this cock, isn’t it, baby girl?”

His hands couldn’t get enough of you, sliding around your hips and lower back, wanting to feel all of you, touch you everywhere. You moaned at the feeling of his speed, your fourth? orgasm of the night, coming so close. Your arms wrapped around him and your nails dig in his back making him groan. The feeling of the coil tightening in your belly, tingling down to your legs, ready to snap at any moment.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, cursing under his breath when you purposefully tighten your walls around him. “You look so pretty when you’re stretched around my cock, Christ I bet you’d look so pretty full of my cum too.”

“Please…” you moaned as you thought about him filling you up. “Please Joel, fill this pussy up.”

He groaned as he buried his face into your neck as he fucked into you, making the whole bed rattle at his force.

“You want to cum sweetheart?”

You nodded frantically at his words with your eyes closed as you bit your lip harshly. He brought one of his hands down, rubbing your clit with enough pressure to ensure you’d cum.

“F-fuck fuuuck, Joel-Joel, oh my god. I’m going to—!”

“Cum for me, my pretty angel. Let yourself go. Cum all over me.” He moaned against your ear.

Your whole body trembled as you came with a loud cry, your body squirming underneath his as you held his body closer to yours, your nails digging in his back, scratching it. That time around, the orgasm felt more intense than the others, you were feeling so overwhelmed by the pleasure. Joel groaned in your ear as your walls spasmed and pulsed around his cock, begging him to cum inside, desperate for him to fill you up the way he promised.

“Fuck,“ he moaned, pushing himself up as he thrust deeper into you, the head of his cock hitting your cervix repeatedly. “You want me to fill this pussy up? Until it’s all full and messy?”

You nodded vigorously at his words, whining even more at the sensitivity. Your pussy squeezed around his cock in anticipation. “Please…”

He groaned loudly, as he cummed inside you. The warmth of his seed filled you up and spread within your walls. You whimpered at the feel of his cum dripping out of you.

Once both of you caught your breaths, Joel leaned his forehead against yours before kissing you tenderly.

“Please… stay.” You moaned softly.

“Of course baby,” he whispered before pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“Want you to stay inside.” You whimpered as your pussy clenched around him.

Joel groaned, wrapping his arms around you before rolling both of you onto your sides. “anythin’ for you, baby.”

“I love you Joel.” You nuzzled your head into the crook of his neck, enjoying his strong hold on you.

“I love you too sweetheart. You’re everythin’ to me.”

Both of you continued to caress each other’s bodies, whispering sweet nothings, kissing and holding each other until you both fell into a slumber.

Joel caught your heart, promising to hold onto it forever.

[somuchwatersoclosetohome]

ok so in another departure from scheduled programming, i'm going to do my big sappy post first before recounting yesterday's 2 final london shows!! and also have a soundtrack to this post bc as i said i was hURT by thinking about plodding on and now you all have to hurt with me

also HAHA you thought my last posts were long posts well you thought WRONG

✨ firstly, thank you 😊 i know i arrived out of nowhere on this fandom scene like, what... 6 weeks ago?! despite having been a fan of R&S for ages, i've only ever appreciated on my own and not been in 'fandom'... so although i have way fewer stories of interactions and i've never been to the BFI 😭, i've never been made to feel like a lesser fan or unworthy somehow, and it's not felt like anything is gatekept. it's only been finding lovely people who appreciate other lovely people making lovely things and everyone has been immediately so open and welcoming 🤗

🚪 when we were stood outside the number 9 door last night just feeling the weight of the last few months now being over, it really was like finding your people 🌟

🙏 i'm scared i'll miss people but i'll try - @vagueeyes for spending the best part of 24h with me and traipsing around covent garden before the show where we discussed CAT bag discourse at length, @donotbelasagne for being a viewing partner technically twice now, @silverview for bringing us all together as our stage door lucky charm, @spcvarney and @varneysfangs for letting me live your previous r experiences vicariously and for being generally lovely , @misskite for sharing your unfathomable amount of R&S content, and @wintersoulwitch for inspiring me to write anything on tumblr at all without immediately dismissing it in my head as garbage. i hope i made up for the Great Twickets War of 2025 through my official ticket dealership 🙇‍♀️

but also EVERYONE that has ever interacted with any of my posts and made me feel less insane and more understood... this goes for you all as well ❤️

🌸 i actually wrote R&S an enormously soppy letter earlier in the run which i gave to them on my second viewing (and yep you guessed it, it was steve that took my gift bag)... who knows if they actually read it, but in any case it was very cathartic to write!!

i included a quote from a raymond carver short story in it (i know at least steve knows carver, because he mentions So Much Water So Close To Home (oh wow, where else have i heard that.....) in the commentary for la couchette). i included it only because i thought it captured the experience of stage/fright, and so much else of what they've created, much better than i could - the suspension of everyone in the worlds that they've created, and especially for stage/fright, the magic of live theatre...

I could hear my heart beating. I could hear everyone's heart. I could hear the human noise we sat there making, not one of us moving, not even when the room went dark. - What We Talk about When We Talk about Love

(it also gave me a thrill that about five lines before this, there's a line of dialogue in the story that is word for word - "I'll put out some cheese and crackers". 🤯)

💖 all to say that everything that we love or appreciate is often the passion project of a single person or couple of people. i am genuinely feeling a bit sad today but there is the tour to look forward to even though it feels AGES away..., but i've got a play/episode/screenplay that's sat in my writer's bottom drawer for nearly 10 years that maybe i can use the next 5 months to do something with. there's also a ton more posts i want to make about in9 and stage/fright and the experience of live theatre and fandom in general so hopefully they'll get written at some point too!! so thank you to R&S for getting me to the point of picking up a pen again 💜

9️⃣ what an era!! i feel so happy and lucky and privileged to have been a part of it 💕

[eldritchelfwriter]

A few Baldurs Gate 3 Fanfics I recommend on AO3

So long as it has meaning by ohholymoves

Relationship: Shadowheart and Selunite Paladin Tav

The fic that started it at all and inspired me to write my own Shadowheart fanfiction (Shadowheart Begins). This the first BG fanfic I had ever read. I was so blown away I read it 6 times in a row, just to catch everything that happened and the little clues seeded within, and to just admire and be in awe of how incredibly well written and beautiful the whole thing is.

Shadowheart is EXTREMELY sassy in this fic and I am here for it.

Consonance by @eliteseven

Relationship: modern Shadowheart & Tav

A profoundly sweet and meaningful story of Shadowheart & Tav getting together against the backdrop of being a band putting an album together. Isobel and Aylin also make appearances (bonus!!). Once you've checked out Consonance you'll also want to read Of Night Orchids, Lace & Steel by the same author.

Give it up for DJ Shadowheart by @capriclonus

Relationship: modern Shadowheart (a disc jockey) and modern Lae'zel

It took me a while to dip my toe into AU and modern BG3 fics but this one has blown me away. I'm on my fourth readthrough and I'm sure there are more readthroughs to come.

The characterisations and the plotting are just ... I feel like I'm reading something I've taken from a bestsellers shelf. It's absolute goals.

You really feel like you've been taken on a complex and wonderful journey by the end. This one will stick with you for a long time to come.

To Defy the Gods by @shadowfalllen

Relationship: Mother Superior Shadowheart x Tav

Shadowheart had taken the Dark Justiciar path and kept on seeing Tav, but Shar had other ideas about their continuing relationship. A Shadowheart redemption work with moments of awe, terror (I'm a lightweight and sometimes had to take a breath before continuing a chapter) and HOPE.

Also, this is one of the few works where I've seen Nocturne really being fleshed out as a character in her own right! (As she deserves!)

Hand on a Dagger (Head in the Sand) by @future-ghoost

Relationship: Dark Justiciar Shadowheart x Selunite Tav

VERY original concept where only Shadowheart was abducted, and Emmeline & Arnell hire Tav to try and rescue their now adult daughter from the cloister.

The tension is amazing, as is the growing relationship between Shadowheart and Tav and the kinds of compromises and decisions Tav is having to make while infiltrating the cloister as a Selunite. Delicious!

swear i was born right in the doorway by @tadpoleeater

Relationship: Isobel and Aylin

An absolutely hilarious rendition of how Isobel and Aylin got together. The characterisation of Aylin (a difficult character to write) is just spot on and the whole thing is so delightful, I will be surprised if you don't end up with a huge smile on your face at the end.

My Thesis is a Demigod? by @griffinisgae

Relationship: Isobel and Aylin

Fabulous AU in which Isobel, who is writing her thesis on Selune, finds Aylin dormant in a temple after thousands of years. Fish out of water / time displaced shenanigans ensue.

There are so many heartfelt, gorgeous little scenes, including laugh out loud ones.

Juniper & Starlight by @shewhowas39

Relationship: Durge and Astarion

Even though 'I don't even go to this school' as a Shadowheart and Aylin megafan, I am utterly transfixed by this continuing story of a Southern gal, heart of gold divination wizard durge and her journey with Astarion and friends. Shadowheart is the Tav's bestie in this fic and as with all the other characters in the game, is beautifully rendered in word.

As with all the other recommendations in this post, the words flow over you like music. Tav and Astarion's inner world contain so much emotional truth, a difficult feat for both of these incredibly complex characters but the writer here makes it look easy.

Before the Last Brew by @shadowfalllen

Relationship: Shadowheart and Tav

What if Shadowheart doesn't actually have a crap ton of trauma from Viconia and Shar? What if she is the new barista in a small town who has caught the eye of an author who is getting quite distracted from writing at the cafe?

What if WITHERS owns that cafe? What if it's so sweet and fuzzy and lovely and warm and you just can't wait for the next chapter?! What if! What if then?!

Born of Silver & Night Orchids by @cylinderarts

Relationship: Shadowheart and Selunite Tav (Trans Fem)

Here Shadowheart & Tav meet under VERY different circumstances - a one night stand! But soon one night leads to a few more and then one night they aren't particularly careful Shadowheart has a lil bun in oven she has to hide from the cloister while simultaneously trying to deal with her undeniable (let constantly denied) feelings for Tav!

Tav is besties with Karlach in this fic which is the absolute BEST and cylinderarts has also created a bunch of awesome art that goes with this fic that you can view on their profile.