#what helps is i try to think about at least one thing i liked or that grabbed my attention and comment on that!

[no-144444]

the grid: valentine's day!

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featuring: Oscar Piastri, Lando Norris, George Russell, Kimi Antonelli, Alex Albon, Carlos Sainz, Daniel Riccardo, Liam Lawson, Max Verstappen, Charles LeClerc, Lewis Hamilton, Ollie Bearman, Jack Doohan, Franco Colapinto, & Paul Aron

this is 18+ so mdni please! smut and suggestiveness in some of them!

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Oscar Piastri: Simple, lowkey, sweet 

He’d decided instead of trying to make it a huge deal, both of you would much rather have a slow evening. 

“What should I wear?” you asked as you sat at your vanity in just a bra and underwear. 

“That,” he whispered under his breath, his eyes taking you in. You heard him (obviously) and rolled your eyes. 

“Be serious, what are we doing?” you chuckled. 

He smiled and pressed a kiss to your cheek. “Wear whatever you want, no climbing or long walks tonight,” he told you. 

You gave him a sceptical look. “I hate when you plan things,” you sighed, getting up and going to your closet. 

“Is it because you’re slightly a control freak?” he teased and you scoffed at his words. 

“I’m not that bad!” you scoffed, pushing him out of your room. “Now you don’t get to enjoy the view!” 

He rolled his eyes from the other side of the door, but he couldn’t help the smile on his face. He’d planned tonight exactly how you’d want it. Your favourite romcom in a private screen with just the two of you, then dinner at your favourite restaurant, then home. He’d already gotten you flowers earlier in the day (as you had him, which made him feel quite special), and you’d been working, so he’d been busy with training. He had a beautiful necklace (one he’d let you pick out months ago that he was sure you’d forgotten) for you, and he knew what you’d gotten him already. He knew he was a nuisance to buy for, but somehow, you always got it right. He’d accidentally opened the package when it came to the door, to find vintage Australian cricket jerseys of his three favourite players. You knew him so well. 

You came out in his favourite dress of yours, looking stunning. He wrapped his arms around your waist and smiled into a kiss. 

“I have lipgloss on,” you chuckled, rubbing it off his lips. 

“I don’t mind,” he shrugged, kissing you again as you chuckled. You kissed him back, all too happy to oblige him. 

“Shall we?” you asked, pulling away and wiping his mouth of your lip gloss. 

“We shall,” he smiled, taking your hand and leading you out of your shared Monaco apartment. 

It was going to be a good night. 

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Lando Norris: airport blunder 

He’d decided he wanted to whisk you away for Valentine’s day, but the reality of you having a regular job and him having testing to do meant you at least had to wait until extremely late to get to the airport, and you were both in shitty moods, too tired to be flying to Greece at 11pm, with another hour of your delay to sit through. 

“Was this a bad idea?” he asked, his voice small and dejected. 

You turned to him and took his hand. “It was a sweet idea Lan, I love it, but right now we’re both exhausted and not in the best mood, but think about tomorrow. When we get to wake up in Greece at 2pm and have the most amazing sex, we’ll be in better moods,” you chuckled, making him smile. “Right?”

“We could also just go have sex in the bathroom?” he offered, pushing his luck and leaning in, his face against your neck. 

You laughed and pushed him back. “You’re ridiculous.” 

“I’m in love!” he argued, leaning in again and pressing soft kisses to your neck. “And you’re in a white tank with no bra,” he groaned. “You’re so hot.”

You laughed, embarrassed by his antics in a public airport. “Behave.” 

“So… bathroom?” He tried his luck again. 

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the way your resolve was failing, mostly because of the way he was kissing your neck. “If it’s clean.” 

He grinned like an idiot. “You’re perfect.” 

You chuckled. “Idiot.” 

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George Russell: double date

You had no idea that ‘bowling’ meant going out for dinner with Toto and Susie, and then going bowling with them too. At first, you were slightly put off by the idea, you had kind of been hoping that tonight would be about just you two, since you two hadn’t really had a date alone in a while. It grew on you though, watching how like Toto George was. It was weird, like father and son, and you enjoyed talking with Susie for half the night. 

As the double date came to a close, he held your hand, your head leaning on him. “I thought I wasn’t going to enjoy tonight,” you admitted. “I had a bunch of fun though.”

He chuckled. “I’m glad. So did I.”

“You’re so shit at bowling,” you teased. “How do you miss every single one of them, three times in a row?”

He scoffed, shocked at your rudeness. “I wasn’t that bad!”

“You were,” you laughed, and he wrapped his hand around your waist instead, tickling you, picking you up and putting you over his shoulder as you squealed. “George! Put me down!”

“Nope,” he smiled. “I have my plans with you,” he smirked, opening the door to your Monaco house. 

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Kimi Antonelli: nervous nelly

Since it was your first Valentine’s, Kimi was shitting bricks. He had this whole dinner planned, pulling out all the stops for the big day, but at dinner, he was more worried about how it all was than actually celebrating your relationship and each other. 

You chuckled as you looked up from your meal, only to see him staring at you, again. “Are you ever going to actually eat?” you asked. His eyes snapped down to his own meal, his face getting red as he realised you noticed him looking. 

“I-Yes,” he smiled awkwardly, finally grabbing his fork and digging in. 

“Kimi, it’s alright, you don’t have to be nervous. Tonight has been perfect,” you smiled, taking his other hand. A sigh of relief left his lips. 

“I just, I wanted this to be perfect,” he admitted, squeezing your hand. 

“It is,” you smiled reassuringly. “Once you’re also having fun?”

“Of course I am,” he smiled, finally looking you in the eye again. “I’m here with you.”

“Well I’m glad I make such good company,” you smiled. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he smiled before leaning over the table and planting a soft kiss on your lips. 

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Alex Albon: busy but present 

You were busy with work and so was he, but regardless he made you feel special. He sent flowers right to your room with a beautiful note, had your gift delivered (a jellycat heart and bag that you liked), and sent you photos, videos, and texts about his day, throughout the day. Small messages about his engineers, or what he was having for lunch, a picture of the flowers and the gifts you’d sent him, and even a video of him, George, and Lando going for a run together. You sent him messages throughout the day too. Tid-bits about what you were working on, photos of you with your co-workers, and a video of you dressed up for your ‘galentine’s’ dinner. As much as you both missed each other, you still made each other feel special, even thousands of miles away. 

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Carlos Sainz: freaky wit it 

“I’ve been waiting for this all night,” he groaned as you pulled on his hair. To be honest, both of you had been waiting all night for this. Quickly, he started unzipping your dress, the long navy fabric had been driving him insane all night, you had been driving him insane all night. The way you smiled at him, the way you walked, talked, ate, and drank, he wanted you so badly, and he had to wait a whole two hours to have you. Next your heels were discarded on the floor and he lifted you up and threw you on the bed, making you laugh. Now, in front of him, you were lying on the bed with a navy two-piece, and something new on your skin. Just above your hip bone, shown off beautifully by the lingerie, there was a small ‘55’ tattooed on you. “Mi Amor,” he choked out, winded by the sight of you. “Is it real?” 

“Felt you might’ve needed a reminder that someone is always in your corner,” you whispered seductively, pressing your lips to the shell of his ear. “Williams blue and a 55. Like it?”

“I love it,” he smirked back, pulling your underwear down harshly. “Love you,” he gritted out, kneeling in front of you. “Can I have my dessert now, tesoro?” he looked up through hooded eyes and you knew you were soaked.

“Fuck yes,” you sighed out in content, before a long, long night began. 

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Daniel Riccardo: sweet morning

Daniel had been lying in bed staring at you for a good 40 minutes. He was just so… captivated by you. He loved to just watch you do anything (including sleep, apparently). He thought about all the tough moments you’d had together, and how you’d been strong enough to carry him during his darkest times. He thought about how you made him smile every single day, and how he never wanted it to stop. He thought about the fetus you had growing inside of you, the one that would be your kid. He was so excited, so happy, so ready for the future. Even though he was in F1, he felt complete with you beside him. 

You woke up smiling, ready for the day ahead. Both you and Daniel had taken the day off to have a nice long weekend and spend some time together. 

“Morning beautiful,” he smiled, pressing his lips to yours. 

“Morning,” you yawned. “Alright?”

He smiled. “Alright. Just love you.” 

You smiled at him. “I love you too,” you grinned, wrapping your arms around his neck and letting his roll over onto his back, you on top of him. “Happy Valentine’s day.”

“Happy Valentine’s day,” he nodded before kissing you again. 

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Liam Lawson: helping hand

“Ready?!” you called out to him, checking your watch again. 

“I just want to make sure my hair is good-” he started but you cut him off with a groan. 

“Liam, your hair always looks good, come here and I’ll fix it if you want,” you offered and he came running. In front of you, your boyfriend was standing wearing a pair of shorts and a shirt, perfect for your picnic date that he’d planned. He knelt down in front of you, giving you full access to his head as he wrapped his arms around your midriff, pressing gentle kisses there over your clothes. Gently, you eased the pomade into his hair, spiking it up how he liked it. “Good?” you asked, showing him by using your phone as a mirror. 

“Perfect,” he smiled, getting up and pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Even better because you’re not wearing panties,” he muttered into your ear as you both walked out of the house. 

You just smirked back at him. 

You would be the death of him one day, he was sure of it. 

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Max Verstappen: not big but that’s how you both like it 

Max walked into the hotel room with a bouquet in his hand and a bakery bag in the other. In all honesty, you would’ve been fine if he hadn’t done anything. Yes, you’d gotten him some flowers and chocolates, but neither of you were very big ‘celebration’ people, and a date was just a date, which wasn’t feasible with testing going on anyways. He fell into bed beside you, a tired look in his eyes. 

“For you,” he smiled, holding out the flowers. You took them and kissed his cheek. 

“Thanks baby,” you grinned. “What’s in the bag?”

“Brownies,” he smiled mischievously. “I got two.” 

“Not willing to share with your wife?” you faked offence as he laughed at you. 

“Nope, just smart enough to know you wouldn’t want to share,” he chuckled and kissed you on the cheek again. “I love you,” he pressed a kiss to your lips, then your growing belly. “I love you too,” he whispered. 

“She’s going to enjoy this,” you smiled, holding up your brownie to cheers with his, then you both took a bite. The moan you let out could only be described as pornographic, but he just chuckled, more than happy to supply you with all the brownies you two needed. He just needed you. 

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Charles LeClerc: proposal

Charles was sweating buckets. He felt practically faint as you walked onto the beach, enjoying the dark night sky and the soft waves under your feet. It had been the most romantic night, dinner on his yacht far out with the most magnificent views, then coming back in for a walk on the beach after you got ice cream from a local ice cream shop. You were ranting about something at work, but he couldn’t focus, his mind weighed down by the small red box in his pocket. It was now or never. 

“Char?” you asked, turning to him when you saw the row of candles further down the beach. He smiled nervously at you and took your hand. Holy shit. He was proposing. 

“I have something I want to ask you,” he whispered, leading you towards the beautiful proposal sight. It was a path of candles to a beautiful circle, where you would be getting engaged. Of course that’s why he wanted you to wear your white dress, why he’d insisted on you getting your nails done this week, why he’d been so secretive. He led you into the center of the circle, his eyes already clouding with tears, and got down on one knee. “My love,” he started, taking your hand in his. “You have been with me for everything. I never thought I would be lucky enough to find someone as caring and kind as you. I love you, more than anything. You’re my biggest supporter, best friend, and favourite person, and I cannot go another day without you knowing how I truly feel about you. I want a life with you, I want a family, I want it all. The best part of my day is waking up next to you, seeing your texts and calls, seeing you at the barricade, or just getting a simple kiss from you. I want you for life, if you’ll have me,” he smiled, squeezing your hand before letting go to get the ring out of his pocket. He opened it, a beautiful cartier engagement ring, simple with a beautiful diamond in the middle, exactly what you wanted. You hadn’t even realised you were crying until you felt it fall onto your hand. You quickly brushed the tears away and smiled. “Will you marry me?” he asked, tears in his eyes but that same goofy, beautiful, Charles smile that you’d fallen in love with. 

“Yes Char, of course I will,” you smiled, pulling his face to yours to seal it with a kiss. 

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Lewis Hamilton: away from the kid for the first time

Both of you were pretending to enjoy the dinner, but both of you were feeling the guilt of leaving your 3 month old, Ellie, for the first time. Under the table you had her baby monitor up, and he had been texting the babysitters (aka Charles and Alexandria) every few minutes for updates. The meal was lovely, and yes, it was nice to spend some time with Lewis, but you could’ve done it at home. 

“I feel so guilty,” you finally rushed out as you perused over the dessert menu. 

Lewis let out a breath of relief. “Me too,” he chuckled, taking your hand. “I’ve been texting them every few minutes,” he admitted.

“I have her monitor up on my phone,” you laughed, putting your phone on the table to show him. You both laughed for a few minutes, watching your perfect bundle of light play with Charles and Alex. 

“Home?” he offered, turning to you. 

“Home,” you nodded. You quickly got out of there, Lewis paying, and then probably driving over the speed limit on the way home, but neither of you cared. You were too excited to see Ellie. 

Charles and Alex were pretty amused by the situation, and left soon after you two came home, leaving you two to put her to bed. You both held her for a few moments, soothing her to sleep as she yawned, making all those perfect little baby noises. 

“I missed her,” you admitted. “We were gone for 2 hours.” 

“Me too,” he chuckled. “It’s hard being away from her,” he sighed, bouncing her in his arms as she fell to sleep. You watched him for a moment, enjoying the sight of him with your perfect little baby. “Want another?” he suddenly said, smirking. 

You looked at him, deadpan. “Shut the fuck up.” 

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Ollie Bearman: cutie 

He’d set up an elaborate valentine’s dinner in your apartment since the past few years you’d been apart for Valentine’s, having to just facetime or text. He set up heart balloons, roses all over the place, candles, the whole shabang. Small problem, he cannot cook to save his life, so he ended up burning the food, then just ordering from your favourite place instead. You walked in after work, exhausted (and not expecting to see Ollie since he was supposed to be doing testing), and there he was. 

You ran up to him, dropping your bag at the door with a thump as you ran into his arms. “What the fuck are you doing here?!” you squealed, hugging him tight. 

“Happy Valentine’s day,” he smiled, hugging you just as tight. “I missed you.” 

“I missed you too,” you pulled back, only to replace the hug with a hungry kiss. “Fucking hell it’s so good to see you,” you cursed, pulling him as close as you could. 

Quickly the kiss turned a bit more passionate than intended, and you ended up in your bedroom… 

It was probably his favourite Valentine’s Day ever.  

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Jack Doohan: cooking disaster

Was a cooking class as a Valentine’s date probably a bad idea in hindsight? Yes. Jack was not a chef. He could cook scrambled eggs, and he was pretty prolific with a pancake or two, but sushi? Who did he think he was? You, on the other hand, were doing amazing. Every single one of your pieces looked exactly like the head chefs’, and he felt a sense of pride blossom in his chest when he watched you get complimented by the chef. That sense of pride was quickly overshadowed by the way she would look at his sushi (basically a pile of the ingredients, he was too busy staring at you to pay attention to method).

“Want help?” you offered as you finished off your last roll. Jack hadn’t even started, too busy watching you concentrate. 

“Huh- Yeah! Yes please,” he snapped back to reality and let you take over his station, standing just behind you with his hands around your waist, his gloves long discarded. “You’re great at this,” he murmured, pressing a kiss against the shell of your ear. 

You beamed at his compliment. “Thanks baby.”

“You look sexy in an apron,” he whispered and you laughed out loud. 

“I seriously doubt that,” you laughed, looking down at your ‘bright pink with red hearts’ apron. He shrugged. 

“It’s working on me,” he chuckled, pushing you back into him. 

“You’re disgusting,” you giggled. “We’re in public.”

“Bathrooms exist for a reason,” he smirked. 

“Yeah, pissing and shitting,” you reminded him. “I’ll be all yours once we get home,” you smirked, seductive as you led one of his hands to your thigh. “Maybe in the car too.” 

He groaned. “So perfect,” he nipped at the back of your neck. “So fucking perfect.”

“Love you too,” you teased. 

“I love you so much,” he whispered, his voice gentler than usual. “So fucking much baby.”

“I feel it,” you smiled, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “All the time.” 

He felt quite accomplished at that. 

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Franco Colapinto: charmer 

Franco was busy with Alpine duties which meant you’d be apart for Valentine’s, and while you’d accepted it, it still sucked to not wake up beside your boyfriend. You had a slow morning before going to work, sluggishly getting ready for work, until the doorbell rang. It was the postman. He handed you a letter, and you immediately recognised the writing, quickly thanked him and ran back inside. 

My love, 

I know we’re missing this day together, but I still wanted you to know I care. I adore you. You are and will always be the best thing that has ever happened to me. You continue to surprise and excite me even after these years together, even when I think I know everything about you. I love you. Every freckle. Every spot. Every hair on your head, everytime you smile at me, every laugh, every giggle, every word. Everything. You’re my everything, and as much as I wish I was there with you, I’m only a phone call away. I can’t wait to continue loving you until we’re both old and wrinkly, but before then, I love you now, then, and always. 

My beautiful girl, my life, my love. 

Happy Valentine’s Day

- Your Franco

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Paul Aron: reuniting 

He waited at the arrivals terminal, refreshing the web page that had all the information about your flight every three seconds. Other than that, his eyes were glued to the door, prepared to run the second you walked through those doors. 

A few minutes of waiting elapsed, and there you were, clear as day, probably tired after your long day of travel, but you were there. He ran up to you, picking you up to allow you to wrap yourself around him, grabbing your suitcase with the other hand. “Hey baby,” he smiled, letting you back down again. 

“Missed you,” you said before grabbing his face and kissing him. You were anything but gentle, but he didn’t mind. He was just glad you were there. All his for a whole two weeks. 

“Missed you more,” he whispered between kisses. “So fucking much.”

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navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

[squorkal]

I love this because there are so many reasons why I think people think he's weak.

1) His appearance isn't exactly threatening. He literally looks like a marshmallow. He's white and never dirty, implying he doesn't place himself in the center of action often. And he's very fluffy.

2) He's an absolute sweetheart. (Warning: Spoilers ahead for IDW) I mean, when he was accused of malicious intent with Duo, he just walked away from the Diamond Cutters. No ill feelings toward them. Just disappointment. And then when it's revealed that Duo WAS a threat, no one approached him to apologize. Yet he took the time to check on the team to make sure they were ok. He was wronged!! He had every right to say "serves them right", but he didn't. Everyone incorrectly assumes his kindness is a weakness, but it's not.

3) He, himself, believes he is weak. Or at least he believes he's not helpful. Confidence goes a long way and he doesn't have much of it.

4) Despite not feeling very useful, he does at least try to be helpful. But in his desperation to be a part of the solution, he rushes into things and can become part of the problem. On top of that, he's a little clumsy from time to time. And like, I mentioned before, he doesn't have a lot of confidence, so he tends to dwell on the things he does wrong. And that can cause others to also dwell on his missteps and ignore his accomplishments.

This juxtaposition in his own character is what makes him so great. I love dark horse characters. There's something very inspiring about their journey of self love and community acceptance.

Everyone talks about how randoms get startled by Silver's incredible power, but nobody talks about how literally everyone else gets freaked out by it as well.

Like, everyone figures he's a marshmallow and then he shows off a bit and everyone pisses themselves.

Just saying, Silver may be my favorite character.

[herrmannhalsteadproduction]

You Had Me at...

He didn't know why he was even still awake.

No, that was a lie.

He knew exactly why, but he also knew it was stupid and silly and completely outside the realm of possibility. He just hadn't been able to help himself.

He'd stayed up and watched the clock, waited as the minutes ticked by until it was officially Valentine's Day, and held his breath...

And then nothing.

He'd huffed out a laugh, telling himself he was more embarrassed than disappointed because honestly, what had he expected?

Evan to show up at the door to declare his love? To want to get back together?

To want him?

That wasn't Tommy's life. That was fantasy. The stuff of romcoms, not the real world.

Reality was getting into his ratty pajama pants and an ancient, worn-soft LAFD t-shirt (that still had a B and a U and a half-peeled Y on the back) and accepting the fact that he was once again alone for this stupid, fake holiday...that he absolutely loved.

Sighing, he made his way out to the kitchen and dug around in his freezer until he found the pint of cookie dough ice cream that Evan had left there and Tommy had been avoiding for the past three months. What was the point of leaving it? Evan was never coming back. It wasn't like he'd be there to get mad at Tommy for eating it and why let it go to waste?

He stood there, staring at the ice cream.

His therapist would have plenty to say about him struggling to let himself have things, but that was a problem for Tuesday Tommy.

...screw it.

He was eating the ice cream.

Tommy snatched the container out of the freezer and set it down on the counter, ignoring its accusing stare as he grabbed a spoon out of the drawer.

"This is for the best," he muttered. "I'm putting us both out of our misery, okay? We can't wait forever. He's never coming back."

He tapped the spoon against the lid, frowning when a faint knock sounded back.

"What the fu-"

The knock again, louder this time and clearly coming from the front door.

Tommy set the spoon down beside the ice cream, grabbed his phone, and crept down the hallway toward the door. He was still debating calling 911 when he caught sight of a familiar silhouette through the window and his heart stopped.

He'd know those curls anywhere.

Evan startled, hand still raised when Tommy whipped open the door.

"Shit," he said, eyes going wide. "I mean, not sh-not that, I just...I wasn't expecting you to answer so quickly and I'm still kind of working on what I'm going to say..."

"...did you want me to close the door and give you a minute?" Tommy asked after another weighted beat passed between them. He'd stand back in the hallway for as long as it took. As long as Evan needed.

"No!" Evan jolted forward, hand flexing like he was ready to catch it - as if Tommy would willingly close a door between them ever again. "I..."

Tommy waited, drinking in the sight of Evan as he fidgeted on the front porch. He itched to tug the lip free that he was chewing on, but he was equally afraid to touch him.

He didn't think he could bear it if this turned out to be a dream.

"I watched them all," Evan blurted out suddenly. He rubbed at the back of his neck, cheeks going red. "All of the movies I could remember from your shelves. T-the romance ones? And then Maddie recommended some more."

Tommy didn't know what to make of that. "Why-"

"Because everyone said I wasn't allowed to bake anymore," Evan said, as though that was a sentence that would clear things up. "But I had to do something, right? To stop myself from calling you every second that I was awake."

Wait, what?

"And I figured, if I couldn't stop thinking about you, then at least, I could maybe get inside your head and try to understand where we went wrong - where I went wrong," Evan barreled on like he wasn't completely upending Tommy's brain. "I watched them all and in every single one, ever single one, the couple has a fight and b-breaks up because, well, for all kinds of reasons, but it was because they were always missing what was right in front of them."

Evan took a deep, steadying breath, bracing himself on the doorframe. "I said a lot of stuff that night, but I missed saying the most important thing of all. I felt it, felt it so much it felt too big to say, but that was a mistake." He looked up, meeting Tommy's gaze with bright eyes.

"I love you, Tommy. I love you. I'm sorry I did everything backwards and managed to leap ahead all at the same time." Evan shook his head, blinking back tears as Tommy fought to hold back his own.

"I'm sorry I ever made you doubt that what I feel for you is real," he said "The most real and right thing I think I've ever felt in my life and I don't want to lose you. The last few months have been...I felt like I was missing a part of myself. Like my heart has been out there in the world without me and I've hated every minute of it."

"Please," Evan said, searching Tommy's face, hope threaded through every letter. "I know we have a lot we need to talk about, but can we - can we try again?"

Tommy took a shaky breath, still half-convinced he was about to wake up and have all of this ripped away from him.

"Please say something," Evan whispered, his shaky plea finally snapping Tommy into action.

He reached out to cup Evan's cheek, stroking a thumb against his skin as he leaned in. "You had me at 'shit'," Tommy said, a helpless smile twitching at the corners of his lips.

Evan's mouth dropped open as Tommy's words sank in. Relief warred against an extreme pout as he poked at Tommy's chest. "Did you seriously just Jerry Maguire me? I can't even-"

The rest of his protest was cut off when Tommy yanked him inside the house for a searing kiss, kicking the door shut behind them.

"I love you too," Tommy murmured against Evan's lips as he pressed him into the wall. He tried to get the apology he'd been agonizing over for the last three months out between kisses. "I'm sorry I ran. I got scared and stupid and I want this. Want you. Want everything."

Evan groaned, grabbing at him as he gave back as good as he got, kissing every part of Tommy he could reach without letting him move an inch out of his arms.

"Stay," Tommy gasped when they finally broke apart for air. "Please stay and just sleep beside me and we can talk properly in the morning?" He wasn't prepared to let Evan out of his sight any time soon.

"Try and get rid of me," Evan said with a little laugh as he rested his forehead against Tommy's. They kissed once more, softly, knowing they had time now. Letting out a happy sigh, Evan dropped a tiny peck on the end of Tommy's nose before releasing him and moving toward the kitchen.

Tommy went to lock the door, freezing when Evan let out a garbled noise of outrage.

"Is this my ice cream?"

Biting back a grin, Tommy headed toward Evan and his continuing grumbles...

And let his grin actually spread when he rounded the corner to find Evan standing there, holding out a second spoon.

[acoazlove]

A New Place | part five

Azriel x Archeron!Reader

Summary: A couple of weeks after your conversation with Azriel, your mind won’t let you sleep. what happens when the person on your mind can’t sleep either

Word count: 2.8k

Warnings: Angst, Fluff ? maybe?

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Eyes flutter open, blinking a few times to reorient yourself. Adjusting to the dark room. You turn your head towards the windows, dark. Still nighttime.

With a heavy sigh, you heave yourself out of bed. Waking up hasn’t been such a task since you were human. Living in that cabin—if you can call it that. Waking up back then was simpler.

But since you left your sisters and the rest of their family, you can’t bring yourself to care if you don't get out of bed ever again.

Pulling the covers off of you, sliding out of bed. Your feet meet the chilled floor while making your way blindly into the bathroom. Turning on a dim faelight.

Everything about your apartment is old, and worn down and you used to think it gave it character, made it unique. But as you look at the light you can’t help but wish it was the old cabin. Life was easier back then, no fae, no wars, no monsters, no evil kings or cauldrons, but most of all, you had your sisters. Of course you were all on the verge of starving or freezing to death. You don’t miss that.

Despite the fighting, you were all closer. Now everyone’s gone their separate ways and have their own families and partners. You don't have any of that. That thought breaks you from your reverie, turning to the mirror hanging above the sink. The edges are slightly rusted and the frame is a bit scratched.

Locking eyes with your reflection, you cringe. Dark shadows under your eyes, hair messy and frizzy as if you hadn’t brushed it in days, shoulders tense with undercurrents of your strained emotions. You look exactly how you feel. Tired.

Ignore it. A small voice in the back of your mind. You turn the tap and splash water on your face. There’s no going back to sleep so might as well do something.

Turning back and entering your bedroom, heading straight for your wardrobe. Putting on the first thing you grab. Staring in the mirror for a moment too long, you grimace once again at your reflection. How long had you looked a mess? Your friends would tell you if you didn’t look okay. Right?

With a heavy sigh, you exited your room. Passing the kitchen—you’re not feeling well, you’ll eat later, you tell yourself—and go straight to the front door, grabbing your coat as you glance at the clock on the wall by the door. 4:00 am, no wonder everything’s so quiet.

Without another thought, you slip out the door. You can’t be in that apartment for another moment. Shoving your hands into your pockets, you decide to clear your mind and go for a walk. Because walking down dark streets at 4:00 am is totally normal.

You miss the small shadow slipping under the door, following you. A second one going in the opposite direction, away from you.

─

Meandering down the streets of The City of Starlight, your thoughts wander despite trying to clear your head.

Wandering to a certain shadow-wielding Illyrian. Your conversation had been two weeks ago now. You wanted to talk to him again. or at least just see him.

You huff. Where had that thought come from? I mean he was kind enough to go for a walk with you and listen to you rant.

But he hadn’t exactly offered to be the company you’d seek out, but you’ve been lonely. You’re not sure if you’re ready to forgive your family just yet. You want to, but you won’t reach out first. They need to put in the effort for once.

Surprisingly—or unsurprisingly you should think—there are a few fae still wandering the streets. Maybe they were in your position too. Can’t sleep, and might just need to clear their mind, and get some night-chilled air

The Court of Dreams. It honestly doesn’t feel like it. You don’t feel like you’re dreaming. Nor had any of your own dreams had come true. It felt more like a nightmare.

Alone. All because your family forgot your birthday. You think bitterly. But then again, the more you think about it, you find more reasons that had been chipping away at your patience with them. It just happened to explode into a huge freakout on your birthday. The last straw.

They probably thought you were being overdramatic. You kick a small stone on the ground in front of you at that.

─

Tossing and turning, wings shifting uncomfortably, azriel grunts as he clenches his eyes shut. Trying to get some sleep for once, only for it to be just out of reach.

It’s like his mind was in overdrive—every thought shifting to another even more unwanted one—making him restless, which in time made his shadows restless. The main issue was that they weren’t telling him what was wrong. he doesn’t like that.

Finally, as his body relaxed and he was so close to falling asleep a new shadow joins the mix. Immediately slithering across his bed until it reached his ear. The information he received had him shooting up from where he had been lying down, and every last ounce of tiredness drained from his body.

She’s going for a walk. He glanced out his window. With how high the moon was in the sky he gathered that it was around four in the morning-

Why are you going for a walk at this time?

With a huff, knowing he won’t be able to sleep at all now, he pulls the blankets off him at the same time as sending a few more shadows to follow you, to make sure you’re okay and not in any danger of course.

Azriel hasn’t been able to get the conversation he had with you either. Well, it was more him listening as you spoke your mind, plus him apologising a few times and getting some of his thoughts out there. Or maybe it was just you in general. He can’t quite figure it out.

Now that he was out of bed he realized he didn’t actually know what he was planning to do with the situation. You’re going for a walk at four in the morning. You won’t want company. Besides, he already sent a few shadows. That should be fine.

The rest of Azriel’s shadows whirl around him, still agitated. Wanting him to do something, but still not telling him what. A long-suffering sigh leaves him, as he turns to look at his leathers, which are hanging over the back of the chair at his desk—thrown there after a long day—then back to the window.

He’s been staying in the townhouse since his last encounter with you, to make it easier for you if you want to seek him out and don’t want to see the rest of the family. Which you haven't. Why would you?

He also has a better view of the streets of Velaris from here. Which is why he sees a figure walk down the street, heading towards the sidra. Though he can’t see their face, he doesn’t need confirmation to know who it is. The posture, the way your shoes scuff when you walk while in thought, the way your hair falls with your head down.

Nevertheless, a shadow snakes up his arm, to his ear. Sad. Confused. Angry. Guilty. Lonely. The last word repeats over and over.

Azriel’s features contort into a frown. Watching as you disappear from view, having turned a corner. And without a second thought, he put on a change of clothes—deciding that if you do see him, his leathers possibly might make you uncomfortable, might think that there’s some kind of danger—opening up the balcony doors, stepping out and launching into the starry night sky. Following the direction you went, keeping a decent distance.

As he catches sight of you once again, slows down, descending to the ground. Landing as silent as he could for a massive Illyrian male.

Azriel steps into the shadows, trying to stay out of view and give you space.

He stands there feeling slightly awkward suddenly. Never has he felt that way about watching his family. Confused and caught off guard he misses the way his grip on his shadows loosens, most of which scramble their way over to you.

Already reaching your feet before he finally realizes, much to his horror. Frantically trying to yank them back to his own body.

─

Your train of thought is interrupted by small shadows softly brushing against your ankles before, slinking up your legs and entwining with your fingers. A soft smile curves your lips, as a scuff sounds from behind you.

“Hi Az.” your voice is soft. Looking over your shoulder, at the same time as he steps out from his hiding place. And even though it’s dark and void of any street lamp where you are, the stars and moon light his face enough for you to see the pink tinge to his cheeks. The sight brings you far more enjoyment than it should.

“Sorry.” he mutters lowly, watching the shadows almost reluctantly untangle itself from your fingers and body, returning to their master. “They have a mind of their own sometimes.”

Your smile widens ever so slightly, “It’s okay,” turning back to your beautiful view of the sidra, shimmering like the stars above. “I like them. They’re good company.”

Azriel blinks a few times, dumbfounded by your admission. You like them and think they’re good company. Not many think so. A lot of people perceive them differently. Not inherently scary, but wouldn’t consider them good company.

After a long moment he gathers himself. “Would you-” he stops himself mid-sentence, mouth snapping shut before the full question is out. But rather than running in the other direction like he assumed you would, you turned to face him, “Yes, I would like company Azriel.” That certainly caught him off guard.

You aren’t quite sure where the confidence came from. Cheeks tinting pink, gaze darting back to the sparkling sapphire river. You don’t even know if he was going to say that.

Right as you prepare yourself to leave, utterly mortified, his dark figure enters your peripheral.

Shoulders still stiff from the previous embarrassment you look out the corner of your eye. Thanking the mother when you see that his attention is elsewhere.

Your gaze casts downward, suddenly feeling awkward, you clear your throat, causing the Shadowsinger's attention to shift back to you.

Shifting between your feet, turning your head slightly to glance at him, “Uh…” Unsure.

You watch a shadow crawl around from his shoulder to his ear. a twitch between his brows at whatever information he had been given, before evening back out. Body turning fully toward you. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

Your eyes widen marginally. “No!” you say all too quickly, rubbing a hand down your face. “No, I’m just not-” gaze meeting hazel, “I was just wondering if you maybe wanted to go for a walk?” Voice quieter than before, “Rather than just standing here.” Trailing off.

His wings twitch at his back, you barely catch the movement, before he gives a gentle nod. You give him a small smile before whirling around, and heading back through the streets of Velaris. Azriel and his shadows follow closely behind before coming up next to you.

The walk settles into silence. Not awkward like before. Comfortable. That’s something you’d noticed about Azriel from the moment you first met him in the human realms. He always let others talk and listened intently to every word. Contributing to the conversation only when needed.

Your thoughts drift to every interaction with him. He’d always been observant and encouraged conversations with you. Wanting you to feel comfortable. Similar to what happened with Elain a long while ago. Except he’s never had any romantic feelings for you. He was just being polite. Just as he is now.

You ignore the turn in your thoughts. Weird. And your destination is only a few steps away. The bridge above the sidra. The place you come to when you really need some kind of white noise to clear your head.

You lean forward, over the bridge peering down at the broad sparkling river. Almost mirroring the beauty of the stars above. You feel Azriel settle next to you on the bridge. Twist your head to look at him. He’s looking up at the sky, shadows swirling contentedly around his shoulders and wings.

You take a moment to look at him. Really look at him. You always knew he was handsome, would have to be blind not to. But in the moonlight, he’s stunning. The way his dark hair falls over his forehead, shadows cast over his eyebrows, his other features highlighted. His hands resting on the bridge wall, the lighting illuminating the ridges and crevices of his scars.

Just in the corner of your vision, you see the sun starting to rise, pinks and oranges, painting the previous starlit skies. It was views like these that make you wonder what the other courts are like. The Night Court obviously has exceptionally beautiful night skies, the stars so clear you might think one could reach up and touch them.

But then there were The Dawn Court’s dawn skies. A customer at Benny’s Bar once told you that when the sun rose in dawn it was one of the most breathtaking views one could see, that you had to see it at least once in your immortal life.

The Day Court had some of the most incredible libraries filled with immense knowledge. Something you’d like to see and explore at least once too.

The seasonal courts had to be amazing as well, you hadn’t heard too much about them except Mor saying how much she loved The Winter Court because of her best friend and how beautiful the snow is, and briefly of Summer from when Varian is around with Amren. And Spring, well Feyre and Rhysand don’t like talking about The Spring Court, so you never asked. The same goes for The Autumn Court.

You feel a cool brush of Azriel’s shadows against your hand, pulling you from your longing, wrapping around your wrist almost as if to comfort. You let out a heavy sigh, your walk must have been longer than you anticipated. Originally just hoping to clear your head, and tire yourself out before going back to sleep.

You have work anyway. Early shift, which is fine, you get to finish early in turn.

Turning to the Shadowsinger, “I should head home. I have work earlier today.” You fiddle with your fingers, not wanting to to head back to your apartment just yet. Back to the tavern. You haven’t talked to your coworkers much since the inner circle dined at the tavern.

Azriel gives a small nod, watching your features for a few moments before speaking, “Would you like me to walk you home?”

without hesitation you give him a nod in answer. “yes please.” Your answer soft.

He gives you a gentle smile before turning with you to leave.

─

Standing at the bottom of the stairs to your apartment you run a hand down your face. Azriel is quiet behind you. You huff, spinning on your heel to face him. Trying to find the words to what you want to ask him.

He’s patient as always, features kind. Allowing you to sort through your thoughts.

Inhaling sharply, you open your mouth, then close it again. Frustrated, you just blurt it out instead, “Would you like to do something once I finish work today?”

Azriel’s brows raise fractionally, and your face heats up. “of course only if you’re free, or even want to. If you don’t want to that’s okay-“ You pause your rambling when you see the subtle smirk curving his lips.

“What?” You cross your arms over your chest. He huffs out a laugh. “You didn’t even give me a chance to answer,” keen eyes, observant as ever, see you shifting from foot to foot, clearly uncomfortable from the lack of an actual answer. “I would like that. I’ll come by and you can decide.” Voice more quiet than before.

You give him a curt nod, happy with the response, turning toward your stairs once more, stopping at the top step, looking over your shoulder to the Shadowsinger, “Thank you az.” At the tilt of his head you continue, “For just… showing up, I guess. I appreciate it.” Smile at him and slip through your door before he can reply.

Azriel stares at the closed door for a few long moments before heading back to the townhouse. His shadows far more calm now. Interesting.

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a/n: Hi guys, I’m so so sorry that I took so long to post this but I was in a really bad writing slump and had other stuff going on in my life. I’m better right now and am planning on writing more. I know this isn’t the longer part that I asked you about but I just wanted to get this out, and it would’ve taken longer to come out. i’ve already started the next part as well. next week I probably won’t update just because I’m going to Australia with my sister for a week but you never know. Anyway I edited this but there still might be some mistakes. I love you all and thank you for your patience, I hope you enjoyed. <3

[littleestkirby]

I don't know if you want this perspective, so I'll put it below a cut, but here's what I can say as a practicing christian who also gets fed up with the church sometimes.

1. I think you may have been mistaught that story; Jesus never refused to heal someone. It could either be (a) the story where he doesn't travel to heal a believer's daughter becaus he heals her from that distance. (Basically, the girl's father said "I know you can heal her from here" and Jesus was impressed by his faith and said "ok I will") or (b) the story where he stops to heal someone else on the way (a bleeding woman who had been cast out from her community) and the girl dies before he gets there. He then raises her from the dead

2. The goal of Christianity is to know God. As someone smarter than me (CS Lewis, maybe?) once put it, "we don't love God because we want to go to heaven, we want to go to heaven because we love God." Basically, heaven isn't a magic rainbow land where everything YOU want comes true, it's a perfect union with god. Following Jesus (in the christian belief, anyway) is the closest you can get to heaven on earth. So, OF COURSE Jesus cares about "good christians" (though the bible says no one person alone is truly good; most who would refer to themselves as "good christians" are... misguided to say the least) Because christianity isn't a pass/fail class where if you feed enough homeless people and don't have sex before marriage, you get to go to rainbowland; it's a personal relationship with your Father/Savior/Creator. That relationship (I believe) DOES make your life better, but not in a "you'll drive a nice car and never get sick" kind of way, but a "you'll be at peace with yourself and those around you" kind of way.

3. Jesus doesn't go out of his way to meet with sinners because they're the ones whose souls are in danger, he goes out of his way to meet with sinners because they actually have the humility to listen. THEY actually WANT to know him and have been kept out of the synagogues. There are no good, already-going-to-heaven people in the bible. The Pharisees (self-appointed and societally recognized "good religious people" in the gospels) are NOT fans of Jesus and they are NOT obeying God; the reason he doesn't seek them out is because they wouldn't have listened. They BELIEVED they were already right about everything, so they were just threatened by his influence instead. They were too busy LOOKING righteous and trying to trap him in doctrine to try to know him or God.

4. Obviously, you don't have to listen to any of this. Of course I can't explain why suffering happens, or why it affects who it does. That's one of like, the main things that the collective efforts of christians through history can't explain. I'm not expecting this to convert you, but just wanted to help you understand why so many people still believe all this despite, yknow. All the suffering and stuff

One of the biggest eye-openers for me back when a I went to church was that like…

Oh man how do I explain it.

There’s this prevalent idea I see a lot in Christian circles that if you pray right, if you follow God correctly, if you’re a truly virtuous person, your problems will be solved, right?

If you suffer, if you fall ill, if bad things happen, it’s because you aren’t good enough. You don’t need medicine because if you’re worthy, if you’re faithful enough, God will reward you by healing you. Right?

But like. Discussing this with my mother, and travelling out east with our pastor… Jesus didn’t spend all his time with perfect, virtuous people. Jesus didn’t seek out and heal well-to-do, faithful, perfect Christians. In fact, there’s a specific story in which he straight up doesn’t travel out to heal a believer’s dying daughter, because she’s already “saved”. Her earthy death is okay because she’s going to heaven already.

And like… coming from our Pastor, who is one of the best guys I’ve ever met- there seems to be an ongoing, underlying message of, “Jesus doesn’t care about you if you’re a good Christian”. If you’re a good Christian, if you’re living a virtuous life on earth, then any suffering you experience is only temporary- your ETERNITY is secure. Jesus goes out of his way to meet with sinners and the unfaithful because those are the people whose souls are in danger.

So like. In that perspective, being good doesn’t make your life better, it’s just good for others and good for your soul. Praying and doing good probably won’t cure your cancer, but it may mean you don’t have to worry too much about your death.

And like. I dunno. I wouldn’t call myself a Christian, but I find myself thinking about that concept a lot

Does suffering mean you deserve a reward?

Is suffering proof that you’re unworthy?

Or is suffering just an unfortunate facet of life that doesn’t reflect on your worth, that you still have to deal with as best you can?

Maybe suffering is just suffering.

Maybe the bad things you experienced weren’t about you

And maybe you just gotta try your best and be kind anyways, so you can rest easy when you go

[moonstruckme]

Hi! So I have the issue where I’m not able to turn my brain off I guess and I’m having to constantly be aware of everything happening around me and managing everyone because if I don’t do it no one will. It’s so tiring to never have a minute to not be a very aware of every little thing. That being said, could I request a Remus or poly!marauders where reader is able to not be in constant manage mode? I know that’s really weird and if it’s too much just ignore this. Thank you for everything you do on here ❤️

Not weird! Very relatable actually haha. Thank you for requesting angel <3

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 823 words

“I like my system,” James says as you kneel in front of his suitcase, folding shirts. “My pants go on that side, then shirts in one corner and the rest in the other.” 

“I don’t think it counts as a system if you’re just piling stuff in, Jamie.” 

“How do you figure?” 

“Well, doesn’t it bother you that they’re all wrinkled?” You frown, taking out a balled-up pair of trousers. It bothers you, and they’re not even your clothes. 

“Not really, no. It’s a holiday, lovie, who am I trying to impress?” 

“Um, me?” Sirius shoots a look across the bedroom. He’s busy stuffing things into his own suitcase on the other side of the bed. 

“Oh, always,” James says gamely. “But you love me whether my shirts are wrinkled or not, don’t you?” 

Sirius makes a wishy-washy noise that sees James tossing a pair of socks at his head. He dodges and they bounce to the floor. 

“Did you remember your glasses cleaner?” you ask James, feeling about the pockets of his suitcase. 

“All under control, angel. It’s in my backpack.” 

“Perfect.” You finish neatly folding the last of his things and stand to kiss him. “Thanks.” 

“Thank you. Though you didn’t have to fold my underwear, I could have managed that myself.” 

“It was no problem.” You round the bed to where Sirius is packing, peering down at his suitcase. 

He looks up with a raised brow. “Can I help you?” 

“Are you packing your conditioner?” 

Sirius’ other brow comes up to join the first. “Yes, I am. Do you have a problem with my hair smelling lovely?” 

“No.” You smile, rolling your eyes when he pinches the back of your thigh playfully. “Just remember that it has to be under a hundred milliliters if you’re not checking your bag.” 

“I’ve got it, doll. You worry about your milliliters, and I’ll worry about mine, m’kay?” 

You hum. “And, um…” 

“What?” Sirius’ tone is dry, but it’s all fondness in the tilt of his mouth as he looks up at you. “You gonna fold my underwear, too?” 

“No, just, have you eaten? I don’t know if we’ll have time to eat at the airport.” 

“I think Remus wants you, sweetness.” 

“Hm?” 

Sirius points with his chin, and you turn to find Remus watching you from the doorway to the bedroom. He looks a particular brand of appealing in his travel clothes. The trackies James got him for Christmas probably shouldn’t go so well with his overlarge jumper, but Remus being Remus, of course it works. He beckons you toward him. 

“Oh, okay.” You glance back at Sirius one more time as you go. “Don’t forget to take your lighter out of your bag, security will take it away.” 

“Love you too!” 

“Hi,” you say to Remus, who wordlessly folds you into a hug as soon as you leave the bedroom. “Everything okay?” 

He hums. “Everything’s great, yeah. Are you excited to go?” 

You’re bemused but pleased by his hand running up and down your spine, his freshly shaven jaw pressed to your temple. “I am, yeah.” 

“Mm. Relaxed?” 

“I’m…yeah, sure.” 

Remus chuckles softly. “You seem a bit strung up, lovely. Are you all packed?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Good. Me too. Anything else you need to do before we go? Have you eaten?” 

“I ate, yeah.” You glance back towards the bedroom, the movement almost involuntary. “I think I just need to make sure—” 

“You’re all ready then?” 

It’s not like Remus to cut you off, but when you turn back around his expression is all fond patience. 

“I think so,” you say. “At least, my stuff is all done.” 

“Perfect.” He kisses your head, then takes your hand, leading you away from your boyfriends. “Let’s relax for a bit while they finish up, then, yeah?”

You let Remus guide you to the couch. At first sitting, then curling up against his side, your head resting over the steady beat of his heart. His hand runs up and down your arm, and slowly the tension seeps out of you. 

“Sorry,” you say after a while. “Was I being annoying?” 

“No,” Remus reassures you. “Of course not. You’re only helping. You just don’t have to, you know?” 

You cringe at yourself. At the clarity of hindsight. “Nobody asked for my help.” 

“We’re adults,” he agrees. “We don’t need to be managed—or we shouldn’t. If Sirius packs too much conditioner, he can sort it out himself.” 

“Right. Sorry.” 

Remus tuts, kissing the top of your head. “Please don’t be sorry. We all just want you to be able to relax. Give yourself a break, yeah?” 

“Yeah, okay.” You snuggle closer to him, letting the last of the tension sap from your body. “That doesn’t sound so awful.” 

“I’m glad.” The smile is audible in Remus’ voice. He rubs your arm again, encouraging you to relax further. 

“But what if James doesn’t know—” 

“Dove. He’ll figure it out.” 

[toonice113]

False god  ᥫ᭡  M.Barzal

Part two of three of my valentine's series

Part one: Paper rings - Q. Hughes

Part three: Lover - N.Hischier

Pairings: Mathew Barzal x fem!reader 

Genre: smut

Summary: your relationship has ever only existed for a few days at a time inside of the bedroom, that has never been a problem, but today? Today Mat has decided he doesn't want you to leave so soon.

Warnings: smut under the cut minors DO NOT INTERACT, p in v, unprotected sex (pls don’t do this, take care of yourselves), overstimulation, my first time writing smut

Word count: 1.6k

⋆˚࿔ tina's note 𝜗𝜚˚ Writing this note before i write the story to let yall know i have never written smut before so i apologize in advance. Update after writing it, this sucks i cringed at myself and im never writing smut again but oh well i had to at least try it once

When you had started this ‘relationship’ with Mat you knew it was not a conventional one. It began when you met in Italy at a family friend’s wedding you attended, Mat was there as a friend of the groom and things had escalated quickly, first with a drunken makeout session the night before the wedding and then with you two naked in bed after the wedding reception was over. One night became three and then you changed your flight back home to stay with him for a couple more days, days that were spent in between the sheets of his bed, hidden away in his hotel room instead of exploring the beautiful little town you were staying at.

Returning home you had expected the short escapade with Mat to dissolve and become nothing more than a memory, but flirty texts turned into facetime calls into Mat flying you to New York to see him, just like in Italy, your time was mainly spent naked under sheets savoring each other. It had been around a year now, and today you sat in his bed covered only by the white sheets while he stood by the window staring out to the city. “Why can’t you just change your flight?” He argued, his hair messy, his eyes not meeting yours 

“Because it’s my friend’s birthday and I would like to spend it with him” You said frowning, when you mentioned having to leave this afternoon while eating breakfast in bed you hadn’t expected Mat’s reaction to be this but as soon as you told him there was no way you were changing your flight to another day his mood soured

“Doesn’t he have other friends?” He scowled “Why does he need you to be there?” 

“He doesn’t need me to be there, I want to be there. You’re not listening to me right now” You fought back “Why do YOU need me to be here?” 

“Because I do” His response made you snort a laugh making him even more annoyed 

“Please, like there’s not other girls out there that could keep you entertained when I’m not around” He finally turns to look at you “People talk, I know what you get up to when I’m not here Mat” 

He walks towards you, his tall frame looming over you, he can’t help but think about how pretty you look down there and how much he wished your pretty lips were wrapped around his cock right now “Maybe I don’t want any of those other girls” he bends down and gives you a rough kiss, his hands tangling in your hair as he does “And maybe you should put that pretty mouth to work on something other than fighting me” 

Your hands slip through his exposed abs to the waistband of his sweatpants playing with it “‘M not the one fighting” You push the pants down before running one of your hands over the erection in his boxers looking up through your lashes at him “Because there’s no fight, I’m leaving later” not giving him a chance to say anything you finally relieve him of his underwear licking a stripe up his hard dick making him hiss and push you for more 

“Stop talking” He guides your lips to his tip and moans loudly when you put him in your mouth, using your hands to help you stroke what you can’t take “Yeah, just like that, look at you” You moan as a response to him pulling your hair “Bet birthday boy can’t give you this huh” One of his hands lets go of your hair, manhandling you until you’re on your fours, with the sheets no longer covering you his fingers slide down your pussy “So wet baby”

“Mat” You sigh out “Please, no teasing” 

“What do you want baby? Tell me” He teases brushing his fingers through your wet folds putting no pressure to alleviate your needs

“Your fingers, please” You plead, he pushes his cock back into your mouth and finally touches you the way he knows you like 

“Yeah? You wanna come on my fingers?” One of his fingers pushes inside of you making you moan, the vibrations feeling so good on his dick that he can’t help but moan with you “You’re doing so good pretty girl, just like that” he hums when you swirl your tongue around him pushing another finger inside of you and rubbing your clit with his thumb “You can take more than that though” His hand that is still tangled in your hair pushes your head down, you fight him pulling up “No, you can take it baby, I know you can take it” He can feel you pulsing on his fingers making him pick up his pace, your moans drowned by his dick in your mouth “Take it all and i’ll make you come” You shake your head as best as you can to tell him you can’t “No? Okay then” He pulls his fingers out of you making you whine at the loss of contact “You know what to do baby”

“You’re an asshole” You tell him coming up for air before taking him back in your mouth, Mat just chuckles knowing he’s about to get what he wants, relaxing your throat you do down, taking him deeper until you have taken him all 

“Oh yeah” Mat moans “See? I knew you could do it”  After making you come once with his fingers, Mat pushes you down until your back is on the mattress, he wipes your chin off and kisses you harshly before trailing a kiss down your chest until he’s by your hips kissing you there a couple times before his tongue finds your clit, alternating between sucking on it and kissing it

“Mmm Mat” You gasp, your hips pushing up but he holds them in place “Too much, can’t” 

He looks up at you, your hair messily sprung on his pillows, your cheeks flushed, your lips swollen “You taste too good, can’t stop baby, let me eat you out, please, you can take it, give me another one” Your nod is all he needs to go back to devouring you, using his fingers to help him and it doesn’t take long for your to release all over him, your overstimulation speeding up your orgasm

He comes back up with a smile on his face, his lips and chin glistering with your juices “God you’re too good” You tell him pulling him down into a kiss

“And we haven’t even gotten to the best part yet” He says reminding you of the erection that pokes at your stomach, he gives himself a few strokes before teasing your overstimulated pussy making you whine 

“I don’t think I can take another one” You tell him making his smile widen in cockiness, he knows you can come for him again, he’s tested you before 

“I need to remind you that I can give you a better time than whatever his name is can” His dick presses on your opening and even though you’re exhausted your body seems to disagree with you, your hips pushing up looking for more “Just one more and we can rest” 

The moan you let out when he burries himself deep into you has to be his new favorite sound, every time he’s with you he thinks there’s no way things can get better, but they do, and he doesn’t think he’ll ever get over how your body reacts to him, how your eyes roll back and your mouth parts, the sounds you make for him, and most importantly, the way your pussy feels so tight around his dick, his hands trail every curve of your body, taking his time especially with your tits as he pumps in and out, pinching your nipples before taking one in his mouth 

“Mat” You whine “‘M close, so close oh god” 

Mat moves to give your other nipple some attention never once interrupting the rhythm of his hips that clap against yours, you come not too long after, your legs curling around his middle, your orgasm triggers his and he finally releases your nipple to give you a kiss before sliding off of you making you hiss in discomfort as he does “Still wanna leave?” he asks laying next to you 

You scoff at him trying to get out of bed to go to the bathroom and clean yourself, but just sitting down is too much work, your body already beginning to ache not only from the three orgasms he gave you just now, but from the ones you shared last night as well, not wanting to show him how spent he’s left you you ignore your body moving to get up, but your legs tremble the second your feet touch the floor, and you know if you stand right now you’ll resemble baby bambi 

“What’s the matter baby, thinking about staying?” Mat laughs behind you getting up and putting his boxers on before walking into his bathroom leaving you sitting there staring at him in annoyance, he doesn’t take too long and when he comes back he has a warm towel in his hands, kneeling down in front of you and cleaning you, then picking you up bridal style and taking you with him to the bathroom sitting you in the toilet so you can pee 

“I’m still leaving” You point at him “Just maybe not tonight” You see his cocky smile thinking he’s won, and technically he has, but not for long because as soon as you’re back in bed, with clean underwear and one of his t-shirts covering you, you change your flight from this afternoon to tomorrow morning

[radioiaci]

Alastor did, in fact, try to time himself as he made his way down to the lobby and out the door with no real stops along the way. The city had changed, certainly, but there was still no shortage of seedy underbelly that persisted throughout the span of time. Enough that it was relatively easy to trot down an alley in the French Quarter and step into a bar which he recognized to have a few back rooms meant for the more illicit activity.

Charm and wit made it a simple ordeal to get access to who and what he needed, a selection of items made apparent to him as he hummed and poked about them with all the seriousness of one who was shopping for produce. And the card he had - coupled with a few modern conveniences like phone scanners - made it a simple thing to obtain a small pill box (funny) of an assortment of substances. Some uppers, some downers. Enough, he thought, to get Vox through the next day or two.

And though his journey back to the hotel took at least two or three minutes longer than his promised ten, he returned in due time, pill box in his pocket from which he produced a small bag of herb that would hopefully calm the other down long enough to sleep. At least until the next day when he could offer the other substances. He did not need Vox to be wired when he was trying to rest.

Over to where he'd left the other, Alastor returned, feeling rather pleased with himself as he tossed the small bag of cannabis onto the bed.

"It's not quite what I think you want, but it'll help curb whatever withdrawal you're going through," he said, knowingly. The side-effects were obvious. He did not think Vox to be so foolish as to think they were not.

"Smoke it, eat it. Whatever works."

“Mm.” Vox said with a smarmy growing smirk. Like he was nearly bragging about not mentioning the bayou incident again.

The smirk was short lived however because him biting his tongue seemed to not be as effective in regards to his abrupt and residual clinginess.

His mouth dropped back down to a shape that funny enough translated perfectly from tv screen to human face. A scrunched up sulking line pushed into his left cheek.

“What the fuck are you picking up right now that can’t just be fucking brought up here.”

He glanced away from his own food finally when Alastor took his bait,

“You told me to eat. With you gone I won’t be interrupted.~ I’ll just eat the rest and yours too.” He teased further putting another bite in his mouth.

Vox’s expression pulled right back into smirking as he watched the other start to eat much faster. He puffed a small snort of amusement through his nose— and then it went right back to a funny type of distress as Alastor did in fact finish his food faster than expected and was already up and fucking speed walking to his clothes and got dressed.

He chose not to say anything anyway. Having spouted enough sappy clingy bullshit for the next several years in his opinion.

When the other approached him again, he put on his best unaffected face and glanced up at him while chewing. Only to be taken by the face and smooched on the cheek.

His pale skin did him no favors- even after scalding it with boiling water- and immediately flushed a deep pink,

Vox scoffed loudly and planted his hand on Alastor’s chest and shoved at him.

“Alright alriGHT—“ he complained through his mouthful.

“Go get your f’kn secret drugs or some shit.” He wiped at his mouth with the back of his wrist- not quite ‘wiping the kiss off’, but needing to regain some decorum.

The bright cyan eyes glancing back up to Alastor surrounded in the patchy pink flush, then looking away, and ultimately back to his food. One could only imagine the little twitchy sparkle show his antenna would be having if they were present.

“Take the scenic route.” He added under his breath, with no real amount of vitriol or real conviction… because no one would be calling him clingy.

[damneddamsy]

falling | joel miller x fem!oc (part iii)

summary: Joel’s delicate attachment to Leela and baby Maya deepens along with—her resistance, his denial, and the slow, inevitable way he’s always finding his way back to them. As they navigate a freak accident, Ellie sees it. He does too. Almost.

a/n: ah-woohooooo more of Joel being a thickheaded numpty, so enjoy! I would love to hear all your unhinged, lovely thoughts!

It had been a quiet few weeks for Joel.

Not the kind of quiet he liked—the stillness of early mornings, with the wind rustling the trees and a guitar strumming in his hands. No, this was the one that came after a storm, when the air was dense with the scent of rain and the world felt... upside down. Unsettled. The kind of quiet where the damage had already been done, and all that was left was to pick through the wreckage.

The kind of quiet that made a man think too much. It pressed into him, heavy and suffocating.

Since that night in the car, since he’d seen her unravel in real time, the tacit MO had changed. On more welcome news, Mal had stopped coming around. No thanks to him, of course.

Joel saw him through the window the first morning he returned to Leela's place. Mal was coming up the path with the same easy stride, hands in his pockets like he had a right to be there. God, just once, he wanted to knock the teeth off that goddamned kid.

Joel set down his hammer and exhaled through his nose. Bless Tommy for leaving the fun part to him. He rolled his shoulders, cracked his neck, and stepped out onto the porch before the kid could even knock. The heavy door groaned on its hinges behind him, and he let it.

Mal spotted him and gave a lazy wave, stepping forward. “Hey, man. I’m just here to—”

Joel shifted in front of him. Not aggressive. Just there. An immense wall of quiet warning.

Mal stopped short, blinking up at him.

Joel wasn’t even trying to stand taller, but he didn’t need to. He just crossed his arms over his chest, let his shoulders square out naturally, let his stance say everything. He wasn’t fucking moving.

The kid hesitated, confusion flickering across his face. “Uh—is there a problem?”

“I’ll take it from here,” Joel said, voice even.

Mal frowned. “What?”

“I said, whatever it is, I got it.”

There was a pause. A moment where Joel could see the gears turning in Mal’s head, where the kid was piecing things together a little too slow for his liking.

“Okay, but Tommy said—”

“Yeah, well.” Joel leaned forward, just enough to be felt. Watched Mal’s jaw tighten, and watched him shift back on instinct. “Not anymore.”

That finally landed. Mal thankfully rocked back on his heels and rubbed the back of his neck. He glanced past Joel, toward the house, then back, brows knitting together, trying to make sense of what was going on. What he'd done wrong.

"Uh... do you want help, at least?" he offered, cautious.

Joel let out a slow breath, something close to a laugh—if you could call it that. There was nothing warm in it. "You run along now."

Mal lingered for another second, like he wanted to argue, but thought better of it. And like a kid being told off, he tucked his tail and left.

Joel didn’t bother to watch him go. Just turned on his heel, grabbed the door, and went back inside. “Fuckin' pest,” he grumbled under his breath.

The house was quiet—only the soft creak of the stairs, followed by the sound of careful, steady footsteps.

He looked up and saw Leela was making her way down, one hand carefully bracing against the railing. She was in sweats and an oversized sweater, her hair pulled into a low-hanging bun. There was something different about her face today—sharper, cleaner, blanker maybe. Or maybe he was just seeing her in a better light now.

She caught him staring. "Was that Mal?"

Joel simply lied, "No."

She pressed her lips together. Not quite disappointment, not quite relief. Something in between. “Oh,” she said quietly. “Maybe later.”

Joel hooked a thumb through the loop of his tool belt, retrieving the hammer he’d slung there. He twirled it once, catching the handle in his palm.

“Don't worry about it. He’s a busy guy,” he said, keeping his voice light as he crossed her on the staircase. “Lots of shit to fix around town.”

More importantly, Leela didn’t ask why or how. Soon enough, she stopped looking for Mal. Didn’t even question when Joel started showing up every day instead with his old tool belt slung over his shoulder, standing at her door like it was the most unassuming thing in the world. She just looked at him—one glance, one unreadable flicker of those dark, tired eyes—and then moved on like it didn’t matter. Like he wasn’t there at all. Stiffing him, essentially.

And Joel knew that kind of distance. This gaping rupture, widened between people when something sore and hideous had been exposed. When someone had seen too much; known too much. Leela knew she’d overstepped, and now she was pulling back.

Joel knew that feeling. He’d done it plenty himself. That instinct to retreat, to pull the shutters down, to make yourself small. Hell, he’d lived it. Had become it.

So he let it happen. He let her pretend again. Didn't push, didn't say anything. He simply worked.

The nursery was coming together, slowly but surely. The pendant lights were fixed, casting warm pools of gold over the room. The shelves stood straighter, stocked with whatever Maria had been sneaking in—baby books, folded blankets, onesies, wooden toys. And the old fuchsia rug he’d found in Leela’s storage? It tied the whole damn thing together, like a relic of a forgotten life, all lived-in and warm for the baby girl.

Joel stood in the centre of it all, Maya cradled in his arms, rocking slightly on his heels. Not that she could appreciate any of this yet. A safe space of her own.

He had never been the kind of man who cooed at babies either. Hadn’t been that way when Sarah was small, hadn’t been that way in the years since. There was something about them—so soft, so fragile—that made him cautious, like he had to hold back, keep himself in check.

Maya made it easier.

"Hi," he whispered to her after her naps. "Did you sleep well? Huh, pretty girl? C'mere."

She made tiny, thoughtful expressions like she was really listening to him. Her little hands were always reaching, always curious. Right now, she was watching the lights with those big brown eyes, mesmerized by the slow shift of the shadows on the ceiling, her mouth parting slightly in wonder. Her fingers curled absently in his shirt, barely grasping, like she just liked knowing he was there.

She’d been a fussy one lately—tired, restless, wanting to be held more often than not. Lonely. And with a mama like Leela, who drifted too easily and got lost too deep in her own head, Joel figured it wasn’t a bad idea to show her around. Give her something new to look at.

“What do you think, baby girl?” he murmured, shifting her closer, his palm smoothing down her tiny back. “Did I do okay or what?”

Maya blinked up at him, her whole body stilling for a second before she let out a soft, breathy coo.

Joel grinned. “Yeah?” he chuckled. “That a yes?”

She wiggled in his hold, that gummy little smile coming alive, kicking lightly against his ribs, and Joel felt himself exhale—deep, easy, something loosening inside him. She liked it. The nursery. The lights. Him. Maybe none of it mattered in that little head of hers, but she wasn’t crying. She wasn’t fussing. She was looking at him like she trusted him, and God help him, but he wanted to deserve that.

He took her toward the shelves, kneeling carefully with her in one arm, balancing his weight as he pointed to the row of paint cans. “Alright, sweetheart. Let’s pick a colour. What’s it gonna be, huh?” He tilted them slightly, exposing the faded labels. “We got white. Some kinda blue. Green.”

Maya reacted immediately, tiny fist stretching out, fingers grazing toward the muted green.

Joel huffed a small laugh. “Yeah? That your favorite?”

Her fingers brushed the side of the can, fascinated by the cool metal, a quiet coo slipping from her lips.

Joel hesitated for a second, then gave in. He really couldn't help himself. At that moment, he just had to. Slowly, carefully, he shifted her closer, lowering his head and pressing a kiss to the soft crown of her unsteady little head.

She smelled faint and sweet as always, like baby powder and fresh linens, and he let himself linger for a second longer than he should have, feeling the heat of her through his shirt, the tiny weight of her against his chest.

Maya wiggled in response, not in protest, but excitement, legs kicking slightly.

Joel exhaled, something breaking loose inside him.

Before he could stop himself, he pressed another kiss to the side of her head, then another and another, half a laugh escaping him when she wriggled in delight, her little fists stretching open, her eyes squeezing shut like she could feel the warmth of it sinking in.

Maybe she could. Maybe she knew, in that small, primal way babies knew things, that Joel was someone safe. That he wouldn’t let her fall. That he really fucking loved her.

A rustle at the doorway made him glance up from a kiss. Leela stood there, her hand lightly braced against the frame, watching him.

Joel was caught off guard, leaning away from Maya a bit, settling her lower against his chest. “Hey,” he greeted, voice low. “Just givin’ her the lay of the land.”

Leela’s expression didn’t change. She only flashed a tight, fleeting smile before stepping forward, arms extending toward Maya. “You wanna take a bath with mama?”

Maya twisted in his hold, cooing eagerly now, little hands reaching for her mother. Even after everything, her mother was still her favourite person.

Joel let her go, careful as he passed her over to Leela. Their hands brushed, warm skin against warm skin, and he ignored the way it lingered, how her fingers barely curled in his before she took Maya into her arms.

“She’s been good,” Joel muttered.

Leela nodded, running a gentle palm over Maya’s back. “There’s lunch downstairs if you’re hungry.”

Joel studied her for a beat, his fingers brushing idly against his tool belt. “…Did you eat something?”

She hesitated. Too long. Then nodded, slow.

He didn’t call her on the lie. Instead, he nodded back, watching as she turned on her heel, shifting Maya closer against her shoulder. She left him with another tight, fleeting smile before disappearing down the hall.

Joel breathed out a sigh, glancing back at the half-finished room. Maya’s soft, content coos still lingered in the air. The green paint sat on the shelf, waiting.

And for some damn reason, he felt lonelier than he had in a long, long time.

It had taken him eleven days. Too long for a man like him. But he hadn’t rushed at all. He should’ve, but he didn’t. Had he been the same old Joel—good ol’ Texas Joel—this would’ve been a job done in a heartbeat. A blink, and he’d be out of her way. He wouldn’t have noticed things. Wouldn’t have lingered like a moron.

Maybe it was because of the way Leela barely spoke to him anymore. Or that she wouldn’t look him in the eye when she checked on his progress in clipped words and hums, wouldn’t even glance his way when she passed Maya to him like clockwork, a silent, wordless thing between them.

Maybe because when she leaves him standing at the porch at the end of the day, the door closing shut in his face, it didn’t feel like closing a chapter. It felt like a fucking wall going up.

Joel found her in the kitchen that evening, standing by the counter, wrist-deep in soapy water. It was late, Maya was snoozing her little head off upstairs, the house dim except for the overhead light humming low above them.

She didn’t stagger when he entered, didn’t look at him either. Just kept scrubbing the hell out of a plate, though he was pretty sure it was already clean. He dawdled near the doorway, rubbing the back of his neck, trying to figure out what the hell he was doing.

He should’ve left. Should’ve let the silence settle. But he couldn't just leave it alone.

Instead, he cleared his throat and stepped forward, leaning a hip against the counter. “Y’know, you got a dishwasher. It's half the effort,” he pointed out.

Leela gave a small huff. “Electricity’s scarce.”

Joel snorted. “So is water, darlin’.”

She finally glanced at him, just a flicker, then back to the sink.

He tapped his fingers against the counter, searching for something—anything—to keep her in this moment with him. “Made good progress today,” he said. “Maya... she tried to turn on her side. The nursery; well, I just need to fix up that dresser and—”

“Look, thank you. But I’m really tired, Joel.”

She said it without looking at him, her voice level, no bite to it. Just a statement. A locked door. He should’ve expected it, should’ve shrugged it off and moved on. Instead, something about the words, directed at him, sat wrong inside him. All that hurt-people-hurt-people-drivel that Maria used to say came back to bite him in the ass.

He hesitated, shifting his weight onto his feet. “Yeah,” he murmured. “I should get going.”

She said nothing. Just shut off the faucet, dried her hands on a towel, and walked past him, close enough that the damp heat of her skin lingered for half a second longer than it should have. And despite fighting the urge to glance back at her as she left the room, he watched her disappear down the hall.

Joel stood outside her door for a long moment, which he had conscientiously locked, staring at the chipped paint of the doorframe, jaw clenching. His eyes flicked to the porch swing. It swayed slightly in the cold breeze.

Was it juvenile to think maybe she’d prefer his company? Was it fucking brainless of him to crave somewhere to belong? A purpose? Was he meant to die alone in a strange house and surrounded by empty whiskey bottles? Maybe. Probably. But hell if he didn’t wish it anyway.

Joel didn’t want to admit it—not directly, not even to himself—but he wanted to talk to her. Not about anything in particular. Not about that night in the Maranello, or how her little, breathy laugh was possibly the best thing to hear after those roars and clicks of the world beyond, or why she’d started looking at him instead of through him.

He just wanted something. Because before, there had been something. It wasn’t like talking to most people, where you had to pick your words apart before they even left your mouth, where you had to navigate bullshit small talk or forced pleasantries. With Leela, it had been... easy. Unspoken. A warm kind of quiet, the kind where he didn’t have to think too much, where he could just be.

He'll admit it, just this once—he liked that about her. He liked that a moment didn’t have to be forced. That he didn’t have to overthink, that they had a rhythm, a delicate system between them, one that made sense even if neither of them ever put words to it.

But now?

Now, she barely looked at him. Nowadays, when she passed Maya to him, it wasn’t with that quiet, knowing ease or a friendly grin, no matter how tired it had been—it was mechanical, transactional, like handing over a set of keys. Like a reminder that he wasn’t supposed to be here, and he didn’t know what to call that. Didn’t like the way it made his instincts turn over, uneasy, in his chest.

All that lingering had finally paid off, and Joel had found his way in. He wasn’t going to show it, of course—wasn’t gonna give himself away like some fool—but damn if he wasn’t relieved.

After days of unending cold shoulders, after all that stiff distance, this was the first real opening he’d gotten. An excuse. A way to talk to her without forcing it.

He had been fixing a flickering wall lamp that had been bugging him for some time now, in the second-floor hallway, standing on a step stool when—

CRASH.

The whole house plunged into darkness. The light he’d been working on blinked out, along with the rest of them, and then—a groan. A pained, breathy, hitched groan from below. His entire body tensed before his brain caught up.

Then came the wailing. Maya.

Joel’s heart stammered, caught between two instincts. The damn near gutting sound of the baby girl's frightened cries and that groan—that voice—he'd distinctly heard from the basement.

Fuck. His feet moved before his mind did. He leapt off the stool, tools cluttering to the floor, ignoring the protesting ache in his knees as he tore down the hall to Maya’s room. She was red-faced, eyes squeezed shut, fists curled as she screamed, trembling from the shock.

"Hey, hey, Maya," Joel hushed, scooping her up into his arms, and pulling her against his chest. "S'okay, sweetheart. I got you. I got you."

He shushed her, palm stroking warm circles over her back, bouncing her lightly in his arms. His heartbeat was loud, hammering in his ears, drowning everything out but the damn groan still hanging in his mind.

Leela.

She was down there, in that cursed basement, alone. And that sound had been awful.

Joel exhaled sharply through his nose, pressing his lips to Maya’s head before pulling back. More for himself rather than her.

“I'm right here, baby. Nothin’ to be scared of.” His voice was steady—measured—but his hands weren’t. His grip on her was a little too tight. They trembled a little.

Maya sniffled, her cries quieting just enough to slow his pulse, and he took that as his chance. Keeping her tucked to his chest, he made his way down the stairs, near flying, boots thudding against the wood.

His breath hitched as he reached the basement door. “Hey, you down here?” he called, shoving it open with his shoulder, jogging down to the dim space below.

Then he saw her.

Leela was slumped against the wall, obvious that she had been tossed into it, her silhouette barely lit by the glare of an emergency lamp in the corner. She was gripping her shoulder fiercely, rubbing it like she was trying to erase the pain. Her fingers dug in hard.

The remnants of her little "science project" upgrade lay scattered around her. Loose wires, metal scraps, a circuit board still humming with life. The main plug socket was connected. Was she fucking stupid? There was a baby upstairs, and she was ready to risk her home for that dumbass machine.

And her face—Fuck. She had gone pale. Eyes squeezed shut. Her chest rose and fell like she was working through an intense wave of pain.

“Christ.” The word came out more like a breath than anything. Joel took a step forward, but when his eyes landed on the tangled wires, something burned under his ribs.

“The hell do you think you’re doin’?” His voice came out rougher than intended, fear clawing at his throat, disguising itself as frustration.

Leela’s eyes fluttered open, hazy but sharp. “I’m okay. I’ll be fine.” She held up a hand to stop him before he could kneel down beside her. “Just a bit of bruising. Maya first.”

Joel clenched his jaw.

She was right. Damn it, he hated that she was right. Maya, now hiccupping soft little breaths against his chest, was the priority.

“Right,” he muttered, though the reluctance in his voice was clear. He cast her one last look, making sure she was still upright, still breathing normal, before turning back up the stairs.

It took ten whole minutes to get Maya settled, and that was a miracle in itself. He'd resorted to pleading under his breath, but she had continued to watch him, eyes wide, refusing to let sleep take her like she knew something was wrong. She was perceptive. Just like her mother.

Finally, finally, her little lashes fluttered shut, her tiny hand still gripping onto his shirt.

Joel exhaled, relief going awash his tension. “Good girl,” he murmured, before unfurling her fingers from his collar, brushing a kiss over them and laying her back down.

Then he was sprinting again. Back down the stairs, faster than he should have been, hand gripping the railing tight.

Leela hadn’t moved much. She was still slumped against the basement wall, her breaths deep and restrained—like she was trying to breathe the pain away.

Joel came down to a crouch by her feet. “Hey.”

“I'm fine, Joel, really,” she assured quietly.

Though, he could tell she was pissed at herself. She hated being like this—vulnerable, hurting, unable to brush it off and acting like it didn’t happen. But Joel saw it. He saw her. How she'd tilted her head against the wall, eyes staring vacantly at the ceiling.

Leela truly was fine. Bruised, rattled—but fine.

Joel had checked her over once more, ensuring nothing was broken, no serious harm done, and he had to force himself to believe her when she said she’d be okay.

But her hands. Oh, Christ. The dim glow of the emergency lamp cast a dull shine over her skin, and that’s when he noticed—the raw, reddened patches along her fingertips. The unmistakable burn marks where the electricity must’ve bit into her.

"Shit." He exhaled sharply through his nose, scraping a hand down his beard as he stared at her fingers.

She must’ve seen the look on his face because she tucked her hands close to her stomach like she could make them disappear. “Seriously,” she murmured, voice hoarse. “I’ve had worse.”

Joel’s jaw ticked. She wasn’t wrong. And that made something in him burn even hotter.

“C’mon,” he muttered, nodding toward the stairs. “Up.”

Leela hesitated, but the way he stood—the way he waited—made it clear he wasn’t asking. So she sighed and pushed herself upright, and Joel stayed close, arms extended safely around her, watching the way she moved, the way her body reacted.

She didn’t stumble. Didn’t wobble. That was good. No concussion or broken bones. A knot in his chest loosened instantly.

Once they made it back upstairs, Joel had her sit at the kitchen table, lit up from the sunshine filtering through from the afternoon sun. He set a bowl of warm water down in front of her, the steam curling into the space between them. He grabbed a small tin of ointment after a bit of rustling through the cabinets, then a roll of gauze, then paused, eyes flicking to her.

She was watching him. Still. Silent. Waiting.

Joel breathed out, slow and even, then came back over, pulling a chair beside her. He reached for her wrist, gently, carefully, lifting her hands into his own. A silent ask. Permission. Lesson learned from the last time he'd touched her.

Leela tensed for half a second before sighing, letting him take them.

She was trying to play it off like it didn’t hurt. Like it was fine. But as soon as he dipped her fingertips into the warm water, she sucked in a quiet breath through her teeth.

Joel’s grip tightened just a little. He tried to squeeze everything he had felt these past few days into a single word—“Sorry.”

He worked, taking it slow, gently swiping away the dust and grime, watching the way her skin flinched under the heat. His thumbs moved gradually, steadily, like he was afraid to make it worse.

“Y’gotta be more careful,” he muttered, more to himself than to her. “Damn wires ain’t worth all this. Remember, you’ve got someone countin’ on you.”

Leela let out a soft, tired laugh. “I didn’t know I had a nanny now.”

Joel shot her a look. “You don’t. You got me.”

She blinked at that.

Her lips parted slightly, but whatever she was about to say, she thought better of it. Instead, she let him work, let him take care of her, and trusted his instincts, and that felt like something neither of them was ready to acknowledge just yet.

Once her hands were cleaned, he dried them carefully, mindful of the more sensitive spots, before smoothing ointment over each burnt fingertip.

Leela twitched. “Ow.”

Joel grunted. “Ain’t gonna feel good, but it’ll keep it from blisterin’ too bad.”

He finished wrapping the gauze around her fingers, slow and precise, making sure they weren’t too tight. Leela stared down at her hands when he was done, flexing her fingers slightly, testing the bandages like she wasn’t sure what to make of them. Three fingers on each hand.

Joel blew out a slow breath, dragging a hand down his face as he took in the house.

It was quiet. Too damn quiet. God, he hated this. That unnatural kind, where something had been cut short too suddenly—like the whole place had been stunned into silence. The shot-out lights overhead blinked weakly before finally dying out for good, leaving nothing but the cold creeping in from every corner.

It was already setting in. The draft slithered through the cracks in the windows, curling around his ankles, and sinking into the wood beneath his feet. The thermostat had shut off along with the rest of the power, which meant no heat. Not with how damn cold it got out here. Jesus, he'd forgotten to tuck some extra layers around Maya.

His eyes swept the room. A busted power grid. A rattled woman nursing bruises. A two-month-old baby upstairs who didn’t know a damn thing about survival, who didn’t understand that warmth wasn’t something she could just take for granted.

And this woman—this stubborn, frustrating woman—was already trying to stand up like she hadn’t just been thrown into a wall.

"I'll go check it out. Don't worry, Joel, I know what to do," Leela offered, pushing herself up.

Joel shot out a hand, firm, stopping her before she could get any further.

"You ain't fixin’ shit, you hear me?" His voice came out rougher than he intended, but hell if he cared. "Sit your damn ass down. You're stayin' at my place till I get this sorted."

The prospect did not sit well with her. He could see it in the way her jaw clenched, her eyes flicking to the window like she was already searching for another solution.

She shook her head. "I can't—"

"That's not an option."

She looked at him then, her brows drawing together. And he knew what she saw—knew she saw that hard-set determination in his face, the part of him that had already made up his mind.

What she didn’t see—what he’d never let her see—was the way his chest was burning with something too tight, too damn close to fear.

Because he’d walked into cold houses before. Knew what happened when the temperature dropped too low. Had seen bodies frozen stiff in the middle of the night, curled up as if that had been enough to keep them warm. Had seen what happened when people thought they could tough it out. He'd rather never see or smell that ever again.

Now, Leela thought she could tough it out. But he wasn’t about to let her gamble with a baby’s warmth just to prove a damn point. And if she thought this was some kind of negotiation, she was dead wrong. Because he wasn’t giving her a choice.

He exhaled slowly, grounding himself, softening the edges just enough so he wasn’t barking orders at her like some kind of drill sergeant.

“Just for a while,” he said, voice dropping lower. “Till I can fix whatever the hell you fucked up down there.”

Leela didn’t answer right away, lips pressing into a thin line. But she wasn’t stupid.

She glanced up toward the stairs, toward where Maya was still sleeping. Then back at him. Joel could see the exact moment she gave in. Her shoulders slumped as she relented.

He nodded, standing up, already running through what needed to be done. “Good. I'll go bundle up the kid.”

X

Joel hasn't exactly planned to have company. Ever.

Maria and Tommy showed up sometimes. Ellie, too—though not without complaint. She claimed the place smelled like old people and swore visiting would tank her cool factor. But even when they came around, he never let them stay too long. Ten minutes, maybe fifteen, before he was ushering them out the door with a gruff, Alright, get on, and some excuse about needing to be up early. It wasn’t that he didn’t like having people around. It was just—his place wasn’t made for that. He hadn’t made it for that.

It was single floor, nice and compact. He slept on the pullout couch in the living room. Not because he didn’t have that one really sweet bedroom, but because it was easier nowadays—closer to the door, closer to the window that faced the big white house across the street. His sink was a mess of dishes from last night, crusted over and rotting in the stale air. His cabinets weren’t stocked with food so much as they were with whiskey and coffee.

He came home. He ate. He slept. He woke up. Showered. Left. That was it. That was his life. It was enough and to spare.

So when Leela and Maya showed up at his front door, he wasn’t prepared. Not in the slightest.

He scrubbed a hand over his jaw, stepping aside to let her in. “Come on, then.”

Leela ducked inside first, shaking the cold from her coat, eyes flicking around the place as if she were already judging him for it. And maybe she was. Hell, Joel sure as shit would. Because this—this eyesore—was how she was gonna see him. As some tired, deadbeat old man who hadn’t even tried.

Maya stirred against her chest, her little hands fisting in the collar of Leela’s coat.

Joel cleared his throat and reached for her automatically. He needed his calm here. “C’mere, baby girl.”

She squealed at the sound of his voice, squirming, her small fingers flexing, gripping the fabric of his flannel before she finally settled against him, warm and soft. Joel let out a quiet breath through his nose, a strange kind of tightness unwinding from his ribs. He hadn’t even realized he’d been bracing for something.

“She can stay with me,” Leela said softly, slipping out of her coat.

Joel shook his head. “Nah, you get some rest. You’re takin’ the room down the hall.”

Leela blinked, surprised. “And you?”

Joel busied himself with Maya, playing catch and release with her tiny fists, letting her grab onto his finger before slipping it away. “I’ll be fine. Got the couch.”

She frowned. “But you’ve got that bad back.”

Joel sighed, jaw twitching. “Yes, ma'am. Thanks for noticin’.”

Leela’s mouth quirked slightly, just a little, but enough that it softened something in her expression. “You should take the bed, Joel.”

He hummed, shaking his head, shifting Maya a little higher against his chest. “You just shot into a wall and burned yourself, darlin’. I think you’re entitled to a bed.”

She tilted her head at him, her brow pinching together like she was trying to figure something out.

Joel stared back, more stubborn than apprehensive, his grip tightening just a fraction around Maya’s small body.

He wasn’t sure what it was, that look of hers. But damn if it didn’t make him feel like he was seen in a way he wasn’t used to. Like she was really looking at him—not the grumpy bastard everyone in Jackson thought he was, not the fixer, not the old guy sleeping his way through life—but him.

Joel shifted on his feet, clearing his throat. “Look, you’re takin’ the bed, that’s that. Maya can sleep next to you, so she’ll be closer.”

Leela was still staring at him, quiet for a long beat.

Then eventually she sighed. “Okay.”

It wasn’t much, but it felt like that little something Joel had wanted. Like an inch of the cold between them had finally cracked, let some warmth in.

Look, of course, Joel had always known his house was too damn small. He just hadn’t felt it until now.

There was no privacy to be had, not really. The pullout couch in the living room faced the bedroom door, left cracked open just enough for him to see the gentle rise and fall of Maya’s little body curled against where Leela would sleep later. The bathroom was the only one in the house, meaning if she needed it in the middle of the night, she’d have to walk past him to get there.

Not much space. Not much distance.

So when he heard the soft shuffle of her feet against the wood floor, he wasn’t surprised. He didn’t even have to look up from the guitar in his hands to know she’d wandered further inside, drawn toward the small corner of the living room where he kept his workspace.

It was a cramped setup—a shabby studio table shoved against the wall, two half-finished guitars resting on stands nearby. He’d only just started working on them, but it gave his hands something to do, something to create.

Leela’s fingers grazed over the unfinished wood, her touch featherlight. “I didn’t know you were this talented. A luthier.”

Joel chuckled, leaning back against the wall. “Layin’ it on a bit thick.”

She ignored him, curiosity guiding her hands as she thumbed over the strings. A quiet hum vibrated through the air, not a real note, just a sound. She tilted her head, listening.

“Would you make one for me when you have time to spare?” she asked, glancing up. “I’d love to learn.”

Joel almost laughed, because—yeah. Yeah, he’d drop dead before refusing that. “‘Course,” he said, voice low but certain.

Leela’s eyes found it too easily, drawn in like a moth to an old light. He almost wished he'd hid it away.

The picture that had survived time and death, sat on the corner shelf, tucked between a coil of guitar strings and a worn-out rag, the frame dull with dust he never bothered to wipe away. The glass was cracked, a thin vein running through the top left corner, but it didn’t matter. The image was still there. She was still there.

Sarah, grinning wide, her curls bouncing as she leaned into him, arms slung around his shoulders. Joel remembered that day. He’d taken her out to some shitty little carnival on the edge of town, and let her sucker him into one of those rigged ring toss games. She’d won a stuffed bear—cheated, more like, because the booth worker had taken pity on her—and held onto it the whole night like it was the greatest thing in the world.

She looked happy. They looked happy.

And it hit him—like it always did, like it always would—how long it had been since he’d last heard her voice. Since she’d called him 'Dad!' in that exasperated, teasing way of hers. Since she’d looked at him like he was the safest place she’d ever known.

Leela didn’t say anything. She didn’t even reach for it, didn’t let her gaze linger too long. Just acknowledged it, felt it, then moved past it, like she understood that some ghosts weren’t meant to be disturbed. Let them rest.

Joel swallowed. It wasn’t often that someone gave him that kind of space—left his past untouched, let him sit with it without trying to crack it open.

She leaned back against the edge of the desk, brushing her fingers through her hair again—one of those little habits of hers, nervous and absentminded. The strands were overgrown, frayed at the ends, and he knew she probably didn’t have the time to fix it, or maybe just didn’t care enough to. He should tell Maria to give her a trim.

But, she wasn’t wearing that pearl-buttoned nightdress tonight. This one was blue. Smooth. Loose-fitting. The frilled sleeves barely touched her shoulders, and it wasn’t anything special, not really, but—he liked it. That colour looked pretty on her skin.

The thought settled in his chest like an itch he didn’t know how to scratch.

Leela watched her fingers trail absently over the wood grain of the desk. “I owe you an apology, Joel,” she murmured, her voice quieter now.

Joel listened and didn’t speak, just let the words settle between them.

“For how I’ve been treating you.” She swallowed, gaze flicking up to him, uncertain but steady. “You’ve only ever helped me, and you're so good with Maya. I know it wasn’t fair of me to just… shut you out.”

Joel exhaled sharply through his nose, shaking his head. “Don’t worry about it.”

But she wasn’t convinced. She hesitated, jaw tensing, lips parting slightly before pressing shut again. There was something she wanted to say like it was dislodged deep, festering, in her chest.

“That night in the car…” She took a breath like it might help balance her. It didn’t. “It wasn't you. I had—before Maya, I was—there was—”

Joel knew that look. The way her throat bobbed, her fingers curling against the desk like she needed something solid to hold onto. Holding herself together. He didn’t let her unravel, just not tonight.

“Stop,” he said, gentle but firm. “You don’t have to explain.”

Leela blinked at him, studying his face, like she was trying to decide if he meant it. So he shrugged, forcing a small, easy grin.

“Perks of havin’ me around. I don’t care for the details.”

A small breath of laughter escaped her. Real, unguarded, softening the edges of her face. He loved to see it on her. “That's a relief.”

Joel leaned forward, rubbing his palm over his knee, the dull ache settling in from the long day.

His voice was lower when he spoke. “It’s just nice to be there, y’know?” He wasn’t good at this—saying shit like this—but it began to get easier with her. “With Maya. And you. There's more purpose than just shooting things beyond the fence.”

Something flickered across Leela’s face.

Her fingers brushed the edge of the desk, and her knuckles paled with how tightly she gripped it. “You’re welcome home anytime, Joel. My door’s always open for you.”

Joel’s chest pulled tight.

He looked at her. And he thought about that damn oak door, how she never locked it, how he’d always given her hell for it in his head. And how, for the first time, it didn’t feel like carelessness.

It felt like trust. Not in this boring town of survivors. But in the neighbour across the street who'd ferreted his way into their lives.

Leela took a slow breath, glancing down before meeting his eyes again. “So, you don’t have to come around just to fix things next time.”

Her voice was softer now. And then—something else. A small, almost shy laugh slipped past her lips, barely there, like she wasn’t sure she was allowed to say this next part out loud.

“Come to eat. To talk. To see Maya.” A beat. “And me.”

Joel felt it then—the shift. It wasn’t big, wasn’t some grand, earth-shaking thing. But it was there. He felt it.

"Maya loves you so much."

Joel glanced at her, unable to hold back the sympathy. He should’ve just let it sit. Should’ve just nodded, grunted something, and let the conversation move on. But instead, he said, low, “That bothering you?”

Leela hesitated, but only for a second. Then she sighed, rubbing a hand over her neck. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “Maybe.”

Joel stayed quiet, watching her.

She let out a quiet, humourless laugh. “It’s just... I don’t feel like her mother. Not really.” Her voice was even, but he could hear the strain underneath, the sharp edge of something she didn’t want to say aloud. “I do everything I’m supposed to. Feed her. Hold her. Change her. But it’s just... a list to get through.” She exhaled, shaking her head. “I thought it would be different. I know it's such an awful thing to say.”

Joel felt that like a punch to the gut. He knew what she meant. Knew how goddamn isolating it could be—to go through the motions, do the right thing, and still feel like you’re on the outside looking in.

“She’s yours, darlin',” he said after a moment. He wasn’t good at this kind of thing—at making sense of feelings, at giving comfort. He was trying. “That’s what matters. Sometimes it's not a magic switch, you can't just flip it on and feel it. Sometimes, you grow to love someone. Over time, energy, effort.”

Leela scoffed, quiet, barely there. “That all it takes?”

“No,” Joel admitted. “But it’s good enough.”

She finally looked at him then, something cautious in her expression, something raw. He didn’t push. Didn’t try to say anything else. Just let the silence stretch, easy and open, not asking for more than she was willing to give.

Leela swallowed, nodding slightly, like she was tucking the words away, considering them.

The space between them, once weighed down by hesitation, by careful sidesteps and unspoken rules, felt… lighter. Like the tension that had settled into the cracks between their words was finally easing, letting some warmth slip through.

And that? That did something to him.

His throat worked around something unspoken, and he rolled his shoulders back, shifting from feet to feet, like he could physically shake whatever the hell was loose inside him. The words that wanted to come didn’t.

Instead, he settled on something simpler. Something safer.

“You should get some rest.”

Leela’s gaze lingered, searching, like she was trying to read something in his face. Then she nodded, flashing a grin. “Sure,” she murmured. “Goodnight, Joel.”

Joel held her gaze for a moment longer. His fingers flexed at his sides, a familiar itch settling in his chest, the kind that always came when he stood in doorways when someone was walking away and he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to follow or stay put.

He watched her retreat into the room, disappear behind the cracked door, and stand there for a moment before finally turning away.

The door was open again. And that was the thing about doors.

They worked both ways.

X

While on the road, Joel had spent years sleeping in places that barely counted as beds. Hard ground. Rusted truck seats. Creaking, sagging mattresses in abandoned buildings where one wrong turn meant waking up dead. Even now, safe inside these walls, inside this town where people thought fences and routine were enough to keep the bad out, behind homes with locked doors—well, should have locked doors—he never truly slept deep.

Always on alert. Always half-ready. Even in the comfort of a home he could call his.

Joel lay on the couch, stiff as the thing itself, staring into the rough fabric. He wasn’t asleep—he never really was—but he kept his back turned anyway. It felt like the right thing to do, a courtesy or some form of privacy in a house too damn small to actually have any.

He wasn’t sure how long he stayed like that. Long enough for the warmth of the fire to ebb. Long enough to hear the wind pick up outside, rattling at the windows. Long enough to wonder if Leela had finally managed to fall asleep.

He exhaled through his nose and, without really thinking about it, rolled over onto his side, eyes shifting toward the bedroom.

Leela was out cold.

Her hair had been pulled back into a loose braid, but strands had escaped, curling softly against her cheek. One hand dangled into the mattress as if she’d fallen asleep patting Maya and never quite finished. He could see the slow rise and fall of her chest, deep and steady, her body given over to exhaustion.

Joel frowned as his eyes drifted lower. The blanket had slipped, barely covering her waist, her legs left bare to the chill of the night. One knee peeked out, the curve of it catching the dim, murky light of the bedside lamp. He felt his jaw tighten, his fingers flexing at his side. Wasn’t she cold?

But then his eyes landed on the baby in front of her, and the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding eased right out of him.

Maya was not asleep. Flat on her back, legs kicking sharp, barbed movements, her tiny fingers flexing in the air, opening and closing like she was trying to grab something invisible. Every so often, she let out a soft little coo, her breath light, testing, careful not to wake her mother.

Joel squinted. Lifted his head a little. Maybe she was just shifting in her sleep.

Nope, the kid was fully awake. Big, round eyes blinking up at the ceiling, mouth open in a little round ‘o’ of discovery, her hands reaching for her own damn feet, like she’d only just realized they were attached to her.

He huffed, rubbing a hand over his face. He could just leave her be. She wasn’t crying. Wasn’t fussing. She'd fall asleep on her own.

But then she spotted him.

Her entire little body bucked, like the excitement was too much for her tiny limbs to contain. A bright, panting laugh bubbled from her mouth, and her hands curled, fists flailing like wanted to launch herself toward her.

Joel sighed. That was it. No walking away now.

Ignoring the slow, persistent cramp in his back, he shifted, pressing his hands into the pullout and pushing himself upright. His knees popped when he stood, and he winced, rolling his shoulders as he made his way into the bedroom. The floor groaned under his feet, but Leela didn’t stir. She was too far gone, too lost to the bruises and the exhaustion pressing her under.

Maya, on the other hand—beamed up at him, wiggling harder, completely unbothered by the late hour, her tiny hands batting at the air.

Joel sighed through his nose and crouched down beside the bed. He held up a finger to his lips. “Ssh, ssh,” he murmured like she had any damn understanding of the concept.

Her fists continued to flail, little feet kicking the air, and he sighed, leaning down to scoop her up. She fit into his arms easily, the way she always did—small and naming the nook to herself, all warm skin and bundled sleepiness. Sleep fired right out of his system.

“You're gonna wake your poor mama,” he whispered to her.

Shifting Maya against his chest, he glanced at Leela again. She hadn’t moved a muscle, fast asleep. But the blanket had slipped low, barely covering her waist, her arms left uncovered to the cold.

Joel hesitated for only a second before leaning over, taking the edge of the comforter and tucking it around her, careful not to wake her. The fabric pooled at her shoulder, and she sighed quietly in her sleep, sinking into the warmth of the bed, but not waking.

Good. She was finally catching up on sleep. When was the last time he'd seen that girl rest? Never. She'd always woken up the earliest, wandering between her papers and blackboards in the living room.

Maya let out a content little hum against his shoulder, and Joel blew out a breath, stepping back out of the bedroom and into the dimly lit living room. He wasn’t going to bother putting her back on the bed. She was too awake for that.

Instead, he plunged back onto the couch, settling into the cushions and adjusting her against his chest. She curled into him easily, her featherlight weight pressing against his ribs. She hummed again, a soft, breathy little thing, and then—one of her fists landed against his sternum with a dull thump.

Joel huffed, peering down at her. “You tryin’ to knock the wind outta me, trouble?”

Maya lifted her head to blink up again, dark eyes round and glassy in the dim light, looking like she had something important to say. Then her fist lifted again, this time smacking more of a lazy pat than anything with real intent.

He narrowed a playful glare on her, shifting her a little higher against him. He poked at her cheek. “We got some problems, or is this just your way of lettin’ me know you’re still awake?”

She didn’t answer—fucking obviously—but she did something close to it. Her mouth rounded in a small, exaggerated ooh, and her fingers fumbled against his shirt before one of them caught onto his.

Joel felt the soft, clumsy pull of her grip, then the unmistakable wet warmth of her mouth closing around the tip of his finger.

He grimaced, but not in any real discomfort. “Great, there you go. You're lucky you're so beautiful.”

Maya suckled lazily, brows furrowing like she was concentrating really hard on the task, and Joel exhaled, letting her gnaw as much as she wanted.

Joel stared at the ceiling, his fingers absentmindedly rubbing slow, careful circles against her back.

She was a happier baby now. Not screaming. Not crying as much. Just there. Comfortable and safe.

He swallowed against the feeling mashing against his ribs. His jaw unclenched, let his head fall back against the couch, eyes slipping shut. And he let out the longest breath known to man.

It had been years—years since he’d felt this weight, this warmth, this need pressed against him. It was a different life, a different world, but somehow, it wasn’t. His body still knew this, still remembered the rhythm of it, the quiet intimacy of a baby trusting him enough to just be here, curled up against his chest, with no fear, no hesitation.

And goddamn him, but he loved it. Loved the small breaths puffing against his collarbone. Loved the way she looked up at him, slow and sleepy, tapping her tiny knuckles against him like she was checking to make sure he was still there. Loved that he didn't have to think about anything, not feel like the whole world was closing in.

Loved this.

He wasn’t thinking about the past. No, he wasn’t. But if he was, he sure as hell wouldn’t admit it.

The sound of the front door unlocking jolted him.

Joel’s eyes snapped open, his entire body tensing for a fight as his hand instinctively curled around Maya’s small back, protective, ready. His other hand curled into a loose fist at his thigh.

The door eased open with a quiet creak, and a familiar silhouette stepped inside.

Ellie.

“Joel?” she whispered, peering at him in confusion.

Joel just stared at her. Not because she was here—she was always stopping by when she damn well pleased—but because for the first time in his life, he was the one who forgot to lock the damn door.

Maya shifted against his chest, making a soft noise, her tiny fingers still curled around his. Joel gave her a small, reassuring bounce as if she’d needed one.

Ellie, meanwhile, was still standing there, taking in the sight of him on the couch, a whole baby in his arms, and the bedroom door cracked open just enough to hint at the woman asleep inside. The pretty neighbour that had Joel all riled up.

Her eyebrows lifted and mouth twitched as she crossed her arms. “This isn’t a hostage situation, right? Am I an accomplice now?”

Joel sent her a flat look. “Whatever gave that away?”

Ellie then continued to stare at him and at Maya.

It was the kind of look Joel had gotten used to over the years, the one where she tried to figure out if she was hallucinating. Because she’d seen Joel Miller do a lot of things—wrangle Clickers, nurse a cold one, fix up a rifle—but sitting on his couch, cradling a whole-ass baby like that? It was a new one. Like unlocking a new character in a video game.

Her lips pressed together, eyes still flicking between him and the kid, and then—she snorted.

“Oh, man,” she whispered, shaking her head, a shit-eating grin spreading over her face. “I wish I had a camera to capture this gold.”

Joel sighed. “Alright, get on with it.”

Grinning, Ellie plopped herself down beside him, the whole couch shaking, immediately leaning in close to peer at Maya. Almost as if she was the first infant she'd seen in her life.

“Hi, baby,” she cooed, voice going all high-pitched and ridiculous. “Hiiii.”

Maya blinked at her, unmoving, her fists curled safely in her mouth, her tiny brows furrowing as if she were trying to figure out just who the hell this new person was.

Ellie wiggled a finger in front of her. “Here. Go on, grab it.”

Maya did not. She just kept staring, eyes wide, mouth slightly open, utterly mystified by the sudden intrusion.

Joel huffed. “Guess she ain’t impressed.”

“Guess she’s got taste, you dick,” Ellie shot back. Then, her face softened, a little smirk curling her lips. “She’s fucking adorable. Look at those eyes, damn.” Joel barely had time to process the warmth that spread through his chest before Ellie tacked on, “So, definitely not yours.”

His scoff came out before he could stop it. “Oh, real funny, kid.”

Ellie chuckled, finally settling back against the couch, still watching Maya like she couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing. “How come they’re here?”

Joel didn’t go into the details, never liked to. About Leela’s bruises, about how she’d been too damn stubborn for her own good, about how he’d practically had to drag her in here to sleep in his bed.

Instead, he just muttered, “Blackout. Gonna head back in the morning and check it out.”

Ellie hummed like she knew there was more to it but didn’t feel like prying.

For a while, they just sat there in silence, and Joel simply let himself watch. The room was dim, the fire in the hearth burned low, throwing flickering shadows across the worn wooden floors. The cold pressed against the windows, creeping in through the cracks, but in here, it was warm—quiet, steady. Both in him and around him.

Ellie leaned in closer, her breath puffing softly against Maya’s round little cheek as she wiggled her fingers in front of her face. “What about this? You like this?” she murmured, tapping her tiny nose, and making a series of stupid clicking sounds.

Maya blinked, floored by this, her wide eyes tracking Ellie’s every move like she was watching the most fascinating thing in the world.

It took another few moments, but then—finally—Maya’s tiny fingers reached out, wrapping shyly around Ellie’s outstretched one. Not tight, not possessive, just curious. Testing.

Joel felt that feeling again, twisting deep in his ribs, imperceptive and calm and unnameable. He could get used to that feeling. It plugged every scar, physical and mental, until his shoulders felt ten times lighter.

The kid he’d sort of raised, playing with the baby he was yet to.

And for the first time in a long time, that muddle just… settled. It was late, too late in life for this kind of thing. But hell, cut him some slack.

Joel exhaled slowly, staring into the last of the fire, watching as the embers pulsed and flickered, struggling to stay alive. His hand absently smoothed over Maya’s back, following the slow rise and fall of her breathing, feeling the tiny weight of her against his chest. She was still. Not fussing. Just there.

Ellie shifted beside him, stretching her legs out, resting her arms against her knees. She wasn’t in a hurry to fill the silence. She just sat there, watching him in that way of hers, like she saw more than she let on.

“So,” she finally said, voice casual. “How’re things between you and…?”

She didn’t need to finish the sentence. Just flicked her chin toward the bedroom.

Leela was still dead to the world, sunk into the kind of sleep that didn’t let you turn over, didn’t let you dream. Her hand had slipped out from beneath the blanket, fingers curled loosely against the mattress. He wondered how long it had been since she’d let herself rest like that, without one ear open for some threat, without her body coiled tight, waiting for the next hang-up.

Joel looked away. He shifted slightly, adjusting Maya, keeping his voice even. “There’s nothing between us.”

Ellie hummed like she wasn’t buying it. “Yeah, no shit.” She stretched her arms behind her head, smirking. “She’s way out of your league.”

Joel snorted, shaking his head. “No argument here.”

He didn’t need Ellie to tell him that. He was thickheaded, but he wasn't blind. Leela was… Leela. Stunning in that exotic way, compassionate as a human, insanely intelligent. And him? What was he exactly, a cut-throat? A fighter? A relentless fucking human who just refused to die? Twenty years ago, a woman like that wouldn’t have given him the time of day, much less a second glance. A girl like her, back in the world before, would’ve had a whole life ahead of her, a whole set of possibilities. Not this. Not him.

And maybe that’s how it should’ve been. Maybe that’s why this didn’t make any sense.

He tensed his grip on Maya and felt the way she instinctively burrowed against him, curling her little fingers into the fabric of his shirt. She cooed again, watching his mouth move to form words.

He could be something for her. If Leela wanted it, he could carve out a space in Maya's life, be her constant, be her safety net. Hell, be this baby girl's father. He would compromise in a blink. That was different. That was right.

But having Leela herself? That was something else entirely. That was dangerous. That was selfish. There were too many ways it could go wrong. Too many ways it would end badly.

Not because of him, or her, or anything either of them did—just because that was the way life went. He wasn’t made for this kind of thing anymore. Wasn’t built for it. He was too damn old, too set in his ways. And even if she—somehow—wanted this, wanted him, what then? How long until he fucked it up? How long until he lost it?

The way he always did.

He swallowed hard. “I’m too old for her,” he managed to mutter.

Ellie scoffed, rolling her eyes. “You're fucking kidding. The world ended. There is no standard. And you still care about what, an age gap? Brownie points? Jesus, Joel. You've been through too much to care.”

Joel didn’t answer right away. Just kept his gaze on the fire, jaw tight.

It wasn’t about that. It wasn’t about how it looked or what people would say. Hell, no one would care. He wouldn't care. They were past that kind of bullshit.

But that didn’t mean it wasn’t still impossible.

Because Joel knew himself. He knew what it was like to want something real, to care about someone so much it hollowed you out from the inside. And he knew how fast it could all go to hell.

It was about the fact that she still had so much time. That she could still find someone real, someone better. That she deserved more than a haunted, greying man, who could barely sleep through the night, combing through his days, who lived waiting for the next thing to go wrong.

And she deserved better than a man too tired, too worn down by life, to give her more than what little he had left.

Ellie sighed, rubbing a hand over her face. “Y’know…” she started, then stopped.

Joel glanced at her, brow furrowing slightly.

She didn’t go on right away. Just drummed her fingers against her knee, staring into the fire, her face unreadable. For once, she wasn’t running her mouth, wasn’t making a joke to cut through whatever was settling between them. She was thinking. That alone put him on edge.

Finally, she said, “It’s different. These last few weeks. Even Tommy sees it.”

Joel frowned, not at the words themselves, but at the way she said them—slow, cautious, like she wasn’t just talking to him but trying to make sense of it for herself.

Ellie had always been good at reading him, sometimes better than he wanted. But this—this was different.

She flitted her gaze toward the bedroom, where Leela was still out cold, her body barely stirring under the blankets. Then to Maya, curled up against him, tiny fingers tangled in his shirt, her soft weight pressed into his chest. Finally, she looked back at him.

She didn’t spell it out. Didn’t need to.

Joel swallowed, shifting slightly where he sat, adjusting Maya’s weight in his arms. His hand smoothed down her back, more out of habit than anything else. He glanced toward the bedroom too, toward Leela, who hadn’t moved an inch. Yes, it was different.

But Ellie wasn’t done. She hesitated, rolling something over in her head before finally letting it out.

“It’s… good, y’know? You having this nice thing.” She waved a vague hand toward the baby, toward Leela. “You don't usually let yourself have nice things. Something that’s not just me.”

Joel’s breath caught.

Ellie had always been his reason for waking up in the morning, the one thing keeping him tethered to whatever life he had left. And she knew that. Knew it in the way she carried herself, in the way she fought with tooth and claw to prove she didn’t need him to keep her standing. That he had his own life. But now, sitting there, she wasn’t mocking, wasn’t teasing. She was just… saying it. And she was goddamn right.

For the first time in a long time, he wasn’t just pushing forward because he had to, wasn’t just surviving out of habit. He wasn’t looking over his shoulder, waiting for the axe to fall.

He had something to come back to. Something steady. Something small and warm and his, even if he didn’t know what the hell to do with it yet.

He looked down at Maya, at her tiny, trusting weight in his arms, at the way she twitched slightly in her sleep, lips parting around a breath. His hand smoothed over her back again.

Ellie saw the moment it clicked. The way his face shifted, just slightly. She smirked, satisfied. And that her good work here was done.

Then, just like that, she clapped her hands on her knees and stood up. “Well,” she said, voice slipping back into that familiar teasing lilt, “guess I’ll let you get back to your hostage situation.”

Joel rolled his eyes, settling deeper into the couch as Maya nuzzled against his chest. The kid was out cold now, her little fist still tangled in his shirt.

Ellie was already heading for the door when she threw out in a whisper, “Oh—almost forgot. Maria asked me to tell you to bring your girl by the dam sometime this week.” She smirked, holding up air quotes. “Said she’d like ‘inventor insight.’”

His expression deadpanned. “Maria ain’t letting her go anywhere near machines.”

Ellie raised an eyebrow. “Ooh-kay. Controlling much?”

Joel gave her a warning look. “Ellie.”

She dismissed him with a wave. “I’ll just tell her myself.”

Joel exhaled sharply through his nose, already seeing how that would go. If Leela knew Maria was interested, she’d want to help. She’d go, eager to prove herself, eager to be useful. And then she’d get herself hurt again, pushing past whatever limits she had, just like she always did. That wasn’t happening.

“She’s stayin’ away,” he muttered. “She’ll go, then want to help. Overdo it. Get herself hurt or worse.” He gave Ellie a pointed look. “Better not.”

Ellie let out a sharp laugh, all evil intent. “And you’re telling me there’s nothing between you two?”

“Ellie,” he hissed, too fast, too sharp—just as Maya stirred slightly against his chest, her little face scrunching. He froze, holding his breath, waiting to see if she’d wake.

Ellie’s smirk was damn near insufferable.

“Denial,” she sang out, drawing out the word like it was the funniest thing she’d heard all day.

Joel sent her a flat look.

Ellie just wiggled her fingers in a wave and made for the door once more. “Night, old man.”

The door clicked shut behind her, leaving him alone in the quiet house, the fire crackling low in the hearth. Joel exhaled slowly, his hand smoothing absently over Maya’s back again.

Denial. Maybe. He wasn't ruling it out yet.

X

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[miniwheat77]

V-Day. (141 x Reader.)

!nsfw, smut, p in v sex, oral sex (m!receiving), protected sex, gang bang, NO MINORS!

HAPPY VALENTINES DAY LOVES! (and Birthday if you’re a v-day baby🥺) If I could get every single one of you a valentine I would 🫶🥰

The task force sees how upset you are on holidays.

You’ve got no family and no other friends outside of the task force so around the holidays you tend to get a little reclusive. Sometimes they’ll try to do nice things for you but most of the time they don’t have the opportunity to. When you’re out on a base in the middle of a warzone, ordering things in and going to stores isn’t exactly ideal.

They notice of all of the holidays, Christmas and Valentines Day seem to be the hardest ones of all for you.

They’ve managed to help raise your spirits on Christmas by brining in a fake little tree and making ornaments out of plain lined paper and dental floss. They even found a couple markers or pens around base so you could color them. At least it gave you something to do as a task force but you were out of luck on Valentine’s Day.

None of the men were married or in a relationship and truth be told, Valentine’s Day wasn’t as important to them. But it was to you and they knew it.

The only thing Captain Price could do, was get everyone off duty for the day.

The four of them had crossed paths a couple of times. Working out, doing paperwork, cleaning up their own spaces. That was it. But they noticed none of them seen you.

“Poor things probably just sitting in her room like usual.” They mumble.

After another hour or so, you reappear out of nowhere while they’re sitting in the mess hall, making small talk.

“Ah, finally out to join us?”

“Yeah, I made you something.” You smile.

“What?”

“Yeah, I saved it for this year since we had nothing last year..” you mumble.

You’d made little handmade cards each specialized for them and attached a candy to it.

“Well now I feel bad because we didn’t get you anything dove..” Captain Price mumbles. “That’s not what this is about. Holidays are about giving. Anyways, I have to go finish cleaning up my room before I forget. Happy Valentines Day!” You smile, turning around and making your way back to your room.

Captain Price sighs.

None of them have any idea what to do. They have nothing on base that they can give you.

“You know.. I have an idea.” Johnny mumbles.

“Might be a bit crazy but.. it just might make her feel better.” He smiles nervously.

They make a plan, each of them needed to go find something and bring it back to the table to present with for the plan.

Gaz hurried outside, he would feel bad for messing up the rose bush outside because he knows how much you adore it (since it IS the only one around) but you’d just have to forgive him later. They’re a magenta color, which he thinks you’ll like. He makes sure to go for the roses that aren’t as full, on the back and on the bottom of the bush. He uses his pocket knife to cut the heads off, keeping them in tact. It still looks pretty when he’s done.

Johnny goes around base searching for those unscented tea lights laying around for when the power is out. He manages to find an entire bag of them in a back office. Scoring when he finds a random striker too.

Captain Price heads for his own office where he knows he’s got paper, using a few pieces to thicken it up and a stapler to make a makeshift card. He’s even got one single piece of red paper, cutting tiny hearts out of it and taping them onto the white card. His time as a Captain and all of the paperwork he’s had to do has really helped his cursive. Making sure to give the others the opportunity to add something they’d like before signing it from all of them.

Ghost tore his entire room apart looking for a photo to put into the card. He knew he had it lying around and it took him a good white to find it buried inside of a drawer, but he does find it. It’s a photo of the entire task force. The five of you standing all together just before a mission, in full gear. It’s something he’s cherished but he has a copy at home.

“Y/N, page back.” Captain Price calls.

“Copy sir.”

“Keep getting an alert from the southeast gate, you mind checking it out with me?”

“Not at all sir.”

“Great, I’ll meet you out there.” He calls back. When you meet him at the door, their plan goes into effect. The other 3 men hustle to get everything in to place as quickly as possible. You’d just finished cleaning your room so it was perfect timing really. You don’t get fully dressed to go which he understands, but he finds it cute what you’re wearing anyways.

“Captain, page back.” Gaz mumbles. He’s out of breath. “Copy.”

“Where at?”

“Heading in now.”

You don’t find it strange, they call back all of the time.

When you turn the corner, you freeze. You see the candlelight first. “What is that?” You ask. You’re curious, approaching it. Captain nearly laughs, noticing your hand on your sidearm at first. The military taught strange reactions. You relax when you see the rose petals. The other 3 stand just outside your door. “What is all of this?”

“It’s a thank you, for being such a huge part of this task force. There’s more inside, go on.” Captain Price smiles. “It’s more than you deserve, but it’s all we got for now.”

You move closer, opening up your door. That’s when you see the little card sitting on your bed. You smile.

You pick it up, opening it up and reading the note that each of them had left you. You look at the small picture last, seeing it’s them.

“This is really sweet, you didn’t have to do all of this.” You smile, turning back at them.

“We’ve got another thing, something important. Sit down.” Soap mumbles, pushing you back slightly onto your bed. “Close your eyes.”

You look up at him skeptically but do it anyways. Your hands sit in your lap. He touches your chin with his fingertips, tilting your head up slightly. He gives it another second before pressing his lips to yours.

You jump back, stunned. “Woah- what are-“ he smiles, hushing you.

“Nothing to be afraid of lass.” He pushes your hair out of your face. “Valentine’s Day is where you show those you love how much you care about them. That's what we're going to do. Just relax.”

You swallow hard, looking around at each of them around the room, all eyes are you. "No need to be nervous, just close your eyes."

You do it, trying your best to stay relaxed as he kisses you again. He grasps the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head. You raise your arms up to make it easier for him. Once your shirt is off, everyone in the room starts to get undressed. You can't see it, but you can hear the fabric and bodies movies, belts unbuckling and hitting the floor.

What the hell had you gotten yourself into?

You open your eyes, seeing that they're all shirtless, nothing but hairy, fit bodies around you. Your heart starts to race in your chest. This was a lot. What exactly did they plan to do?

Captain Price chuckles, now having taken Johnny's place in front of you. He forces your chin up to look at him. "If you're nervous and don't want to do this, you don't have to." He smiles. "You always have a choice, remember that."

You nod your head, taking in a deep breath. "I'm okay. Just nervous." You look up at him, he helps you to stand up, sliding your pants down your legs for you. Helping you step out of them by taking your hand to steady you.

What a gentleman.

"Go ahead and get on the bed darling."

The candles are illuminating the room, the light is still on but it's already dim. You move up the bed, still making an attempt to cover yourself.

Captain Price moves himself between your legs, he'd taken his boxers off, same as everyone else. You see him tear something open with his teeth, surprised when you realize it's a condom. You wonder where on earth he'd gotten it.

Now the four massive men stood completely naked in front of you and this wasn't a joke. This was really going to happen.

He takes your gaze away from everyone else by drawing his fingertips up your exposed opening, gathering wetness on his fingers and gliding up over your clit, the gasp gathers everyone's attention. They were nervous too, just far better at hiding it.

They're all looking at you, seeing how your eyebrows move into each other, mouth parting in pleasure as he touches you. He rubs gentle circles over you, the more aroused you are the more wet you'll be. You're going to need it to be able to take all four of them. He pushes a finger into you, hearing you gasp at the intrusion, moving a hand to grip his wrist as he starts to finger you. His fingers are long. He moves them through you, curling them slightly with eat thrust, searching for that spot inside of you. The others watch as he searches for it.

When he finds it, you tilt your head back with a moan, resting your head on the pillow. The mewl that leaves your lips is promising, each of them now know exactly what to do to please you.

He draws his fingers back, smiling when he realizes how fast your heart is beating. Hopefully he didn't get you too close. You still had a long ways to go.

He adjust you, tilting you just slightly to the side, raising your hip up just slightly. That special place inside of you was about to be battered by the four men. Because not only are they attempted, but obsessed with pleasing you.

He grips his cock, the first you'll feel tonight. He glides the tip over your opening to gather your arousal on him before he sinks inside of you. You gasp when he fills you. Cock pressing right up against that spot, he could feel your heart beating from your touch alone. That knot was already beginning to form in your belly.

You feel hands on you and it draws you back down to earth. Ghost is at your side, running his fingertips over the skin on your right arm to soothe you. Johnny moves to the other side, doing the same to your left.

You realize that Gaz is at the head of your bed, nearly standing over you.

He lowers himself, helping to brush your hair out of your face. "You're doing so good for us." He breathes. You clench your eyes closed, felling your Captain bury himself into you once more. The two to your left and right gasp at the same time, feeling your hands reaching for them. The feel of your touch on their cocks is enough to draw a moan from each of them.

Kyle takes a deep breath when you reopen your eyes, looking up at him. He stands up, almost knowing what it is that you want.

You take his cock into your mouth, tonguing the tip at first. You tease him for a minute before taking him further down. He can see your throat bulge because of his intrusion and suddenly his orgasm isn't too far off.

John keeps a steady pace, he knows you'll take a lot more than just him tonight and he doesn't want to be too rough with you. You feel good wrapped around him, tight. The eagerness he had felt before already had him on edge. He knew he wouldn't last long. Which was in your favor considering. He just wanted to draw at least one orgasm out of you.

He rocks his hips into you, perfect pace. Right into that spot.

He draws circles into your clit until you're right at the edge of pure bliss, toppling over the edge. You draw away from Kyle when you cum, crying out. You attempt to close your legs but he keeps them open, keeping his slow pace and riding your high out. Groaning out when he reaches his own. He closes his eyes, riding it out with another couple thrusts.

When he reopens them he pulls out of you, seeing your orgasm at the base of his cock. He can only wonder how good you'd feel raw.

He draws himself away, moving to your chair in the corner of the room, lighting a cigar as Simon takes his place. You swallow hard, looking down at him. He rolls a condom over the tip of his cock, same as your Captain had. "You alright to keep going?" He looks up at you. You nod.

You don't want to let your Lieutenant down. He does the same to you. Slight tilting your hips, moving you in another way. You can only imagine it's to reach that spot inside.

They were so attentive.

He thrusts into you, you tilt your head back with a sigh. He's slightly more rough than Captain Price but you can easily tell they're being gentle. You can only imagine how rough they could be if they really wanted.

You take Kyle back into your mouth, moving your hand up the shaft of Johnny's cock. Keeping them both stimulated. It's hard to focus with Simon thrusting into you, but you do it.

He pushes your legs up slightly, reaching even deeper. You moan around Kyle, hearing him groan at the vibrations from you. He knew once he felt your walls around him that he wasn't going to last long.

Your right hand is free now, you use it to draw circles into your own clit which surprises them. Considering that you had just cum. You're gentle with it.

Simon keeps a steady pace just as his Captain had. Working himself into his own orgasm but focusing on you too. You weren't just any girl to them. You were important and they weren't here to use you.

You draw away from Kyle and he moves to your side again, moving his face to be level with yours. "Why don't you take a look at what he's doing hm?"

You swallow hard, raising yourself up onto your elbows. Johnny moves to your other side, lips by your other ear.

"He's stretching you so much. You're taking a lot. More than we thought you could." Kyle smiles. He hears you take in a sharp breath at a particularly hard thrust from Simon. He was getting sloppy with it. Seeing the lost look in your eyes is drawing him close.

"Your body is taking us so well darling. We knew you would."

You look up, eyes snapping to Ghosts and he gets chills down his spine at the look you're giving him.

"Happy Valentines Day, Y/N." It leaves Simon's lips and you can barely see his mouth move behind his mask. He doesn't expect you to cum.

You moan out, closing your eyes as you reach another orgasm, this one more intense than the first. Your clit throbs as you draw your hand away from it, nearly crying at the overstimulation. "Oh fuck!" Simon gasps, feelling you tense around him, pulsing with each beat of your heart.

He clutches your thigh harder than he intends when he finishes, eyes rolling back into his head when fills the condom. You gasp, feeling the warmth of it. How the hell were you going to do this another two times? You don't know where he's off to when he pulls away.

"M'kinda close already from your mouth darling, don't laugh when I don't last." Kyle jokes. You give him a lazy smile. You didn't see it, but he's got a condom on. You flinch when he slides into you. "You alright?" He asks, looking up at you. You nod your head. "If it's too much, we'll stop."

You smile at him. "I'm alright Kyle. Thank you." You breathe. Kyle had length on the rest of them, reaching parts of you untouched. You were already sensitive before, but knew you'd be pushing your body to the limits with him. You can't cum four times, surprised by the fact that they've even gotten two so close together. Your eyes water as he starts in, thrusting into you. He can't be as rough because he doesn't want to hurt you.

You've already taken so much. Soap cups your breasts, you tilt back to take him into your mouth. You surprise him.

He gasps when you take him down, sucking at the tip of his cock before taking him further down "Your lips look so pretty wrapped around me." He breathes, pinching one of your nipples between his fingers, hearing you gasp. You glide your hand up to entwine your fingers with Johnny's and he doesn't draw back, letting you clutch onto him.

You can tell how close Kyle is by how he starts to shake. His hands shake as he rests them on your thighs. His pants are uneven.

His face contorts in pleasure, teeth gritted and bared as he finishes deep into the condom, this time you can feel the force of his orgasm against your walls. You gasp out at the feeling.

You draw away from Johnny and he's quick to take Kyle's place. You couldn't take much more and he knew it. That's why he's going last.

Johnny is the best at being affectionate. At making love.

He slides the condom down around himself. Like the others had.

He pushes you up further on the bed, entering you much slower than the others, even going as far to give you a moment to adjust to him before he moves. You look up at him, almost as if giving him the approval to move. He draws back and thrusts into you, seeing you flinch slightly. He was really deep and you were overstimulated already.

"You think you can give me one more darling?" He smiles. You shake your head. "I don't know Johnny. It's a lot." You pant. Your eyes are already watery but he keeps his pace. "I think you can, lass. You've done so well for me. Done so good." He breathes. "One more doll. Just one. Focus on me."

He lowers himself to hover over you. Using his body weight on top of you to keep you grounded. "Johnny?"

"Hm?"

"Will you kiss me again?"

He doesn't respond, just presses his lips to yours. He's surprisingly a really good kisser, lips moving with yours.

You don't know why you're reacting to him like you are but just his kiss alone has that knot forming once more. You know this one may even hurt. He draws away, brushing your hair out of your face. "You feel so fucking good around me. You are so tight." He breathes. "You're doing so good darling, got me so close already." He bites his lip, trying to contain his moans.

He was getting close but he wants one more from you. Just one more.

He grasps your hand, bringing it up to your clit. "I can't Johnny, too much."

"Try for me doll. Just once."

You flinch when you touch your own clit. Thighs shivering as you ghost over it with your fingertips. You're so close.

The others hear your cry from just outside the door, cheeks turning pink at just the sound of you.

Johnny groans when you pulse around him, tears stream from you eyes and he finishes just in time as you push him away. It was nearly too much.

He finishes with a grunt, letting his high take over him.

When he comes down from it, he moves himself from on top of you.

You're panting out, tears still streaming from your eyes as you settle down. You've taken a lot tonight and they know it. But they just wanted to show you what you meant to them.

"I'll help you get cleaned up. give me a sec." He breathes, moving to get dressed and draping a blanket over you so that he could carry you to the showers. He knows once you're clean you'll fall asleep quick. While you're gone, the others help clean up the mess of rose petals and candles, changing your sheets for you as well.

Best Valentines Day ever.

[buubonita]

This is too messy but no worries i will try to explain the connections and I ADDED the "its complicated" label because i can and relationships can be and are soooo pretty complicated sometimes and your perspective of that person can always change like the weather,, or in fact, they have a dynamic that is difficult for me to explain personally.

Lets start nyao! oh boy this is LONG.

Nightmare & Dream: its complicated. They have mixed feelings all the time, there are times when they genuinely can't stand each other, but their family love remains intact, only sometimes, living together is difficult. I dont think Nightmare hates Dream genuinely, just for moments, and i am speaking more from someone who haves a twin.

I'm not saying that the situation is the same because my brother and I are not at war, lol, I'm saying that disagreeing and fighting with the person with whom you have shared memories and time since the cradle is a constant.

Dream & Blue & Ink: Found Family & friends. I just like to think that they, rather than a poly like fans insist, function more like an imperfect but still functioning family.

Dream & Ink: Friends/It's complicated. Dream and Ink have mainly disenchanted ideals, but they can coexist without resentment. I think they care about each other.

Ink & Error: enemies/frenemies. Self-explanatory.

Error, Geno & Fresh: family found. I love to think that the three of them have an inexplicable connection, something rooted in their codes. I know that Fresh is an outcode, but the body they posses, I like to think that it is a variant of Aftertale Sans (not Geno, the other Sans) <3

Blue, Sans & Fell: I love the idea my besties proposed that there are TWO Underswap Sans in the multiverse (Blueberry belongs to the Stars and Swap makes up the Sans and Fell group). They are good friends and super hilarious together <33

Reaper & Geno: Secret 3rd thing. I wont explain it here tho.

Fatal Error & Error: they hate each other to death.

Fresh and Lust: Secret 3rd option! I like to think that they actually get along really well. They go to disco nights together on Saturday nights fr.

Horror, Dust & Fell: besties. They can be besties okay, i loveeee the idea of Horror and Fell getting along with Dust as their main bond, point in common. If Fell could help Dust, he maybe could help Horror <33

Killer & Color: besties and QRP. I dont have much to say that someone hasn't already said , they are cute! Super adorable as well :3

Killer, Dust and Horror: Frienemies, its complicated. Their relationship It is quite turbulent and there are moments of horrible tension between them, the atmosphere in which they meet is not very good and does not help either, but they are companions in misfortune who try to move forward. I like to think that I could improve with the help of Color (who I forgot to put in the circle but the board already looks terrible!!!) Anyways MTT + Color is defo my thing <33

Dust & Reaper: Acquaintances. Reaper has seen Dust a lot during his endless encounters with The Player. He keeps tempting him to shake his hand like a new friend, hehe <33

Nightmare & Killer: Its complicated, enemies & secret 3rd thing. I've said it before, Killer and Nightmare's relationship is so weird, at least from my perspective, it has so much potential, so many nuances to explore that it's hard to classify what the hell they are. They don't even know what they are or what they have, they think they know each other but there are always details that escape them. Do they hate each other? Maybe. Do they need each other? Who knows. It's weird. They're fucking weird. And I love it, because Nightmare and Killer don't have the same dynamic or personal history that Nightmare and Horror and Dust do. One of my faves.

Color & Nightmare: Enemies. Its complicated. Rahhhh i have been CRAVING more Nightmare and Color content focused, how troubled Nigtjmare actions can be for Color and how it goes against his morals. Id say Color hates him, not totally, but definitely Nightmare "makes it very difficult to be able to help him" and thats a common point he haves with Dream.

Nightmare & Ccino: its complicated, secret 3rd thing aaand enemies. Ccino hates Nightmare for so many reasons, but the main one is the most wrong and absurd: he abandoned him.

Eldritch entity and totally tired mortal quth mundane life have a connection incomprehensible to the established parameters of society or regulations. My favorite.

Ccino @ everyone: is on the image but i think Ccino would know everyone at least because his café is a multiversal meeting point.

Epic & Cross: besties & QRP. They are so lovey, so cute, so beautiful, i love what they have so much.

Cross & Dream: Secret 3rd thing <33 they are very good friends and... :3c

Epic & Nightmare: Enemies & Acquaintances. Epic only knows about Nightmare through word of mouth, but he doesn't like what little he knows. I think he's secretly very resentful towards people who hurt the ones he loves (Cross, Color).

Epic & Dream: Acquaintances. I like to think that Dream is the only one who has seen Epic lose/destroy his body to the point where only his cursed eye remains intact. Something about out-of-body experiences he has suffered since he is a being of light residing in a vessel.

But in general, Epic does not interact and stays away from the apple twins because of their empathic abilities (an apple a day keeps the doctor...).

And thats it. I have a lot of other ideas that I left out the chart but imma write here hheehehe.

Like the fact that Dust and Epic could be friends (and their relationship is a bit rocky because Epic seems to treat Dust like a patient kjj and how that brings problems, as if Epic wanted to fix something of his own by helping and supporting him in his vocation as a doctor, yadda yadda)

Oooor like, fucking Reaper and the twins. Reaper seeing some of the contempt and rejection he himself suffers in his own universe??? That ALMOST inspires some pity, but I'd say it's more towards poor passive/past Nightmare than anything else.

Reaper and Dream should and are friends. I like the idea that Dream is one of the few who laughs at Reaper's shitty jokes (besides Geno) and feels bad about it because of his dark humor.

Nightmare hates Reaper becaaause, what a redundancy, what he personifies and not what he is and that is what prevents Reaper from feeling sorry for Nightmare despite having gone through similar but not at all identical situations <33

Or maybe Color and The Stars (or Color and Dream specially, please, yes?)

Prolly i am forgetting things but whatever this is long enough, i hope the artist doesn't minds ;;0;;

Again this is, like everything i say, my opinion <3

Ship chart but it’s not a ship chart it’s a friendship/found family/QPR chart

[semihearts]

Undercover

— Reader who is a disguised cop in the Squid Game and join it as a player.

— Dae-ho who tries to impress reader with his “courage” but instead he’s the one who gets surprised.

Pairing: Dae-ho x reader

Author’s note: Hi! This is my first post, hope you like it and sorry if there’s any typos! Feel free to give your opinion and suggestions for more fics ⁺⠀⠀.⠀

- In the beginning of the games you already knew that you had to stick with player 456, who already won the games before. You��ve seen him multiple times at the police station, reporting some deadly child games. No one ever believed him, only you, and that’s how you not only investigated the games, but literally joined it.

- Everyone was starting to make teams and alliances, and you thought that getting in Gi-hun’s would be difficult, you couldn’t just ask to join them or something. But as you felt a tap on your shoulder and turned around, you saw him.

- Player 388, who introduced himself as Dae-ho, was looking for one more person to join their team, and you seemed to be the best option for the last spot!! ( he just thought you were cute ).

- What he didn’t expect was that you were actually one of the bravest person of the team ( dae-ho was almost pissing on his pants during mingle!) At least he could feel your hands in his when both his legs stopped working and you had to drag him to a room.

- Dae-ho would always tell you stories about the marine ( some of them weren’t completely true..) and you had to lie about your life out of the games, pretending that you were just some ordinary person with an ordinary job and whatever.

- He actually cared for you, you could feel it, and all his attempts to protect you made your heart start liking him more.

- You helped Hyun-ju with their plan to end the games for good creating strategies and, when the time came, you did pretty good at knocking those guards off. Oh and you also volunteered to go with them to find who’s behind the games.

- But Dae-ho only comprehended: You + gun + guards who also have guns = ??? And also, how did you fight them so well… that wasn’t cute at all!! He tried stopping you from joining them but it was of no use.

- When he was about to tell you how dangerous a gun was and that you could get hurt, there you were, with a MP5A3 in hands teaching the others how to use it.

- During the mission, he saw you, giving everyone orders, covering for Hyun-ju and taking the lead when needed ( that also wasn’t cute at all ).

- When Dae-ho took so long to come back with more ammo you immediately went looking for him, worried that something happened on his way to the players’s room. He was hidden in a corner, almost crying, and it only took your hand on his for him to tell you everything. That he didn’t really wanted to be part of the marine and he got lots of trauma because of it, and that he was scared as hell in that moment.

- You didn’t know what to say, I mean, yeah you kinda expected him to not be the ‘'oh so tuff’’ marine soldier he tried to be, but you can’t say that hearing such a confession was in your mind. So the only thing you could think of, was telling him your truth now.

- ‘’Dae-ho I… the reason I am here, the true one, is to stop these games, it doesn’t matter who I really am now, and I’m sorry that I lied to you, but my objective since I got here is to stop all this killing. And right now, I need your help, please.

- ‘’ I’m sorry I can’t’’- he said while burying his face in his hands “I’m just stupid, God! I wish I could help you, be brave for you, I’m just a idiot in debt who pretends to be someone else to impress a girl”.

- You remove his face of his hands and hold them. “hey, you impressed me when I saw you getting out of your way more than once to try to save me. That was braver that any other story about the marine or whatever, you have a protective side for your loved ones that is rare to find. Now, we are in the middle of a gunshot there and Hyun-ju really needs our help, and I need yours, would you come with me?”.

- Born again, you could see determination in his eyes, getting up and taking the ammo, he wanted to deliver them as fast as he could, of course he wanted to help and destroy the games, but honestly that was just the aftermath. The truth is, he enjoyed the feeling of being needed by you, the fact that you specifically wanted his help, and he wanted to show you that you could always count on him.

[deadhands69]

Cute When You Stutter

loser!Shigaraki x gn/afab Reader

prev ◁ part 4 ▷ next

[series masterlist]

You wake-up comfortably in your own bed, unsure of how you got home. You’re still wearing your clothes from last night while your shoes are thrown haphazardly on the floor next to you. With your head pounding, you tap your phone to see what time it is. It's no use, the battery’s dead.

After laying perfectly still for a while doesn’t help, you press yourself out of bed and stumble down the hallway to get some water. Shigaraki is already in the kitchen, pouring himself a cup of coffee. Toga watches from the dining room table.

“You look like death,” he mumbles while grabbing a mug for you. There’s a huge purple mark on his neck that you vaguely remember giving him. Of course, he’s not even bothering to cover it. Kurogiri eyes you as he passes through the room cleaning.

Your mouth barely opens to ask Shigaraki how you got home last night, but he cuts you off.

“I have to run some errands,” he says before handing you your morning drink and rushing out the door, “see you guys.”

You take a seat at the table across from Toga.

“So, you’re dating Tomura now, right?” she asks, her big hazel eyes staring over the table at you. “You’re the one that gave him the-”

“No, we aren’t dating,” you dismiss quickly. 

“Does Tomura know that? I’ve never seen him do nice things for anyone else before noon. He's not a morning person.”

He's not a people person any time of day you want to add, but you see her point. 

“I think he knows,” you muse, “I mean, I specifically asked him to pretend to be dating me so there’s no reason for him to think we’re together for real. I think he’s smart enough to know the difference.”

“Oh,” she hums. “Well, for what it’s worth, I think you’d be really cute together.”

After a few glasses of water, some food, and a shower, you’re feeling a lot better. Through your shared wall, you hear Tomura get back to his room. Willing yourself out of bed, you make your way to his door, knocking once before entering as usual. He sees you and panics slightly, trying to hide a large box under his desk.

“I’m not here to make fun of you for buying legos. That’s actually kind of cool,” you say, gesturing to the expensive-looking set under his desk. “I just don’t remember last night and have some questions.”

“Wait,” he rubs the hickey on his neck, “you don’t remember anything?”

“I remember that, don’t worry,” he exhales in relief. “I don’t remember how I got home though, or really anything after we left the bathroom.”

“I took you home,” he states matter of factly.

“How,” you ask, “I could barely even walk.”

“I carried you,” he looks at you like it’s the most obvious thing ever. Looking him over, you’re slightly surprised he managed to lift you at all, let alone get you all the way home and into your bed. You’ve seen the way he moves during missions though. And in spite of how skinny he is, you can see that he’s at least somewhat toned under his clothes. Maybe it’s not that shocking.

“And,” you continue, feeling suddenly self conscious, “did I do anything…stupid?”

He glances to his crotch and back at you, still unsure if you remember everything. 

“I mean after that.”

“No,” he says casually. “Before we left, you told your friends to fuck off and said something to your ex that I couldn’t hear. Whatever it was, he didn’t look too happy about it.”

Oh, just that.

Seeing the mortified look on your face, he adds, “they deserved it though, they were being assholes.”

“Got it,” you say quickly, dreading the moment your phone turns on filled with messages from them. He has a point though. In the first good decision you’ve made all in a while, you decide you’ll just block them and move on. Maybe it's the exhaustion talking but none of it feels worth it anymore. After the week you’ve had it feels like a massive weight off your shoulders. You sit on Shigaraki’s bed, burying your face in your hands. You're oddly comfortable in his room, even if it is messy. It’s a feeling you never noticed yourself having before; being here with him and not wanting to be anywhere else.

“Thanks,” you look up to smile awkwardly at him, “I feel like I owe you.”

“For walking you home?” he scoffs, “how else would you have gotten here?”

“I mean, for everything.” 

“Oh, it’s not a big deal,” he grumbles.

“It is for me,” you say, noticing the way his cheeks flush as he stares down at his hands. “Come here.”

Hesitantly, he moves onto the bed next to you. His big red eyes widen as you take your shorts off and climb onto his lap. Grinding against him, you feel him harden in his sweatpants almost instantly. His hands come to your hips, pinky and ring fingers held up as he grips the side of your underwear. He looks even prettier than usual at this angle. The hair falling in front of his face frames the bottom of his nose and mouth. 

You’ve been pretty worked up this week, especially with everything you’ve done with Tomura, so it doesn’t take long before you’re close. Grabbing his shirt you pull yourself into him harder to increase the friction. It works. You softly gasp in his ear, finding that he was very close as well. His fingers dig into your skin as he groans, biting your shoulder. Eyes still clenched shut, he wraps his arms around you to steady himself.

A wet spot forms at the top of his pants as he catches his breath.

That’s okay.

You shove him back onto the blankets. Through heavy-lidded eyes, he watches as you slide your damp underwear off, throwing them on the floor nearby. His arms lay limply over his head as you climb over him, pressing each of his wrists into the bed.

Once more, his breathing quickens when he realizes you’re hovering over his face. It’s cute watching him get so worked up over you.

Smoothly, you lower to sit on his face, noticing that even the dry parts of his skin feel soft against you. He lets out a muffled whine. His chapped lips open, tongue desperately exploring wherever he can reach. It’s sloppy, but that doesn’t matter. This is what you've wanted all week and you're finally getting it: Tomura a bumbling mess under you, working hard to get you off. You find a tempo that works for you as you take the friction you can get from his face. 

The wet sound of you sliding over him and your moans fill the room, punctured occasionally by his stifled gasps. You’d be more self conscious of the pornographic noises that you know can be heard from the hall, but you’re too busy chasing your own high for the first time all week. Everyone in the league knows what you're doing by now anyways.

Angling forward, you rut over him a few more times before pressing hard against his mouth. His tongue dips into you, teeth nudging your clit. Everything that’s built up all week comes out at once, feeling like fire coursing through your veins. You feel his lips grow more slick against you as you ride out your orgasm on him. You gushing over his face pushes him over the edge too, hips stuttering behind you as he whimpers into your lips.

As you climb off his bed to go get cleaned up, you admire your work. His face is drenched with you, still-tented sweatpants wet with his own cum, and he looks like he’s about to pass out from exhaustion. He really is pretty like this.

For the first time, you find yourself wanting to stay.

next - series masterlist - bnha masterlist

taglist: @shigarakislaughter @kalulakunundrum @jimabbenamara @aryuunachigiri

@badbclub (threw you in here too after i saw your post!)

[utilitycaster]

while reading sone c3 meta i realized c3 defenders are as incurious about the world as bells hells. not to say read/watch the lore but they could do some research. the biggest thing rightniw is the calamity is a family scabble on exandria but i never see them acknowledging why the gods are fighting. or that the gods always chose each other which is so wrong. calamity is because the gods dont chose each other, they chose mortals. the entire fight is to save mortals and at the end they saved 1/3 of mortals vs the total wipeout that could have happened. im reminded that in a world with living gods bells hells didnt even know their names or what they were like. i can see why this party resonates with the incurios.

So on the one hand I would say that the Prime vs. Betrayer fight is complicated, because the motivations that lead to it are them torn between what they want and their refusal leave or kill each other. The Schism happens because the Betrayers want to leave, but won't leave without the Primes, and the Primes don't want to leave and want to help mortals against the titans. The Calamity happens at least in part because the Betrayers want to kill the mortals, which in turn is at least in part motivated by the fact that they see the mortals as coming between them and the Primes. The Primes meanwhile do want to prevent the Betrayers from killing the mortals, and as we've seen, make an effort to spare noncombatant mortals (an effort which in Divergence largely succeeds, and Downfall fails), but are unwilling to kill the Betrayers and instead seal them both times.

However, the larger point, both that Bells Hells are exceptionally ignorant of religious knowledge and history in Exandria and make little effort to rectify this or even acknowledge that they don't know much, and that many of their loudest fans are incurious as well, is true. The thing that actually strikes me is that, given that of the Predathos options that did not involve either a simple defeat of those trying to unleash it or a simple unleashing and destruction of the gods, both involved the Luxon, there was a profound not just lack of curiosity, but dismissiveness of Ashton learning about the beacon earlier in the campaign by their alleged fans. Whether or not you liked it, the potion of possibility and beacon in their head, more so than the shard, was the culmination of their arc and absolutely plot crucial - and it was not uncommon earlier in the campaign for people to be like "who CARES, fuck Essek, let's go to the Hishari." When, in the end, the shard served more as an interesting mechanical bonus, an opportunity for some of the best roleplay of the game that was then mostly abandoned, and an excuse to go to the Shattered Teeth; the role of the titans was ultimately only something to bring up in fruitless arguments and justify dickish behavior. Even more so than the ignorance of Exandrian lore that I saw with some frequency, that stands out to me: even within the campaign they purported to love, they didn't care about exploring something that might gently brush up against Campaign 2. It's a real cutting off one's nose to spite one's face, and it made them look stupid, and Bells Hells felt similar: they did not want to find out information that might show them to be wrong, or show people whom they disliked to be right.

This incuriosity is still alive and well:

This is probably a vague of this post by me - but that post, I should note, came from me checking something in the transcript:

The fans of Campaign 3 don't even care enough about the campaign and party they are expending so much energy to defend, to engage with the questions the characters thereof are thinking about. They're willing to throw Dorian under the bus in a failed attempt to win an argument. Dorian cares about this, actually, is the thing, and he's mostly brushed off, and even if Bells Hells had said "oh damn you're right", my point is not "why doesn't Bells Hells care" so much as "framing this as the merciful option is again a very self-centered perspective, rather like how donating your impulse purchase fast fashion clothing still often puts it in a landfill, but there's a middleman that lets you pretend you're doing the more eco-conscious option."

And yes, it is similar to how Bells Hells, as the party of Campaign 3, didn't care enough about the people and world they claimed to speak for to learn about it. Recall how many NPCs told Ashton that the titans were dead? I think a fair interpretation is that party didn't want to talk to people because they might have told them something that challenged their limited worldview and required they change, grow, and empathize with others.

There's a line from I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings: "[My mother] said I must always be intolerant of ignorance but understanding of illiteracy," with the implication that there is a difference between a lack of knowledge that comes from lack of opportunity, vs. lack of knowledge that comes from not caring. And that's the thing. If a fan doesn't know all the lore, or even gets something wrong in good faith? That's fine! There's a lot, and if people don't know every detail of the history of the Calamity that's not a failure on their part, particularly if they acknowledge that they might be missing some information and are still learning. But if someone looks at the story, and looks at the questions within it - in some cases, questions directly stated by the characters within it - and says "who cares?" that's incuriosity. It's not a lack of knowledge; it's a disinterest in gaining it, and a lot of fans of C3 are not just incurious but openly proud of it.

[pasukiyo]

I BLINKED AND SUDDENLY...

remus lupin x female!reader word count: 2,231 synopsis: insecurity kindles like a burning reminder across remus's cheeks. she deserves more than cheap flowers and a poorly-wrapped blind date with a book, but just when he begins to feel sorry for himself and makes to turn around and go back home, she catches his eye through the bookshop window. and he knows he's screwed. caught like a fish on a hook, she reels him in, and all he can do is pray that this valentine's day will be different from the rest.

…i had a valentine!

 He thinks the tips of his ears are red. 

 In a desperate attempt to hide them, Remus sifts his fingers through his hair, tugging at the strands until they cover the tips of his ears but when he blinks up at his reflection in the bookshop window, he realizes how ridiculous he looks. A curse tumbles from his lips and he shakes his head around, combing his fingers back through his tresses, hoping his hair will fall back into place in the wake. 

 Maybe he can blame it on the cold. 

 The wind is a bit nippy today after all, and he’s walked at least a couple of miles between his flat, to the florist, then back to his flat when he realized he forgot to grab her damn gift, all the way to the bookshop he stands in front of now. He hopes she can’t see him now, ruffling his hair, trying to quell the scarlet that’s bloomed across his face. 

 He feels perspiration gather along his hairline and he sighs, wiping at his forehead with the sleeve of his coat. Maybe this is stupid, he thinks to himself, peering down at the bouquet and wrapped book in his hands. He’d spent quite a lot of time picking each of these things out for her— trying to figure out her favorite color and flowers, figuring out ways to subtly ask about the books she’s read to get a better idea of her preferences while simultaneously figuring out what books she hasn’t read yet. He’s seen enough photos on Pinterest and Instagram of blind date with a books to understand the concept but he fears he doesn’t project that well— his scrappy packaging and hasty handwriting is enough to make him suddenly want to throw everything away and make the trek home to crawl in bed and sulk for the next two to three years. 

 He thinks that’s what he’ll do— a spider of shame crawls from his ears, to his cheeks, down along the column of his neck when he peers down at the gifts he’d prepared. This isn’t enough for her, he thinks. She deserves more than flowers from one of the cheapest florists he could find in the city and a book she may or may not have already potentially read, packaged in probably the shittiest wrapping job that even children wouldn’t be entirely thrilled to open on Christmas morning. 

 A wave of nausea suddenly rumbles through the pit of Remus’s stomach and he thinks he should go now before he really embarrasses himself and blows the chunks of that piece of untopped toast he scarfed down this morning. He’s about to make a break for it when suddenly he sees her, through the window of the bookshop, guiding an older man to a bookshelf. 

 And he’s fucked. 

 Remus is entranced, his feet stuck on the pavement below him as he simply watches, watches the way she speaks with her hands and even through the glass, he can see how bright her eyes shine, gleaming with passion for whatever book she must be referring the customer to. He watches the way she listens as the older man speaks, eyes transfixed, head nodding as she soaks in every word, happy to offer whatever help she can. 

 She’s so… kind. And that’s just the simple way of putting it. She’s passionate, charismatic, she’s every guy like Remus’s dream: she works at a bookshop, she likes coffee and tea, she enjoys the classics, she listens to good music, she eats avocado on her toast, she’s even in a book club! 

 She speaks about her interests with a fervor that’s hard to come by these days and she meets others’ interests with an equal amount, even if it’s something she doesn’t normally find all too intriguing. She always seems to have her special way to make people feel comfortable and despite how incredibly cheesy Remus thinks it sounds, she’s always been capable of brightening even the darkest of rooms. 

 Remus truly believes that if the sun were to vanish, she’d be enough to even put the stars to shame. 

 It’s in Remus’s trance that she notices him standing by outside the window and her face splits in a grin, so natural that he doesn’t even initially notice it’s for him. Her mouth forms his name and that’s when he realizes: oh. 

 He’s screwed now. 

 She gestures with a hand for him to come in and it’s like it’s in his program to be incapable of resisting her, because his feet practically move on autopilot, straight through the entrance of her bookshop. 

 “Remus!” She exclaims when he enters and her voice, god, her voice feels like the breath of a fireplace along his skin in the coldest of winters and he’s suddenly made aware, again, of just how red the tips of his ears are as warmth spreads across his face. 

 His heart leaps against his chest and he doesn’t know how he was able to even muster a coherent sentence, but he greets her back, albeit, rather meekly. Her smile widens and Remus thinks that the world has stopped spinning because he swears nothing moves around them when she does it, when she looks at him like that. 

 “Quite a gloomy day for what’s supposed to be one of the happiest days of the year, don’t you think?” He hears her say and he clears his throat, hoping it will snap him out of his stupor. 

 Get it together, he hisses at himself. Rotting in bed, whether you like it or not, is not a fruitful way to live out the rest of your days. 

 He turns to peer out the window. It was a rather drab and gray day, he concurs, and the wind came with a harsh chill. The conditions were certainly less than ideal, what with all the running around he’s done throughout the day. 

 “Yes,” he manages, a little awkwardly as he turns back to face her. When he does, he finds she’s eyeing the items he’s since forgotten he was even holding and suddenly, he thinks he’ll melt into a puddle of magma right then and there. 

 That, or he’ll just turn and run away until his legs can’t hold his weight anymore. 

 “How cute!” She says, nodding down at the bouquet and book. “Did you make a blind date with a book for your girlfriend?”

 Remus blinks, a little surprised. She thought he already had a girlfriend? He wonders if he should take this as a sign that maybe she didn’t feel the same way— she thinks he’s taken, after all. Is she not interested in him after all? Was he wrong to suppose that maybe she’d even give him a chance?

 His mouth opens and closes, trying and failing to give her a coherent reply, an elongated ‘uh’ emitting instead, a little dumbly. She simply blinks at him, waiting for him to reply, perhaps a little less enthusiastic than before but Remus assumes it’s because of how incredibly awkward he’s acting. 

 He presses his lips together and closes his eyes, tightening his fists around the gifts, and breathes. He’s tired of embarrassing himself, of being so incredibly self-conscious and timid that it prevents him from simply talking to someone, from making friends, from telling her how he feels. This is far from the first time he’s spoken to her and he should know by not that she’s not the kind of person to make him feel bad, whether or not she accepts or rejects him. 

 And he’s put so much thought into this. That’s got to account for something, right? Never mind how bad his handwriting or wrapping skills are or how cheap these damn flowers are— he should know by now that she’s the kind of person to value intent over expense. 

 So, he sucks in another deep breath, shakes the warmth away from his cheeks (to the best of his ability), and he takes his shot. 

 “Actually, these are for you,” he says, daring a step forward, extending his arms to present her with the gifts. She blinks down at them, eyes rounding in surprise. Remus shakes away that nagging sense of insecurity and continues. “You know, I’ve been coming here for quite awhile and you’ve always… you’ve always been so nice and I just thought… I’ve always just thought that you’re so… beautiful and I…”

 He trails off, heart pounding against his chest when she glances up at him again, meeting his eye. Her gaze is so bewitching, so heavenly, he thinks she must’ve been crafted by the gods and goddesses above, sent down to Earth solely to catch him like a fish on a hook and keep him here, enthralled by her forever. A single look from her is enough to make him want to sink to his knees and pray for just an ounce of worthiness so that he could merely be around her for even just a minute. 

 He’s completely trapped now and even though he knows she’s the kind of person who would make rejection still feel nice, he thinks he’d die right then and there on the spot if she were to refuse him, if she were to say she’s not interested, if she says there’s already someone else. 

 “…I know you said you liked these flowers so I hope you like them, sorry they’re a little… windblown,” he titters nervously as he hands them to her. “I’ve been running around incessantly all morning.”

 She takes them from him cautiously, a furrow in her brow as she brings them closer to her nose, taking in their scent. 

 “And I… I really hope you don’t already have this one,” he says, handing her the wrapped book, a little hesitantly. “I tried to find one I was sure you haven’t read. And, uh, sorry for the, uh… well,” he gestures to the pisspour wrapping skills and not to his surprise, she laughs but much to his surprise, it’s more amused than anything. 

 “‘Dark Academia, whimsical, secret societies?’” She reads his handwriting scribbled across the brown packaging  “Remus, this is…” she trails off and for a moment, Remus’s stomach sinks and he really feels like he’s another to blow chunks of toast all over the place. 

 Just then, her face splits into the most marvelous smile he thinks he’s ever laid eyes on, the entire universe put to shame by this girl, this beautiful, enchanting girl. And that smile is all for him. 

 “…this is the most thoughtful gift anyone’s ever given me, I think,” she continues with a breathy laugh, curling her fingers around the ends of the wrapping paper. “You don’t mind if I…?”

 “No, go ahead,” Remus says with a breathy laugh of his own. He watched as she tears through the paper, pulling the paperback out of the wrappings, her face— if it was at all possible— glowing brighter than he’s ever seen it before. 

 “The Starless Sea?” She says in more of a shriek, meeting his gaze again as she hugs the book to her chest. “I’ve been meaning to pick this one up for ages! How did you know?”

 He didn’t, but he’s more than relieved to have been the cause of that devastatingly pretty look upon her face now. 

 “You recommended The Secret History by Donna Tartt that one time to me a few months back and told me about how much you loved it,” he replies, resting his elbows on the counter, a newfound air of ease around him. “It was amazing, by the way. I immediately began searching for books like it. I’d hoped you hadn’t gotten to this one yet.”

 He thinks her eyes are beginning to gloss over and he blinks, dipping his brow, afraid she might cry for a moment. He yearns to see that smile of hers again, but before he can ask her what the matter is, she circles around the counter and practically leaps at him, locking her arms around his neck in a hug that he nearly recoils from out of instinct. It’s so shocking— being so close to her all at once, to be touching her and for her to be the one initiating but he breaks himself out of his stupor again, resting his hands on the small of her back, afraid to lose her touch once he has it. 

 After a moment, she pulls away just enough to peer up at him and Remus thinks that even if she were to reject him now, it would’ve all been worth it just for her to look at him the way she does now. He feels his lip tremble as she brings a hand up to his hair, the tips of her fingers brushing against the tips of his ears. 

 “Your ears are red,” she notes and he screws his lips together, swallowing down the boulder-sized lump at the base of his throat. She laughs and for a moment, a silence falls and he doesn’t realize she’s blinking up at him expectantly until she breaks it. “Aren’t you supposed to say, ‘will you be my Valentine?’”

 Remus blinks back at her, feeling the corners of his mouth twitch but he doesn’t muster the courage to repeat it. She grins again, her warm knuckles dragging along his cheek. 

 “Because my answer is undoubtedly yes.”

a/n: FINALLY GOT AROUND TO WRITING A VALENTINE'S DAY FIC THIS YEAR! i hope you all enjoy! wrote this all in one sitting so not sure of its quality... but nevertheless, i hope you enjoy shy, fluffy remus <3

💌 if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging or even leaving a reply to let me know! it would be such a great valentine's day gift 🥰🫶

TAGLIST!

@pinktree

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@strangerfromketterdam

@burns-in-the-sun

@cancelledkaley

@d3adp00ls

@all-in-the-fandoms

[little-glitter-kitten]

I Think The Apple's Rotten Right To The Core Pt 6

Prologue: As your brother, Caleb always took great pride in the fact that he was always the first to notice the little things when it came to you. When you were hurt, when you were sick, when you were lying or keeping a secret. What will Caleb do when he notices just how much his precious little adopted sister has grown? Can he fight the filthy, rotten feelings threatening to ruin all he holds dear?

(Caleb x Reader, no use of 'Y/N, AFAB reader, size difference.)

TW: Pseudo-incest, dub-con, somnophilia, sexting, semi-public sex,  possessive Caleb, Obsessed Caleb, Yandere Caleb.

YOUR POV:

You sit at the dinner table, trying your best to make conversation with your Grandmother while studiously avoiding Caleb's eyes.

You swear you could feel every time his gaze landed on you, the weight of it feeling almost as heavy as a physical touch. Your breath would catch in your throat whenever your eyes locked and you were beginning to grow frustrated.

You were more than frustrated, actually.

After Caleb left your bedrooom and went to help set the table like nothing had even happened, you spent the next five minutes wiping the traces of his cum off of you. You didn't even have enough time to bring yourself to orgasm before Grandma was calling for you to come downstairs and eat.

To say that you were pent up was an understatement.

Caleb was busy telling your Grandma about his old high school friends while you pushed your salad around your plate and tried not to sulk.

"...they split a few years ago and went their seperate ways. Last I heard, she was back in her parents house and unemployed but he met someone else and is now engaged." He told them.

"At least he got his happy ending, though." You said nonchalantly, stabbing a piece of lettuce with more force than was necessary. "Too bad about her."

You felt his eyes snap back to you and you swear you could feel your body grow heavier under Calebs intense scrutiny. You risked a glance up to see him looking at you, rubbing his chin as though pondering something.

"Well, maybe, if she wasn't so intent on playing the victim card, she would realise that good things..." You felt his foot slide up you leg under the table. "...come to those who wait."

Just as suddenly as it appeared, his foot was gone and Caleb had risen from his chair to take his dishes to the sink. Leaving you to sit and stew in your rapidly swirling thoughts.

After dinner, the three of you had retired to the living room. Grandma and Caleb sat at opposite ends of the three-seater while you occupied the wingback chair that sat perpendicular to the couch. It was known as your chair and no one would dare sit in it while you were home.

Relaxing into the seat, you mindlessly scrolled on your phone as Grandma continued her latest knitting project and Caleb lay back on the sofa, watching the TV.

Though the room was filled with a comfortable silence, you were anything but comfortable. You were using your phone as a way to distract yourself from the man sitting right 6 feet away from you, who seemed to be completely unaffected.

Just as you were beginning to feel your nerves settle, your phone vibrated in your hand, a drop-down notification appearing and informing you of a text from Caleb.

You steal a glance at him, his eyes focused on the TV but his phone sat in front of him, face down on the couch. Looking back down at your phone, you begin to read.

Caleb: 'Is my sweet, little pipsqueak sulking the corner?  ( •̯́ ^ •̯̀)'

You ignore him and continue scrolling but it wasn't long before you see another text appear.

Caleb: 'I can see you've read my message. Giving me the silent treatment, pipsqueak?'

You knew it was incredibly immature of you but you knew how much he hated being ignored. Looking up at him, you find his gaze already on you. With a bored expression on your face, you lock your phone screen and place it on the chair in front of you before turning your attention to the television.

Very quickly, you felt your phone buzz once...then twice....then three times.

Looking over, you see him typing furiously, his brow furrowed in a mix on concentration and...anger?

Feeling like you may have pushed him to far, you pick up your phone and read the messages.

Caleb: 'Is this because we didn't get time for you to have your fun?'

Caleb: 'Because, it sounds like you had plenty of fun last night... I heard you taking care of yourself after I left the room. How many times did you come? I counted at least 6. Well...from what I could hear from your bedroom door, anyway.'

Caleb: 'You always were a brat when you didn't get your way.'

You couldn't help the audible scoff that escaped your mouth. The nickname 'brat' was always his go to when he was upset with you.

Beginning to feel pins and needles, you uncrossed your legs to give them a stretch before crossing them again. Risking a glance at Caleb, you blanched. The tips of his ears were bright red, the creases between his eyebrows becoming more pronounced and the veins in his neck standing out.

Is he really that angry from a bit of silent treatment?

Caleb: 'Did you seriously just flash me after ignoring me, pipsqueak?'

As much as you wanted to reply and deny it, you were too stubborn to concede defeat and stop the silent treatment. You sat, watching Caleb's typing bubble appear, holding your breath.

Caleb: 'You little cocktease! If you know what's good for you, you will lock your door tonight and pray to God I don't get in.'