#sorry i haven't been posting much. i have Problems

[sugoiimentos]

it's FINALLY happening

[skypalacearchitect]

Since Jewish people are such a small population globally yet face so much violence and hate, I think it's important for gentiles (such as myself) to be allies and stand against antisemitism.

I don't think I am particularly good at this, I do want to find ways to do more than just reblogging tumblr blogs, I want to find ways to help in-person, but this is what I know to do right now.

I’m low on hope today. If you’re a goyim (ie non-Jewish) leftist of any religion or lack thereof, and you stand up to antisemitism, interact with this. I literally don’t believe anyone actually cares about us at all.

Jews DNI.

I genuinely want to see if any goyim who are loudly decrying all other forms of hatred are willing to be the ones to spread this message.

And this isn’t a “if you have a heart, you’ll reblog this” point scoring thing I’m trying to get. I am actually truly feeling like most people don’t have the balls to share this. Most people hate Jews this much.

[cocklessboy]

The biggest male privilege I have so far encountered is going to the doctor.

I lived as a woman for 35 years. I have a lifetime of chronic health issues including chronic pain, chronic fatigue, respiratory issues, and neurodivergence (autistic + ADHD). There's so much wrong with my body and brain that I have never dared to make a single list of it to show a doctor because I was so sure I would be sent directly to a psychologist specializing in hypochondria (sorry, "anxiety") without getting a single test done.

And I was right. Anytime I ever tried to bring up even one of my health issues, every doctor's initial reaction was, at best, to look at me with doubt. A raised eyebrow. A seemingly casual, offhand question about whether I'd ever been diagnosed with an anxiety disorder. Even female doctors!

We're not talking about super rare symptoms here either. Joint pain. Chronic joint pain since I was about 19 years old. Back pain. Trouble breathing. Allergy-like reactions to things that aren't typically allergens. Headaches. Brain fog. Severe insomnia. Sensitivity to cold and heat.

There's a lot more going on than that, but those were the things I thought I might be able to at least get some acknowledgement of. Some tests, at least. But 90% of the time I was told to go home, rest, take a few days off work, take some benzos (which they'd throw at me without hesitation), just chill out a bit, you'll be fine. Anxiety can cause all kinds of odd symptoms.

Anyone female-presenting reading this is surely nodding along. Yup, that's just how doctors are.

Except...

I started transitioning about 2.5 years ago. At this point I have a beard, male pattern baldness, a deep voice, and a flat chest. All of my doctors know that I'm trans because I still haven't managed to get all the paperwork legally changed, but when they look at me, even if they knew me as female at first, they see a man.

I knew men didn't face the same hurdles when it came to health care, but I had no idea it was this different.

The last time I saw my GP (a man, fairly young, 30s or so), I mentioned chronic pain, and he was concerned to see that it wasn't represented in my file. Previous doctors hadn't even bothered to write it down. He pushed his next appointment back to spend nearly an hour with me going through my entire body while I described every type of chronic pain I had, how long I'd had it, what causes I was aware of. He asked me if I had any theories as to why I had so much pain and looked at me with concerned expectation, hoping I might have a starting point for him. He immediately drew up referrals for pain specialists (a profession I didn't even know existed till that moment) and physical therapy. He said depending on how it goes, he may need to help me get on some degree of disability assistance from the government, since I obviously shouldn't be trying to work full-time under these circumstances.

Never a glimmer of doubt in his eye. Never did he so much as mention the word "anxiety".

There's also my psychiatrist. He diagnosed me with ADHD last year (meeting me as a man from the start, though he knew I was trans). He never doubted my symptoms or medical history. He also took my pain and sleep issues seriously from the start and has been trying to help me find medications to help both those things while I go through the long process of seeing other specialists. I've had bad reactions to almost everything I've tried, because that's what always happens. Sometimes it seems like I'm allergic to the whole world.

And then, just a few days ago, the most shocking thing happened. I'd been wondering for a while if I might have a mast cell condition like MCAS, having read a lot of informative posts by @thebibliosphere which sounded a little too relatable. Another friend suggested it might explain some of my problems, so I decided to mention it to the psychiatrist, fully prepared to laugh it off. Yeah, a friend thinks I might have it, I'm not convinced though.

His response? That's an interesting theory. It would be difficult to test for especially in this country, but that's no reason not to try treatments and see if they are helpful. He adjusted his medication recommendations immediately based on this suggestion. He's researching an elimination diet to diagnose my food sensitivities.

I casually mentioned MCAS, something routinely dismissed by doctors with female patients, and he instantly took the possibility seriously.

That's it. I've reached peak male privilege. There is nothing else that could happen that could be more insane than that.

I literally keep having to hold myself back from apologizing or hedging or trying to frame my theories as someone else's idea lest I be dismissed as a hypochondriac. I told the doctor I'd like to make a big list of every health issue I have, diagnosed and undiagnosed, every theory I've been given or come up with myself, and every medication I've tried and my reactions to it - something I've never done because I knew for a fact no doctor would take me seriously if they saw such a list all at once. He said it was a good idea and could be very helpful.

Female-presenting people are of course not going to be surprised by any of this, but in my experience, male-presenting people often are. When you've never had a doctor scoff at you, laugh at you, literally say "I won't consider that possibility until you've been cleared by a psychologist" for the most mundane of health problems, it might be hard to imagine just how demoralizing it is. How scary it becomes going to the doctor. How you can internalize the idea that you're just imagining things, making a big deal out of nothing.

Now that I'm visibly a man, all of my doctors are suddenly very concerned about the fact that I've been simply living like this for nearly four decades with no help. And I know how many women will have to go their whole lives never getting that help simply because of sexism in the medical field.

If you know a doctor, show them this story. Even if they are female. Even if they consider themselves leftists and feminists and allies. Ask them to really, truly, deep down, consider whether they really treat their male and female patients the same. Suggest that the next time they hear a valid complaint from a male patient, imagine they were a woman and consider whether you'd take it seriously. The next time they hear a frivolous-sounding complaint from a female patient, imagine they were a man and consider whether it would sound more credible.

It's hard to unlearn these biases. But it simply has to be done. I've lived both sides of this issue. And every doctor insists they treat their male and female patients the same. But some of the doctors astonished that I didn't get better care in the past are the same doctors who dismissed me before.

I'm glad I'm getting the care I need, even if it is several decades late. And I'm angry that it took so long. And I'm furious that most female-presenting people will never have this chance.

[pomefioredove]

Can we have more of snuggles for hire please?! > <

YES always. I need more cuddle content

part one (leona, tweels, vil)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ snuggles for hire (encore)

summary: first years try helping you out with your touch-starved problem type of post: blurbs characters: rook, idia, silver additional info: romantic or platonic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, rook is rook as usual

"Really? That's it?" Ace scoffs.

"So, they haven't been hugged in a while. Okay? Neither has Deuce,"

Deuce glares. It's almost menacing. "That's not true, and you know it! I get lots of hugs every time I visit home!"

"I do, too. But that's just the thing, though, ain't it?" Epel says. "They don't have no home to get hugs from."

The huddle of first years goes quiet. Some days, you become such a part of their world, they forget you're really not from it.

"...Okay, point taken," Ace sighs. "But they have Grim! And he only stinks like, half the time!"

"If memory serves, Grim usually sleeps on the floor..." Epel says. "Poor prefect, all lonely. Now even their sleep is suffering 'cause of it!"

Jack rubs the back of his neck. "It must be tough, not having anything to look forward to,"

Another melancholy silence. Finally, Ace stands, hands on his hips.

"Well, let's do something about it, then. There are tons of boys at this school- one of them should be willing to help,"

You were slouched over your desk, dozing off over an essay you hadn't even started yet, when your door flies open.

"Prefect!" Epel shouts, his eyes wide with panic. Immediately, dread sets in. Had someone else overblotted? Was Grim in trouble?

"I'm sorry! I was looking for Vil, but he found me first!"

Huh? "What do you mean b-"

"Oh, Trickster~!"

That question answers itself. In a blink, Epel is gone, bolting before he could get dragged into this. Rook lets himself in, smiling as if he'd just won a million thaumarks.

"Ah, there you are~! I have been waiting for your call!"

You blink. "...Hi, Rook. What?"

He slides his hands under your arms, and lifts you like a cat. You remind yourself that he's much stronger than he looks.

"How my heart ached, watching you suffer! But I had to be patient- I had to wait for your call, Trickster! And when I heard Monsieur Pommette was looking for someone to come to your aid... I knew it had to be me!"

Rook sits you in his lap, squeezing you as if you were a small, cute animal. Which, to him, you sort of were. "Now, rest. I will comfort you!"

"Rook," you say, smothered in his arms, "This really isn't necessary."

"For your health, it is," he boops your nose. "Bonne nuit, mon ange."

With the way he's cooing and cuddling you so closely to him, you know there's no getting out of this.

...Not that you're complaining. He's right, after all. And you're really just grateful that he decided to break in while you were awake.

You're still going to have to kick Epel's butt for it, anyway.

"I already told you, I don't have a problem,"

Ortho Shroud beeps at you. "Incorrect. Your hormonal levels and kinesics indicate you've been sleeping poorly," he says. "...And the other first years were talking about it."

Of course, you sigh. Ace and Deuce. "It's not that bad,"

"Then perhaps you would be interested in solving another problem?"

He brings you down a long, cold hallway, and stops at a door. You hadn't been inside Ignihyde before, but with all the tech stuff, you figure there's some kind of freaky sleep machine in there.

You raise an eyebrow. "I dunno. The technology here is pretty weird,"

"Not that kind of problem!" Ortho opens the door with a giggle. "Idia, look who's here!"

To your surprise (horror? delight?) there's no sleep machine. Just one wide-eyed, blushing, terrified Idia Shroud.

By the look on his face, you can tell he knows just as much about this as you do. He and Ortho exchange glances, having an entire silent conversation while you awkwardly stand in the doorway.

Finally, Ortho looks at you: "Idy has been having similar troubles with sleeping,"

"Ortho-"

"I thought you might be able to help each other!"

Idia looks about ready to crawl under his bed and hide. You look between the two.

"Is he okay?"

"Oh, don't worry! He always gets nervous around pretty people!"

He makes a noise like a deflating balloon. Ortho giggles. "I'll see you later!"

He leaves, and a whir and a thump follow him. You stare. "He took the door knob,"

Despite all the awkward staring and blushing and groaning, you end up in the same bed, anyway, lost in a tangle of limbs that is somehow both awkward and comfortable. Idia is a lot warmer than he looks. And a very, very clingy sleeper.

You'll both lament about how terrible it was to Ortho in the morning, and you'll both leave out the fact that if it really were so terrible, one of you could've just slept on the floor.

But... you didn't. And you won't tomorrow night, either.

When you told your friends you'd been summoned to Diasomnia, they looked at you as if you'd just said your exact time and place of death.

Ace and Deuce whisper-shouted something about "not telling him", but you didn't ask. You weren't worried about Malleus, after all.

...Except that the person waiting for you in the lounge isn't Malleus.

"Oh... hey, Silver. Did you...?"

You hold up the summons, and he nods. The way he's avoiding your eyes is almost... shy. Bashful.

"Sebek came back from class yesterday yelling about you... he made it sound like you were dying," Silver says, his arms crossed tightly over his chest.

"...But if it's just insomnia, I can help."

You blink. "Oh... I appreciate it, but..."

...You can't bring yourself to finish that sentence. He just looks... tense. This isn't exactly an offer he makes to most, after all.

You're just special.

And you need that.

You sit beside him in comfortable silence. The lights in the Diasomnia lounge are already dim, and it's as quiet and solemn as ever. Silver guides you into a soft position against him, your head on his shoulder, his head on yours, his arm around you, and he falls asleep.

Maybe it's just the exhaustion finally catching up to you, but it's surprisingly easy to follow his lead and fall asleep against him.

You dream of him that night.

[no-one-hears-me]

I looked up other ways to induce vomiting and it's like "noooo vomiting is bad for you don't do it on purpose" and gave ed resources like stfu

[k0mmari]

SYSTEM! SHEN YUAN AU (Pt.2)

Pt.1

Im not done with this, so to the people that wanted more, here it is! I, fortunately or not, have thought way too much again, so once more this is going to be a very, very, VERY long post. If you guys have any ideas about this btw, please do share them! I really am just letting my mind wander a bit more than usual, so maybe someone else can have more structured thoughts than me lol. (Fair warning, there probably will be plot holes, so sorry in advance!)

Please read Pt.1 if you haven't, or this won't make any sense!

After SY warped away from his impromptu meeting with Binghe, the last place he would like to end up would be even deeper into the Endless Abyss, but according to his System, the next piece of the virus was here. While not happy, since his Personal System was (mostly) working as intended, SY managed to activate Ghost Mode and walk towards the next part without having to deal with any of the creatures down there. (He had to try very hard not to get distracted by the monsters, lest his supervisor thinks he also went missing.)

It takes considerably more time to find the virus this time, so much in fact, SY starts to recognize his surroundings from SQH's ramblings (not that he was interested or anything), and he feels a cold sense of dread running down his spine. There was no way he was that unlucky that the object that got corrupted this time was-

He was that unlocky. Lo and behold, after entering a run down ruin, SY is faced with the legendary Xin Mo, power so overwhelming it manifested as dark fire covering the blade. The only reason why SY wasn't immediately writhing on the ground from the sword's power was Ghost Mode, which he could not rely for too long, as his Personal System was displaying warning after warning about Possibility of Corruption and God Like Plot Point. It all meant that SY was on a timer, and if he took too long, the sword would start corrupting his System, which in turn could corrupt him.

Now, since this was a VERY important Plot Point, Luo Binghe had to find Xin Mo or else the plot would derail to an unfixable degree, SY couldn't just snip at it, which was a problem, since manual debugging took a considerably longer time! Still, he summons his Scissors and positions it so he can start at least trimming off the virus.

His plan immediately backfires however, as an ominous crack sounds through the air and he's suddenly pushed away from the sword by a gust of energy. A bit disoriented, he shakes his head and acesses the sit-

Xin Mo, the horrible sword it was, was apparently so OP that it seemed to detect the Scissors at the last second, and the thing attacked back! The metal of the Scissors was dark and broken where it came close to the sword, almost broken in half! Which, not good! It any other time, a pair of broken Debugging Sheers would be more or less fine, if not a major inconvinience (and pay deduction) for SY, but since he'd been warping all over the time for a while now, his Personal System's energy reserves were carefully rationed, and if he were to use a chunk to send the Scissors back for some emergency repair, he'd only have one chance to go back to HQ. Alone.

He couldn't delay it any longer, he desperately needed to find SQH and pray he still had some energy reserves left.

Setting his Personal System's next warp location to SQH's last known location, SY wouldn't have guessed in a million years that he would go back to Cang Qiong Mountain, but whatever; maybe SQH had wanted to start with fixing the bug on Binghe's pendant? Not that this was the right time since it was after Binghe fell into the Abyss, but SQH had never been good at warping. It takes a bit of wandering and going inside different buildings, but eventually his Personal System managed to get a dirrect ping on SQH's System, which sent a massive wave of relief rushing through SY, since it meant that SQH was still slive.

Though as to why he was at An Ding Peak, SY could only guess.

After a bit more wandering, SY enters on what seems to be a (very messy) office space, SY feels all the pieces coming together in his mind. Half sprawled across the table with piles of paper covering the entire table's surface lay the An Ding Peak Lord, which- was already weird, since wasn't this guy supposed to be an enemy of the Peak now? After the whole betrayal thing or whatever? But that would've been something to look into later, were it not for said Peak Lord casually scrolling through a Personal System screen. A Personal System that could only be used by the System's Maintanence Staff.

SY wastes no time in deactivating Ghost Mode, and when SQH's eyes snap to his, the man jumps so high from his chair he almost falls back. It's not a happy reunion by a longshot, since SY immediately jumped his friend co-worker and demanded an explaination, almost screaming about it was all his fault for doing shitty maintenence, and creating this shitty world if it's shitty OP sword which broke his Sheers? Do you know how expensive these are?? I know you do, cause the supervisor never lets you touch the good ones cause you keep cracking all the other pairs-

It takes a more or less one whole hour to calm down SY, but eventually the younger settled and lets SQH say his bit of the story: Apparently, in his messing around with the System's world creation program when he was trying to find the bug in his world, he'd accidentaly managed to get himself actually transmigrated to PIDW, though still with (limited) acess to his Personal System, which let him still send messages to their supervisor and pretend that everything was ok. He'd gotten so unlucky too! Out of all the people to accidentaly select, did it have to be the An Ding Peak Lord? Couldn't it have been Binghe? Or MBJ- (SQH cuts his lamenting when he notices SY's absolutely viscious death glare being stared right through his soul.)

Long story short, he'd initially did try to fix his blunder, but as more time passed and SQH's access to Maintenance priviledges went out one by one on his System, he eventually just... Started actually living there. In fact, he was living so well there that he dared say his life as Peak Lord was even better then when he was with the System! Of course, since he had been integrated as a 'character' now, he had his limitations, he actually managed to get to know his fellow peak lords! He knew the name of his character's family members and his disciples! He'd managed to build a life he never even thought he could have inside the System.

Sure, did he betray the Peak? Yes, yes he did. Were they all going to die in a few years time when Binghe came back from hell? Yeah, yeah they were, and he was immensely guilty and terrified, but! The plot could be changed! He already assumed someone from the System had popped up in the Conference, as when Binghe had recently made his alliance with MBJ, and had mentioned in passing this weird thing that had happened to him just before he fell into the Abyss.

Anyways, eventually SY begrudgingly accepts SQH's decision to stay in PIDW, but he still had to help SY; and so they form a plan: SY was going to transfer some energy to SQH so he could temporarily get his acess to the full version of his Personal System and use his energy reserves to send SY's Sheers and get them fixed. SQH was also going to properly apologize to their supervisor for suddenly quitting without notice AND order some more energy stacks to be sent to SY's System. SY on the other hand had devises a plan to get closer to XIn Mo without the sword exploding his face off:

Infiltrate Demon Emperor Luo Binghe's palace as a lowly staff member and slowly debug the sword from the inside.

A perfect plan! What could go wrong?

SY selects to warp to a time where Binghe had Xin Mo mostly in control, so it is to no surprise he warps to a place were the Demonic Emperor's Palace is absolutely filled with women. Not the best situation, since a lot of people could and probably would be able to see him, but with that many harem members, it wasn't too much of a stretch to assume there was also a considerable number of staff, which, to SY's luck, there was! In fact, after he managed to activate a disguise for his clothes so they matched the rest of the servants, no one bat an eye on his presence; at most someone would inquire about his short hair, but other than that he was as noteable as a fly.

The first phase of his plan was already a success, so now he had to move on to reconnaissance which was mostly easy and the worst thing in his life. He was mostly looking for Binghe's quarters could be as he probably kept the sword close to him at all times, though with how big the palace was, his objective had gradually shifted to mapping out the labyrinth of halls as much as possible (SY was very glad that the System allowed him to create a map in real time or he might have gotten lost in the first five minutes). He walks so much he even manages to catch a few pieces of gossip, though the most interesting one by far being one about Binghe:

Apparently, a year ago, the Emperor had a qi deviation where, for a day, he seemed to have completely shifted his personality; he refused to touch any of his wives and kept screaming for his long dead Shizun. SY doesn't really remember that plot point, though his wondering is cut short when he hears people walking towards his direction. instinctively he his behind a dark corner, momentarily forgetting that he 'worked' at the palace now.

At list his bad luck was finally turning over as the Golden Protagonist himself walked past him with one of his wives hanging off his arm, looking just as cool as SY had always imagined. He had to snap himself out of his stuppor though, as two things caught his attention: First, Xin Mo was, predictably, strapped to his waist, still glitched but at least the virus seemed more or less contained, which gave SY a bit more time to work, though the other thing he noticed...

Hanging onto an old-looking braid laid SY's missing tassle that Binghe had found for him all the way back at the Conference.

What the hell was Luo Binghe doing wearing that old tassle at this day and age??

A few days passed and the Tassle Incident (as he called it) had to be set aside, as it seemed that passing as a servant also meant that other servants and even some wives expected SY to actually work. Not great, he sucked at cleaning and the other servants spared no words to make it clear to him, but it at least gave him something to do while he waited for his Scissors to arrive. SQH had sent him a few messages saying he'd gotten his part of the deal done, so now all SY could do was monitor Xin Mo's condition (from very far away), and occasionally manually debug some small virus pieces that had fallen from the sword, which luckily were easy enough to deal with that he didn't need to cut them off.

The only thing that was worrying him now is how... odd Luo Binghe seemed. Of course, he was supposed to be the pinnacle of the Cool Guy trope, so some edginess was to be expected, but Binghe didn't look just Edgy, he looked straight up depressed. There were bags under his eyes, and he barely seemed to tolerate the presence of 99% of his wives, and that damned braid with the damned tassle was still there-

Point is, Binghe acting so weird really threw SY through a loop, and he may have gotten a bit careless. At a random day when SY was carrying some dirty laundry another servant had just shoved at him, he had no prior warning before a voice sounded from behind him: "You seem to have dropped something."

He barely managed to shake off the violent sense of deja-vu that had sucker punched him in the face before he realized what was happening; Luo Binghe was talking to him. Directly to him. Shit- shit! Did he notice? Was Binghe doing a clever call back, spider-man style?? Was SY going to die????

SY shakily turns to Binghe, keeping his eyes locked onto the floor, bowing as much as possible that he still seemed respectful but the bag of clothes he had didn't all just fall to the floor. Thankfully Binghe didn't seem to mind, and simply put the fallen piece of clothing on top of the others and walked away. Though, just as SY was regaining his breath, Luo Binghe's voice stops him again. "You... Have we met before?"

SY trembles something about only being hired recently and not having the opportunity to formaly meet Junshang, and it seems to be a decent enough that Binghe just stares at him for a while longer before walking away. He really should grow out his hair if even the Emperor got weirded out like that...

Binghe started eyeing SY way more after that day. The protagonist would rarely speak directly to him, but SY could feel his gaze as if it were burning; though, since Binghe never said anything, SY just assumed that whatever Binghe's problem with him was, it was likely nothing to worry about.

In fact, it probably was because one of Binghe's wives had used SY is an impromptu act to try to get Binghe jealous (he just frowned, separated the two and walked away) and after that she had gotten infatuated with him, so she'd turned SY into her personal servant. Because of that SY saw Binghe at most two times a week instead of the 50% chnace of seeing his shadow once a week. Wow.

Because of this, as much as Binghe noticed SY, SY noticed Binghe as well, the protagonist seeming to get even more down as the days went. The tassle was still braided in his hair (SY worried it was just going to become a lock at this point), his eyebags never seemed to leave his eyes, and he was always muttering about... something. (SY managed to overhear something about 'fairness' and what Binghe actually wanted...?)

It all culminated at a seemingly random night. Most of the wives and servants had gone to sleep, only the more in-human women still hanging around, and SY, of course, but mostly it was because he wanted to see how close he could get to Binghe's quarters (aka Xin Mo) at night. Not that it was necessary, as when he was walking his attention was adruptly caught by the strangest sight: Luo binghe, sitting on one of the stone stair that lead to one of the many courtyards, being absolutely drenched in rain. The weirdest part was that a few servants and wives had also passed this place, and they all seemed like they didn't see Binghe, or didn't care.

Hating to see such an usually proud man (not that he'd seen much of that either) just soaking outside as if he'd just caught the love of his life cheating with another man, SY decided that at least he'd do a good job as a servant and take care of 'his Lord'. He grabs an umbrella from one of the adjacent rooms and slowly walks outside, covering Luo Binghe's form, not really caring if he was also getting soaked.

They stayed silent for who knows how long, but eventually, Binghe's eyes that had been laser focused on the horizon slowly blink once, as if coming out of a trance, and slowly move to SY's face, up to his hand holding the umbrella. "My Lord should get back inside. He'll get sick that way." SY half murmurs.

Binghe doesn't respond, though after a few seconds, his eyes seem to widen a bit and his breath comes out a little shaky. SY doesn't dare comment on it.

"Have we met before?" Luo Binghe asks again.

"...Yes." Shen Yuan says.

Binghe closes his eyes, and they stay like that for another hour.

Pt.3

[eaterofman]

Yandere Coworker Harem x New Hire Reader: A Meeting with the CEO

Follow up to this post

Finally fed up with it all, you decide to leave... but you learn it may not be that easy.

Content Warnings: General creepiness, yanderes, financial manipulation, manipulation, power difference, gaslighting

AN: Holy shit the first part blew up, more so than any post I've ever made on tumblr... ever. Thank y'all, and I hope this lives up to everyone's expectations? Had to ignore a few asks since they were essentially the plot to this part, haha.

As nice as Jake is... it starts to wear on you. The seclusion from your other coworkers, Warren and Jax's constant attention, it all becomes too much. This was the easiest money you've ever made, but it almost felt... condescending in a way. Seriously, you feel like you haven't actually worked in months, just given simple tasks to complete so that Jax could praise you. Otherwise, you felt like you were just eye candy set in a pretty office. No more, you figure. You make up your mind to go back to HR, it's been a long time coming. They either fix it, or you're gone.

With your mind made up, you return to Leon. He'd been so kind before, surely he'd help, right? As you explain your problems to him, he nods and gently smiles. In your distress, you don't notice his hand moving to cover yours, massaging yours comfortingly. You welcome the comforting sensation, overwhelmed to the point of not really considering the implications. You look into his dark eyes as you finish, silently pleading with him for help.

"That really is something. I'm sorry to hear your experience with the company has been so distressing. Tell me, do you have any proof?"

His demeanor seems to shift instantly back to the colder man you remember from your first sight of him. His fingers rubbing gentle circles into your palm shift into a harsher grip.

"Proof? I-I mean, the cameras have probably caught something?"

You'd say there were eyewitnesses, but all of your other coworkers had been avoiding you. You barely even knew their names...

"Unfortunately, our cameras have been malfunctioning lately, I doubt they'd catch anything. Without any actual witnesses, I'm afraid I can't do anything for you."

"How can you say that without even looking? This place is insane- you know what? I'm just quitting. I can't take this anymore."

You try to remove your hand but he keeps it there. His gaze is suddenly ice cold. He lets your hand go after a few moments of tension, fingers lingering before you yank your hand to your chest.

"Ah, you could quit... but I'd really recommend against it. You'd of course have to pay the dues you signed in your contract, as well as any additional fees. I'm not in charge of finances, but my estimate would be somewhere around... 200 thousand or so?"

You gasp, blood running cold. 200 thousand?! You don't remember signing that, but you also don't recall really reading over the contract in your excitement. You try to think of a way out, surely there had to be some sort of loophole-

"Of course, there's always the option of asking the CEO to change your contract, but..."

You'd tuned anything after that out, insisting to meet with the CEO as soon as possible. Which, to your surprise, was almost immediately. Almost like he'd been... waiting for you? Leon himself lead you to the CEO's room, at the very top of the skyscraper your office resided in. As you're let in, you're met with the biggest office you'd ever seen. It composed of the entire top floor of the skyscraper, massive windows encircling the entire ornate office.

You really try to ignore the feeling that you're walking into a trap.

The CEO was patiently waiting for you. Like a king on a throne, he sat in the middle of the room in front of a surprisingly simple desk. You'd heard of the CEO, Kennedy Grey, but you'd never met him in person before. He had an air of sophistication around him, an older gentlemen with salt and pepper hair and a well trimmed beard. His suit was pristine and looked expensive, probably costing more than your entire yearly salary. He smiled, urging the two of you to sit. His eyes glanced over to Leon's, a slight smirk on his face as if the two were in on a joke you weren't.

"So, what brings you two here? I've heard very good things about you from Jax. Things are going well, I presume?"

You fidget, despite his welcoming tone, he felt oddly... menacing. Like you weren't supposed to disagree with him, even if he asked you a question. You begin to explain your issues, but are quickly stopped with a firm look of disapproval when you bring up the idea of leaving the company.

"Now now, we can't have that, can we? With your contract, that wouldn't be a very smart idea, would it?"

Before you can even respond, he simply continues to talk over you.

"No, no it wouldn't. And you've just been such a good worker, we'd just hate to lose you."

"Well, I was actually hoping we could talk about the contract, I just don't think it's fair-" you can barely get your thoughts out as he cuts you off again.

"Unfair? But my dear, you signed it. I'd just hate to get my lawyers involved... they're top of the line, y'know? Besides, you don't actually want to leave, you're just... stressed. What do you need, a paid week off? A bonus for your hard work?"

"No-"

"Well, now that that's done, let's get back to work, shall we? You'll have a bonus on your next pay-"

You've had enough of his condescension and interruptions, it's time for you to interrupt him.

"You know what, I'll take the lawsuit. You people are insane. You can have the money if you want, but I'm out of here."

As you get up, you find you can't. Leon has moved behind you, surprisingly strong arms holding your chair in, preventing you from moving. You look up at him in angered confusion, but he's sharing a look with Kennedy. You once again feel like you're missing an important part of an inside joke again. You try to struggle, but you're stopped as Kennedy interrupts.

"Apartment 101, Evergreen Apartments, right?"

"W-wha-"

"You know, I've been venturing into the rental market recently. Very profitable at the moment. I actually just bought a few buildings in your area, including your little apartment. Such a shame, you know you could do better, right? All you have to do is ask..."

He smiles at you as if this was a normal conversation to him, like he was doing you a favor.

"I guess that makes me your landlord now, if you think about it!" his smile turns colder, eyes crinkling like he's laughing at you, "That being said, I just don't see how you're going to pay for the rent increase without this job. I hate to do it, but it's a necessity, y'know? Cost of living and such."

He waves his hand like it's no big deal, like he isn't playing with your livelihood and threatening you.

"You could move out, of course, but well, word gets around, and I just don't know how the other investors in the area would react to your... history."

You feel dread well up in the pit of your stomach and tears in your eyes. He... has you. What could you even do? Moving out of the city would mean starting over, and that's if you could even find a place and a job to pay for said place, and paying for the lawsuit-

In your panic, you can only whimper, "I just... why? Why me? i don't understand-"

"That's the beauty of it all, you don't have to. All you have to worry about is coming in and doing your job. We'll handle all the rest."

You jump, having almost forgotten Leon was behind you in your panic. You go to open your mouth-

"Wonderful insight, Leon. Now that we're all on the same foot, let's get back to work, shall we?"

You can only numbly nod your head, too overwhelmed to continue fighting.

You're finally allowed to sit up and begin walking towards the door, trying to speed walk out of the huge room that somehow managed to feel claustrophobic. You just wanted out at this point, you needed somewhere to think.

As you step into the elevator, Leon staying behind in the office-thank god-you're interrupted one final time.

"Oh, and I meant what I said. If you ever need any assistance, anything at all, just come to me. All you have to do is ask."

[jasonswhitetuftofhair]

“Come at me, Baby”

Characters/Pairings : Jason Todd (Red Hood) x female!reader.

Synopsis : Jason and Reader spar and after training things get steamy filthy.

Content Warnings : SMUT. Slow burn. Poor writing. Lots of plot. Training/Sparring (reader learns combat). Curse words. Pet names. Overstimulation. Multiple orgasms. Protected sex. Size kink (barely noticeable). Oral (fem rec.). Fingering. Dry humping. Use of object as toy (Jason uses a muscle massage gun on you). Vaginal intercourse. Light bondage (Jason ties your hands w/ resistance bands). Reader insert (sorry). Aftercare.

Fandom : DC, Batman.

Word Count : 5202

Author’s Notes : First fic I’ve written. Like ever. Also, this is a repost; I originally posted this for the first time in October 23’ but I deleted it in December 23’ due to insecurity.

This week had been tiring. Multiple meetings, a lab breakout scare, a few late night patrols all on top of studying the material you’d been given had started to add up. All you wanted was to retire for the night, go to your room and take a nice, relaxing, long, hot bath. Gorge yourself with junk food and put your show on, and then sleep like the dead. But no, tonight called for an evening training session with your training instructor.

Jason. Jason Todd. Before you had entered the gym, you weren't sure if you would be up to train tonight. But watching him enter the double doors with his hot-as-hell all black tactical pants, skin tight athletic t-shirt and combat boot ensemble quickly made you reconsider. As if it was hard.

Ever since Bruce had finally gotten Jason to accept his proposal of conducting training sessions with everybody, you’ve been feeling like a sitting duck. You had been trying to hide your feelings from the older vigilante for a while now. A while as in since you first arrived at the manor. Nearly eight months had you been stumbling around whenever he was near, barely making eye contact and feeling like an idiot because of him. And you had been succeeding, too! Barely, but still. He didn't know anything and now with your new arrangement, how could he not pick up on the vibes you were sending out? It was only a matter of time before your feelings were compromised and you were left heartbroken and feeling like a fool, your friendship with him long gone.

It wasn't so bad, though. You had always been good at adapting and Jason wasn't necessarily bad on the eyes. It was kind of fun, too. His little dry humored remarks, shared inside jokes and just…him, made him good company. After all, he was your friend. You haven't known him long, but it still felt like you’ve known him forever. But that was the problem. Your friendship with him was too much of a treasure to have it be risked just because of a little crush. You’d rather be plagued by the overwhelming melancholy of your predicament than not have him at all. If the only way you could allow yourself to indulge in the feel of his hands on your body was when he was training you in combat, then that was something you were okay with settling for.

“Earth to Y/N. Um hellooooo, you there?” Jason’s equally teasing and concerned words pulled you from your trance you hadn't even realized you’d fallen into.

Your embarrassment quickly appeared on your face and didn't go unnoticed by him. “Yes! Sorry, I’m here.” Having been snapped out of your thoughts, you noticed that Jason had you held against him mid-air. You threw a punch at him, but he of course dodged it so you did what you first thought next. You tried to kick him in his side but he quickly grabbed your ankle and gently but strongly twisted it so that your body changed direction. Before you could lose balance and fall he grabbed your other thigh and caught your body against his, holding you to him. You didn't react at all, though, and his initial thought was that he crossed a line he didn't know of and did something to upset you. He called your name and you didn't answer the first time so he paused the lesson and brought you back to him.

He was a little worried, honestly. He knew you to be like this, often catching you staring off into space and likely daydreaming or stuck in deep thought. It was your expression, though. The mild sorrow, a little bit of adoration shining in those pretty eyes he loved so much, too.

“You sure? We can take a break if you need it,” he offers, gently smiling at you, “is everything okay? I didn't hurt you, did I?” he asks worriedly. Gazing into his eyes, your heart almost swells up. He looks so genuine, like it would hurt him if he hurt you and you let yourself pretend it's for other reasons. “Yes, I’m fine, promise. Just have a headache s’all.” It's enough to relax him just the slightest but he doesn't believe you. Your body language is just not convincing enough. He finally puts you down and lets his eyes skim all over you. He tells himself it's to check for signs of discontent or injury, but he knows he can't lie to himself. Youre just too fucking beautiful. He shakes himself out of it before the blood rushes south and gets back to the lesson.

“So. You really need to get out of the habit of kicking. It can't be your first instinct, sweetheart. You're exposing an entire limb to the enemy and you're not skilled enough yet to counter whatever it is they plan on doing. I know it's hard, but you need to really start implementing your upper body strength,” he explains to you, occasionally letting his fingers linger on your skin when showing you what the enemy could potentially do to you. You truly appreciate how gentle and accommodating he is when it comes to teaching you. You’ve seen him train with the others and sometimes his harsh tone is enough to make you jump even when his words are directed to someone else. He’s been so patient with you and the thought of him going out of his way to train your aversion-to-fighting self makes your heart flutter. You nod along with him, letting him know you haven't gone off to La La Land again.

“Alright. Come at me, honey,” he orders while positioning himself in the default defense stance. Legs strong, but ready to move. Arms by his side ready to catch and balance. Core strong and taut, chest puffed. Eyes on you, just as he likes it. He finds it adorable how clueless your little expression is. Eyes wandering all over the place, arms trying to find a good way to support yourself and legs waddling to their correct position. Like a baby deer learning how to walk. He hears your little words of encouragement to yourself and watches your eyes, watching the gears turn in your brain. While his focus is stuck on your pretty face, he doesn't notice your left hand curling behind you while you spin yourself around, pressing your back to his front. He grunts and catches your right hand before it can land around his bicep. You quickly move your feet backward and jump behind him, putting all your strength into kicking his back hamstring, but he’s already several steps ahead of you. He turns around before your foot can land and grabs your ankle, destabilizing your legs and grabbing your wrists, holding them tight in his right hand.

This of course leads his mind to other things, things that would involve this very position. You curl your leg around his stretched leg and twist your body around, landing you on top of him. Your legs straddling his abdomen and palms resting on his waist. He doesn't mind at all, though and senses a pause in your movement. He notices your tired expression, your flushed face and neck, the sweat on your hairline, neck and brow. You jump, as if just now realizing the position you had him in. You move to sit next to him and he moves into a sitting position, no longer back to floor. You flash him a cheeky grin, happy with yourself for winning this time.

“Did I do good?” you ask him excitedly and he chuckles, your pretty little smile having caused his heart to skip a beat. ‘Did I do good?’. That phrase would be on repeat in his brain for a little while, he could tell. The way you seeked his approval caused his groin to stir and he stood up, quick to distract himself.

“You did. I’m proud, that was much better. We’re gonna focus on your upper torso, now, okay?” He guides you to stand and places his hands on either sides of your shoulders, guiding you to stand in front of him. “I'm gonna throw at you, and you're going to block them.” He playfully wiggles his fist in front of you and you grab onto it giggling. Oh how he adores that sound. He sneakily aims and his fist appears next to your collarbone, you move your body out of the way. He does it again, this time it comes next to your left shoulder. You grab his wrist with both hands and block it. He doesn't miss the way you needed both hands to wrap around his wrist. He moves again, fist to the right of your face. Your eyes widen and he shushes you and you relax. You both know he wouldn't make a move to successfully cause you harm.

This goes on and on for what seems like forever. Your stamina has dwindled down a while ago and he can tell how tired you are. He thinks about cutting training early, but for his own selfish reasons he decides against it. He doesn't want your time together to end. Still, you're barely putting in any effort and you're certainly not trying to hide it from your instructor. His eyes haven't left you since the session began and he was very pleased with all the intel he’s received. Your short, panted breaths. The way your cheeks and neck flushed with that pretty shade of pink that suited you so well. Your wide eyes, how they seemed to sparkle under the annoyingly bright lights of the gym. How they seemed to water whenever he stared into them for too long. Your wobbling lip whenever you got a little too into it. How you went out of your way to put both of your hands on him, regardless of if it was beneficial or not. The way you didn't even move out of the way of his punches anymore. You just watched the muscles of his arms flex and wished they were around you instead.

“You gotta put in some more effort for me, princess. I know you can do it,” he tells you, cooing at the way you whine at him, silently wishing he would end training early. He chuckles. “C’mon, block em’, sweetheart.” You roll your eyes and try to muster up whatever strength left in your exhausted body. Your hands meet his and successfully block a hit. He doesn't forget how you rolled your eyes, though. What he wouldn't do to have you bent over his lap for that. He finishes with the punches and leads you to the equipment.

He stands you in front of the power rack looking thing, gripping your waist and holding you up, waiting for you to grab onto the handles on top. “Chin-ups. Fifteen of em’,” he tells you and you groan. He knows you hate chin ups. “Tsk, tsk. C’mon, princess. Don't make it twenty. These help with your shoulder and bicep strength. Use an underhand grip, palms facing you.” You sigh and get into position, starting what he told you to do. You made sure to be as dramatic as possible, though; you were too tired to keep the brat in you at bay. Jason, on the other hand, doesnt try to hide the way he is blatantly staring at your ass, thighs and waist. He burns the image in his mind and moves closer to you, holding onto your waist to make you feel secure.

You huff and sigh out, hoping he’ll give into you. Throughout the entirety of the session, his hands have been on you. His breath has been on your neck. The feel of his body on yours. Him in your proximity. It was frustrating. Having him so close, but far away. Little did you know he felt the same. His hands move to rub encouraging circles into your hips and you whimper out loud, to your embarrassment. He doesn't even try to hide his smirk, though. Once the exercises are done, he holds onto you, purposefully moving his big hands to rest on your ass, bringing you down. You’re done with his teasing and turn around, pressing your palms flat to his chest and keeping him at bay. You signal with your eyes that you’re not in the mood for the teasing and he coos, holding your face between his two hands. “Is there something you want, baby?” you whine and cry out for him trying to hide your face into his chest but he only lifts your chin back up so he can see you. “Come on, sweetheart, if you want something you have to ask for it.” “hmph! I want you to stop teasing me, Jason!” He smiles wickedly and lets you go. “Training is over,” he states simply and you sigh contentedly, walking to the locker room.

Before you can open it, though, Jason’s hand wraps around your wrist and you turn to him. “You didn't actually think I was done with you, did you?” he asks but doesn't wait for an answer. He opens the door to the locker room and guides you into it before locking the door. In an instant you're pressed against the door, cold wood on your back, and Jason’s mouth on yours. It's not much of a fight for dominance, his tongue having beat yours instantly. It feels heavenly. Not just the feel of his tongue in your mouth, tasting yours, but finally all this pent up tension leaving your body. You sigh into the kiss, Jason’s hand comes up behind your neck to grab the hair at the base and you mewl against him.

You were losing oxygen and his kisses traveled from your lips, to your chin, to your jaw, the sweet spot on your neck. His big hands wrapped tightly around your waist and the feel of his open-mouthed kisses on your neck has your jaw slack and breathing uneven. He smiles at the way you look like a puppy with your open mouth and panting, practically drooling.

“This okay, sweetheart?”

You were practically soaking through your panties by now and the tenderness of his words and low pitch of his voice certainly wasn't helping. You nod a yes and throw your head back at the feel of his harsh sucking on your neck and collarbone. He growls and spanks your bottom, “I need words, Y/N,” he commands and you whine out loud yet again. “Yes! Please, need you, Jason,” you tell him and that’s all he needs to hear.

Carrying the two of you, he picks you up and holds you against him. Your legs wrapped against his waist and he sits down on a bench, you still on his lap. His kisses don't stop and the feel is euphoric. His hands haven't stopped roaming your body. The feel of his big hands groping at your soft, supple flesh through the clothing separating you from him combined with just…him, was damn near enough to make you go crazy. You were tugging at his hair and pressing your face against the crook of his neck, desperate to smell his pheromones and your soft lips pressing kisses of your own against his neck had him hard against you already. When you felt his hardness against your tummy you gasped and tugged on his hair a tad bit harder and he moaned against you. Little curses left his mouth and you were seeing stars. Nothing had barely even happened and you were already this close to being admitted into Arkham Asylum.

Suddenly his hands paused their movements and his tone became one of seriousness. He grabbed your chin and forced your face towards his. Your pretty little glossed over eyes shining up into his had his breath hitch and for a split second he forgot what he needed to do. He could see the curiosity on your face, your teeth tugging your lower lip and he had to avert his eyes.

“Fuck, Y/N. I need to tell you something. I-I like you, Y/N. And not just in a friendship way. I understand—” he started but you cut him off, lurching towards him even more and grabbing his head between your hands, kissing him with a force you didn't know you could possess. He could feel you smile into the kiss and he let you have control this time. Not for long, though. He grabbed your hair into his fist and you gasped. “I-I like you, too, Jason. Have for a while now,” you mumbled against him and he grabbed your plump bottom with both hands, bringing your body flush with his. This only fueled the fire, though; his rock hard cock straining against his pants feeling your core against him had him clenching his jaw and closing his eyes, trying to control himself a little bit.

“I like you a lot, Jason. A lot a lot,” you whimpered against his lips and he smiled. You could see the genuinity in his eyes and the softness in his smile. He placed a gentle kiss against your forehead and then one on your nose and finally one on your lips. “I'm glad, sweetheart. Very glad,” and with that he grabbed your hips and shifted your legs a little bit. He forcedly rocked your clothed cunt against his hardness and your eyes closed, head tossed back. It was almost too much, too fucking much. You had been teased all night long and with all this foreplay you weren't sure if you would last. You tried to paw his hands off of your hips and stop your movement, but you just weren't strong enough. His devilish grin staring up at you, his pretty girl, had you whining and grow the ache in your pussy. “Stop, ‘s too much, stop, please, Jay,” you begged against him and all he could do was smile. “Stop? You want me to stop? But I’m not even doing anything, baby,” he teased. He knew he was teasing the damnit out of you. Even as you begged for mercy, there you were, still riding his clothed dick. You couldn't help but follow his lead though, your hips couldn't help but relish in the feeling of his hands tight on them, guiding you back and forth. Even if you wanted to you weren't sure if you could stop. God, it felt so good. Nothing you had ever felt like before. His hands on your hips and his mouth abusing your sensitive skin. The hardness of him grinding directly onto your clit. It was all so amazing.

He could tell you were close. He’s never had you before but he already knew all your tells. Your panting and labored breaths. The way you couldn't keep your eyes open. The stuttering of your hip movement. How you tried to get closer to him, even though you were flush to him. Gasps and whimpers leaving your mouth. Your hands tried to paw his hands away yet again. Think you’d learn the first time. His mouth went right back to sucking marks into your skin and he cooed at you. “C’mon, babygirl. You can do it. I know you need it, sweetheart. Just let go and cum for me,” he softly commanded. Hips following his words, your pace quickened and he ground you down onto him. His own hips jerked up and his cock spanked your core. Within moments the climax unraveled and you let out a screech. The white hot bliss greeted you and the power of your orgasm could be felt in every nerve ending of your body. You shook for a good thirty seconds and your vision went blurry. You slumped against him tiredly and he chuckled. His soothing hands rubbing circles into your back and sweet nothings helped calm you down and your high rode out. You lazily started unbuckling his belt and he grabbed your wrists, stopping you. Oh how you liked the feel of his hands grabbing you like that. “Tsk, tsk, Princess. ‘M not done with you yet.”

In an instant he was untying your shoe laces, kicking them off your feet and forcing your pants down to your ankles. His hands ripped your panties off and you were exposed. The brisk air was biting against your wet cunt and you gasped slightly. He raised you up against the lockers and wrapped your legs around his head, hands planted firmly on your ass holding you midair. The smell of your arousal and the previous orgasm dripping everywhere had him painfully hard. “Tell me if it's too much, baby, and I’ll stop, okay?” You whispered a ‘yes’ and he finally satiated his desire to have your cunt in his mouth. His mouth went straight for your clit and you shrieked at the feeling. His light little sucks on the nub had you rolling your eyes back and jerking your hips. Continuous moans leaving your mouth only encouraging him. He licked a stripe straight up and down the length of your pussy and his own moans left him. You tasted fucking delicious. Like everything he had imagined. All those times he imagined how you’d feel and he was finally fucking seeing for himself. He felt like a kid on goddamn Christmas, his hands tightening his grip on your ass. You were sure there’d be handprints in the morning. His thumb went to rub rough circles on your little bundle of nerves while he thrust his tongue in and out of your weeping hole. You started to cry out for him, hands pushing against his head and fingers gripping his hair attempting to pull him off of your pussy. Absolute the fuck not. He looked to his right and to his luck there was a set of resistance training bands hanging from a hook. He smirked and looked up at your fucked out face and he chuckled to himself. Holding you up with one hand, he reached to his side and grabbed a cable band. You watched his movement and saw what he was doing and your eyes widened. The kinky bitch. “C’mon, princess. Give em to me. Since you don't know how to keep your hands to yourself, I have to take em away from you,” he teased playfully condescending. He tied your hands together behind your back with the workout gear and he hummed satisfied with himself before resuming his meal. He was fucking merciless with his tongue and you soon learned your crush was a borderline sadist. His mouth wrapped around your clit and his sucks were harsh and unforgiving. Like a man starved, he ate you like you were the last source of hope for his soul. His finger started fucking you, too. He started with one but your drenched hole quickly accommodated for more. Soon enough you were on the brink of another orgasm and he forced it from you roughly. “Again, sweetness. You can cum again, cant you? Give me another.”

The orgasm brought tears to your eyes and you wouldn't stop shaking. Your thighs were quaking around his head and your back arched off of the cool metal of the lockers you were propped against. Toes curling, head thrown back, continuous moans and screams leaving your lips. Your second climax of the night arrived and you screamed into the locker room, little sobs leaving your ruined body. He let you ride out your orgasm against his tongue until he was fully content and gently brought you down, placing one last kiss against your lower body. He sucked his fingers that were just shoved inside you, not breaking eye contact with your tired eyes. He placed his forehead against your own and wiped away your tears.

“You okay, baby? Was that too much?” he asked worriedly. He didnt want to fuck up his first time with you and feared he lost control of himself. You smiled tiredly against him and shook your head lightly. “‘M okay, promise. Jus’ need you, Jason.” He smiled and shuffled you towards the mirror and sinks. He took off his shirt and laid it on the edge of one of the sinks he was about to bend you over. You realized it was for your comfort and smiled up at him, feeling your heart swell up. Even when he was about to absolutely obliterate your cunt, he still managed to be a gentleman. He unbuckled his pants and finally his cock sprung up. He sighed, finally feeling relief. He watched you stare at his size through the mirror, seeing your eyes widen and your teeth tug on your lip. He lightly guided you into the position he wanted you in and you sighed contently, feeling comforted by the thought you would finally be fucked by him. Watching him pull a condom out of nowhere and rip it open with his teeth had you on the edge of your seat. He sheathed himself with it and made sure everything was ready. “Ya’ ready for me, sweetheart?” he asked while lining his tip up with your entrance, smearing your wetness all around his head. You gasped and shouted a little “yes” and he chuckled, sinking in. Even with two orgasms loosening your little cunt up for him, he was still a little much to adjust to. Both of your heads tossed back in sync and you closed your eyes, sighing for him. You worked your hips against him, wanting to feel more. He grunted and grabbed you by your hair, bringing your head up to look in the mirror. “Keep your eyes up here, baby.”

Once you were fully adjusted to his size, he slid almost all the way out and then re-entered your warm, wet heat. It felt so good. He set a pace and it was so heavenly. You could cry with how good it felt. You both needed this, needed this release for all the pent up frustrations in your lives. Sounds of flesh smacking against flesh and his grunts and your little sighs filled the room and the smell of sex was heavy in the air. His hands were on either side of your hips and his eyes met yours in the mirror. It was fucking exotic. Seeing your eyes perfectly, watching the pleasure unravel on your face. Pleasure he was giving you. His pace quickened a hair and you gasped. Your hips moved backwards against him, in time with his thrusts. You felt him deeper and the perfect rhythm of his cock repeatedly hitting that spot inside you almost hypnotized you. He smirked a little bit as he watched your fucked out face in the mirror. No thoughts, head empty. It was clear only pleasure was what you felt.

You didn't even notice him reaching above the both of you and retrieving something from the cabinet. Only when you heard the familiar buzzing noise did you wake up from the transe you were in and see what he had in the mirror. A muscle massage gun. For a moment you were a little confused, why was he hurt? Then you felt the big spherical head of the gun against your clit and your eyes rolled to the back of your head for the umpth time that night. He smiled and cooed at you from above. Yeah, he was definitely a sadist. He angled the gun a little bit to the left, wanting to overstimulate your abused little button. His thrusts hadnt ended and it was too fucking much. His pace was faster and harder and deeper now and had you both moaning up a storm. Your hands were finding themselves gripped onto the sink counter and you were struggling to keep your eyes open and in the mirror. He moved the massage gun setting higher and kept it firm against you. Your thighs were shaking and you were glad you were being held against the sink by him. You weren't sure you would be able to keep yourself up if you weren't.

“C’mon, pretty girl. Give me one more, please. I know you can. Cum for me, sweetheart.” You closed your eyes, feeling bliss about to erupt in you again. He quickly corrected you, though. His hand not being used to hold the machine to your clit came up to your throat, squeezing lightly on the sides. Not enough to cause genuine pain or prevent oxygen into your blood, just enough to give you that lightheadedness and in an instant you came on his cock. Your final orgasm was so intense and pleasurable—not surprisingly—and it lasted nearly thirty seconds. He removed the massage gun and returned both hands to your waist. His brutal thrusts as he chased his own orgasm helped you ride it all out. That blissful feeling that lasted longer than your orgasm did. All the stress leaving your body. Finally his sputtering hips stilled as he emptied his hot load into the condom and you whined, half wishing he was emptying himself into your wet little cunt instead. One day.

You both sighed and felt content again. You were sated and had finally gotten what you wanted. His loving palm rubbing circles into your lower belly, soothing you. He peppered light kisses on your skin and slowly slid out of your heat. He turned you around and kissed your forehead. All this loving kissing of his was making you wanna cry, it felt so good. Not just to be fucked right by him, but to have him, too. He was yours, now. And you were finally his. He grabbed your face between his palms and gazed lovingly into your eyes. “You okay, baby? Was that good? I didn't hurt you did I?” You smiled softly and nodded, “Yes, Jay. I'm perfect. You were amazing,” you reassured him with a blush.

He picked you up and sat you on the edge of the counter and got a washcloth from a basket, wetting it under the sink. He wiped the sweat and cum off your body and gave a kiss to each spot after it was clean. He helped dress you and by the time he was carrying you making his way to your room in the manor it was late. He opened your door and locked it behind him, leading you both to your attached bathroom. He undressed you again and turned on the shower. He lightly coaxed you in, seeing as you were so drowsy from all the night’s activities. He undressed himself and got in, lathering your body wash on a loofah and cleaning you. He wanted to make sure his baby was clean and cozy and content. When he was done washing you, he washed himself and enjoyed smelling like you a little too much. He carried you out of the shower and dried you off, clothing you in jammies and then put on some clothes you had stolen from him a while back.

He held you in his arms and you two cuddled each other all night long. You were his now and he couldn't be happier.

[hispg]

Little bunny

Pairings: R4! Leon X Fem! Reader

Summary: You riled him up. It's totally your fault for using this bunny outfit. Now, bear the consequences.

Wc: 2.5k

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, p in v, fingering, mirror sex, soft!Dom Leon, pet names, light dirty talk.

An: Hi Hi, sorry for the recent absence, I haven't replied to any asks or comments. And sorry for the absence, don't get me wrong.I have to sort out some things in my personal life, and frankly my mental state isn't the best. From yesterday to today I had two terrible mental breakdowns.I don't like to talk too much about my personal problems here, but I don't think it's fair to ghost everyone. Anyway, I just wanted to say that my next posts will be scheduled,(I'll see if I have any ready works to post, and hopefully I do), and I'll probably be back around February 5th or so. If I feel better I'll come back sooner, but I need some time to breathe.Don't worry, I'll reply to each and every one of you as soon as I get back! I apologize for the inconvenience, but I promise I'll come back better and respond to every kind interaction I've received!

Sorry for the long rant, but I kind of needed it. Thanks for your attention so far💕

"Look at me, love." Leon purred in your ear, watching you through the mirror.

Your legs spread, his fingers buried in your wet pussy, your cream dripping down his fists and onto the floor, making a mess where you sat.

Your lips hanging open as you moaned, your head resting on his shoulder as you couldn't even open your eyes without rolling them.

It was all so dirty, the mirror bearing witness to the scene that was unfolding. You in a bunny outfit, all dolled up for a party, it wasn't your intention to make Leon horny.

But what did you expect? Sending him a photo of you in that bodysuit, your ass reflected in the mirror and you making a naughty face. Of course Leon would come running to see you. How could he not?

You wanted to get his attention, since he hadn't been able to talk to you all day, so you had the brilliant idea of sending him these provocative photos. And indeed, you got his attention, and at the same moment he left all his chores and came running to see you.

Now you had to deal with him.

"All that for me, love?" Leon purred in your ear, using his thumb to massage your clit.

You hung your head again, letting the hoarse whimpers escape your throat every time he sank his fingers into you, hitting those weak spots that made you soft in his arms.

His mouth found its way to your neck, sucking and licking at the area, his teeth rubbing against your flesh lightly. His little smile only widened when he felt you tighten around his fingers, you were almost there once again.

You felt that familiar feeling forming in the pit of your stomach, your mind getting messy and unfocused, you just had attention at that moment.

Leon also sensed that you were close, watching your expression through the mirror. It was so exciting that he could stare for hours.

Your wet cunt welcoming his fingers so well, so slippery and warm that he could spend all day fingering you, without a break.

"So beautiful, look at you," Leon says, holding your jaw and making you look in the mirror.

Your face flushed, your cheeks as red as an apple, your glassy eyes that begged for his touches. Leon made a point of fucking you while you were still in that bunny costume you were wearing, just to see how hot and beautiful you looked.

"You only did that for a good fuck, didn't you? You wanted to get my attention, didn't you?" Leon whispers sensuously, using his thumb to tug at your clit viciously.

The way he spoke to you was enough to make you roll your eyes, your pussy clenching painfully tight around his fingers, you could bet that this time you wouldn't hold back.

"N-no, that wasn't it…" You moaned, rolling your eyes once more, feeling his fingers touching that weak spot of yours.

You heard Leon's chuckle, and he once again lifted your face, making you stare into the mirror once more.

"Open your eyes, princess. You look so beautiful when you come." Leon said softly, admiring your reactions.

And that was enough to get you there, you just felt your white cream being oozed out of your body, your eyes rolling back as you held onto his forearms tightly.

It was so dirty, the way you whimpered so slyly, his name sliding out of your mouth as you came. Leon kept holding your face, making you see the mess you'd made of yourself.

Through the mirror you could see him staring at you with those blue eyes, the corners of his curved into a naughty smile as he watched your fluids dripping from you.

And there he went, making you come for the thousandth time that night.And when he kept fingering you even after orgasm, you couldn't help yourself and started whimpering even more.

"Leon, stop, it's too much!" You whispered, pouting as you tried to win his pity.

But no, it wouldn't work this time.

"No, I'm sure you can take it." He says, slapping your clit, watching your every reaction.

You whimpered, keeping your pout while he played with your body. By this time Leon's cock was throbbing, aching as it was trapped in his pants, even he could feel his pre-cum soaking through his underwear.

But even though you were struggling to take it one more time, you cried out when he stopped stroking you, when you felt the emptiness he left when he took his fingers out of you.

He had better plans for you now, he wanted to watch a bit at that moment. He then sat down on his knees, leaning back as he saw your legs spread in that dirty way.

"Touch yourself." He demands, his voice low and husky, causing a chill to run down your spine.

You widened your eyes at his demand, biting your lip as you saw him undo his belt, push his pants down and pull it all out at once, his cock jutting out at the same moment.

Pinky tip, flushed, and swollen. The clear and perfect sign of the effect you had on him. Leon wasted no time in wrapping his hand around his dick, grunting as he lazily stroked his length.

You then began to do as he asked, keeping your legs open while you delicately placed your index finger on your clit, making small circles on the sensitive part.

"Keep going." Leon says, biting his lip as he watched you, he began to jerk off with more speed, keeping his gaze on you.

"But… I'd rather it was you." You say, looking at him with sly little eyes.

"If you do what I ask, I can give you what you want all night long." He says, fisting himself as he watches you rub your fingers over your clit.

So wet, soaking wet just thinking about the possibility of him fucking you, even if only with his fingers.

He noticed every detail, your hips rocking as you touched yourself and searched for more friction, right up to the point where you put a finger inside yourself, arching your back and moaning softly.

In one swift movement he moved behind you once more, wrapping one of his arms around your waist while pressing his chest against your back. And in the same instant you felt his size in your folds, his cock rubbing against you, making you both moan at the same time.

He forced you down, making his cock move back and forth in your pussy lips, making you squirm and try to get away from him.

Your movements on your clit stopped, and he growled in protest at your interrupted act. You felt his fingers sinking into your hips, just as he began to fuck you while maintaining total control.

"Keep going." He murmured, in an authoritative yet heated voice.

You obeyed, pressing your finger back into your clit, moaning even louder as you began to feel his balls slapping against you, he moved back and forth, his length grinding against your folds as he held you tight.

And you couldn't contain the moan you let out when you saw the trail of pre-cum running down his cock, making you salivate even more.

At that point you didn't know who was making more of a mess, you or him. Not least because even he couldn't hold back his grunts when he heard the wet, lubricated sounds that filled both your ears, along with your moans and grunts that mixed and became one.

"I'm close—" You moan, biting your lip as you look at Leon.

The image was what you needed to feel your cunt clenching around nothing, your body heating up as you felt your orgasm building more and more.

Leon fucking you from behind, his nails digging into your hips, to the point of leaving marks the next day. His cock emerging and plunging from your folds, your pussy lips becoming swollen from the repetitive movement that was driving you crazy.

You then began to move along with him, your hips moving back and forth, you couldn't hold back the sound that came from your lips every time you felt his balls slap against you. Heavy and full, slamming so hard against you that you could feel your skin heating up and burning with every thrust.

When you started rubbing your clit more fervently, he noticed, and soon grunted in your ear in a bossy voice:

"Pull out." He says, looking down at your fingers that were massaging your sensitive buddy.

Maybe it was just a way of being mean to you, to hold off your orgasm for as many times as he wanted.

"But… I'm so close!" You whimper, looking at him with the sly little eyes you were an expert at making.

"What a shame." He purrs, taking your arms and stopping you from continuing what you were doing.

He then took both your arms, holding them behind you, his hand firmly wrapped around your wrist while the other went back to holding tightly onto your hip.

Leon couldn't help himself and smiled when he saw the mess you'd made of his cock, to the point where there was an absurd amount of the creams oozing out of you.

So dirty, doing all this fussing while he was just teasing you, what a dirty little girl, but that's what you wanted, wasn't it?

"Mh, didn't you want my attention?" He purred once more, holding you tightly as he moved back and forth, rubbing his cock against you once again.

You could feel his warm breath on your neck, his lips lightly touching your skin, and he made a point of giving you little bites, leaving his mark.

"My pretty little bunny, making a mess on my cock." He whispered, in a sensual and provocative way, almost making you feel ashamed of what you were doing.

But it wasn't that, he was proud. Why was that? Because he knew that he was the only one who could leave you like this, and that you were all his, made just for him.

The way he spoke to you made you whimper, humping against him like a bitch in heat, sweat sticking to your forehead as you looked at him through the mirror.

His blue eyes never stopped looking at you, the way you were soaking wet, that bunny outfit that suited you so well. Or whether it was the way your breasts swayed as he grabbed you from behind, grinning shamelessly as he watched you.

And you heard his laugh as you rolled your eyes, letting a sly noise come out of your mouth in a high-pitched way. You were coming.

His hand that had been on your hip went up to your chin, and he made you look at yourself as you came once more.

"Look, bunny, how hot you are. Look at the mess." He says, forcing you to watch your fluids running down his cock, making a new mess.

Just as you saw more pre-cum coming out of him, he was so turned on watching you that he could cum just like that.

White cream dripping off him, making his cock wet and sticky, you did it the way he liked it. The way you were able to do everything the way he wanted, including not holding back while you came, was just one more success on your part.

But now came the part he was most interested in, he was going to fuck you like he loved. Just the sight of the whimpering mess you'd become was exciting, you couldn't speak more than two sentences, you couldn't do anything but moan. It was all down to him.

"You wanted some attention, didn't you?" Leon asked, putting his hand on your back and making you lie on the floor.

Your chest pressed against the cold floor, your nipples hardening even more from the contact. He was still holding your arms, keeping them pinned behind you.

You just stared at him with a pout, moaning as you watched him play with you, lightly smacking your wet pussy, eventually lightly slapping your ass. He just wanted to tease you.

"Please?" You pleaded, arching your hips towards him, only to receive a harder slap.

"That's what you want, isn't it?" Leon purrs, positioning his tip at your entrance, and taking the opportunity to rub his tip against your clit.

He knew he'd have to stop himself from cumming too quickly, because just seeing you in this position was enough for any of his fantasies, it was what he needed to see to go over the edge.

"So be it, I'm going to fuck you exactly the way you want, bunny." He says, a wicked smile on his lips.

And then without you expecting it, he thrust into you all at once, and you felt the delicious stretch he gave you every time. Your pussy stretching to accommodate him with such mastery.

You just moaned, you were incapable of doing anything else, completely drunk on his dick.

You only had time to close your eyes tightly before he started hammering into you, without the slightest pity, just fucking you hard and deep just the way you liked it.

His grip on your hips was strong, and he handled you as if you were a doll that weighed nothing, thrusting into you as he pulled you back onto his cock. Your bodies slammed together abruptly, making that filthy sound echo throughout the room.

Leon was all sweaty, his muscles flexing with every movement, and you could watch him fucking you from behind as you watched the scene in the mirror.

While Leon had the perfect view of his cock sinking into you, your warm walls engulfing him in a unique way, making him grunt at how tight you were, and how hard you could take him. Your juices leaving a white ring at the base of his cock, honeying all over him, acting as if he was the only cock for you.

It was too much for Leon, watching you moaning like that, whimpering desperately as he fucked you. His response was to pick up the pace, his balls slapping against you as his tip reached points so deep you couldn't even imagine.

It was all so fast, you didn't even have time to think as your orgasm washed over you, your walls squeezing him hard as you wet his cock even more. Your voice loud and sly, your nails gripping the carpet hard.

And that's what he needed, the last little push, the image of you cumming on his cock in such an obscene way was enough for him to grunt loudly and pump his seed into you, withdrawing his cock and sinking back in with a deep thrust, making sure to finish inside.

For a while, the only sound you could hear was your breathing, shallow and heavy, as you tried to catch your breath.

But then you caught Leon looking at you, the bunny ears that were on your head falling slightly below your face, that bodysuit that drew out your every curve.

He squeezed your hips, looking you up and down. Oh no, he wasn't finished with his bunny.

You wanted attention, and he was going to give it to you all night long.

[androgymagnus]

yeah buddy i was exaggerating for humor. like, joking? you know joking? literally the reason i like dr wolf is because he's kind. i don't think he's an asshole. hell, gordon ramsay--as a persona, and with this meme, part of why it's funny to me (not to speak to his real life because i don't know much about it)--usually is. he's yelling at the adults because they are doing something wrong and should know better and being kind to children because they aren't.

i was more talking about both the difference in both vibe--dr wolf is more likely to say something unintentionally rude/blunt/seemingly confrontational to a non-patient, particularly i was thinking of nichols in the pilot episode as i'd just rewatched it (not that nichols wasn't being kind of rude there too lmao) and just how in general, especially with how closed off he is personally, he tends to focus his warmer/more open kindness and empathy on patients (and dr pierce, his one close friend). this isn't to say he's cruel or intentionally unkind to anyone (though he gives off that impression not just because of his faceblindness, though that's part of it, and again, i don't think that means he is an asshole) beyond being a little confrontational, which is almost always in defense of his patients (or to his mom, which believe me i am not here to judge), even if the other person has a point (which is admirable, once again, since i didn't say it enough apparently, this doesn't make him Actually An Asshole). wow that's a lot of parentheticals. i just woke up, my head's all over the place. anyway, that vibe, of how he's more (if you'll forgive the pun) patient with his patients, while coming off as blunt/rude to others usually because he's so focused on his patients, doesn't mean he's a dick, just that he's like, good at his job. which he is.

AND--yeah i didn't forget i said 'both'--i believe i was thinking of both the aforementioned scenes with nichols and other people he thinks are being dumb in episode one (not that he's wrong, and it's admirable he has his patient's best interests at heart, that's like, again, the whole point, that he cares when other people won't) and he's very... confrontational? i don't know how to describe exactly what i mean, it's not that he's being an asshole but that there are times where he's so frustrated with them he's ironically not seeing their perspective (ie, should we take the mom's kids away forever in the first episode? no! was it reasonable to take them temporarily and require supervised visits for the time being? yeah! then, i don't think he's stupid, i get he was also upset with the implication it could become permanent and i get that, but--you get what i'm getting at here? gestures frusuratedly) which is, again, not unreasonable, but a Vibe Difference. and also of when van first fucks up with the needle and standard biopsy, yes, it is totally reasonable for dr wolf to scold him and be like this is a very basic procedure a doctor has to do and you could have made this worse for the patient, but i admit the first time i watched i kinda thought he was gonna be like okay, what's wrong, because that was not a normal reaction--but he was more concerned about the patient's feelings than what was up with van, which again. is reasonable. and not making him an asshole. but the difference is there. do you see what i'm saying.

i literally do not want him to be an asshole. that sucks. i don't need dr house 2, if i want to watch that i'll watch house or one of the hundreds of terrible sherlock adaptations (i'm talking to you, bbc sherlock. elementary, you can stay.) i much prefer an eccentric genius character who is allowed to be openly kind and empathetic rather than be a cold asshole who maybe, if you're lucky, is ~hiding~ the kind heart under that. not that that trope can't be fun but it gets really stale and a character like dr wolf is way more refreshing and fun.

look bro the original post was a little reductive but it was also a joke i made right before bed after rewatching the first episode (i was forcing my mom to watch lol) like. chill

also really funny how with patients vs almost anyone else dr wolf is just that gordon ramsay with kids vs adults "im not leaving until you laugh" vs "WHAT ARE YOU????? (an idiot sandwich 😔)" meme

[mingis-orangejuice]

Asking the L&Ds boys "What are we?" Part 2: Xavier

Summary: MC and her boy have been in a sort of situation-ship but MC wants to know why they haven't officially called her their girlfriend

a/n: This ended up being much longer than I thought so I'm making it into 4 parts (one for each boy) here's part 2 with Xavier. you can request who you want me to post next if you want

Genres/Warnings: angst, fluff, kinda slow burn

Word count: 1250

Other parts: 1, 3, 4,

After another long day of battling wonderers, you and Xavier head back to the office to change out of your hunter’s uniforms. A whole day of combat makes you very sweaty and you don’t want to be smelly for your date with Xavier. But was it a date? You and Xavier had been going out for dinner almost every night since you found out you both lived in the same apartment complex. But they never really felt like dates, and he’s never really called you his girlfriend. You told yourself It was just more convenient since he couldn’t cook without potentially burning down the apartment and after a long day, you were just too tired to. Was that all it was, just a convenient way to have a meal? But what about all the dirty looks he gives the other male hunters when you get paired with them for assignments, were you just seeing things or was he jealous? But what does he have to be envious of if you’re not truly his?

“Are you ready to go?” a soft voice breaks you from your thoughts. You turn around to see Xavier standing behind you. You’d been waiting outside the changing rooms for him for a few minutes. “Sorry it took so long there was a problem with one of the showers, I had to rinse off in the sink” 

You give Xavier a small smile as you both start to walk down the empty hall “How do you always end up in these situations? Are you cursed or something” you laugh “Don’t stand too close I don't want your curse to rub off on me” you say jokingly as you dramatically step away from him.

Following your joke he dramatically steps towards you and tries to put his arms around you. “But I don’t want to be the only one that's cursed hold me and we’ll be cursed together for the rest of our lives” he pulls you into a big bear hug as you both laugh while you pretend to escape. You both are having too much fun to notice the janitor glancing at you from over his shoulder while he cleans the windows “Ah, young love” he said with a sentimental sigh, quite enough that you two could just barely hear it but enough to make you realize that you’re not the only people in the building as you had initially thought. You can feel your heart race a little at the janitor's words.  Xavier lets go of you and you continue to walk out of the building. 

Trying to break the awkward silence Xavier finally speaks up. “You know, I heard wishing on a star can break a curse, and since we’re both cursed now you have to help me find a wishing star tonight to undo the curse. What do you say?” he asks looking at you expectantly

“Well yeah now since you’ve cursed me I guess I have no choice but to help you break the bad luck with showers curse” You feigned annoyance. “But first we need food! Where were you planning on taking us tonight?”

Xavier smiled, happy that the awkwardness from earlier was gone. “I saw this new pizza place a few blocks away from our apartment, it's like a DIY place they give you the dough and toppings and you get to bake it in the little ovens at your table” Xavier basically had stars in his eyes when he mentioned baking.

“Uh… maybe we order in tonight, you don’t want to have to pay for repairs when you destroy their oven now, do you ?” you look at him with a sarcastic grin.

“I promise I won’t burn down anything this time, plus I’ll have you right there with me, there's no way you’d let me burn our dinner right?” he chuckles and puts out his hand to grab yours. “Let's go, those pizzas aren’t going to DIY themselves”

Later at the pizza place you and Xavier are having fun making tons of fun, and in Xavier’s case, weird pizza combos. You two spent so much time having fun that you almost forgot you promised to go stargazing tonight before you went home. Xavier gets the attention of the waitress so that he can pay the bill. 

The waitress was a sweet old lady who, when she wasn’t busy helping other tables, made it her mission to make sure you guys hand everything you need. “Did you two have a great time?” she asks handing Xavier the check.

“Yeah it was great, I love the concept it's so fun,” you said with a big smile. Xavier pays and looks up at the waitress “Yeah we’re definitely going to come back here”

“Oh, I’m glad,” The waitress says as she starts to grab your empty plates off the table. “You two are definitely the cutest couple I've seen here in a while, I hope you stay together forever. 

“Um.. we’re…no…” you started to correct the lady but she just kept going.

I heard if you wish on a star by the fountain down the street you’re 100% guaranteed to have that wish come true. Maybe I’ll make a little wish for you two”

You were about to correct the lady again but Xavier cut you off “Thank you that's very kind of you ma’am” Xavier politely bowed as she stacked the last of the dishes and walked away. Xavier puts out his hand to help you out of your chair. “Well let's go find a wishing star to break this curse”

At the fountain, you and Xavier sit quietly for some time just looking up at the sky trying to find a star to wish on. Still feeling a little awkward about what the waitress said, you wanted to say something to make it less awkward but the words that spilled out were anything but. “What are we? 

Xavier, without missing a beat answered “We’re just two people looking up at the stars”

“Just?” you questioned

Before you can say anything more a shooting star passes overhead, Xavier clasps his hands together and starts to wish “ Oh great wishing star please let me and my wonderful girlfriend be together forever, even though she doesn't trust me to use an oven by myself but that just means I get to take her out on more dates. And sometimes it may take her a while to notice things but she’s mine and I want to be with her forever, even though we might be cursed” Xavier finishes his wish and looks to you “What was it you wanted to ask me?

“Uh… nothing … never mind” You looked up to see him staring at you his eyes sparkling like stars a slight blush on his cheeks. This made your heart skip a beat so you looked away quickly and turned your head up to look for more stars.”I hope your wish comes true” you stated bashfully.

Xavier chuckled and also looked up “ Well since we’ll be together forever now, I guess we don’t really need to wish away the curse right ?” 

“Yes, we do! I don’t want to be washing off in the company sinks every day, let’s hurry up and find another wishing star I'll stay here all night if I have to” You say in a joking tone

Xavier places his hand over yours “Well then, I’ll be glad to accompany my girlfriend on her quest to lift our curse.” 

[hadesknockedupintheunderworld]

Okay now that I've reblogged that one post...

Holy shit

Like, please understand me. This is how I already interpreted these relationships after reading Journal 3 but like

Wow Ford really was in a weird kinda complicated gay situationship with Bill and Fiddleford, huh? When he's all alone on Christmas in tbob he's all like "Oh yeah haha of course...of course. You have. Yeah. You have a wife, F. How could I expect you not to leave. I am totally not secretly hoping you'll turn around and come back to me, or that you'll even bring your family back here if you have to so I can see you. I'd retreat to my dreams but I haven't seen my muse in weeks and I miss him so badly. I'm so alone"

He and Fiddleford aren't even dating but it's hard not to get the light impression that this situationship is such that Ford kinda treats Bill like his comfort triangle from his head and dreams and Fiddleford like his comfort best friend in his lab. Like he's sad on Christmas that his boyfriends left him alone, you know? Of course it's definitely more complicated than just that, but they are dear companions to him

Or when Bill finally comes back and Ford is pissed

"You return now? After all of that, after me missing you so badly, almost dying, wondering if I'd dreamed it all up. You return now like it was no biggie? Did you ever mean the things you said? Did you not find some other scientist or some other big brain to talk up? Have you found someone else? Another partner?"

And then Bill, dodging the question was like "Funny you think I'm cheating on you as if you haven't been spending all that time with F. The side bitch. The third wheel. You've even considered telling him everything, even though you know he has second thoughts. Heh. A little birdie told me he dreams of shutting down the project even."

Leading Ford to be like "Aw hell how could I accuse my muse of such a terrible thing when I haven't been a saint. He's right! F has been much less motivated lately and I've just gotten so paranoid from the isolation. I'm so sorry for my baseless accusations."

I don't even have a lot to say I just love these three. Fiddleford put up with a lot of shit from Ford while also dealing with his own problems and trying to help him regardless, while Stanford saw him as a comfort and a good friend but ultimately someone who was of lesser mind than he and couldn't see things through his eyes, while Bill was in Stanford's corner actively making him worse and contributing to his isolation (trying to get him to drop Fiddleford and actively feeding his paranoia), while Stanford was seeing both relationships of his with stars in his eyes and rose tinted glasses because he refused to do some introspection

There's so much stuff that journal 3 and tbob added to the equation that's just bad/shitty all around. Can't believe Ford went through a double divorce/breakup despite not having ever been married (or, at least, despite not even officially dating them sorta)

The entire situation in the past is just tragic and hilarious and concerning all at once and that's what I like the portal trio for tbh

[zarla-s]

I just read your TF2 bot post and I’m fascinated. It has left me with a few questions though. Why/how were bots a problem for so long? What was the main incentive for botting (is it botting or boting??) Was it just to be an asshole? What’s your favorite baked good? Have a lovely day and don’t worry about answering my questions if you’re not in the mood :]

The bots were a problem for so long because Valve just didn't care, sorry to say. They just let it happen. I'm not sure when they started coming in in force, maybe after the Jungle Inferno update like six years ago? But they just kept pouring in and Valve just ignored it. It's really shameful how bad they let it get, honestly. They just kept putting out community updates like nothing was wrong.

Eventually after a lot of community pressure a year ago (#savetf2) they tweeted saying they were aware of the problem and then nothing happened. Then there was ANOTHER community movement this June (#fixtf2), and THEN at the end of June they ACTUALLY did something, which is why everyone was so shocked and skeptical at the time. Like the bots got so bad, it's hard to get across just how bad it got if you weren't playing at the time. It was bad. To suddenly go from that to totally bot-free was unbelievable. Frankly I'm still shocked they're gone! No one knows why Valve's acting now or how they're doing it (personally, I think they must have been working on these anti-bot measures for a while... maybe even since their initial tweet, but no one knows), but I hope they keep it up. I can finally teach people how to play in peace!

As for why they'd do this, yeah, it's just to be jerks. They just want to make people miserable. They have websites on Neocities you can find under the tf2 tag (I was looking through it for sites to link to my tf2 site) and they state themselves that they just like making people mad. I don't think they actually hate TF2 so much as they love the power rush from destroying something so famous that so many people love. Kind of a power-trip/control thing, with a dose of being desperate for attention. A lot of the more notorious bot hosters had twitters or youtube accounts where they invited people to rage at them uselessly, they loved it. They've also formed communities around botting and trolling people, so they have kind of a social investment in it (although they were quick to turn on each other when they suspected someone was a mole). Some of them sell their bot software or "bot immunity" for money but I think that was just pocket change, I don't think that was a real motivator.

After having free reign for so long, they reacted violently to the community movement in June. They were positive that nothing would happen to them, so they kept doing more and more outrageous things to prove it. They DDoS'd and DMCA'd the site for the petition multiple times, they doxxed and swatted one of the main bot fighters, they impersonated figureheads and posted illegal links to things, like they were really stepping over the line and gloating about it. They were extremely confident and to be fair, who could blame them? Valve's negligence let them get away with it for years. To suddenly have that power taken away from them without warning made them absolutely furious. They're still seething about it right now and plotting ways to get back in, but they haven't found one yet. It's a matter of pride for them at this point I think, that and a childish tantrum about not being able to ruin other people's fun anymore. Them targeting a baby game version of TF2 (TC2) also points to it being a power trip. If they can't ruin TF2 anymore then by god they've got to ruin SOMEthing!

Even now I'm not sure Valve can hold the line and I keep checking TF2 Casual every now and then to look for bots, haha. It's just hard to believe! I greatly enjoy hearing about bot hosters raging about it and suffering though, they deserve nothing less. Die mad about it!!!

In terms of baked goods though I like all kinds, although right now I'm thinking about brownies so I'll say that. |D

[chugging-antiseptic-dye]

"So, this is it? After everything we have been through, you won't even try to keep us together?"

Your voice cracked as you tried to hold it together. Tried to stop your body from shaking. Because you knew that if you didn't, if you had one less iota of control, you would start brawling. And that was not something you are willing to let this man witness. It's enough to make you lose your mind that he was sitting all casual on the sofa with a visage made out of stone.

It has been five years now. Five years of memories being flushed down the drain. Does he even give a single fuck? As this thought wedged itself into your brain, a bitter unnamed feeling lodged in your throat.

You watched with trembling lips as Jihoon finally stood up. Without breaking eye contact, he took small unsure steps towards you. He only stopped when he came close to you. Finally, he asked softly, "What else do you want me to say? I already told you I am sorry. You deserve someone better than me."

Those words were an instant punch to the gut. Bowlegged and stumbling, you put both hands on his shoulders and started shaking him like a maniac. You didn't even notice when tears started pouring from your eyes. You almost screamed out your next words,

" I-, I deserve better? I deserve b e t t e r ?! Then why wasn't I worth getting better for? Why can't you be better for me? Why won't you be better for me?" Feeling lighthearted and almost breathless, you took a step back and continued, "Our anniversary was two days ago, Jihoon. And you only came back today. You didn't even send a text."

With resignation felt in every bone in your body, you dealt the final blow, " Am I not worth a text?"

You heard him release a pained whimper at this. As if it physically hurt him. But you were beyond caring. You cared too much and that was the problem. Using both hands to wipe away your tears (You don't even have a boyfriend now that would do it), you picked up the suitcase and started walking.

It was then when you heard a mangled "I love you" come from Jihoon. Without turning back, you replied, "Do you? I haven't felt that for a long time. Even if I believe you, the problem is, I love me too. I never expected to be your main priority. But it turns out that I wasn't even a priority."

You opened the door and gently whispered your parting words into the wind, "It's not about you forgetting to send a happy anniversary text. It was never about it. I hope you know that. Yet it was my last straw. I love you, Jihoon. I don't know when I will stop loving you. But I just can't do this anymore."

In the sudden silence that followed, only the sound of a door clicking shut was heard. And in the next moment, Jihoon fell to his knees. It was as if someone cut all the strings holding him together. Unbiddenly, a tiny box fell out of his pocket. It was the sole thing keeping him company through the dead of the nights that followed.

a/n: it's woozi's birthday so i wanted to celebrate it in my own way. he is my bias wrecker and therefore i wrecked him in this fic. oops ( i am joking, hehe). but, on a serious note, he is the one who made me fall in love with seventeen's music. he is the one who redefined the meaning of friendship for me. his mindset inspires me everyday and i look up to him so much! so, happy birthday to our hardworking singer, producer, dancer, idol, and artist, mr lee jihoon. i hope you will always be happy and healthy <3

(also, this is the post that inspired this whole mess.)

[eucalyptus-lvs]

Good Luck Charm - Carmen Berzatto x Reader

This is the first story I've posted, but I have other ideas if you guys want more. Writing has become a new outlet for me so I appreciate any constructive criticism or any thoughts you may have. Carmy is such a fun character to write for and my own personal brain rot atm. I hope to do more in the future. I also like to listen to music while I write and I feel like Again by Still Woozy goes well with this one.<3

TW: Idk honestly. Mentions of dead brothers, debt, and a heated makeout?

"You think if you scrub any harder you'll put a hole in the floor?" 

He stood quickly. Startled by your presence in the kitchen. "What are you still doing here? Thought you left like an hour ago." 

"Well, I was gonna, but then I feared if I left without you you'd still be here when I come in for my shift tomorrow.” You took a few small steps forward. As if you were worried you'd scare him off. There always seemed to be this air around you two. One that was hard to ignore in the times you had spent alone together. “Then I thought you could use some time to wind down before I attempt to push you out the door so I tried to see if I could make any progress on Mikey's paperwork." 

"Did you?" Tossing the rag into the container and moving his hands to his hips. 

"I think that would depend on your definition of progress"

"Yeah, well I haven't exactly been able to figure that shit out either." 

"We'll figure it out, Carm."

He sighed and looked around the kitchen. "I've just got a couple more-" 

"Nope." You take strides across the kitchen to get to him. "Those couple things will turn into another couple things until you've managed to work yourself into an early grave from exhaustion. I mean you're a head chef and you frequently forget to eat. It sounds like the beginning of a bad joke." You laugh, trying to reach for the keys to the restaurant. Only for him to snatch them off the counter and out of arms reach. "Carmy-" 

"Nice try" He moved them out of reach again. 

"Will you just-" You attempt to reach for them again as he manages to move them further from you.

“Oooh, you were so close that time.” Leaning against the counter, he barks out a laugh. Probably a product of the years he had spent smoking. 

“Cut it out. C’mon.” You said shyly ducking your head a bit. 

“Sorry, just enjoyin’ this way too much.'' He covered his mouth with his hand to hide his growing grin. There was something about you that he found so comfortable. He wonders if that's the reason he finds himself being so bold in this moment. 

Leaning to the side, you prop yourself against the counter next to him. Settling in and resigning to the fact that he is not going to make getting him out the door easy for you. “You were one of those guys in high school, weren't you?” Narrowing your eyes a bit. 

“An’ what kinda guy would that be?” He challenged.

“Y'know- The guy. Mr. Fuckin’ Popular. Had the girls lining up for you. Always good for a laugh.” Your teasing tone let him know that you weren't all that upset at him poking fun at you. 

“Think the only laugh I'd be good for is if you knew how wrong you were.” 

“Bullshit.” You shot back, shaking your head. 

“No, really. I uh- pretty much stuck to myself. Just hung around Mikey and Richie. The family mostly. Was too fuckin’ awkward to make my own friends. Had this stutter too. Didn't really bother talkin’ to anyone if I didn't have to.” This time he ducked his head. Scratching the back of it like he was embarrassed to admit it.

“Well, you don't seem to have a problem talking to me.” 

He shrugged. “It's different. Different time too.”

Your eyes met for a moment as you both took a pause. “I think we would have been good friends.” 

“Bullshit. You wouldn't have even noticed me.”

“I would have noticed you.” You affirmed with such conviction he almost believed it.

Looking at you now he imagines that if you had met then his life would look very different. He wouldn't have been a couple hundred grand in the hole with a sandwich shop he only had because his brother killed himself. You would have been there for all of it.

Chicago, Paris, Copenhagen, New York. Every destination and every major moment.

You would have been together. 

If he really indulges himself, he thinks maybe even with a kid on the way. Of all the what-ifs that came to mind, there was only one thing he knew for sure.

You were the real deal.

He allows himself to stay in this bubble with you and before he can think about any consequences he responds. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You whispered. Nodding your head as you both start to lean closer.

Timedly you take your time to meet in the middle. Each gives the other an opportunity to back out, but neither of you takes it. Once your lips touched it felt like a shock to his system. You'd usually been so soft, almost cautious in your dealings with him. 

But this was not that.

You pressed yourself against him. Kissing him fiercely and with so much need he was worried that if he tried to open his eyes it would have all been a dream. Another cruel joke his mind had played on him only to wake up alone. Reminding him of all the things he never felt he could have.

Your hands card up into his hair, tugging at the stands. He lets out a deep groan as he switches positions to place you between himself and the counter.

He realizes now how much of a habit it is for you to look out for him. While everyone took the first chance they got to go home, you stayed behind to make sure he would get rest. Then, you took that extra time to try and figure out the clusterfuck of paperwork sitting on his desk.

You show no signs of discomfort as his hands begin to trail your body. Pushing you further against the counter to get as close to you as physically possible. He almost thought he could feel your heart pounding as your chest pressed against his, but knew it was more likely that it was his own. So caught up in you that every detail of this moment felt fuzzy and distorted.

So caught up he didn't realize you started grinding against each other.

One hand cupped around the back of your neck to keep you in place. The other moved down to your ass to aid your movement as you hooked a leg over his hip. His chest burned and heaved. Breath heavy from being cut off from oxygen for so long, but not wanting to break the moment. He wanted to give you something to remember. Not screaming during lunch rush or getting into a fistfight with a guy in a fuckin’ carrot costume.

Something good.

There weren't many times in his life he felt particularly lucky, but when he moved his head down to mouth at your neck. He'd never felt so lucky in his life.

Your head tipped back, letting out a chocked sigh. Followed by the ‘uh, uh, uh’ perfectly timed with the movement of your hips against his growing length. Gripping a hand on the back of his shirt to keep him in place. He imagines that this is the closest he will get to redemption, to happiness, after having spent years in the hellscape that was the New York kitchen. 

When he tried to lift you on the counter the large metal mixing bowl sitting to the side of you came crashing to the ground. The loud reverberation causes you to break away from each other. Effectively bursting the blissfully passionate bubble. 

Your hand moved to your neck where his mouth had been. Almost certain there would be marks left behind to remind you of this moment for days to come. As you both tried to regulate your breathing Carmy couldn't help staring. Opening his mouth like he had something he wanted to say, but couldn't quite articulate what that thing was. You slide off the counter and attempt to straighten your clothes while keeping your eyes on the floor. You always had a hard time meeting his gaze when he looked at you like that. Like if he looked hard enough he might find something that wasn't there before. 

“It's probably a good thing we got interrupted. Things were getting kinda heated.” You forced a chuckle. 

Shit.

This was it.

You're about to tell him this was all a mistake. A heat of the moment thing that you got caught up in and you now regret. As quickly as he had you, he was gonna lose you. Another goddamn shoe was gonna drop. “No, y-yeah. I don’ want you to think-”

Your gaze returned to him. “I think if we took this any further we'd be violating about a dozen health codes after you were just on your hands and knees scrubbing the floor.”  

“I could get on my hands and knees again.” He let out, slightly dazed. Running a hand through his hair in an attempt to ground himself. 

“Jesus- Carmy.” you laugh, not knowing how else to respond. Sliding your hands down your face as it heats up in a heavy blush. 

“I-I didn't mean it like that.” But now he’s definitely thinking it.

He also thinks, rather darkly, that he's never been happier not to have an HR department. 

Truthfully, he didn't know what he meant by the comment. He just knew he wanted you and you didn't seem opposed to the idea. You haven't run away yet and that alone is enough to quiet the spiral he normally defaults to in moments of uncertainty. He had doubted himself a lot in his life, but he was sure with the way you kissed him that you wanted him the way he wanted you. “We've had a long night. Walk ya’ home?” 

“Maybe you could come up? I know for a fact you haven't eaten. I may not be award-winning, but I'm sure I could manage something edible.” The smile on your face grows slightly at the prospect.

“Yeah, that's uh- that sounds good. Let's grab our stuff and we’ll head out.” Hand grazing your lower back as he moved to guide you to the lockers.

He wonders if, for the first time in a long time, his luck has turned around.

[familyvideostevie]

watching you with wonder

joel miller x reader joel claims to have heard something interesting. too bad he keeps insisting he needs more information before he can tell you | 5.4k a/n: same universe as come care about me but not necessary to read that one first! joel is soft, this is my version of him where he and ellie heal and he gets to have a life etc etc etc | domesticity, post-part i jackson au, joel is a flirt and a gossip but good thing you are too, a fair amount of kissing, fluff, softness, peace and all that good stuff. part 3 here! series masterlist here.

It's been a long day. The supply run you'd been dreading went off without a hitch but you were out of the gate at sun-up and in the saddle for most of the morning and afternoon. Your legs are sore, your back is sore,  and you're dirty from a day outside the walls.

You haven't seen Joel since this morning. Not unusual, not by any means. Most days you're both doing something in town, occasionally one of you out on patrol. You're partial to the plant work and Joel likes to chop wood or check out houses that need upgrades with Tommy. But after a day like today you want nothing more than to go home and complain about how much you miss cars while Joel works the knots out of your shoulders. 

But tonight is Festival Night. Nothing big, just a dance at the barn that serves as the community center with music and drinks and food. And Joel, despite his insistence that he's Jackson's resident grump, will be there, because Tommy will have asked him to go and he doesn't like disappointing his brother. And, though he'll never admit it even to you, he enjoys community events. He gets to see the people he loves having a nice time and feeling safe. 

So you head from the stables to the main hall, not bothering to stop at home. Jackson seems to be lit up extra special, the air a little lighter due to the laughter and music brightening the night. The noise becomes almost overwhelming when you open the door and slide inside, dropping your pack against the wall. It's much warmer in here and you unbutton your coat as you make your way through the crowd, waving to people as you go. 

Joel is here somewhere but you don't try too hard to spot him. You know he'll find you. Someone calls your name and you pivot on your heel to find Ellie waving at you from a...poker table?

"Wanna join?" she asks once you walk over. Next to her is Tommy, who looks significantly less excited than she does. "I'm teaching Tommy how to play poker. Oh, sorry, I'm fucking smoking Tommy at poker."

"I know how to play, you little shit," Tommy growls. "Who taught you? This isn't poker, this is a fuckin' massacre." 

Ellie cackles and tips her chair back so she's balancing on the back legs.

"I'll pass this round," you tell her. "Looks like you've got him handled."

"You just want to find Joel." She looks at you in that uncanny way of hers like she knows all of your secrets. But this is one you have no problem admitting.

You smile at her. "Seen him?"

"Now that you're here I'm sure he'll slink out of whatever corner he stuck himself in," Tommy grumbles. "Girl, you sure you ain't countin' cards?"

You leave them to it and wander over to the bar. Astrid pours you a glass of something amber. You take a sip and let the burn warm your throat, your stomach. The music behind you picks up and there's laughter and you turn to see people pairing up and flocking to the floor. 

You close your eyes to enjoy the sounds that mean peace, safety, home. It never gets old and you never quite get used to it. You inhale deep and -- ah, yes. There it is. A smile spreads across your face as you breathe in wood glue, gunpowder, the soap you make at home. Your heart beats a little faster, even after all this time.

"Hi," you say, opening your eyes. Joel stands in front of you, one hand in his pocket and the other holding a glass similar to your own. His hair curls at his collar, edges still a little wet from the shower he must have taken before coming here. His shirt is rolled to his elbows, his jacket clearly discarded somewhere. Your gaze trails up his chorded forearms, his watch securely in place as always. This is what you've called his "nice" shirt, a deep green that makes the grey of his beard all the more striking and brings out his eyes. 

Eyes that settle on you in a way that sends heat up your spine.

"Howdy," he says. "You just get here?"

"Like you weren't watching the door for me," you tease. He shrugs and reaches for you, his free hand curling around your hip to tug you close for just a few moments. Joel presses his lips to your cheek lightly, his beard scratching your skin as he pulls away and settles at your side, arm resting on the bar behind you. 

"Well, I ain't seen you all day," he reminds you. As if you could forget. Every second you're not looking at him you sort of wish you were. There aren't many good things left in your life -- all of them are in this town, now -- and you tend to hold on to the ones you still have with both hands. Joel, despite the fact that he'd argue with you over it, is your good thing. Your best thing.  

"Miss me?" 

"Dumb question," he mutters. 

His fingers brush against the back of your bicep, warm through your jacket. "How was the run?"

"Easy. Long." You take a sip of your drink. It's still warming but doesn't measure up to the solid warmth of the man beside you. "I came straight here."

"That would explain why you smell like shit," he drawls. You smack his chest. He doesn't so much as flinch.

"Rude."

Joel watches the crowd and you watch him. That's how it usually goes with you two. You figure he's watching for threats, for any sign of something going wrong. It's a habit most folks here find hard to break. He's watching Ellie, who has left the poker table behind, twirl some of the children around with Dina, he's watching Tommy try to teach a few drunk guys how to square dance like he does every Festival. Joel curls his hand around your shoulder and you lean back into the touch. 

On a night like tonight when joy is more contagious than the fungus spreading through the rotting world, Joel loosens up a little. It's a good look on him and it only ever means good things for you -- he laughs more, he touches you more. But most importantly you know he lets life in. He lets that knot you know is in his chest, the one made of fear and loss and survival and all of the horrible fucked up things he's seen and done, he lets it loosen even just a bit. He lets himself feel the good things, too. How much the people in this town respect him, care about him. How much they appreciate him. How much they love him, how much you love him.

You look at him in the soft light of the barn. There's a tug to his mouth that you know.

He looks smug. It's a nice look on him, a relaxed one. He looks too handsome for his own good. And though you love him, love how he's enjoying the night, like hell you're going to let him stand there and get away with whatever he's cooking up.

"Joel Miller, why are you looking so pleased with yourself?"

"No reason," he says. He takes another sip of his drink, side-eyeing you over the rim. This man. 

You tap the heel of your boot against his. "Don't make me beg."

His eyes flash but he turns into your space, the solid shape of him curling around you as well as his arm. In another world, in another life, he could be a handsome man picking you up at a bar. 

"I heard somethin'," he says, voice low. "Somethin'...interestin'."

"Really?" You look around the barn as if the object of his gossip will materialize in front of you. "Tell me."

He leans back and you have to stop yourself from following. "Don't think so."

"Joel."

This man can be such a shit when he wants to be. 

He holds the hand carrying his glass up in surrender, the brown liquor sloshing close to the rim. "Hey now, don't go shootin' the messenger."

"I can't because he won't tell me the message."

"S'not anything worth tellin' just yet," he drawls. "I need a little more intel. Y'know, make it worth your while."

You sigh, hamming it up a bit by thunking your forehead to his collar. Joel huffs a laugh and fully drapes his arm across your shoulders, warm and solid. 

It's all fun but you know there's a note of truth to it. Joel can lie better than most people but he doesn't lie to you. "Fine. You get away with it for now."

The song changes to something old and slow, something you recognize but don't quite remember the name of.

"Only if you dance with me," you say. You swallow the last of your drink and push off the bar, sliding out from under his arm. You hold your hand out to him and wiggling your fingers. "It's only fair."

He sighs like a man with the weight of the world on his shoulders. And he is, sometimes. But right now his cheeks are a little flushed from the drink and your flirting and you want to see how far you can take it.

"Unless I smell too much like shit," you goad. You don't actually think he'll go for it. Joel doesn't dance. It feels like the kind of good time, the kind of joy that is forever stuck in the past, left behind twenty odd years ago. Honestly, you think he'll just drag you home and have his way with you in your warm bed. 

But he manages to surprise you.

Joel throws back his drink and grabs your hand. His thumb strokes your skin.

"S'pose it is," he says. "You don't smell that bad."

A delighted laugh spills from you. He leads you to the already-crowded dance floor, pulling you close with a hand on your back. You rest your arm on his broad shoulder and hook your thumb in his collar. 

"Not so bad, is it?" you say. Your faces are so close you're practically cheek to cheek. You feel his breath on the shell of your ear, his beard a little prickly against your cheek. 

"Could be worse." You and Joel gently sway and you toy with the ends of his hair. Over his shoulder you can see Dina and Ellie dancing, arms wrapped around each other tight. You close your eyes and match your breaths to Joel's. 

"We should do this more often," you say. "Bet they'd let you play guitar at the next festival if you wanted."

Joel hums. 

"Don't forget you have to deliver the firewood to the school tomorrow." He presses his hand to your back and pulls you even closer. "Are you listening to me?"

"Mhm."

"Joel --" Your eyes fly open and you try to pull away to goad him but he holds you steadily against him.

"Hush," he says, fingers squeezing yours. "I'm enjoyin' the moment."

You allow it.

___

The gossip Joel mentioned is in the back of your mind but you know he'll tell you when he's satisfied with his information gathering or whatever the fuck he's up to. Sure, it's silly, maybe even pointless but you like to think of it as a display of the trust you have in each other. You trust Joel with your life and you've put that into practice, watched him bloody his knuckles for the ones he loves. You also trust him with your heart, your body, your mind. There's no part of you that his hands haven't touched, haven't loved in the jagged, intense way of his. 

Plus you enjoy seeing him pleased with himself, which you know he will be once he has the whole story to tell you. It's not a mood you see on him often.

You finally have a free night and Ellie asks you to come over to try out a new video game Jesse found for her on patrol. Joel waves you off when you offer to stay in with him instead.

"Means I'll get some peace and quiet to finish my book," he grumbles, handing you your coat even though you're walking across the yard. He's already peeled off his boots and looks half-awake in the dim light of your entryway, glasses tucked into the collar of his sweater.

"More like you're going to sit in bed and fall asleep reading without me talking to keep you awake."

He sends you off with an eye roll and a soft kiss which you turn into two more, just because. Maybe a few years ago he'd sit in the chair downstairs and wait for you to come home. He does like to play his guitar on the porch when it's not too cold, keep an eye on things. But you'll be with Ellie just out back and it's been a long week. It's no small point of pride that, with the help of your reassurance and persistent care and his own conviction, Joel allows himself to relax a little. "Have fun."

You do. Ellie and Joel have a history that is complex and tender, so much so that sometimes it's too much for both of them. After it seemed like she was open to it, you've tried to make sure you and her have a relationship all your own. She's smart and funny and fiercely loyal to the people she cares about. You feel lucky to be one of them.

But she still annihilates your ass when it comes to video games. 

"You know," she says, cracking her knuckles after yet another defeat. "It's embarrassing as shit how you literally lived in a time where you could play these like, whenever you wanted. And yet it's me, who was born after the world ended, who keeps winning."

You make sure to look unamused. "Whatever." You stand, stretching out your spine with your arms above your head and yawn. "It's teenage luck." You have no idea how this girl stays up so late all the time. 

"I guess I'm just good at everything."

"Oh, you sure about that?" She hands you your coat and tugs on the strings of her sweatshirt. "I've seen you in a kitchen. You might want to rethink that one."

"Psh," she says, waving you off. "Who needs to cook, anyway?"

You slide into your boots and shake your head. "I'm actually shocked Dina puts up with you." 

"Hey, fuck you!" she cries, though she's hiding a smile. "No insulting me in my own home. It's Joel's fault, anyway. He can't cook either."

You snort. "Don't I know it." She grins at you fully, the one you call her shark-tooth smile, and you grin back. "Thanks for this, kiddo. I had fun." 

"Yeah, maybe one day you'll win." You tug her in for a quick hug which she allows before squirming away. "Alright, alright. Go make sure he didn't burn down the house without you, or something."

It's late, late enough that you feel yourself getting more tired with each step back to the porch. Joel left the back door unlocked for you. You latch the deadbolt behind you and peel off your outer layers in the dark. A quick glance in the kitchen tells you Joel put your stuff from dinner away and is probably in bed. He's left out your mugs, ready for the morning, and the list he's been making of things you need to do around the house before it snows. You love to see the pieces of your life on display like this -- signs that this is a home.

You don't bother being quiet when you climb up the stairs because you know he'll be pissed if you don't wake him to let him know you're home. The bedroom light is on but when you actually go in you see he's in bed with his book in his lap, glasses sliding down his nose. His eyes are closed and his bare chest rises slowly.

He's probably only half-asleep, probably heard you come in and decided it was safe enough to shut his eyes until you say something. So you get ready for bed quickly, tugging on soft clothes and brushing your teeth before creeping over to his side of the bed and perching on the edge of it, resting your hand on his thigh under the covers.

"Joel," you say softly. "Joel, are you asleep?"

"Yes," he grumbles. His eyes flutter open, the piercing grey a little clouded with tiredness. He reaches for his glasses and pulls them from his face a bit clumsily. "You okay? You n'Ellie have fun?"

"We did. She's so good at video games it's a little scary." You pluck the frames from his hand and fold them, setting them on his bedside table with his book. He grunts and pushes himself up a little more in bed, his leg pressing against your tailbone through the blankets. It's a real show of your restraint that you don't run your hands over the golden and hairy expanse of his chest, the broad line of his shoulders. Instead you reach for his face and he lets you, eyes crinkling at the corners as he tries and fails to hide his amusement as you trail your fingers through his hair. Just being here with him makes you a little sleepy, your body catching up with your mind at how you always feel safest when he's in the room with you. "S'cold, though. I think we might need to put some more insulation in the shed for her."

"Alright," he says. Joel wraps his fingers around your wrist and pulls your palm to his cheek but quickly flinches away. "Christ," he mutters. "Your hands are cold." He encases both of your hands in his and rubs slowly, throughly. 

"Let me get in bed, then." You make no effort to move. 

Joel blows on your fingers and, in a move that's tender even for him, presses his lips to their tips. "I ain't holdin' you here."

"Sarcasm," you say. "And Ellie claims you're not funny." Joel scoffs and you laugh, rising from his side of the bed and making your way around to yours. Joel flicks back the covers and you slide in, facing him. 

"Light off?" he asks. You nod. He shuffles around to flip the switch and then settles into his side with a groan. It's dark but you know his face with your eyes closed, let alone in the moonlight of your bedroom. The gash on the bridge of his nose, the scruff of his greying beard, the nicks along his cheeks and temples. The age spots, the wrinkles, the lines at the corners of his eyes and mouth, these days more from smiles and laughter than stress and worry. Or so you like to think. 

"Got any gossip for me yet?" 

Joel huffs. "Not quite."

"Jooooooel," you whine, scooting closer. You hook a leg over his and slide your hand over his stomach, fingers catching on the hair above the waistband of his sleep pants. He makes a noise deep in his throat but otherwise allows it. 

"I ain't givin' you half-assed information," he says. "It'll be worth the wait."

With Joel, it always is. You consider dragging it out a little more but you're cold and tired and he's so warm and you barely saw him at all today. "Alright," you say. You pull yourself even closer under the covers, dragging your nose over the hollow of his throat, his beard a delicious scratch on your skin. Your hand curls around his hip and he reaches for you on instinct, warm, callused palms sliding under your sleep shirt to press into your bare skin.

He huffs a tired laugh, chest rumbling with amusement. "What're you up to?"

"You're warm," you say into his skin.

"And you're handsy."

You trail your lips up to his and press them to the corner of his mouth. "You love it."

"Guess I do," Joel says. He catches you in a lazy, slow kiss, tongue tracing the seam of your lips until you part them. He licks into your mouth like he's got all the time in the world and you let him. His nose presses against yours and you sigh even further into the embrace, pressing as close as you can, as if you could crawl into him and stay there forever. Any cold lingering in your bones is dispelled by Joel's touch, by the thigh he wedges between your legs. This could turn into something more, and you love when it does, but tonight it's just about being close. His hand trails up your side to cup your face as the kisses get lazier, sleepier. You're slotting his bottom lip between yours when he pulls back and --

Yawns in your face. 

He looks a little surprised and then frowns. You laugh and smooth the crease between his brows before kissing him once more.

"Jesus, Joel," you say. "Bedtime."

"Was sleepin' fine before you got here," he grumbles, but  in the same breath he wraps his arm around you and tugs you with him as he turns onto his back so your head lays on his chest. You match your breaths to his. He presses a kiss to your hair.

___

Two nights later you wake to an empty bed. 

You sleepily trail your hand through the sheets and find they still carry Joel's warmth. He must have gotten up a few minutes ago. You force your eyes to open but don't see a light in the bathroom, find no shadow in your eyesight. You can hear his voice in your head saying go back to sleep, s'nothin' but you know better than to listen to him when it comes to this. It's not like you'll be able to until you know he's okay, anyway. 

So you wrap the blanket from the foot of your bed around yourself and shuffle through the house and down the stairs. 

"Joel?" you call quietly. 

"Kitchen," he replies, a warm grumble in the still of the night. You didn't even look at the clock when you got out of bed but it must be late. 

He sits in the dark at your small kitchen table, eyes fixed on Ellie's garage out back. He's put a shirt on. Of course. Nightmare. This is where he always sits after he has one. His hands are wrapped around his mug. Based on the smell it's chamomile tea -- the only time he'll drink it instead of coffee is on nights like tonight. He had no idea it even grew in the greenhouses here until you presented him with a jar of it for Ellie back when you were still tiptoeing around whatever was between you. Those days are long gone.

"You okay?" You keep your voice hushed. It's rare these days that he'll want to be alone. You're the only one who gets to see him like this other than Ellie. It took a while but now Joel lets you comfort him, he lets you hold him together when he needs it. 

He tears his eyes from the window to meet yours, chin tipped up as he gets a good look at you in the dark. 

"M'alright." You take a few more steps into the kitchen and he frowns. "You cold?" He reaches for you with one hand, beckoning you close. You step into his space and he wraps one arm around you, leans his head against your soft stomach. You untangle from the blanket slightly to run your fingers through his hair. The touch is as grounding for him as it is for you.

"What can I do?" you ask him, ignoring his question. 

You can feel the warmth of his palm through the blanket and your sleep shirt. "This is just fine. Just need a minute." 

"You wanna take that minute on the couch?" He grunts his assent and you step back to allow him to get up. He leaves his mug on the table but catches your hand to pull you with him.

Joel sighs when he settles into the worn cushions, knees spread wide and head tipped back as be breathes. He doesn't look any more tired than usual but you can tell he's still holding onto whatever sent him down here. 

You press into his side, legs curled underneath you. His arm settles heavily on across your shoulders and you rest a palm on his knee. 

"Do you want to talk about it?" He turns his head to face you and his nostrils flare as he frowns.

"Nothin' new," he sighs. "A pretty old one, actually. Haven't had it in a while. 'Bout stuff from when we were on the road."

If he wants to say more he will. You don't know what it's like for him to worry about Ellie -- you only know how youworry. Once the sun rises he'll probably trudge over and knock on her door, ask if she wants to go for a ride. She'll complain about being woken up but she'll agree because she knows him, too. She'll see the tension at the edges of his eyes, in the set of his shoulders. There have been nights when you come downstairs to find her sleeping on the couch, too, just because she wanted to be sure he was okay.

You lean your head on his shoulder and breathe with him. He picks up your hand and rubs his thumb across the back of it slowly, as if he doesn't even know he's doing it.

Sleep is a near thing when Joel eventually clears his throat. "I got that gossip for you." His chest rumbles and you perk up, pulling back to look at him. His eyes have a bit more spark, a bit less of the far-away look he had when you came down the stairs. 

"Oh, do you now? Finally?"

"You're just impatient," he says. "Hadn't heard directly from either of 'em so I wasn't sure. But I tracked it down and got it from the source."

"You sound like a detective from one of those old shows. Got it from the source," you say, pitching your voice low and imitating his drawl. 

He manages to look unimpressed. "I don't have to tell you."

"Joel."

"Alright, alright. Well, it's about Wendy and Fred."

You sit up. "The couple that met on your group patrol?" It's something you and Ellie tease him about -- his accidental tendency to play matchmaker. Sometimes he leads group patrols for new folks or younger community members who are now old enough to join the roster. You think he probably enjoys scaring the shit out of them a little but he's also good at it, teaches them well and makes sure they're safe. Around the time you met you'd heard about a couple who met on a patrol and hit it off. It's happened a few more times with Joel's groups but Wendy and Fred are the only ones who have stayed together. 

"Mhm. Word is they're gettin' married."

You gasp. This is very far from what you expected him to tell you. A lot of the gossip you and Joel share is about people breaking up or sleeping together or moving out of Jackson. Sometimes it's petty theft or in-fighting at the council. But this? This is downright romantic.

"Married?" It's not uncommon these days but most people don't bother. But most importantly it means one thing -- there's going to be a party. "We haven't had a wedding in...forever," you say wistfully.

"Been a few years, yeah," Joel agrees. "Folks'll be excited."

"How did you find out?" 

He shifts on the couch a little and you take control of your clasped hands, holding one of his in both of yours as you trace the lines on his palm, the veins that go up his arm while he talks. 

"Heard from one of the guys at the festival that Fred was lookin' for a ring. Wanted to get the word out to some supply runs but without her knowin'. But I wasn't sure, since I hadn't seen him in a while. Then I saw Wendy at the pantry few days ago and she looked real happy. I didn't pry but asked her how things were and she was chipper as hell."

"And that wasn't enough to tell me?"

He squeezes your shoulder. 

"Yesterday Fred cornered me when I was headin' home and told me flat out. Thanked me for some fuckin' reason and said Wendy agreed to marry him. Kid looked like he was gonna throw up, he was so excited."

Joel's voice is warm. "You are such a romantic when you want to be," you tell him.

He smirks. "Heard that before."

"It'll be nice to have a celebration. If we're invited, you're dancing with me again."

"We better fuckin' be invited," he grumbles. "I introduced them."

"So you admit to being a matchmaker?"

He huffs. "Nah," he says, a little softer. "Dumb luck. S'how you get good things these days."

You shift under his arm a little bit. "Maybe," you reply. "I think we've earned a few of those things."

Joel drags a hand down his face. It's a motion that usually means he's chewing on what to say next. You spare him.

"This --" you gesture between the two of you "--and all of this --" you wave your hand at the room, the house "-- is more than I knew I could want. You, this house, that feisty, wonderful girl out back. This whole town. Waking up every morning and not dreading another day on this hellish planet. I didn't know this existed anymore, Joel, let alone that it was possible for me. And I think we've earned it."

He's quiet for a few breaths. "C'mere," he says softly. You don't know exactly what he means but he pulls you into his lap so you're straddling him, his arm firm around your hips. It could be a heated position, often is, but here it's just to be close. You catch yourself on his shoulders and drag your hands up to his cheeks. You hold his face in your hands, thumbs stroking the soft, forever-bruised skin under his eyes.

"You sure got a way with words," he says thickly, gaze heavy. "Don't know what I did to deserve this but I ain't gonna question it."

You wrap your arms around him and properly embrace him. He presses his palms to your back and hooks his chin over your shoulder. Your breathing syncs up and you swear your heartbeats do, too. Your whole body, your whole being tuned itself to Joel a long time ago. You'd do everything you've done twice over to get here. 

As if he hears the desperate devotion of your thoughts, Joel pulls back so he can lean up for a kiss. It's more intense than you expected it to be, like he's trying to tell you something with the press of his mouth. You know what he's trying to tell you -- you always do. Joel is better at showing you how he feels than telling you. 

He suckles your lower lip and you tug on the hair at the nape of his neck. He makes a noise low in his throat and you swallow it. You could touch him forever and never get enough. The firm planes of his back, the knot of tension always present in his shoulders. The scratch of his beard, the press of his nose against yours. You want to stitch yourself to him so that you never have to let go.

"S'your turn," Joel grumbles against your lips, pulling back to catch his breath.

Your brain is a little fuzzy. "Hm?"

"For somethin' juicy." 

It's a funny word coming from his mouth and it makes you laugh. His arms tighten around you and he drags his nose down your neck and breathes deep. You can get some gossip for him. You'd do much worse without being asked. Sometimes you think there are no limits to what you'd do for this man. It's a big thought, a dangerous thought, one that's suited to the world you live in now. You don't mind it.

"I'll get you something good, Joel Miller. I promise."

"I know you will," he says. "I trust you."

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