#when i tell you im perpetually watching it

[thoughts-of-the-unheard]

my neighbors hearing me sing the same couple of lines of the same couple of songs every couple of hours because i am perpetually watching lockwood and co

[razrbladekiss]

MAPLE HAZEL | Joel Miller — Part Three

SUMMARY: joel’s misery is palpable. you’re oblivious to it. until you’re not.

PAIRING: no outbreak!joel miller x afab!reader

WORD COUNT: 5.9k, you are welcum.

WARNINGS: angst. reader is an eagles fan (do NOT come for me, they are my boys. go birds 🦅). F L U F F. mentions of reader’s dad. tommy and joel are jerks, but joel redeems himself. tommy can suck a fat one. i kidddd <3 this is probably the angst-iest this story’ll get because im addicted to the fluff so. enjoy. 🤞🏼 not proof read or edited, i cannot be fucked for that.

TAGS: if you would like to be added for future installments, then let me know besties!! if i’ve forgotten anyone that’s asked to get added, then please slap me. @millersleee @goodvibesonly421 @j0elmlllers @scorpio-echo

SERIES MASTERLIST

Joel’s hands seize the steering wheel of his truck—the same one that’s presently stationed on your driveway—knuckles turning sheet white for the hold that he has is completely unforgiving. And sore.

He’s irascible. Livid. His anger is sheathed by shame and hatred for himself as the way that he conducted himself this morning was unseemly. Even for Joel, it was appalling. And though you didn’t appear to have any reservations, he knew that he bothered you. Your face didn’t allude to irritation, nor did your tone or mannerisms, but Joel was more than conscious of your internal hurt.

He just knows you that well.

But now he’s sitting—legs numb and cheeks charring red—striving to conjure up an apology that’ll help to shirk any ill-feeling that you may have toward him. Because he was a fucking jerk this morning.

And it was all because of an Eagles sweater, believe it or not.

9.42 AM

Birch Grove is bustling. It's considerably brighter, this morning. The doom and gloom that enveloped your small town yesterday has now dissipated, leaving nothing but small puddles of rainwater and grit in its wake, and it’s beautiful. A sight to behold when you’re leaving your house today.

You avoid the wetness on the road—hoping not to muddy your shoes—and bounce onto the sidewalk, admiring the oil slick that blankets damp gravel on your way over to Joel’s. You swear that there’s a divot in the concrete that holds semblance to a heart, but you’re not sure if that’s just a delusion from lack of sleep or some sort of sign from the universe telling you that perhaps it’s time to find a significant other.

Nonetheless, you take in the scene. How yesterday—in the midst of a storm—not a single body littered the crosswalk, therefore leaving Joel’s little coffee shop completely empty. But today—now that the air has cleared and rain almost dried up—it’s like nothing had even happened, and the entire town is out in force. Like they always should be.

Joel watches in awe as you make tracks across the street toward the cafe—wondering how he ever deserved such a buoyant presence like you in his life despite the fact that he’s a perpetually miserable middle-aged man—and busies himself so you don’t think he’s been ogling you this entire time.

But then the bell rings, Joel’s eyes flick up—against his own will—and you bound over the threshold with the biggest smile. He swallows extremely thickly.

“Good morning.” You say, as happy as ever—clearly on a high from your not-date—and pad through the room toward him. “Can I please have a—“

“You’re late.” 

One of your perfectly tweezed brows raises. 

“For work.” He elaborates. Joel clears his throat. “You’re late for work.”

“I got the day off.” You remind him. He vaguely remembers you saying something about this elusive break on Monday, but was honestly too distracted by his brother attempting to use the coffee machine. 

Joel nods, taking your favorite mug off of the shelf. You smile at the sentiment. 

“Ah, you’re going shopping. Right?”

You nod. Your stomach gurgles when your eyes satisfy the gaze of a perfectly plump cinnamon roll. Not too thick, not too over-done, and the right bun to icing ratio. It’s sitting—alone—in one of the little cake cases.

“I am.” You reply, taking the glass dome off of the top. Like last time, you swipe the sweet treat right from underneath Joel’s nose. Only, today, you slide two dollars across so he can’t complain. 

But he wouldn’t anyway. Not today. Because he admires the fact that you’re ungovernable, while simultaneously respecting him. To an extent, anyway. 

“I can get you some fall decor.”

“No—“

“He needs to spruce this place up.”

His eyes roll when he’s pouring the frothed milk atop your latte, hardly going unnoticed by his larger-than-life, sometimes a bit too overbearing brother. 

Tommy acknowledges you by saying your name, and you grin back at him. It’s nice to see one of the Miller’s with anything but a stoic expression slapped against those rough, rugged features. Though there’s something about Joel’s that seems rather superficial. 

Despite being perennial at times, you feel as though you’ve cracked through his tough exterior and. You’re certainly able to decipher between his real and mock revulsion. Last night was the first time that Joel’s guard had truly been down, and it was wonderful. 

“Get him some pumpkins. A wreath—“

“I don’t need no pumpkins. And what the hell is a wreath?”

The youngest brother pulls a stool out next to you, and bumps your shoulder as he sits. He looks at you as if to say get a load of this guy, and you laugh. Joel passes you your latte, and you think that you see a hint of a smile tugging at those plush lips. But you won’t swear to it. 

“A wreath is what Mrs. McKlaren has on her front door for each season.”

“Yeah.” Tommy chimes in. He pulls one of the Birch Grove Gazettes from the pile beside the cake case, and opens it up. “But you knew that. You’re just playin’ dumb in front of—“

You elbow him. “Quit teasin’.” Further defending your friend, you say; “it’s not his fault if he’s not too polished up on the names of things. He’s not pussy-whipped like you are, Tom.”

Joel chuckles at that comment, thanking you with a nod. A man of few words, though you get him. Down to a fine art. 

“True.” He flicks through a few pages, before he’s turning to you with a grimace when you take off your jacket to reveal one of your dad’s old Eagles sweaters. “Oh, God no.”

You frown, putting it to sit on the seat next to you. 

It’s common knowledge around these parts that there are two teams, and two teams only that it’s acceptable to support. Unless you’re flaunting the badge of the Texans or Dallas Cowboys, then you’re basically committing a federal crime.  And the men of Birch Grove take this very, very seriously. 

“Joel. I know you’re friends with this broad—“

“Watch your mouth.” He grumbles, appearing from the kitchen. He has his head down, hands full of cutlery. 

“Sorry.” Tommy says oh so quietly. “But—but look. She’s wearing the mark of the devil.”

Your eyes are rolling so hard you fear that they’ll roll straight from their sockets and into your coffee. You just know that beneath the green flannel, Joel is donning an Aikman jersey.

“That’s so dramatic.” Arms are being folded over as you speak, and he still hasn’t looked in your direction. “It’s just a football team—“

“Woah.” The two Millers harmonize. Joel eyes you directly and turns his nose up as soon as he heeds the shade of green that should be classed as blasphemy, not midnight.  

He didn’t know that you liked them. Tess liked them, too. But you know that. You’re not fucking stupid. 

And perhaps she might’ve aided the disgust that percolates through Joel whenever he hears someone utter the name Brian Dawkins, but he can’t help associating them with her. That same way he thinks of her whenever Fall rolls around, or whenever you step into his little cafe. 

He has such strong feelings for you, but needs to put them aside. He needs to bury them deep for fear of the past repeating itself because he isn’t sure if he can go through that again. His guard goes up, and eyes go down. He busies himself with cleaning. 

“Sacrilege.” Tommy spits. “It’s not just a football team, woman. It’s Irreverent. To come in here and wear that is absolutely ridiculous.”

Your jaw rolls and you look down at the faded logo. 

“I respect that you root for the birds, I do. It must be hard to support such a shit team—“

“Language.” Joel scolds, a little heated. “But, I agree. Can’t go wearin’ that ‘round these parts. It’s almost as bad as you comin’ in here wearing a Steelers jersey.”

Tommy grimaces. It’s not quite as bad, but it certainly sucks. 

But, to you, what sucks is the fact that these men—grown fucking men—are chewing you out over a sweater. It’s child’s play. 

“They’re not a shitty team. They’re great.” You defend your guys, watching Joel try to control the bitterness threatening to bust right out of his lips. “I’ve always loved them. My dad is from Philly—“

“Explains why you have such crappy taste.”

You blink at Tommy. 

“Anyway.” You clear your throat. “I’ll always root for the birds, because they’re my favorites. I also, believe it or not, enjoy the Cowboys when they play at home, or against the Giants. It’s patriotic. But they are a pretty shitty team—“

“No, they ain’t.”

“They are.” You uphold, making direct eye contact with the youngest sibling. “Remind me, when was the last time they went to the Superbowl?”

Tommy’s jaw rolls, and Joel can feel himself slipping. 

“Ninety-five.” Begrudgingly, he says. “But that don’t mean shit—“

“Kinda does.” 

“No it don’t.” He growls. “When was the last time those damn birds won the big game, huh?”

Without missing a beat, you say; “twenty-eighteen. They beat the Patriots by eight points, Brady sucked and Foles was the MVP. I tailgated at the stadium with my dad and uncle—“

“In Minnesota?”

“Yessir.” You tell Tommy before taking the last sip of your—now lukewarm—coffee. “I’ll also be heading to Philly to see the Eagles v Steelers game.”

Joel scoffs. 

“Got somethin’ to say, old timer?”

He grinds his lips together before saying; “just baffles me s’all. Don’t get how someone—Dallas born ‘n raised—can root for a team from Philadelphia.”

“Just the way it goes. But I did say that I enjoy them from time to time.”

“Shouldn’t be that way.” Tommy interjects. “Texans are meant to support Texan-made teams all the time. Not fuckin’—“

“Tommy.” Joel gestures to the customers, scolding him again for his crudeness. 

You pull cash from your purse while the two of them bicker, putting atop the counter before Joel can even refuse. You shrug on your jacket, too, promptly doing up the buttons so the tension can dissipate a little. But it doesn’t. 

“I’m not arguing with you two morons over football any longer.” A little meaner than intended, you tell the two of them. You turn to Joel, brows furrowing. “And I know why you despise the Eagles; I’m not an idiot. I saw her walking ‘round the place with her scarves in the winter, ‘n the occasional jersey on football Sundays.”

Tommy looks between the two of you, sensing some friction. 

“Don’t project Tess’s shit onto me, Joel.” Blunt, you say. “I’m sorry that I was the reason for her leaving, but it ain’t my fault we have the same interests. You can’t pussyfoot around forever, and I don’t appreciate gettin’ admonished for a fucking football sweatshirt.”

“Don’t.” He warns, wrenching a dish rag between calloused fingertips. He knew that last night’s conversation was deep-rooted in something more than just you being curious. “I’m not pussyfootin’ ‘round. I just don’t wanna talk about her.”

“I know.” You say—realizing that you were a little too hot off the mark—but you don’t feel sorry. “But there’ll always be people who like the same things that she did, or say the same things, or remind you of her.”

He looks at you. He knows what you mean. He knows that you know that—in some kind of way—you make Joel think of her. You’re so strong, like Tess. So outspoken, exactly like her. But you’re caring and kind, and don’t get jealous over the slightest little things, and you let him speak. 

You let him tell you about his troubles, not that he shares too much. And you’re not pushy. But now, it feels like you’re being exactly that. 

“I’m sorry that my mere presence as a Goddamn Eagles fan pisses you off, Joel, but I’m not going to be able to change that. You’ll just have to try and detach those memories—“

The dishrag is being hurled onto the bar along with his fists. “I’m not gonna detach those memories! I ain’t gonna forget her just ‘cus you think you know me and my relationship with that woman so well! You don’t know shit. All you do is come in here ‘n drink coffee, rant about crap that nobody cares about, make me listen to your stupid fuckin’ problems—and I’m sick of it!”

You blink back tears as you stare at him, for the volume is intimidating and completely unwavering. You’ve never been yelled at before—in front of customers, by Joel—and you want to be sick. Everyone is staring. Some people are even leaving. 

Has he always felt this way? You wonder. Has Joel always thought that your ramblings are pointless, and that your issues are facetious? You’re sure that he’s just spewing nonsense at this point, but it still stings. 

“Joel—“

“Get out.” He looks down, hands gripping tightly the wooden countertop. He refuses eye contact. 

Tommy gives you a weak smile, immediately regretting setting foot into Joel’s this morning. Quite like you, really. 

“I’m really sorry for bringing her up, Joel, I know how—“

“Go.” His eyes lift to satisfy your gaze, hurt written over his features. “Please…Just leave.”

“Okay.” You nod, lifting your purse from the stool. It’s a quick bye to Tommy that has those damn tears spilling as you walk to your car, not even looking back to wave or smile at your friend like you usually do. 

You fear that this’ll change the trajectory of your relationship with Joel. And his brother knows that. 

He knows that if he doesn’t say something—at this point, anything—then Joel will just let this sit and fester, and become something that it has absolutely no business being. 

His brother knows that you’re the only constant in his life—aside from family—and if he lets you go, then he’ll be considerably more bleak. He’ll have his patrons to keep him company, but he won’t have you. The girl that has—unbeknownst to her—given Joel something to look forward to every day. 

The girl that Joel can’t help thinking of, or talking about, whenever he gets the chance. And despite not always showing his admiration, he’s besotted with you. Infatuated, perhaps. His fondness so clear that everyone can see it. Everyone, aside from you. 

Especially after that.  

“You’re a fucking jerk.” Tommy chastises. “She shouldn’t have mentioned Tess, but that was horrible—“

“I don’t care.” Through gritted teeth, he tells him. “She took it too far—“

“No, we did.” He admits. “She probably wouldn’t have brought the bitch up if we didn’t tease her for wearing her dad’s fuckin’ sweater.”

Joel swallows the lump in his throat, refusing to admit that Tommy could be right about this. 

“You need’a get a hold of your emotions, brother. Can’t be sendin’ her away like that when we both know you’ve got feelings for her—“

Joel grumbles as he rounds the counter, polishing a few tables in hopes that his sibling will go and leave him to it. But he doesn’t. 

“Can’t let Tess be the reason you two ain’t talkin’. ‘Specially ‘cus she ain’t even in the state anymore.”

Fuck. Off. 

Tommy watches him feign emotion, knowing deep down that his brother wants to beat himself to a pulp because you didn’t deserve any of that. 

“She’s right, y’know?”

“What?” 

Tommy says your name. “She’s right. If you don’t cut ties with the things that remind you of Tess, then you’ll never be happy. Always be comparin’ shit to her, and makin’ yourself miserable. Or miserable-r.”

“That ain’t even a word, dipshit.”

“True, though.” He says. “Joel, you’re so in love with this girl, you can’t let her go over a Goddamn football team—“

“Not in love.”

“Bullshit.” The youngest spits. “You get literal heart eyes whenever you look at her, and don’t even try ‘n deny it ‘cus Maria notices too.”

Joel blinks at him, wondering how he’d been so openly vulnerable. He‘a confused at how he’d unintentionally let his guard down enough to display his feelings. The ones that he wasn’t even certain about. 

“It mightn’t be love, Joel, but you’re mad about this girl.” He says a bit softer. Quieter. “And you can try to put these feelings aside, but what’re you gonna do if she walks in here with another man? Or she goes on more dates and finds the one? You just gonna live with it? Just gonna be jealous and miserable for the rest of your life?”

Joel walks to the café window and just stares for a few moments, secretly hoping to see you stomp across the street to give him a piece of your mind. But you don’t. 

“Think you’ve done enough wallowin’ in the past, don’t you?”

He supposes that he’s right. Joel knows that there’s some truth to what is being said to him, and so he turns the Open sign to Closed, and gestures for Tommy to get the remaining customers to leave. 

“What’re you gonna do?” 

“Make things right.” Joel grabs his jacket from the coat stand beside the door, and throws the shop keys to his brother. “Close up for me, will ‘ya?”

Tommy shakes his head. He gets off of his stool and goes behind the counter, grabbing one of the aprons from the hook beside the kitchen door. 

“Turn the sign back ‘round. You might’ve just lost your most loyal customer, you can’t afford to fuckin’ lose no more.”

Joel just nods. He has no fight left inside of him. He does as told, and storms across the sidewalk to his truck. 

He’s been stationary for the last fuck knows how long, just mentally preparing himself for whatever bullshit will spill from his lips the second he sees you. If you even want to open your door to him. He wouldn’t blame you, if you didn’t. He gave you shit, and kicked you out when you spoke your mind. And the truth. Because, that’s what it was, wasn’t it? As harsh as it might’ve been, it was the truth and it was what he needed to hear. 

It’s been two hours since getting a verbal beat-down and, strangely, he really misses the sound of your voice. The oddly dulcet tone. The sweet, honeyed rhythm that slips from between two of the plushest, softest looking lips he’s ever bared witness to in his entire life. And even though some of the words that fell from them were harsh, he no longer cares. 

If he doesn’t apologize, then he might not get to hear you speak again. And he’ll take several scoldings if it means that he can listen to your beautiful tone. 

Fuck. 

“C’mon, dickhead.” He tells his reflection in the mirror. He eyes himself, wondering whether the hat should stay on or off. Because if he takes it off, then his hair might look bad, but if he keeps it on then you mightn’t be able to take him seriously. 

He’s overthinking it. 

It stays on when he’s lugging his body—warm and palpitating—from the cabin, and onto the gravel of your driveway. He minds the flower beds when his boots hit ground, knowing that he’ll have hell to pay if he crushes your blooms or kicks up any mud.

His breath is hot and heavy. It’s like he’s just ran the Boston fucking marathon, not sit in his truck for the better part of twenty minutes being too much of a pussy to knock at your front door. 

But now he’s strolling to your porch, and can’t put it off any longer. He doesn’t even know if you’re home, but he guesses that you are. The wreath that you got today—golden leaves adorned with acorns and berries—is hanging proudly against the wood that you’ve painted sage. 

He laughs to himself when his hand comes up to knock, number eight. It’s almost comical how the number of your house coalesces with the number of his favorite ex-Cowboys player. But he’s not going to bring that up. Maybe another time. 

Joel takes a few deep breaths, heart only stuttering when he hears your footsteps approaching over the suspended wood flooring. The one that he actually had to help you sand down just eight months ago because you always felt that they looked too dark. Depressing. 

He smiles weakly. It doesn’t last long. When you swing the door open and your face falls, then so does Joel’s. 

“Hi.” He whispers, internally kicking himself for being such a wimp. He clears his throat. “Nice wreath.”

You fight a grin. Your disappointment outweighs any semblance of softness at this very juncture. 

After a few hours of mulling it over—and rage shopping—you’ve come to the conclusion that you were at fault. But Joel certainly didn’t make it any better when he kicked you off the premises after his hurtful monologue. 

“Thanks.” Your cardigan is pulled tightly around your body. Cream always looks so good on you. “Is—uh—is there something that I can help you with?”

Joel looks down for a split second. It feels like forever before he’s looking directly at you again. The thumping inside of his chest hasn’t once subsided since appearing at your street, he’s never felt like this before. At least, he can’t ever remember feeling like this. 

And it’s because of this—feeling—that he’s struggling to extrapolate his inward thoughts. You heed it. You know him like the back of your hand, apparently. His face is sullen—almost remorseful—and eyes hazy. 

Has he been crying? No. He’s probably just really annoyed. He looks like that sometimes when Tommy’s pissed him off, and he needs to vent. 

You shift aside, gesturing for Joel to come in. He hesitates for a moment, before he’s stepping over the threshold and into your beautiful home. The home that presently smells like a mixture of Sandalwood and Lavender, but Neroli and Bergamot in the summer months. 

What the fuck is Bergamot? Why do I know what that smells like?

He takes it in. The subtle scent, the fall decorations that make your cozy home look even more appeasing. It’s cute. It’s put together, clean, and inviting. It’s so you. 

You shut the door behind him when he takes a few paces into the entryway, just watching him. His broad shoulders swathed in soft, green flannel are tipped slightly forward. He’s not holding himself the way that he usually does. 

“Is everything okay, Joel?” You break the silence, shuffling past him through the hallway and to the kitchen. You hear him follow behind. Those heavyset footsteps make your heart ache, for some reason. 

Even by the way he walks—slow, long strides—he seems down. Remorseful, perhaps. And though he doesn’t wear his heart on his sleeve, it’s always easy to tell how he feels. 

“Tea?” You offer without turning around, taking the kettle that’s just come to a boil on the stove. “I have chamomile, green, or English.”

“No coffee?” Your head shakes, pulling two mugs from the small shelf above the counter. Joel sits at your kitchen island. “How come?”

Two English teabags are being lifted from the carton—he didn’t specify, you just guess—and plopped into ceramic. 

“I don’t make my own coffee. Don’t taste the same when I do.”

His heart aches. After skipping a beat, of course. He takes a seat at your kitchen island, watching you potter around, clearly not prepared for a guest. 

“Tea is a little more warming, anyway.” You gesture for the sugar and he shakes his head. “Don’t enjoy coffee when I’m on my own. Only when I’m with someone.”

“That why you always come to see me in the mornin’?”

Faintly, you smile. Your head bobs a little bit, hanging low. 

He says your name. You look at him. “Y’know, if you ever want a coffee outta hours, I’m usually at home. You can come ‘round, if you wanna.”

That strange gnawing sensation returns beside a debilitating thumping. He feels the same, but you don’t know that. 

“Same here.” A weak smile tugs at the corners of your lips and you bring Joel his tea. The white ceramic is festooned with acorns and leaves, and he swears that you’ve just given him one of your best mugs. 

You sip quietly your warm beverage, standing opposite to where he sits in an uncomfortable silence. A lull that neither of you realize lasts an entire minute before you’re clearing your throat, and Joel is still trying to find his words. 

“Listen.” He sets down the tea—the best he’s ever had—and shifts a little bit. Joel tries to avoid eye contact with you, but understands that this is one of the times that he needs to show you just how important this is. It’s not just a casual conversation at the coffee house, anymore. 

You’re facing him fully, now. Eyes wide, lips parted a little bit. 

“I’m really sorry about earlier.” His tone is honest, wreathed with a hint of genuine sadness. “I had no business being such a jerkoff to you, kid. I said some hurtful shit, and I let my mouth get away from me.”

“You were a total dick, Joel.” 

He nods. “I know.”

“And I know that I never shoulda brought her up, but I didn’t think you’d yell at me. In front of everyone.”

He starts to cringe as he remembers what he said. How he said those horrible things. You’re such a sweet girl, he can’t believe he flipped out on you that way. 

“Do you really think that what comes outta my mouth is crap?”

“No, of course not—“

“Is everything I say fucking pointless?”

“Hon—no—no, of course not.” Joel fumbles his words a bit, just glad that he didn’t refer to you as any other embarrassing fucking pet name. He's not even sure that you caught it, what with being blinded by such a haze of anger. 

You do, though. You just don’t acknowledge it. 

Your thumb loops through the glossy handle, and you look into your mug. 

“I choose to start each morning the same way; at your café. I don’t do it because I want to come in and ruin your day by ranting, or spillin’ my guts about shitty dates and bad friends.” You refuse eye contact, still watching the tea slosh around as you move the cup ever so slightly. “I do it because I like you, Joel. You’re a great guy, and make my days a little bit easier. I’d even go so far as to consider you one of my friends. But, if you don’t feel that way—“

“Hey.” He reaches out for your hand. He’s surprised that you don’t pull away when his tan flesh meets yours so suddenly. Joel asks you to look at him, and you oblige. 

It’s so sad. Your eyes—so full of hurt—now locked on his. Soft, warm fingers wound between his thick digits. He frowns. 

“Listen to me.” Stern, though soft, he tells you. “Of course I feel that way. I tell you shit that I ain’t even told my own brother, ‘course I see you as a friend. Probably the only person I’d even wanna spend time with, if I’m honest.”

“You’re just sayin’ that, ‘cus you hurt my feelings—“

“No, I ain’t.” Joel shakes his head, trying to ignore the fact that he hurt your feelings. “I’m serious.”

“As a heart attack?”

He chuckles. “Yeah, kiddo, as a heart attack.”

Eyes roll at the sentiment, wondering whether there’ll ever be a time where Joel doesn’t refer to you as kid or kiddo. He tells you that it’s because he’s a lot older than you, but you both know there’s not even a ten year gap between the pair of you. He’s just dramatic and wishing his life away. 

“I’m—uh—I’m no good at this shit.” He looks down, a little curl poking through the back strap of his cap catches your eye. “Feelings, ‘n all.”

Instinctively, your thumb traces over the skin of his hand. You nod. You know. 

He's not the most sentimental person—nor does he cogitate  with his heart—but Joel is one of the most thoughtful men you’ve ever met, and these last few days have you feeling a different way about him. You can’t say that it’s a crush—crushes are for kids, is what your mother often tells you—but it’s certainly something. 

You’re just worried about the fact that he can’t let go of Tess. 

“Don’t gotta explain feelings, sweetie.” You tell him with a smile, reaching for your mug. The tea is cool, now. A little bit easier to drink than when it was piping hot and burning the roof of your mouth. “Just gotta feel ‘em, that’s all. Explain once you understand.”

You take a sip of the drink you made a short while ago, hands detaching. Joel almost feels weak without your touch, now. But he supposes that had it lasted any longer, he’d crumble. 

“Always know what to say, dontcha?”

“I do.” Conceited—though completely satirical—you say. He smiles, and so do you. “But in all seriousness, Joel, I know that you appreciate me. And I know that today was a complete one-off, but I just gotta know one thing.”

“Go for it.”

You suck in a breath, hating where you’re about to lead the conversation. “Did last night make you think differently of me? Y’know, when I asked those questions and pried a little?”

Joel’s heart thumps. Again. He doesn’t know how to say yeah, last night changed everything. But not ‘cus of what you asked me. 

He supposes that he can’t lie to you. He’s as transparent as a pane of fucking glass, at this point. 

“No. Definitely not.”

“Really?”

He nods. “Really. You had the right to know. Nothin’ has changed.”

Liar. 

He’s looking at you with those big fucking heart eyes that his brother teased him about earlier, and he knows it. He knows that he’s smitten. Truly, Joel is more than conscious of the fact that he’s falling—or more appropriately, fallen—for you, but he’s not at liberty to say. 

“You can tell me, y’know?”

He nods. “I know. There’s nothin’ to tell.”

“Okay.” Your tone is skeptical. He’s lying. 

He’s also been sitting here for far too long and is in desperate need of a long, cold shower to wash away the day and shirk any feelings before they come to bite him on his perfectly round ass. So he gets up—pushing the seat back beneath the island—and smiles at you. 

“Left Tommy behind the counter?”

Joel nods. “Yeah. He’s probably cussin’ me out right ‘bout now.”

Your laugh is genuine. Hearty. “Best get back then, hon.”

Joel’s mouth goes dry when his lips part to speak. Nothing materializes. Not even when he’s walking to the front door—you’re hot on his heels—can he figure out what to say. 

He’s opening it before he’s even certain of what he’s doing. 

“Miller.” You say and he turns around. He can’t help looking directly at your lips. “I’ll see ‘ya tomorrow.”

“Yeah.” He coughs. “Have a good night.”

“You too.”

He’s about to walk away—and you’re about to shut the door—before he’s leaning over the threshold and letting all rationality dissipate. Joel’s left hand meets the doorframe—mere inches from your own—and his breathing grows sporadic. 

Well, now or never, I ‘spose. 

Your fingers tingle, legs weaken. It’s only a split second, but it feels like an eternity that Joel is just standing there; staring at you. He’s waiting to make a move, you’re almost certain of it. 

“You gonna do somethin’?” You taunt, tilting your head a little. It almost snaps him out of his anxiety-induced haze. It eggs him on, if anything. 

“Fuck—shit—yeah.” Joel steps forward so that he’s no longer leaning, and the tips of his boots meet your toes. He’s careful not to stand on them. It’s sweet. 

He’s sweet. 

“C’mere.” He’s telling you when one of his calloused hands meets the nape of your neck, and both of yours are instinctively pawing at his chest. The soft, white  jersey beneath that customary flannel is like satin against your fingertips. He draws you in closer. “I lied.”

“‘Bout what?” You whisper, letting Joel’s hand shift to your cheek. It’s hard not to melt into his touch. 

His thumb brushes over your skin. You wilt beneath it. 

“Last night.” Your eyes are locked. “Everythin’ has changed.”

You nod. You feel the same way.

“And I dunno how to go ‘bout this, ‘cus I can’t do this whole lovey-dovey crap, but I do know that I wanna kiss you.”

He pulls you forward so that your faces are almost touching, and your hands have no choice but to rest atop the peaks of his glorious shoulders. This is something you only could’ve dreamed of. You and Joel in this position—on your doorstep—like something out of a fucking romcom, or Gilmore Girls. 

C’mon, man. Kiss her. 

The man’s heart juts in his throat. Two noses graze one another—when Joel angles his face so that he’s not pushing too firmly against yours—and you can’t help smiling wide at the prospect of Joel Miller, grumpiest man in Birch Grove, taking a liking to you. 

It’s almost as if your entire time with Joel flashes before your eyes—all of the early mornings and late nights spent at his coffee house, the stories shared and secrets told—and everything comes to a head in this particular moment. 

Your smile doesn’t falter. Not even when his lips meet yours, and he pushes the most dulcet kiss against your mouth. It’s so gentle. Nothing more than a delicate peck, but so passionate in the sense that; the two of you need this. The tenderness of the other’s touch—the sweet, cloying taste of sugar on your tongue meshed with malt from the tea—is welcomed almost immediately, accommodated by an unexpected desire and thirst for intimacy. 

And though it is but a peck, the two of you know that this is the start of something. Something completely unexplainable and somewhat unexpected, but something nonetheless. 

You’re the first to pull away. He’s too enamored with you. 

“Joel.” You breathe against his lips. Cheeks are flushed red, eyes hooded and completely blown with lust. “Thanks for comin’ here, and apologizing.”

“Thanks for acceptin’ my apology.” He tells you. Joel takes a step back—not before running his thumb over your skin one last time—for fear of initiating something else. “Wouldn’t have blamed you if you didn’t wanna.”

“Don’t go sayin’ that. ‘Course I’ll always accept your apologies.”

Joel’s heart rate must be through the roof at this point. 

“Even if I run outta maple hazel syrup?”

A gasp falls from your lips and you feign anguish. You soon smile. He looks at his wristwatch, and sighs. 

“I better get goin’. Left Tommy alone a while, now. Not sure if I’ll have a cafe to get back to, if I keep him any longer.”

You laugh. “Go on. I’ll be there tomorrow.”

“If it hasn’t been burned to the ground, you mean?”

“Yeah, if it hasn’t been burned to the ground.”

Joel nods. He’s fishing about the pocket of his flannel for the key. 

“Enjoy the rest of your day, hon.”

His cheeks heat up. “Yeah, you too, kid.”

You can’t help letting out a little ha ha when he’s getting into his truck, and you’re watching from your post against the doorframe. When he gives you a little wave, he pulls away and you’re ambling back into your hallway. Satisfied. Though somewhat confused. 

Nothing could’ve prepared you for the trajectory of this day, and you suppose that nothing will ever come close. You just need to figure out what happens next. 

[hannieehaee]

18 + / mdi

content: boyfriend!mingyu & bf'sbestfriend!wonwoo, smut, afab reader, cucking (idk if this is the right term honestly), penetrative sex, mentions of oral, pov switches to wonwoo's pov like three paragraphs in, this is mostly wonwoo x reader ngl, etc.

part 2

wc: 3343

a/n: this is a continuation to mingyu's part of this reaction !!

masterlist

you'd known wonwoo for a good while now. being mingyu's girlfriend for over a year, you'd grown used to the company of his roommate, who was usually around whenever you'd go visit mingyu at their shared apartment.

it was easy to get along with wonwoo. he was an easy-going guy and also easy on the eyes, and just overall likable. you liked to think that the feeling was mutual, wanting to get along well with mingyu's best friend. you'd occasionally hang out one on one whenever you'd incidentally arrive to mingyu's apartment early, only to be let in by wonwoo. he was a gentleman, so he'd entertain you during mingyu's absence, telling you stories about the boy and at some points discussing shared interests with you.

what you didnt know was that wonwoo did like you. more than you wouldve hoped, actually.

wonwoo had known you for as long as mingyu, having been there when the two of you first met. the three of you had started off as simple acquaintances, up until mingyu decided he just had to have you, thus making you his. wonwoo had been happy for his friend, knowing mingyu to be a hopeless romantic at heart. yes, he admits, he mightve been attracted to you when you first met, but he quickly got over it upon finding out his best friend had a crush on you, even encouraging him to ask you out. having you in his immediate life proved to be interesting. it turned out that you two had a lot in common, with your personalities even aligning perfectly. that mightve explained why he was mingyu's best friend and you his best friend's girlfriend. mingyu clearly had a type.

over time, as wonwoo got to know you better, his long-gone crush seemed to want to make a comeback. what had previously been just physical attraction had turned into something more upon getting to know you. nothing ever happened to trigger his feelings, but there was only so much of your constant proximity that he could handle before his feelings resurfaced. which is where he now found himself. crushing on his best friend's pretty girlfriend, forced to occasionally join in on your dates as the perpetual third wheel.

despite any of his unreasonable emotions, he knew the feeling was not mutual, and more than that, he would never do that to his best friend. so, he did what any reasonable person would do and shoved his feelings deep within him, internally slapping himself any time his head went places it shouldn't. but that could only last so long.

it was a regular day. wonwoo had gone to the company, done his usual idol business and come back, now awaiting mingyu's arrival. except wonwoo was met with your presence instead. wonwoo had been expecting mingyu, remembering that he had told the boy about a movie they should watch together as soon as they had some extra down time. that day being today, now that they were finally back from promotions in japan and could go back to their regular schedules. he opened the door after hearing a few knocks, assuming mingyu mightve misplaced his keys again. except he was not met with his six foot tall friend upon opening the door, but instead you. it had been a while since he'd seen you. hell, it had probably been a while since mingyu had seen you. theyd just been so busy lately. he let you in, muttering a quick 'hello', avoiding eye contact a bit and stepping aside to allow you in. before he could close the door back up, you stopped him.

"oh, wait. gyu's coming up. he got us food for the movie!"

oh. had mingyu asked you to join?

his face mustve told on him, since you spoke up again almost immediately.

"is it okay im here? i can go, i know you guys are tired, i-"

the last thing he wanted you to feel was unwelcome. his stupid crush shouldnt get in the way of what was now a friendship between the two of you.

"no! stay, please. do you guys want privacy? we just came back, you must wa-"

this time you interrupted him. "no, not at all! stay, please. i love hanging out with you, nonu, you know that."

calling him by a cute nickname was not helping this for wonwoo, nor was the pretty smile you were throwing him. but he'd have to sit through an entire movie night like this, he realized.

the following thirty or so minutes went the way you'd imagine. mingyu had arrived soon after, with way too much food for three people and prepared the perfect setting for an enjoyable night between the three. wonwoo could tell his friend was beaming at the thought of finally spending a relaxing night with his two favorite people. this made him feel guilty, but he had to admit, he felt the same giddyness at the concept. in logical fashion, you and mingyu sat next to each other, slightly cuddled up while wonwoo sat on the smaller couch right next to the two of you. the three of you watched the movie for a little while, only ever speaking up every once in a while to comment on the movie. things went like this until mingyu suddenly spoke up, clapping his hands as if he suddenly remembered something.

"won! i almost forgot!", he paused the movie, sitting up from leaning against you, "i told y/n id show her the pictures we took in japan, come here!", his friend seemed so overly excited at the idea, almost vibrating as be waited for wonwoo to come sit next to him.

wonwoo made the mistake of moving his eyes a little to the left while looking at his friend, only to catch your expectant gaze as you also waited for him to close the distance. but it was enough to get him to get up and take a close seat next to mingyu, making the tall man the only separation between you and him.

mingyu had already pulled out his phone, scrolling through his gallery and stopping every few seconds to explain where the picture was, who took it and why they had edited it the way they did. he explained every minor detail while you looked at him, full attention on him. wonwoo liked that about you. it was something you did when speaking to him too. you'd always show full interest, even sharing a passion for photography and editing as he did. there had been occasions in which wonwoo himself had shown you his photography, only to be always met with praise and genuine curiosity at his skill.

they both explained the pictures, with mingyu holding the phone at an angle where both you and wonwoo could see the screen perfectly. mingyu had full control of the phone, not thinking much as he stopped by every single picture and made a few comments, allowing space each time for wonwoo's own commentary and your praise of their skills. it was a heartwarming moment for wonwoo, really. until it turned into a moment that warmed something else in him.

mingyu, in his overexcited state, was clearly not thinking much of it as he swiped picture after picture, not realizing that if he scrolled too far, he'd end up where he was now.

it was a picture of you. a very pretty picture, if wonwoo had anything to say about it. you were laying in what he could only assume to be mingyu's bed, shirt off and very very cute sheer panties covering your lower half. your face wasnt in it, only your lips. but your body was practically on full display. wonwoo had to commend you for your artistic eye. that picture could cause any man to swim across the pacific ocean just to see the contents of it in the flesh. or at least thats how wonwoo felt in that moment. time felt frozen as he stared at the image. silence had filled the room as none of you reacted. until mingyu finally unfroze, locking his phone and throwing it on the table, cursing loudly at his mistake. but the damage had been done.

wonwoo felt ashamed at his current state. he couldnt look up, only staring down at his lap as he thought of the image that was now imprinted in mind. why did he have to see that? his crush on you was already getting out of hand. there was no way be could ever look you in the eye again. but his brain, once more, betrayed him. he looked up slowly, instantly meeting your gaze. you looked as flustered as he felt, eyes widened and cheeks flushed. fuck. your face reminded him of one he had seem before. a few months back when he'd accidentally bumped into you after what he couldve only assumed to be a night well-spent with his best friend, same flushed cheeks and widened eyes, except this time you were missing the disheveled look you had carried that time.

you and wonwoo seemed unable to break eye contact, with both your gazes becoming heavier by the second. what had felt to wonwoo like minutes of agony staring into your eyes were only a few seconds to mingyu, who immediately spoke up after having thrown his phone on the table.

"baby, i'm so fucking sorry, i-" he had turned his body towards you, emphasizing how badly he felt at the position he put you under, but your eyes hadnt left wonwoo's, nor had his left yours.

you interrupted him, only breaking eye contact with wonwoo for a few seconds. "it's okay, gyu," your eyes now facing wonwoo again, "right, nonu?", your voice was sultry, only tightening up his pants even more than the initial shock of the image had.

"y-yeah."

mingyu seemed to catch on quickly after that, almost as if he'd been expecting this. he turned to his friend, still not 100% certain, "wonwoo. are you sure?"

there had been nothing wonwoo had ever been more sure about it. he broke eye contact with you for the first time in the past minute and responded, "yes."

~

"there's gonna be rules, okay?"

the three of you were now in mingyu's (and practically your) room, still fully clothed but all on the bed, already completely out of breath from the mere thought of what was about to happen. wonwoo felt like an animal. he felt himself have to put physical effort into holding back from jumping you. the way you'd been looking at him for the past while had him going insane, knowing now that the feeling was mutual.

"what are the rules?", wonwoo's eyes were still on you.

"any-" mingyu was about to speak when you interrupted him, still holding onto wonwoo's full attention.

"anything goes, except no marks and you have to be willing to share me. gyu's a bit possessive, right baby?", you stated matter-of-factly, almost in a rehearsed manner.

"wait. you've discussed this before?"

mingyu neared you, beginning to undress you from behind, giving wonwoo the perfect view of your clothing disappearing. 'we have. you're not exactly subtle, hyung.'

what? had you two known about his crush on you this whole time? he was so sure he'd kept it at bay almost expertly. had he just been embarrassing himself this whole time?

"its okay, nonu. we've discussed this. we're okay with it if you are. right, gyu?", you looked over your shoulder at the man who had now removed your shirt and shorts, leaving you in panties and a bra, much to wonwoo's dismay.

"i- are you sure? what does this mean? you-"

"hyung, dont over think it. you want her, dont you? you're my best friend, im willing to share."

well, what kind of fool would argue with that logic?

wonwoo decided to take advantage of the opportunity while it was there, approaching you as mingyu stepped aside, undressing his own self as he watched you and wonwoo.

wonwoo was entirely unsure of himself, not knowing how or where to begin. luckily for him, you seemed to take pity on him, grabbing his arms and placing them on your waist, pulling him closer to you.

"you dont have to be nervous. i want you too," you smiled sweetly at him, lifting his chin so he would look at you.

the proximity made him heat up, almost forgetting his friend, who had now sat down on the bed, perfect angle to watch him and you.

you leaned up slowly, lightly placing your lips on wonwoo's in a sweet peck. wonwoo sighed against your lips at this, letting his shoulders fall from their rigid posture and leaning against you, opening his lips a bit. you took advantage of this, meekly slipping your tongue inside his mouth as he tightened his hands around your waist, allowing his own tongue to play with yours.

kissing you was something he had imagined before; never too vividly out of respect for his best friend, but it was something he had wanted to do, never thinking he'd actually get to.

you and him kissed softly for a while, until you seemed to grow frustrated at the light kisses and began to incite him for more. your kissing became rougher, nibbling at his lower lip and sucking at his tongue, rendering him lightheaded. he moaned against your mouth, beginning to match your pase. he moaned even louder the moment he felt your hands guide his own to your breasts, which were now bare. when had you taken your bra off ..? it didn't matter, really. now he could feel the pebbles on your chest against his palms, pinching at them as you mewled softly into bis mouth. all that could be heard was the smacking of your mouths, along with the soft breaths you kept taking against each other, utterly pleased at the feeling of the softness of the other's lips.

until mingyu interrupted.

suddenly soft moaning could be heard from beside them. wonwoo reluctantly pulled away from you, looking to the side, only to find his best friend with his eyes closed, head thrown back as he had his hand under his boxers, clearly getting off at the sounds of the two of you. you didnt stop kissing wonwoo in the meantime, insistent on licking and biting softly against his neck. the softness of your touches was making wonwoo go insane. he was no longer himself, but more of a shell of what used to be, wanting to give you all control of his pleasure. which he did.

he allowed you to undress him slowly, running your hands slowly up and down his chest, kissing at him every time you uncovered a new bit of skin. you bit and licked at his nipples, making wonwoo discover a sensitive spot he didnt even know about.

he enjoyed your attentiveness, but felt a small tug in the back of his mind at the thought of your boyfriend sitting nearby, simply watching.

"gyu, baby," you finally said after having laid wonwoo down on the bed, sitting on top of him while looking to the side at your boyfriend, "how do you wanna do this?"

wonwoo simply sat there, afraid that if he said anything he'd break the spell. he was willing to take whatever you gave him. he was already addicted to the sight of your bare body on top of him, somehow beating the picture he had seen just twenty minutes ago.

"do whatever you want, baby. have your fun n then ill eat his cum out of you n fill you with mine, sound good?", he slurred, seemingly rubbing at himself at a snail pace in order to savor the sight in front of him.

in any other instance, wonwoo wouldnt have understood why mingyu was getting off at the sight of his best friend and his girlfriend fucking, but it was you. wonwoo would also give anything to see you in the throes of passion from a third person perspective, so he felt no judgement for his friend as he practically tuned him out.

"you heard him, nonu. how do you want me?", you asked sweetly, caressing his skin softly while stopping to rub at his nipples every once in a while.

wonwoo was fucked. he felt the ability to speak leave him completely. he was rendered completely useless, a doll for you to play with however you wanted. but his sight right now was one he wanted to commit to memory, so mustering all his willpower, he lifted his hands and placed them on your hips, pressing you closer against him.

"like this, baby. please," that earned a whine from gyu, who was still self-inflicting the most painful pleasure imaginable by edging himself at the sight of you.

he humphed at wonwoo, "no! get a different pet name. shes my baby."

wonwoo chuckled at this, but nodded over at his friend. "fine. like this, princess. yeah?"

you nodded at wonwoo, quickly adjusting yourself so you could easily slip him inside you, but only after being interrupted by mingyu again, reminding you to slip on a condom, "because you were only his to fuck raw."

"gyu, baby. like this? have a good angle? need me to move?"

"no, baby. you're perfect. now bounce on him for me, yeah? wanna see my pretty girl feel good," all his words were slurred, going on almost ten minutes of watching yours and wonwoo's foreplay.

"'kay baby. are you ready, nonu? wanna feel me?", you leaned down to kiss at him again, seemingly loving the feeling of your lips connecting as much as wonwoo did.

he nodded, felling you up as be awaited the upcoming feeling of your warmth wrapping around him.

your descent drove wonwoo insane. he doesnt think he's ever moaned that loudly before, nor does he think he's ever seen a prettier sight than your blissed out face as you felt him fill you up. the contrast of your movements right now compared to your soft touches earlier was laughable. it seemed like something had possessed you, making you bounce and grind on wonwoo at an animalistic pace, moaning incessantly at the feeling of his cock filling you up.

wonwoo was different from you, as his reaction was just pure bliss from the feeling of you, humping upwards with a lack of rhythm; just animalistic instinct to get himself as deep inside you as possible.

mingyu could be heard moaning from the background. you'd occasionally disconnect your eyes from wonwoo's form to make eyes at your boyfriend, giving him even more material for jacking off.

it went on like this until you began to near your end, which is when wonwoo believes he went truly insane. you began to grind at an angle that would bring gratification to your clit, practically crying on his cock. your hands went up to play with your nipples, stimulating yourself as much as possible. wonwoo wanted nothing more than to make you meet your end, grabbing harsher onto your hips and guiding your movements. he leaned up to kiss and suck at your tits, making you throw your head back and quicken your movements even more. you were in heaven and so was he. mingyu seemed to be too, as when wonwoo peeked a look at him he was practically crosseyed at the sight of you, arched back whining on his friend's cock.

your ends found you almost simultaneously. mingyu had been first, finally allowing himself to reach his high after edging himself for so long. soon followed wonwoo, spilling into the condom, causing you to cum at the sight of his pleasure. it took a bit for all of you to catch your breaths, staying silent for a bit until wonwoo broke the silence.

"shit. please tell me this isnt a one time thing."

you and gyu giggled at each other. wonwoo hoped that was a good sign.

a/n: lol lmk if u want a cont. with gyu's part

[diejager]

could you maybe do more of the Phoenix series or is that discontinued? But if you're still working on it can you maybe do something like monster TF 141 use hunter as a heater? Ik if it doesn't make any sense but like monster TF 141 are on a mission and its horribly cold and they're actually cold so hunter just walks up and turns into a phoenix? and just starts heating up the room 141 is in. idk I just have had this idea in my head for a while

Cw: human heating, tell me if I missed any. Note: Nope! It’s still on going, well, at least the original Au of the Phoenix hybrid!reader spinoff.

“I’ll have a bloody word with the tosser who sent us here,” Soap hissed, body wracked with tremors as he breathed into his mittened hands, hoping that the small bit of heat would warm him just a bit more than the failing heating system of their Siberian  safehouse.

They had planed to rest and warm up their temporary residence while Price took Ghost and you to survey the area, all warmly covered but mostly immune to such cold temperature. A dragon rarely needed anything other than the beating fire in their heart, kindled and powerful; a wraith, long since dead, had no worry about feeling cold or warm, only hunger and anger; and a phoenix, whose body was stuck in a perpetual cycle of life and death, had no fear of being cold when they were an embodiment of life’s fire. 

It was only natural that Price took the only people who could withstand the harshness of Siberia for a long and careful inspection when the others would freeze and shake in their thick boots and warm coats. They safehouse looked old, surfaces covered in a thin layer of dust, shelves filled with canned food - both expired and unexpired- and walls and floors as frozen as the loud winds blowing against the thick windows. It wasn’t much of a surprise that something would malfunction, the soviet era building left to appear rotten and forgotten to fit it’s intended use, and it seemed to lack any sort of upkeep. 

“We’re freezing our arses off in here!” Soap growled out, leaning closer to Gaz’s side to steal more warmth from under his wing, the soft feathers all ruffled, “Can’t even-”

Crunch

The two perked up, hands immediately reaching for their weapons, bodies tense and ready for a fire fight until your head popped in, huffing about the melted snow soaking your clothes. They jumped to their feet, running to your side for a lick of warmth that oozed off your skin. You froze at the grabbing hands, pulling you to the cold sofa and pushed under a mass of groaning and moaning bodies, happily soaking in your fire.

“Let me- ” you squirmed between them, shuffling out from under them to stretch your arms and back.

The four watched your neck crack with a wince, flames erupting from your feet, wild and bright embers licking at your skin until it engulfed you in a fiery blaze. It was both too hot to touch and too strong to approach, a fire that would threaten to burn if they touched you. It worked to protect you from an early death while you shifted into the majestic bird you were, a gentle flame in the form of orange and yellow feathers, softer than any silk and warmer than any suns. 

In your place stood a phoenix, lashes fluttering while your flapped your wings, stretched backwards to scratch the itch from the lack of use. You cooed, preening under their awed expressions before you flew back in your prior position, body heat growing hotter and hotter, strong enough to warm up the entire room. 

“Thank you, Hunter,” Gaz smiled at you, a sweet and grateful grin that made your feathers shyly ruffle up.

Taglist: @craxy-person @crowbird @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @angelcakes-22 @ramadiiiisme @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @im-making-an-effort @love-dove-noora @jinxxangel13 @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @mul-pi @danielle143 @beau-min @makayla-666 @urfavsunkissedleo @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @luvecarson @petwifed @randominstake @heartelysia @jggykhug09090 @haven-1307 @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @call-me-nyxx @sans-chara @cod-z @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @thigh-o-saur @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami @cassiecasluciluce @sobbingnshtting

[stevie-petey]

stug stug stug pleaseee i would LOVE to see something where bug is comforting steve maybe he had a fight w his dad or j in general. i’m so excited for season 4! but obvi take your time j know that we’re all very excited bc we just know that you will blow us away with your writing!!

really missin happy steve and bug so im writin this <33

enjoy !

"i dont think it looks that bad."

"youre a terrible liar, y/n."

"im not lying!" but the way your voice pitches gives it all away, and steve knows it.

"im ruined." he drops his head into your lap, burying his face in the flesh of your thigh. partially because hes mourning the loss of his hair, but mostly because he adores your thighs and revels in them whenever he can.

steve is in mourning. he can be as selfish as he wants when it comes to your thighs. its his god given right as your boyfriend.

knowing what hes doing, you shove steves face away from your thighs, though not unkindly. youre still shy around him, his touch against your bare skin foreign after only a month of dating. steve is gentle and patient with you, he understands that youve never really been in a relationship before, so he takes his time with you.

secretly, you adore how gentle he is. how cautiously he skims his fingers over your waist or how softly he breathes against your neck. it makes everything easier, lighter, for you. to be loved so tenderly without any falsehood behind it.

lost in your honey warmth of love for steve, your fingers tangle through his hair. that is, whats left of it. steves chest faces you, the hem of his shirt has lifted slightly during his complaining. soft skin spills out from underneath, revealing a plush tummy. with a mind of their own, your eyes draw down the lines of his abdomen. a low hum stirs in your own stomach.

"are you seriously checking me out right now?" steve taps your nose with his finger, snapping you out of your daze. "i mean, here i am, the love of your life, mourning the loss of beautiful hair that was taken from us too soon, and youre drooling over me."

you flick his forehead, he scrunches his face, and its familiar and lovely. "i wasnt drooling, i just wasnt listening to your dramatic despair."

steve gasps, hand over his chest. "my hair was murdered!"

"honey, only like, two inches were cut off."

well, more like three, but you wont tell him that.

somehow one of the kids, almost certainly mike, left their chewed up gum on the counter top of family video when they visited earlier today. they came in like a storm, turning the place upside down before you, robin, or steve could even stop them. apparently dustin had wanted a new movie, will was bored, lucas wanted max to go outside, and el forced mike to join because shes never seen a movie store before.

the wreckage they left behind for such simple reasons for even entering the store in the first place had astounded you.

then, because steve is always perpetually suffering the consequences of the partys actions the most, had dropped his head down onto the counter top in exhaustion as soon as they left.

right in the same spot the gum had been left.

never before have you ever seen steve crumble to the floor quite so suddenly. it was comical, really. the way he shrieked in horror while you and robin watched, neither having any idea what had just happened.

which leads you to now: consoling steve as you comb through his newly cut hair.

"what, are you implying two inches isnt a huge amount of length?" steve raises an eyebrow at you, teasing, and you blush furiously. sparing you, he doesnt point it out and instead changes the topic. "i hate those little heathens, i really do."

"how do we know one of them is the gum culprit?"

"because theyre cursed little shitheads who always mar my appearance one way or another." then, as an afterthought, steve adds, "plus that wheeler kid has a weird obsession with watermelon gum."

again you try to defend the kids, even though you know it was most definitely mike. sure, he shouldnt have left his gum on the counter, but it was funny. "and how do we know it was watermelon gum?"

"i could smell it when robin was cutting all my hair off, angel."

"and yet youre as handsome as ever!" you press a purposely messy kiss atop of steves head, blowing slightly into his face and making a dramatic kissing sound when you pull away. anything to distract him from realizing it was all mikes fault.

gotta protect the little shithead somehow.

steve shrieks, reminiscent of the shriek from earlier, and shoves you away as he wipes at his face. "ew!"

"how dare you wipe my kiss away, steve harrington."

"you spit on me!"

"lovingly."

steve rolls onto his stomach and throws himself onto you. now its your turn to shriek as he throws his weight on top of you, tackling you onto his bed. luckily his parents arent home, otherwise theyd have some very horrified questions.

"steve!" you land with a soft thud on his pillows, and he smiles up from above you. hes all proud, his cheeks flushed a pretty pink, and his eyes shine with adoration for you.

hes beautiful. you cant believe hes yours.

"youre supposed to be comforting me, angel!" steve presses himself down even more, rendering you unable to move and wiggle away from him. you squeal when his hands find your sides, fingers digging into your skin as he tickles you. "i mean, im wounded here!"

you squeal with laughter as his hands attack you, mercilessly, yet gentle nonetheless. "s-steve! stop!"

"not until you apologize to my hair."

"your hair?" more laughter rips from your chest, ribs aching.

"mhm, tell my hair that its still handsome. his feelings are hurt." steve buries his nose into your neck, causing you to giggle even more, and the sound encases his body and reminds him of everything good and lovely.

you try to pull away, but steve has you pinned. "youre-ah! youre such an-an idiot!"

"that doesnt sound like an apology, y/n."

finally giving up, you force out an apology in between breaths of laughter. "i-im sorry! your-your hair is handsome!"

steves fingers leave your sides, but he pulls you deep into his chest and collapses upon you. he nuzzles into your neck, wraps his hands around you, tries to meld the two of you into one. "much better," he mumbles into your skin.

"your hair really is handsome, you know." you draw circles into steves back, breath slowly returning to normal. fingers finding his hair once more, you play with the strands and massage his head with your nails. "youre handsome. two inches lost or not.”

"really?" steve lifts his face, looks down at you, preening at your words with an unusual shyness.

you bring your hands to his face, holding it with all the love you have for him. "the handsomest."

lips find lips, and soon the two of you get lost in each other as you inevitably always do.

[darby-rowe]

imagine being a pretty district 12 girl and peacekeeper!coryo just has to have you, he can’t bear the thought of not being able to have you, so when he sees you at the hob he gets you really drunk and then takes you to the alleyway. and of course you’re a virgin and you keep telling him to stop touching you but it feels so good at the same time, and he just has to have what’s his, or else. he wants to see you squirming as you try to take him, to watch as the tears trickle down your cheeks as you whimper and tell him he’s ‘too big’ and you can’t take it.

- a 🎀

i dont write enough peacekeeper!coryo (mainly bc im not a buzzcut girlie at all GASP) but damn there are so many good ideas for dark fics w him 🤤 and this ask is DELICIOUS

mayhaps i got....... a bit carried away..........

18+ | nsfw | mdni cw fem!reader, NONCON/DUBCON, dead dove do not eat, alcohol consumption, vaginal tearing, blood (coryo has an implied blood kink) tw emetophobia (but not graphic)

➽───────────────❥

you knew damn well that peacekeepers were forces to be reckoned with, but one night you let your better instincts slip away from you as you drank nearly a quarter of your body weight in moonshine.

and the pretty peacekeeper with the blonde buzz and piercing blue eyes had been eyeing you all night, getting you drink after drink after drink. even after you kept politely declining, he just kept insisting. you already struggled with standing up to authority, and you weren't going to start. especially since you were quickly losing your ability to make judgements.

somehow you made it to an alleyway with your front pressed against the cold, dank wall with the peacekeeper's fingers forcing their way into your panties. you whined as your body pathetically attempted to push him away, but your head was spinning, speech slurred and incoherent.

you whimpered as you felt his middle finger circle your clit, involuntarily rocking your hips into his touch. "nnno," you slurred, not even attempting to hide the moans threatening to escape your throat. "never... never... done this—"

the peacekeeper just chuckled in your ear as he continued to prod his fingers at your swollen clit. "shh, don't worry, little dove," he cooed mockingly. "gonna take this pussy right here and there's nothing you can do about it. fill you up with my cock. fuck, you're soaking wet,"

you were defenseless as the peacekeeper lifted up your dress and pulled down your cotton panties, making you yelp in a mixture of surprise and fear. you tried again to get out of his grasp, but he had the advantage of being sober and way stronger than you. all you could do was whimper softly as the tip of his cock tease your wet folds, making you shudder.

"can't wait to fuck you," he sighed, easing himself into your small, tight hole. you gasped as you were ripped open, raising yourself up on your tiptoes to try to squirm away from the pain. but once again you were trapped in between the peacekeeper and the dank wall.

tears sprang from your eyes and spilled down your cheeks, your cries coming out in weak croaks. it hurt so bad; a perpetual sting that rocked through your entire body. you prayed for something — anything — to come take away this unbearable pain.

"hurts," you choked, nearly gagging on your tears. "please, sir, hurts s'bad. too big. can't take it...!"

the peacekeeper continued to thrust his large cock into your abused cunt. he looked down, watching as blood began to slowly trickle out of your hole and cover the shaft of his cock. the sight only made him harder, the crimson liquid making it easier for him to slide in and out of you.

"perfect district pussy," he growled, unable to tear his eyes away from his blood-soaked cock. "doing so well taking me. covering my cock in your blood. fuck, baby, 'm gonna cum so fuckin' hard,"

it was a perplexing mixture of feelings; the pain of having your walls abused and ripped open colliding with an earth-shattering orgasm. you didn't even notice the peacekeeper shooting his load deep inside you until he pulled out to admire how your blood and his cum dripped out of your cunt.

you heard the sound of him fixing his clothes. and with a final tap to your hip, he left you alone to process the events that just transpired.

as the wave of nausea finally hit you, you hunched over and expelled whatever moonshine was left in your system.

[jinkiezzsstuff]

Met the Devil 2

lucifer x human!reader

sorry this took forever it’s been hectic i guess im in my fanfic writer era of madness happening and mentioning it in the a/n (im joking… unless) anyways lads hopefully this is okay womp womp

Part [1]

Based on devilish folklore and wives tales so lucifer may be ooc!

Warnings: BODYHORROR; DESCRIPTIONS OF TEETH FALLING OUT. Mentions of blood, reader dies a goofy ahh death, lucifer being an unsure wreck, and he’s got no game, reader is perpetually confused, inaccurate descriptions of religion, swearing, not proof read and i don’t entirely know where i’m going with this teehee lmk whatcha think xxx

word count: 3.1K

Three months, it had been three exhausting months since the incident with Lucifer. As if there was some devine intervention, everything seemed to fall at your feet working out for you, while also simultaneously sucking. Career wise, you were doing much better, after working for Marie and watching her house keeping it exactly how she wished, excluding the devil you had intercourse with, she put in a word for you at her and her husbands church, which you ended up getting.

Although not a very important role, it paid well. You were mostly in charge of cleanliness, cleaning the areas in the front where children played, keeping the holy fountain fresh, sweeping the pews and repairing any unbinded bibles. However the staff weren’t particularly fond of you, the nuns avoided you like the plague, and the priest gave you glares. Thankfully you rarely interacted with them if at all.

However, while your career was better than before, your physical health wasn’t. Things tanked once you slept with the devil. It started slow, noticing hues appear in your skin that you hadn’t before. Despite the various skin, and blood tests, and the general run down of different illnesses that cause changing pigmentation, there was no evidence to prove anything was truly wrong, just random hues of pinks, purples and blues showing up like you were some corpse.

The second minuet thing to change was your nails, at first you foolishly wondered if your calcium intake increased causing the thickness in your nails to double, but you quickly scrapped that al when your nails grew more rapidly. You really hadn’t changed much diet wise for that to be true, odd as it was it wasn’t something you hated.

The worst of it was teeth. One night you woke to a horrific splitting headache, it wasn’t just one part of your head either. The pain seared through your jaw, down your neck, up your face through your cheeks and in the back of your eyes all the way to the tip top of your head. You walked half asleep half dazed from pain to the bathroom, once the light blinded you and you got woken up a bit was when your brain registered the feeling.

Your mouth filled with the metallic taste of blood as you tuned into the sound of tapping in your mouth as the loose teeth collided. When you threw yourself over your sink spitting continuously, you immediately began to cry feeling your empty gums with your tongue, and the worst part was it seemed you had swallowed some too as the amount in the sink didn’t amount to how much was missing.

That night you must’ve passed out because you were woken up by your angry family member shouting at you to hurry. The strangest thing was, however you awoke with teeth, sharp as razors, and the porcelain sink that was never cleared of blood or teeth was now cleaned.

Since your teeth, you managed to not lose nor gain any other strange things, and the only people who didn’t seem to look past these oddities were the people who attended the church or worked at it. It was like they could tell you slept with Lucifer, something in their eyes always felt so intense and aware even if they’d never spoken to you before. The strangeness didn’t end with your appearance or career.

You had weird dreams you couldn’t explain, it felt so real but once awake you could only remember how you felt about the dream. You had close interactions with certain animals, like ducks, goats, crows, and insects as well. It was like they sought you out no matter where you were, people would give you looks when you started greeting the goat like an old friend.

So,now three months after Lucifer, you changed a lot. You know it’s because of him, you just can’t figure out why, but soon you’ll know. Walking into your work place on your day off, everybody’s least favourite thing to do, but it had to be done. You saw the father reading a bible off to the side of the room, and so you approached. He gave you a stern look, and you could tell by his stiff and shifty body language he wasn’t too happy with your presence, antsy to see what it is you wanted.

“Good afternoon father, how’re you?” You start, standing in a way you perfected prior to attempt to seem unthreatening. The priest hummed closing his bible to pay attention to you. “Good child, good. How’re you, is there something i could aid you in?” Straight to the point, mentally you cheered happy you didn’t have to waltz around small talk for fifteen minutes.

“Well i’m alright father, thank you. I was actually wondering about, um, the devil?” The priest's head lulls back slightly eyebrows raised as his mouth opens with a silent o. “Is there temptation in your life?” You shifted on your feet at the question. You hadn’t really thought of it before but you suppose you felt more inclined to act without thinking,and indulge especially after Lucifer claimed you.

“Well yes, but i was more so wondering on what the devil is capable of? Like making deals, and stuff…” You trail eyes casted away to the large sculpture of jesus on the wall. “Nothing, the devil isn’t as strong as gods love. And never in the bible does it state the devil makes deals, that is but a wives tale.” The priest spoke sternly, punctuating his words to get his point across.

This was news to you however, you always thought the devil was more of a a character in the bible. “Father one more question?” You say head snapping back to look at him. “If the devil were to have intercourse with a person, what’s said to be the outcome? Will god punish?” The poor priest looked like he’d seen a ghost, yet you couldn’t comprehend why. Although slightly morbid you didn’t think the question was that out there, perhaps it was the monotonous way you’d said it.

“I’m afraid i don’t have the answer to that,” And with that the priest stood, excusing himself from your conversation walking off down the isle. “I heard the devil picks somebody to carry the antichrist.” Turning to the voice, there sat a woman, old looking wearing a light blue dress. “The anti christ?” You repeat mostly to yourself, but the elderly woman hummed. “Yep. Woo’s the target, sleeps with them, and they give birth to the antichrist. Bad things happen once the child’s born.” The woman explained turning to look back at you.

“And, what if there’s no anti christ, what if the devil just like…” The old lady cackled looking at your puzzled face. She tsked and ushered you near. When in front of her she met your eyes, again with that weirdly all knowing look on them everyone in the church seemed to give you. Holding out her hand to you, you opened yours holding it out to her.

She placed something in your hand but you weren’t able to know what it was before you dropped it shrieking. It was like gripping a hot coal, you gripped your wrist keeled over trying to breath out the pain. Your eyes briefly glanced over to the floor where the object dropped and sitting there was a gold rosary covered in what was more than likely your blood. Peaking up from your bent over position the old woman had took several steps back from you, hand up to her mouth.

Not knowing what to do, you perked up, thanked her for her input, and sped out to the street. Just like the night you met him, the sky darkened and clashed with lightning, then came the rain. The devil himself must’ve worked through water with the way it was a constant anytime something happened.

Walking down the street at leisure, you inspected the wound the rosary left as rain pelted you like no tomorrow. You sighed brushing your thumb over the large cross shaped gash. Suddenly a crack of lightning came down brightly, it was harsh and so very bright. Then another crack, this time however you felt the harshest pain describable. It was like being lit on fire inside your body, or like your blood was suddenly filled with glass shards and you could feel them coursing through.

You couldn’t scream too in pain, you simply slumped to the floor, the searing pain engulfing your body. As your eyes closed, it felt like the floor was sucking you down, but you couldn’t move. You couldn’t even will your eyes to open as you felt the concrete below you begin to engulf you fully. Your lungs burnt as you couldn’t breathe, but like any other regular circumstance where you’d gasp for breath, you were physically unable to. Like you’re body didn’t know how to breath, so you sat there chest feeling tight, burning and your stomach feeling like it was forcing itself inward but nothing changed.

As torturous as it was, it was short lived and finally you felt freed. The concrete beneath you morphed into something softer cozier, the breathlessness left finally you were able to fill your lungs with air almost as refreshing as a glass of water would’ve been, and when you opened your eyes you were greeted by the sight of a bedroom. It was decorated with whites, reds and golds, around you could see engraved apples and ducks in not only the door frames and baseboards but some of the furniture as well.

You couldn’t will yourself to sit up, you still felt the fire on the inside of your body albeit gentler than before. “Hey cookie.” Cooed a smooth voice, you didn’t have to look to know who it was, but thankfully he stepped in front of you, kneeling down to your laying figure. “How you feeling?” You stared at his face, scanning it over and over, his eyes were hauntingly beautiful. The red irises danced around nervously, you watched intently as his forked tongue brushed against the dryness of his lips.

“You’re beautiful.” You mutter half muffled by the fact you sunk comfortably into the mattress that you lay on. Chuckling quietly the king of hell turned and sat on the side of the bed, petting your head very gently like you were made of glass. “Where am i?” His hand stuttered on your head, and finally you rolled over onto you back to gain the view of him. His hat discarded, his suit jacket gone, he sat only in a vest, dress shirt, and his white suit pants.

“Hell, sweetheart.” It was interesting how warmly he had said that to you, looking down at you with almost a pitying expression. “I’m dead?” You jerked up, immediately regretting it as the pain shot through your body from the top of your head down. Sucking in air through your teeth, clenching your eyes shut Lucifer cooed at you reprimanding you for being too quick. “God must’ve struck you down.” His voice lifted as he let out his attempt at a joke, but you weren’t really in the mood to laugh.

“What happened, with me when i was alive.” You ask looking over to him, the expression he had looked slightly guilty, his eyes casted downward, a frown that tried to be a poker face- but failed. “I, well y’see, heh,” Lucifer fumbled picking at his nails and looking around the room. He bounced himself against the mattress almost like he was amping himself up. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay! So y’know you got some human repellant, claws, sharp teeth, that dead look. Sent some little guardians after you! Too bad you couldn’t meet the snake.” Lucifer tisked mournfully shaking his head.

You smiled at him, oddly enough, it was quite endearing that he set out to do these things to keep you safe. “Oh!” He sprung up meeting your eyes properly. “I also made Marie get you that job, and I forced a good pay, always here to help y’know.” The king briefly pinched your cheek before retracting and standing. He looked frazzled, uncertain, he pulled at his clothes like he was trying to fix them. “Sorry it’s been awhile. Y’know i gave up going to earth in like 1850.” The devil laughed out, scratching the back of his neck.

You scooted yourself to the edge of the bed, Lucifer watching intently. “So, what, well I mean, why…?” You were confused head bobbing as you tried to make sense of everything. Things didn’t entirely add up this you were certain of, and you could tell the king was keeping something hidden from you. “As you know hell is well, it’s hell, and you were so…” He trailed off hands circling eachother as he gazed off into space, attempting to find the right words.

Deflating his body slumped over, in one foul swoop it looked as though he’d lost all the will to keep up his charade. “Look I didn’t think you were gonna shake my hand, but in the moment I was hooked on you. The night you took the apple reminded me of days of my life i can’t go back to. So i may have indulged, but i didn’t expect you to be soooo,”

Your eyebrows pinched together as you watched him with judgement, giving him a look that egged him on, yet warned him. “Captivating?” You ‘hmphed’ at his term, as weak and guilty grin overtaking his face. “Okay okay. I enjoyed our night, you gave me advice and helpful conversation I haven’t gotten in, pfft,” He was now pacing, eyes wide as his arms wrapped around himself as a way to secure him.

“Ever, you were a breath of fresh air! I didn’t expect the deal to go through! I didn’t expect you to grab my hand, so when you sold your soul you started to gain those devilish features. I wanted to make sure you were still safe so I manipulated Marie, got you the job, but nothing else was planned!” He exclaimed hands coming up in defence, although it wasn’t like you were angry, you sat there patiently watching him and waiting for him to finish his explanation at his own pace. Understanding this was probably just as stressful for him, if what he says is true.

Blowing out air the king pulled gently at his hair. “I don’t know what to do from here, I sent animals to protect you, I knew something would happen, damnit!” The short man raged eyes blowing up red, that snapped you up, gently you grabbed his shoulders. “I believe you, I have no idea what’s going on either so it’s okay! I’m terrified, but you don’t look any better. Maybe we can figure it out together?” You suggest attempting to be a voice of reason, watching his eyes hue from bright red to the yellow and red irises you’re more familiar with.

He sighed and nodded looking slightly embarrassed. “Do you think we could set some ground rules?” You quirked a brow at that, watching as he once again began to pace. “My daughter, Charlie, we spoke about her, she can’t know I made a deal with you! And for now, she can’t know i did anything sexual. Oh no no no. NO!” Lucifer panicked, switching between gripping his hair and swinging his arms around. It felt like a stab in the gut, it wasn’t your first time being a secret, but you wish you could’ve kept the promise you made to yourself about getting into another situation where you were just a secret fling.

“I’m not gonna pretend that doesn’t get under my skin slightly, I’d prefer not to be the devil's dirty secret, but I understand what Charlie means to you so I’ll do whatcha need.” Lucifer looked at you sheepishly, it seemed like he slightly regretted the choice of delivery as you crossed your arms across your chest, looking at him with a tinge of disgust in your eye. “Okay next, uh let's see, okay you’ll pose as my assistant and you’ll spend the days with me so I can keep an eye on ya….”

You quirk your head, pondering if you should say what you want to say. Which was questioning him and the motive here, it’s normal to say things you don’t always mean in such an intense moment of sex fueled emotion, but now there’s a big consequence and you’re not sure if he really knows what he wants to do. “Hey,” You say quietly grabbing him from his frantic mumbling that he was doing to himself. He hummed at you, his attention refocused on you as he did. “Do you at all regret the deal.”

Lucifers eyes blew wide, his lips puckering as his fingers fiddled with each other. “Regret is a very loaded work y’know- uh, I think- eh, maybe if- okay so,” He fumbled his wings popping out feathers flying around as they did, they puffed out with stress making you gawk. “Uhm, I wouldn't do it again if I had the choice! But still I would've wanted the sex!” Finally he pumped his chest proudly, meanwhile you rolled your eyes. “That’s what most men would do, yeah.” Your tone was bitter, catching him off guard a bit, to be fair he didn’t know what you wanted from him. Normally deals were two sided, but this one you benefited nothing from, except trauma and an early grave.

“I didn’t mean that,” Damn he really lost his way after Lilith huh, every flirtation came out so naturally but now it seemed it was so unsure, no king of a whole mini word of demons should be unsure, he mentally scolded himself for being so unfit.

“Listen can we figure this out later, I still feel the pain from when I died, so I would love to sleep that off.” You say plopping yourself back on the comfy mattress. “Yes, yes of course go ahead! We’ll figure this out together hm, shedevil? Won’t leave you in the dark!” This time his exclamation sounded certain as he jumped into the bed with you, snapping his fingers so the lights blinked out. You hummed too lazy to respond and crawled underneath the covers, it was nice, warm and smelt like him, underneath the covers you felt him slip in with you, his body heat emitting off of him in waves.

You hoped your mind was less clouded tomorrow, hopefully you could have a better conversation with the king about this deal, get things sorted out.

[b1rds3ye]

hi!!! i LOVE the masked reader content 😭💞 my hyperfixated brain is thanking u deeply

can i request a masked (w LEDs bc i love it sm) reader who's saying "i cant believe you guys didnt notice my new haircut" or something similar, having a :( face on their mask and 141 is so confused like "we cant see your hair" "you have hair? kinda thought u were bald" stuff like that 😭 its a weird idea but im craving stupid platonic fluff like that

ty for the masked reader content love u sm for it

Hehehe as someone who hyperfixates a lot I am flattered I can induce it onto someone else LMAO Just a lil Drabble for this one I couldn’t think up of much 😅

“You pissed ‘em off,” Ghost observes and Soap’s face drops into one of sheer betrayal.

“That was one time 'n' now you a' think it’s me?” Johnny jerks his head to the side in annoyance. “What about when cap’n-”

“I’m sure they can hear you,” Gaz whisper-shouts as he gestures to you. The rest of the task force look over to you sitting on the couch at the far end of the common room. Absentmindedly watching the shared television, your arms are folded with your mask in a perpetual "-_-". You make no indication that you heard them, no, you were fully set on ignoring them all morning.

"Captain what should we do?" Kyle asks.

"This isn't a mission Kyle, we can talk it out," Price sighs.

"Care to do the honours, then?"

Price stills, beady eyes sparing a glance at your unmoving figure. If the rest of the task force didn't know any better, they would think the unwavering captain was scared.

"'m busy," he replies gruffly.

"Busy" being him fishing around in his pocket for a new cigar for an impossibly long amount of time until his subordinates let him off the hook.

"L.T.?" Johnny looks to the next superior officer, to which Simon only responds with a half-hearted grunt. In truth, Simon and John have always been good at figuring out your mood. This is one of the few times they've been left stumped, clear through the silent conversation they shared as they looked at each other.

"Cowards," Johnny mutters to himself before stomping up to you, with a drawn out, sing-song (but horrendously out of tune) "bonnieeeee" announcing his presence to you. You don't even flinch.

Johnny saddles himself beside you, leaning into you. He offers you his sweetest puppy-dogs to try and placate you before he tests the waters.

"So... what's up?"

The rest of the task force was slowly joining Johnny, you could tell as Price's cigar smoke became more pungent. An explosive move by you has these grown men flinching as you pull out a strip of paper and slam it on the coffee table in front of you, mask flitting to an angry face all the while before returning to "-_-".

Simon reaches the paper first. Delicately opening the thin parchment as Kyle and John peer over his shoulder. Johnny looks up at them but stays by your side.

Simon looks at you.

"A hairdresser?"

"Got it done yesterday," you seethe. "And no one bloody noticed. They're not cheap, you know!"

Johnny tries putting a hand on your shoulder but you jerk it away. There's a heavy moment of silence as you keep laser focused on whatever the hell the television is playing. Your hands grip your biceps as you ensure they stay crossed.

Kyle eventually submits. He kneels before you, not daring to take up all the view of the screen, but just enough for him to be sure you were aware of him.

"Love, I'm gonna ask you a question. Please don't take this the wrong way."

"What?" you grumble.

Kyle takes an audible inhale. He receives an encouraging nod from Price and he needs to take a swallow to prepare. Even you have to admit the anticipation is killing you now, you offer him the relief that he indeed has your attention, mask now set with "?" over the eyes.

"... you have hair?"

You groan and swat him away as Johnny bursts out laughing. Leaning forward with your head in your hands you try to make it seem like your shaking shoulders were from devastation and not because you were laughing too.

"No, Kyle, I just thought I'd go to a hair dresser and admire everyone else's hairdos," you retort once you've recollected yourself.

"Thought you were bald," Simon muses.

"Right back at you, Skull Face."

"I'm sure it looks good, sergeant," Price encourages as he takes the receipt from Simon, inspecting the details.

"At least someone appreciates my efforts unlike the rest of you."

"How about we appreciate it more then, bonnie?" Johnny leans in mischievously. "Take that mask off. Show us how good it looks."

"Actually, I- uh... I got my hair treated. Need to keep this mask on, let it set, you know?"

Kyle tilts his head.

"That's not how it works-?"

"I've been waiting for this bit!" You exclaim as you point at the television screen. Kyle shakes his head with a smile before joining you on the couch, opposite to Johnny. Simon and John also situate themselves around the room, far enough for personal distance but close enough to still take part in conversations, and it's now a typical off-day for the 141. They may not be able to see your face - nor your improved hair - for now, but perhaps one day they'll be graced with the sight. For now, these antics around base will suffice.

Call of Duty Navigation Masked Reader Masterlist

[cinnamonest]

Can we talk about boobs? 👀 like im wondering if the boys are crazy over em or not since it's like... both intimate and perverted at the same time or one or either

Like it can also be super embarrassing for the reader when she's getting the life sucked out of her tits for like... minutes on end?? Just trying to pry these virgin boys off. It's also not "pleasurable" for either party in the sense that it gets you to climax (unless perhaps we're talking about Albedo who is insane), but if you're a horny yan boy you might not care

The Albedo slander I can't— but you're right he can and will get you to cum from nothing but sucking on your tits, no matter how many tries and experimentation with various substances it takes. Which you find laughable, mockingly tell him that he as an academic should know women don't work like that… until he makes it happen and you eat your words, somehow. It's equally humiliating for you as it is amusing for him… the sly you were saying? as you lay there shivering and panting makes you all flustered, turning your face away to bury into the pillow.

But hear me out — the animal boy club, most of them at least, have a predisposition to titty affinity.

Gorou and Tighnari experience this the most strongly. Stronger primal mammalian instincts mean he has a much stronger drive than a normal human man to very specifically be drawn to indicators of fertility and suitableness for reproduction and healthy offspring. Regardless of size, your breasts automatically send off all the right signals when he lays eyes on them — milk for the offspring, a good breedable mate… it's torturous that they're right there yet human social conventions demand he can't do anything.

Animals don't really have a sense of shame in that regard, so there's less natural inhibition holding him back, he has to make an active effort to remind himself that he can't just walk right up to you and sniff at you, press his face into your chest… the thought of how embarrassing it would be in hindsight is all that's holding him back.

Once things develop, though, and he has you behind closed doors and available, he can't keep his mouth off of them. It feels natural, instinctive, popping your nipple into his mouth and suckling like that for ages — he could keep going forever if you didn't stop him eventually.

The downside of this is that you have to remind them to be careful… it turns out they both have some rather pointy teeth. Dogs have more rounded teeth, but still a powerful biting force that you have to watch out for, whereas fox teeth are much sharper. He's being careful, promise! It's just very easy to get lost in the bliss of the moment and maybe start to nibble a bit too hard, making you jolt and squeal… except the high-pitched sound and the feeling of struggling against him mimics a little prey animal fighting back, and that triggers a whole new set of instincts, now you have much worse problems as you're getting bitten everywhere else, jaw locking down to hold you still as he ruts into you.

Razor has the exact inverse going on. Sure, he's technically not any more naturally inclined towards it than an average human, but his upbringing has long since wired the proclivity into his head. Thing is, with she-wolves, theirs swell outward from the body only once they're pregnant, so for him, seeing human breasts, which are constantly in a state of being pronounced from the rest of the body, might as well be a perpetual onslaught of blatantly provocative imagery.

Unlike the other two, though, he has the exact opposite degree of inhibition. He got the whole “personal space” talk already once or twice, he just… forgets.

However, unfortunately, by the time you meet him, no one has given him the “inappropriate staring” talk yet, so the moment you're introduced by the knights, you see his eyes widen, his head tilts slightly downward, his gaze fixates, and… stays there. No shame, no attempt to conceal what he's looking at, mouth slightly ajar in a dumbstruck stupor. You pause in confusion when he slowly reaches his hand up and out, fingers stretched out as if to grab something, only to be stopped at the last second by one of the knights who spotted the incoming social disaster just in time, grabbing him by the wrist and trying to change the subject with an awkward laugh.

Once he has you to himself, though, he develops a fixation with them. He will come up to you and just sort of… plant his face in the middle, like recharging energy, nuzzling and, to your dismay, sometimes trying to chomp down on them, which you have to actively discourage. During your naps in the sun, you often find yourself waking up to the sudden sucking sensation — and he’s relentless about it too, latching on firmly and refusing to let go. He’s a bit disappointed to learn that no milk comes out, though, at least not yet.

Xiao is the exception to this natural affinity — avians don’t nurse, so it’s a bit of a foreign concept… but the human form is still drawn to it. Except he’s more fond of them for softness, so once he’s more comfortable with touch (which does take a while), he tends to use them as a pillow, opting to rest his head on them for long periods of time. It’s comforting in a way that he can’t really articulate, it just makes him feel at ease.

And then there’s the staring — he’s more accustomed to human norms and social etiquette than Razor, he just sort of… gets distracted for a moment. You just bend forward in just the right way, or perhaps take a bouncing step or come down a flight of stairs, and it just grabs his attention to such an extent that there’s a solid few seconds where he’s left dumbstruck and completely captivated, trailing off anything he was saying, just staring downward in a slack-jawed daze… until you wave your hand in front of his face and he snaps out of it, going fully red in the face. You say you don’t mind, but that only serves to make him more embarrassed…

[dorims]

last christmas (i gave you my heart).

gif creds @/fightingdragonswithwho

pairing. roman roy x reader

wc. 1.6k

genre. fluff

Spending every holiday under Logan Roy’s roof wasn’t necessarily a problem. But just like any other family gathering, the pot tended to be stirred until have a holly jolly Christmas sounded either like a call for help or the theme song from the Saw franchise. for a change, maybe spending christmas away from his family would do him good. you can only hope he agrees.

tags. NOT beta-ed(?), english isn't my first language // established relationship (fiancee/married, i havent decided yet lol), brief mention of alcohol, allusion to roy family dynamics, roman and reader are the only characters in this one

a/n. idc that its march and the fact im not big on christmas either, this one really fun to write! hope you enjoy

“So,” You test the waters, lathering the bristles of your toothbrush with the bubblegum toothpaste in the process. In tune with the routine you had wordlessly established, you locked eyes with him through the mirror. Not before letting your eyes roam over his relaxed figure of course. Surprisingly intimate, you would describe the way he liked to watch you while you finished your nightly routine. He would look so painfully comfortable, maybe even serene, as he let his body rest against the doorframe as his eyes lidded with perpetual fatigue, took in the mundanity of watching you lather your face with creams and face wash.“I’ve been thinking.”

He hummed in acknowledgement, though it sounded more like a stifled laugh. “That's new, how's that going for you?"

“Funny.” The foam in your mouth was of no help at conveying the faux annoyance, balancing out the deadpan you sported with a dose of conveniently muffled speech. Not intimidating at all, it only caused his grin to grow wider. And contagious as always, you leaned over the sink to spit the toothpaste in an attempt to hide a smile of your own, though the thick layer of adoration in your eyes gave it away. 

“I’m just saying,” he raised his hands in mock surrender, finally walking inside to lean against the marble counter right next to you. “I only wanna know how it feels to lose your, you know, thinking virginity after giving no signs of brain activity for how long? Like—“

“You can tell yourself how it feels when you lose it.”

“Oh you want to fuck my brain so bad—“

“I’ve been thinking,” You cut him off with an amused smile, taking him in once more. Big round eyes shone with mischief along a hint of sheepishness as he noticed you looking at him. Really looking at him under the vanity lights with messy hair from running his hands through the strands all day and finally wearing the matching pajamas set you had gotten for him in a pretty navy blue because wearing a matching set made you feel good and you wanted him to feel the same way. Always. 

“You've been thinking…” he rolled his eyes as if to hold back another quip now that you had restarted the conversation. The pinkish hue you were so familiar with made a small appearance as you let your fingers brush over his, gently coaxing him to intertwine his hands with yours. Not that he needed much convincing, though. 

“We should spend Christmas this year with my family.”

At the beginning of your relationship, you were sure he would’ve pulled his hand out of your grasp. You could see the way he had to swallow down the urge to do so from the pensive furrow of his brows while the side of his brain in charge of his critical thinking tried to convince him that your words weren’t an attack on his family. He was still working on it, the lousy therapy sessions here and there helped a little, but he still found himself opening his mouth to complain.

“I know what you’re gonna say but think about it, Romeo.” Thankfully, you took the steering wheel before he could start. “My family loves you and we haven’t spent Christmas with them in like, ever, actually.”

Which wasn’t his fault, and you made sure to tell him so, leaning closer until your knee touched his and giving him a quick peck on his lips before he could protest.

Spending every holiday under Logan Roy’s roof wasn’t necessarily a problem. It was nice to exist alongside the people that Roman loves, the people he grew up around. Watching him interact with his siblings could be endearing. So much so that sometimes you wished you could record their banter and laughter so he could listen back and for a moment picture that things between them were okay. But just like any other family gathering, the pot tended to be stirred until have a holly jolly Christmas sounded either like a call for help or the theme song from the Saw franchise.

“Every year we celebrate in a different place,” you toyed with the idea in front of his eyes like one would a cat’s toy, using your smile to build momentum to the grand reveal that at this point didn’t even sound grand to you. “last Christmas was Italy and this year we’re doing Greece.”

“Since when do you have a house in Greece?” He asked, toying with your fingers as his gaze locked itself on them. It was a good sign he was asking.

“We don’t,” the sound of your animated chuckle helped to loosen his shoulders. Though it didn’t dissipate his slight confusion, it always felt good to have you close like this. “It’s Kelly’s house— eh, her parents’ but sharing is caring or whatever…”

He let out a chuckle of his own. The sound made all sorts of warmth bloom in your chest, maybe even cute aggression if you felt like being dramatic. 

“And after we can spend New Year's just the two of us wherever you want.” He shrugged in a silent response, still pensive, and you couldn’t help but coo at him as if to coax him out of his shell. “It’s gonna be so much fun, they’ve been asking about us and the kids adore you, they’ve been obsessed with Uncle Roro ever since Lizzie’s birthday.”

“As they should be, my lower back never recovered from being used as a human jungle gym.” He rolled his eyes at the memory yet the love was evident from behind the thinly veiled sarcasm. He was a very particular individual but so were most of your siblings-in-law. And sure, the first time he met your family hadn’t gone as he expected, both in a good way and in a bad way, but your mother still asked him to join him for a glass of whiskey whenever they crossed paths with a welcoming smile and your father always hugged him in greeting like he did all his children. 

“You’re good with them,” You smiled against his lips as you leaned closer for a kiss, leaving a couple of pecks that eventually made him smile too. “you’ve always been good with kids.” 

“Yeah whatever, stop kissing me my breath stinks.” 

The way your brothers had instantly included him in their weird boys' night out, which was ruled by the obnoxiously corny motto ‘what happens in boys' night, stays in boy’s night’ that was used as a smoke screen for that one time they decided to go to the spa to never be taken seriously again once they swallowed their own stupidity, left you grinning for a week straight. And let's not start with the picture you had taken during a summer trip to Nice of all the daughters-in-law posing like they were celebrating their high school prom with Roman at the front of the line, it had been all laughter all throughout; the picture came out a little blurry. 

It’s all you could think about sometimes when you watched him doing nothing interesting in particular with a lovesick intensity only rivaled by his. How well he fits in your life, with the quips and interjections that kept you company and next to you on your shared bed. With both your slippers sitting neatly side by side and with the unmeasurable love pooling at the bottom of his chest that he had finally allowed himself to unabashedly share after who knows how long. 

“Can you pass me your headband? I need to wash my face.”

He insisted yours was better every time you told him he should buy one of his own. Even if he hadn’t tried any other than yours. You only let it pass because he looked cute with his hair pushed back. No other reason at all. 

“So,” you cut yourself by giving him a peck on the lips as he got closer to steal some face wash. He had his own on his side of the bathroom but the bottle was pretty much full and yours still ran out quicker than when it was just you. “Greece or no Greece?”

“I got chills, they’re multiplying.” He joked right before rinsing the soap from his face, chuckling at your lack of amusement. “What? You prefer right now there’s nowhere to hide since you pushed my love aside?”

“I prefer you answer my question.” 

The eyes of a kicked puppy on full display just put him out of his misery vibes, pleaded in silence as he dragged his feet across the floor until he was standing right in between your legs, his face hiding in the crook of your neck. He fit nicely against your body and instinctively you let your fingers brush along the strands of his hair. “It’s okay if you don’t want to go.” 

He groaned in response, his voice muffled against your skin. “It’s not that, I want to, I just— I already RSVP or whatever bullshit to my Dad.”

No one RSVP’ed to Logan Roy. Especially not his children. It wasn’t necessary when the table was already set for all parties involved regardless of conflicting schedules 

“That’s okay,” You kiss his hair, resting your cheek against his head and muffling your own voice. The vibrations made him hum. “I can talk to him.”

The disheveled strands tickled your skin as he shook his head. Now that his chin was resting on your chest you noticed how cartoonishly slow he was blinking, his lids heavy the weight of being awake for far too long. 

“I’ll talk to him.” He pressed a kiss against the side of your jaw, feeling the unmistakable excitement of your grin, before hiding the yawn that followed. “Tomorrow, I promise.

[unreliable-narrator-2845]

massive info dump abt an au im working on below ( +art)

some doodles from an au im working on w/ some friends... it's kind of a riff off of both the portal swap au and mr bill pines au... essentially, the brothers are swapped from the beginning - stanley is seen as the smart, successful one, and ford a bit of an outcast black sheep of the family, seen as bad luck because of his extra fingers. stanley is the good, normal one, the one with all the people skills, and ford is the 'brute' slacker, and seen as far more stupid than he really is. stanley is the one who invented the perpetual motion machine - and ford destroys it on purpose out of frustration and jealousy, and is the one that gets kicked out.

ford goes down the path of crime, like stan did, but he's a little more, uh... intense about it. he can't go off of people skills, he's gotta bring actual stuff to the table, so he travels to weirdness pockets (smaller than gravity falls) and basically turns the whole criminal underground on its head by his uncanny ability to harness this stuff. people do not like him, but he's VERY useful, so he gets to live in constant fear of whether people doing deals with him are going to leave him alone after or kill him after, since he can't tell which is which.

unlike stanley, who i think would absolutely hesitate to actually do severe physical violence (past beating people up) even while during his homeless years, i think ford wouldn't hesitate as much. ford has absolutely killed people. he will kill again.

how i see it going down is that bill, doing his usual dealings and such, has one of his hosts killed by ford while he's in it after ford witnesses a crime. he goes "haha! oh shit! a witness!" and then gets his neck fucking snapped the moment he advances on him. bill is Not Particularly Pleased, until he actually gets into ford's dreams, and is... impressed.

i am a simp for bill being a simp - in this au bill doesn't bother manipulating him, he wants this rugged badass to be his husband NOW. when they make a deal, ford writes a paper contract that they regularly update. bill and ford have a very mutual deal, to say the least, and they get married - and ford is the one to take his last name, since he cut contact with the family who kicked him out, so he's mr. stanford cipher (which i think is a good au name?). stanley is the one w/ the middle name filbrick in this au btw.

behind the eye scar: ford got into some shit with the cartel. this happens after his and bill's marriage, but what bill can do is limited w/o being physically present, so he has to watch in horror as they torture ford as he tries to find a way to get his husband out. this is the inciting incident that makes him particularly antsy about getting a portal up and going.

meanwhile stanley in gravity falls comes across an interesting cave...

trivia:

bill could minorly heal the eye, but only so much. the eye is now permanently bill's, or at least in his coloration. ford keeps it closed, but it opens fully when bill is fully possessing him. their contract details that bill can come and go only with ford's explicit permission. they often have a half-possession going, where bill can enhance ford and take only mild control, if any at all.

ford has 4 depictions of bill across his body, all tats. he has lots of vague triangle tattoos also, and the portal shape on his back. bill is fond of possessing the depiction on his throat, which he can move around as he pleases

bill's priorities during the initial writing of the contract were extremely funny. ford was trying to figure out the exact details of mind access, body access, etc, and bill was just gushing about "WE NEED RINGS!!!" and "i get to take you on 4 dates before i propose hehe"

stanley went to BMU and was dormmates w/ fiddleford. they are covertly (not legally) married (because 1980s) and went to gravity falls together. stanley and ford both have an interest in cryptozoology in this. ford avoids gravity falls like the plague because he knows stanley would probably be there

^^ addition to the above: stanley's full name is Stanley Filbrick Pines-McGucket, though he is only Pines-McGucket informally

stanley also still has his mullet. sue me. also he has glasses because he needs them and he's a nerdy science guy in this one

i really enjoy the pre-portal 1980s part of the timeline. can you tell. there's so much potential here. i am frothing at the mouth.

anyways............................................. more content soon. repurposed an old empty sideblog to maybe dedicate to this au/gf content. we shall see.

[luvrxbunny]

soft

pairing: post-outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader

summary: Joel wants her, and she wants him. The bumpy story of how they got together!

warnings: 18+ MDNI, reader has hair that can get in her face, smoking (weed), drinking, lots of feelings, piv, unprotected sex, slight overstimulation, kinda subby Joel at the end (lmk if i forgot anything)

wc: 10.3k (idk how that happened im sorry)

a/n: I’m pretty proud of this one. ik its long but please just give her a chance!

It started with you and Joel both high and drunk out on the porch and he looked so beautiful. There was a perpetual smile on his face, laughing and even giggling at almost everything you said, folding himself over and leaning his head on you whenever he thought something was particularly funny and you couldn't control yourself.

The next time he leaned over you waited, watching, letting him calm back down but when he went to pull off of you, you pulled his head to yours. His breathing stopped short and it scared you until he groaned into your mouth. It was so many things, it was broken, grateful, desperate but savoring and you loved it. 

He placed his hand behind your head and held you in place as he pushed his lips further into yours. It almost hurt, the way he seemed to attempt to mold your face into one, but it was so perfect. When he pulled away you were out of breath, panting in his face as he did the same. You guys continued to exchange breaths as you scrutinized every aspect of his face.

Anxiety was clawing inside your stomach as you took him in, fearing that he may never let you ever again. His soft lips parted, and you watched his tongue slide into the indent on his bottom lip. You silently hoped he could taste your remnants on them as they froze, waiting for words to spill out. Only to be interrupted by Ellie slamming the front door open. 

“Can you guys fucking keep it down?! I have school, remember? You’re the one making me go!” She shouts at you both, directing the last part at Joel who was still staring at you. You were watching Ellie as she yelled but Joel’s silence brought your gaze back to him. You shouldn’t have because you feel like that’s when it happened. You swear you could see him blocking himself off from you, like a door was shutting in his eyes. He apologized to Ellie and said it was getting late. 

Now, usually, Joel insists on you sleeping on the couch, too worried to let you go home so inebriated but that night he sent you away. It was like he broke your heart. He shattered it and forced you to place the shards in your shoes as he pushed you away, pain shooting through your whole body with every step. 

You cried yourself to sleep that night, you thought things were over with Joel, and you’d lose touch with Ellie because it would be too painful to go over there.

Your paradise was ruined.

You couldn’t believe you had read the situation so wrong. You thought- worse case- he would tell you that you’re too young, that he just can’t be with you, for whatever reason. But the look in his eyes… the way he sent you home. It felt like he didn’t even care about you anymore. 

The next day you thought you had lost your mind. You were in a terrible headspace and decided to ditch your responsibilities. You were in bed, switching between sleeping and sobbing into your pillow. You felt horrible, you looked horrible and someone was knocking incessantly at your door. They would not leave, no matter how much time passed, no matter how loud you groaned. So you wrapped your blanket around you and very angrily made your way to the door. 

“Who the fu-” Your sentence is cut short in complete and utter shock.

It was Joel. 

You let the door swing open and walk back inside. You’re already climbing back into bed as you hear him shut the door behind him. “What do you want, Joel?”

 You’re lying down, wiggling a bit to get comfortable. In the corner of your eye, you can see him just standing there, his thick arms crossed over his broad chest. Your head almost turns as you hear him take a deep breath, wishing you could see the way his chest puffs up and stretches whatever shirt he’s wearing. But you don't. He’s not someone you should be admiring like this, he’s someone you cannot be admiring like this. 

“Oh my god. Don’t just stand there you know I fucking hate that.” Your voice is so irritated, so hurt and cold but he scoffs.

Anger and embarrassment courses through you but you feel the bed dip anyway, it eases the feelings.

You can feel him right beneath your feet, so close you almost want to straighten your legs a bit more, just so you can press against him. But you don’t. 

“Okay, then don’t curse… Y'know I hate that.” His voice is painfully normal, like nothing happened, like he didn't break you. You want to laugh- or cry- at the absurdity. The thought that last night meant nothing to him, so little that he’s over here asking you things like ‘don’t curse’.

Who does he think he is? That he can treat me like shit and then ask such trivial things of me? No. Fuck him. 

“Fuck you, Joel. You’re a dick, get out.” He takes a deep breath and then is silent for a moment. You hoped and prayed that he had given up but to no avail. 

“No, honey. I’m supposed to find out why you’re not out workin’.” You scoff at him and dig yourself deeper into the blankets. “Ar- are ya sick or somethin’?” At this you turn to him, looking him dead in the eyes, asking ‘Are you fucking serious?’ but he can’t hold your gaze.

Oh! So he does remember.

You laugh humorlessly and fall back into bed where you lie in silence, for quite some time. Until his hand comes up to your ankle, resting so gently you know he’s holding it up. He’s probably still thinking over whether he should do it or not, unaware that he’s already touching you. 

“Can- Well, I- I- I know that- fuck.” He’s so angry when he says it, frustrated with himself for not having the right words.

He never knows the right thing to say, or how to convey how he feels. He’s so scared of losing you right now, but he doesn’t know how to tell you in a way that will have you asking no questions. He can’t have you asking him anything because he knows you’ll ask him things that he’s nowhere near ready to answer. “Can you just- Can you please?” 

You waited for him to say more, expecting it, but that was the end of the sentence. He wanted you to ‘just please’.

The way he says it though, you look over at him and he’s gazing into you, his eyes so piercing that you almost feel uncomfortable. It feels like he’s prying into you, willing you to open up for him to express himself without having to actually say anything to you. 

You sit up and glare back at him, softer than before but still hot with rage. “Please, what.” He shakes his head and looks away from you, into his lap instead as his hand fully settles on your ankle. He keeps huffing out breaths, like he’s going to say something but then decides against it. You’re almost irritated with the sound until he takes a breath and follows it with words. 

“You- I need for yesterday to have not happened.”

Fuck him.

You hadn’t even gotten over the first rejection, the lack of care he showed and now here he was rejecting you again. “You must- You gotta understand why it can’t happen. Why we-”

You were trying not to tremble as he rubbed his hand over his face, trying to keep himself calm in the face of the extreme stress the whole situation was putting on him. Tears were welling in your eyes as he spoke, despite you squeezing them shut to avoid this exact issue. But it hurt just as much as it did last night, maybe more. “We just can’t. Not- I need for things to go back to normal… f- for now at least…”

You’re breathing froze, eyes snapping open to look at Joel, who was still looking in his lap. His hand left your ankle to meet his other fidgeting one as you both sat in silence. You could see him peeking at you from the corner of his eye as subtly as he could as you thought over his words.

You felt like you were on a game show. Do you double down or just take what you have?

‘I need for yesterday to have not happened’

‘I need for things to go back to normal’

His words hurt.

‘F-for now at least’

But those words… made it worth it. 

You didn’t want to push him. You know how hard it must’ve been for him to even express the little bit he did. Along with that, the thought of him noticing you weren’t around and coming to check on you was making its way through your cloud of hate. 

“Y-you sent me away…” Your voice isn’t hard anymore. It isn't soft either, it was just weak. You can see Joel grimace at it, turning away from you so you couldn’t see him. “Wh- You- you always let me stay but- you just-” You stop talking, if you kept going you would’ve started sobbing again. 

“I couldn’t let you stay, honey. The- I didn’t- I don’t have enough self-control for something like that to happen an’... I’m leaving you in the guest room? No. I would’ve- had to have- I… No, I-” He breathes out in annoyance again and you yearn to comfort him. But you don’t.

He always gets too frustrated with himself, making it even harder for him to clear his head enough to say what he wants. “I wouldn’t have been able to leave you there. I would’ve had to do somethin’ and I- I don't think that’s a good idea.”

You’re not completely satisfied with the answer, you have more questions now than you did before but you managed to collect one piece of information.

Joel wants you.

It wasn’t a flat-out rejection more like a, ‘let's put a pin in that’ and you have enough faith in him to believe he wouldn’t string you along. So you sniffle, put your big boy pants on as you wipe your tears, and tap Joel on the shoulder, turning his gaze to you. You take a deep breath and speak.

“Yesterday’s events are forgotten.” You say it with a light smile but you’re betrayed by one stray tear as it rushes down your face. Joel’s expression crumbles at it, in so much pain, so heartbroken at the thought that he had caused it. Despite his feelings, he nods at you and gets up. “Get ready. You’re in the fields today, darlin’.” He hits the door frame with a grateful smile before walking away to let you get changed.

Leaving you in your hopeful sadness. 

------------------------------------

Things were rocky at first. Neither of you were actually able to forget about ‘what happened’ as Joel so lovingly put it. You expected too much from him and he was still too cold toward you. For the first month, you guys were basically in an argument. It was as though the town couple, the gruff old man and the re-tamed angel, had broken up. 

Everyone knew that you were hooking up with Jared, he wouldn’t shut up about it. Joel and the townspeople had heard of his sexual conquests over and over since he arrived, before he set his sights on you.

When he first approached you, you had already gotten out of your ‘phase’ and were too captivated by Joel to entertain him for even a second. However, he was quite popular among the other town women, he was popular with women even before the outbreak so he couldn’t believe when you rejected him. Not that he was shocked, he fully did not believe you. In turn, he never stopped pursuing you… much like Gaston from Beauty and the Beast.

So when Joel broke you, you slipped back to how you were before him… You went to Jared. You don’t know if you were hoping he could put you back together or if you wanted him to help you cut Joel with the shards of your heart but the latter is what ended up happening. 

You wanted to cut it off with Jared the moment Joel found out. When Jared started parading around the town with you next to him as if you were genuinely interested. But you didn’t.

Instead, you kept seeing him for a few more weeks. You watched Joel avoid you like the plague, ducking out of every room you walked into, switching his jobs with people who had the worst ones just so he didn’t have to work with you. You enjoyed making him squirm, showing him that you could just move on if he’s not ready to step up. You were a highly sought-after woman, a piece of art who he wanted to keep in the garage until he found the right spot. No, you refuse. Until you came across him alone at the bar one night. 

He was obviously drunk, a beer in hand but his cheek on the table. There was a song playing that he was loosely singing along to. His other hand was in the air, waving his finger around like he was conducting an orchestra. You storm over to his booth. 

Watch him suddenly sober up and head home. Watch him suddenly remember some plans he made or something he forgot to do. Watch him just get up and leave me again. 

You sit down across from him and wait for him to notice you. You’re just watching him. His eyes are closed and his eyebrows furrow as he tries to hit each high note. He’s failing, not hitting them perfectly but still getting to an impressive pitch. It’s too endearing to see him like this, so open, unburdened.

You didn’t even know he could sing this well. Your anger and bitterness fades for the first time in weeks. Your head tilts and a soft smile invades your face, as if sensing this Joel finally opens his eyes. 

They’re so soft, probably because he thought he was alone, his guard is dropped. You’re waiting for them to go back up at the sight of you. But they stay so soft as he gasps gently. “Honey! Wha- When did you get ‘ere” His voice is softer too… not as rough and gruff as it usually is. 

He also doesn’t sound angry. After all he’s done to avoid you, you’d expect him to sound angry. You chalk it up to the alcohol. 

“I’ve been here. You just never noticed.” When your voice reaches Joel it's gentle, like how you’d speak to a child but not patronizing. He likes it. He swears he can feel your voice washing over him, running through his hair and caressing his cheek. He smiles at it, at you as a blush rises to his cheeks. 

“S-so you-” He looks down at the table, his eyes moving back and forth as he thinks. “Did you hear m-” You can’t help the laugh that slips out. Your hand comes up to cover your mouth but you’re still obviously smiling. “Oh.” That’s all he says as you let your laughs out. 

“I’m- Not laughing at you, Joel. I- I swear.” Laughs break up your sentence as Joel stares at the table. “Oh- I’m so sorry. God. You really didn’t notice me here! That’s what was so funny not your singing I swear.” You let out a little giggle at the end but Joel is frowning. 

“This s’why I don’ sing in front of no one.” He’s picking at the wood and grumbling to himself. You’d find it all incredibly annoying if it wasn’t Joel doing it. 

“Joel.” You’re stern but still gentle as you speak. “I told you it wasn’t your singing. The singing was great. I was so fucking impressed. I had no clue you could even sing like that.” You watch a smile creep onto his face as you praise his talent. He’s still looking at the table, wanting to stay angry but he can’t. Your smile widens the longer you watch him until he takes a swig of his beer. 

“Why are you so drunk?”

The words tumble out before you can stop them and Joel pauses mid-sip. He’s frozen like that before slamming it onto the table and looking at you. “ ‘M not drunk. ‘M not. But if I was…” He squints his eyes at you. “If I was- It’s probably cos the girl I want seems to want someone else.”

It feels like everything in the bar stops. Your breathing, your heart, the music, time, the world. Everything just stops. 

He got this drunk… over me?

He chuckles and finishes his beer as you sit there in shock. “Dunno why you’re doin’ all this. I know you knew. Jus’ thought-” He goes to take another sip and whines when there’s nothing. “Stupid fuckin-” He throws it across the room, astonishingly making it into the trash with a small mumble of ‘swish’. 

“Joel.” He turns back to you with a blank expression. “You never told me you liked me.” 

“Oh please.” His voice is mean, a bit sharp now. Your face contorts into one of disgust as he speaks. “You ain’t that dumb, honey. It was very heavily implied an’ you know it.” Your expression drops into a frown. His voice broke at the end, followed by a sniff and an aggressive rub from his sleeve over his nose. “B-but you’re still out there with fuckin’ Jared.” His voice shakes through the sentence, adding some anger at the end as you cringe at the sound of his name. You both were aware you didn’t have any honest feelings for Jared.

“Joel. You told me to pretend that… that night.” You look away from him, embarrassed at what should be a sweet memory. “You told me to pretend it never happened and then treated me like shit for no reason afterward. Certainly, you didn’t expect me to sit in that. There’s no way you thought I would tolerate it! So yeah, I went to get whatever affection I could, elsewhere since my best and main source ran fucking dry.” You can feel your anger towards him building back up as you speak, reliving the details of your guys’ downfall. It still hurt. 

“Certainly you didn’t- Why do you talk so damn proper?” He’s laughing to himself at his rendition of your voice but you’re nowhere near amused. You stand from your seat and look down at him, stopping his laughter instantly.

“Okay. Let’s talk about this when you’re sober, hmm? When you can be an adult? Stay on topic at least?” His brows furrow and his eyes leave yours. You stand there, waiting for him to respond but get nothing. “Cool, Joel. I’ll see you around then.” You sigh and turn away from him, disappointed.

The night had started so well, that you stupidly believed that you guys might be able to save your relationship. You should’ve known he was too drunk for the conversation but he shouldn’t have brought it up. If he knew he wouldn’t be able to have a serious conversation he shouldn’t have brought it up in the first place. Now you’re both hurting all over again. He’s probably gonna grab another drink and you’re probably gonna go see Jared. 

“Please!” It’s frantic, desperate, and unsteady as it shoots out of his mouth. You freeze in your spot, halfway to the door and halfway from him. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I don’t wanna talk about it. Why fuckin’ would I? It hurts. You fuckin’— You hurt me… prancing around with that piece of shit- All I did was ask you to wait… just wait- for me to be ready to love you.”

You’re still standing in the middle of the room, facing the door. His voice was getting louder, closer as he spoke but you don’t turn. You could hear the emotion bleeding into his words, breaking his voice as he approached you. 

“But you- You couldn’t even wait for me! No. No, you had to go get— ah how’d ya put it? Affection elsewhere- fuck off. You coulda just said you needed something from me. I could’ve given you affection.” His voice softened after cursing at you. It only grows softer as he speaks. You can feel him behind you, maybe a few steps away but you don’t turn.

You don’t wanna see him, lose your edge, your nerve. “I- I would’ve given it to you if I knew, darlin’. I was tryna keep my distance, waitin’ for you to get over me and look! You did. I- I just wish you had told me, instead of havin’ t’hear it from fuckin’— fuckin’ Jared.”

His voice dies down for a moment and you turn around. His hair is everywhere, he must’ve been running his hands through it as he spoke. His eyes aren’t teary but they look like he could cry at any moment, he looks tired and his lips are bitten red.

“I would’ve understood. Or- Or maybe I wouldn’t’ve I dunno. I just wish you woulda said somethi-”

You’re kissing him.

Fuck.

You are kissing him. You didn't mean to. You have no clue how your lips got to his but they’re all over them. He’s groaning at you, pulling you in as you pull away.

“Fuck! I’ve got to stop doing that… jesus.” You’re looking at the ground as you wipe his slobber off your mouth. He’s silent, panting as he just stands there and your heart starts to race. 

It’s just like last time. Fuck. Why the fuck do I keep doing this shit.

Tears are already welling in your eyes and you decide to speak before he can send you away. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I did that… I know you need time or whatever.” You pause, giving him room to say anything but he doesn't. You want to look up at him, see what he’s thinking, how he’s reacting. But you don’t. 

“Yeah… I’m gonna go.” You turn around and finish your walk to the exit. You grab the handle and stop. “I- I’m gonna cut things off with Jared…” You stay silent for a bit, trying to decide whether you should say your next words.  “I do need your affection though, Joel.” You rushed out the door after that.  

------------------------------------

You just want to fuck him already. It’s been months now, of this back and forth. To be clear, you do still want him romantically, how could you not? This man, when his hair is fluffy and soft just like him. When you see his expression now light up when you walk into the room. When he builds you little trinkets in the shop, instead of doing the job he was assigned to. When he makes your favorite for dinner after finding out that you’re having a bad day. When he plans movie nights featuring your favorites that he could find on DVD. 

How could you not love him?

It scares you. The “situation-ship” you both were currently in started a few months ago. Actually… It started exactly four months and three weeks ago. There’s no point in pretending you haven’t kept track. Joel told you that he needed time. You would have never expected it to be this much time but you’ve grown to love and crave him over the months.

He listened to what you said at the bar that night. He’s been giving you so much affection it’s actually making the other women in the community quite jealous of you. He hasn’t kissed you yet but he kisses your cheek, your forehead, and- when he’s drunk or high enough- your neck. You don’t kiss him anymore. You’ve kissed his cheek a few times over the months, his head once when he was sick but other than that you try to keep to yourself. You’re still a bit traumatized from his first rejection, the way it played out, and everything. You’d rather just not risk it.  

You’re in the garden and he’s in the field. You’re planting flowers, pulling and re-planting vegetables while Joel is harvesting the wheat he planted four months ago and tilling the land for the new seeds. You keep looking over at him, you really can’t help it at this point. 

The sun is shining through his hair, making it a dark golden color with streaks of white running through it. His arms are smudged from handling the dirt all day and his biceps flex repeatedly as he picks the kernels off of the wheat and throws them into his basket. His eyebrows are creased and his eyes squinted to avoid the burning light of the sun and he keeps looking over at you. He really can’t help it at this point. 

You look so beautiful, sitting on your knees with your adorably mismatched gardening gloves. Your hair falls so angelically every time you lean forward to lead a new plant to its home. Every time you sit back up you use the back of your wrist to try and shove the hair from your face, sputtering out, trying to blow the hair away and it's so endearing. Your arms are dirty and he feels the incredibly odd urge to bathe you. He’s ready to love you. He’s so fucking ready but he has no clue— not even the slightest— as to how he should tell you. 

The current supervisor calls it a day and you almost fall face-first into the plants in your scramble to get to Joel. He’s taking off his gloves, flexing and stretching his fingers when he sees you rushing toward him with a huge smile he can’t help but mirror. “Hey, darlin’. You look so beautiful today.”

You freeze where you stand which luckily isn’t too far from Joel. He makes his way over to you, watching your expression. He loves it so much, he doesn’t understand how he never noticed it before. The way you always take a deep, shaking breath, your eyebrows go inward and you give him this look. He doesn’t understand it yet but it always makes him ache for you, makes him burn somewhere in the depths of his being to just be with you. He doesn’t know how long he can resist it. He doesn't want to. He doesn’t.

“I’m- I think I really- I just really wanna kiss you.” You snap out of your daze and your eyes focus on him, hopeful for a moment then a little dull. You turn your head, give him your cheek, close your eyes, and wait for the gentle kiss but nothing happens. You slowly open your eyes and look at him, he looks scared. “I wanna kiss you.”

You can hear your heart speed up, your breaths getting shorter and your thoughts more jumbled.

He wants to kiss me?

You’re confused for a moment, not understanding what brought this on. You’re eyes slip from his contact as you lose yourself in your thoughts, not realizing the silence you’re creating or the anxiety you’re causing. But Joel realizes, he’s sweating more than he has all day as he waits for you to say something, do something. He shifts his weight from foot to foot before giving up. “We don’t have to… I just- I wanted to…” He tries and fails to keep the sadness out of his voice.

His words strike fear in you and you reach out to grip his arm, hoping it’s enough to stop him from walking away. “Y-You wanna kiss me? On the… on the lips?” He’s surprised by your voice, it sounds far away, loose, and airy.

“I do.” It comes out with no hesitation, no stutters, no pause. You take a step closer to him and his expression twitches, his chest beginning to heave with anticipation. 

“I would really love that, Joel.” You’re staring up at him now, as best you can in the sun. You’re looking into his eyes, an excited, mischievous glint in your eyes, challenging him, daring him to do something. And he loses his nerve. 

“Oh! Okay. Thats… Thats good. I- I want you to come over later, alright? I’ll get us some weed and alcohol. You don’t need to bring snacks or nothin’ either jus- jus bring yourself, alright? Okay, see you then.” And with that, he walked off. His cheeks were absolutely burning. He couldn’t believe himself 

‘That's good’? What the fuck is wrong with you, Miller? Leaving that darlin’ girl standing in the sun like that? It just ain’t right, she’s so sweet on you and you fuckin’ know it. I gotta stop doin’ this to her…

You’re watching Joel walk away. A bit stunned by the whole interaction, confusion, and questions swarm your head the whole walk home. They stick with you in the shower and as you get ready to head over to Joel’s. They accompany you on the whole walkover as well.

Maybe he wants me to do something… I know people like it rough, so maybe he wants me to take charge? He doesn’t really seem the type. Does this mean he wants me now? Will he kiss me tonight? Is that why he invited me over? Are we gonna have sex? Oh god, I hope so. I’d treat him so well- or maybe I wouldn’t since everyone likes it rough. 

You’ve reached his block when you’re stopped by Susan; Joel’s biggest admirer. She places herself in front of you, blocking your path and forcing you to talk to her.  “Oh, he’s not in, hun.”

You take a calming breath and try not to roll your eyes at her. “Okay… Well, I’m gonna check, just in case.” You turn your steps and try to make your way around her only for her to place herself right back in your way. 

“I’m gonna be honest I- I don’ really get this whole thing with you an’ him. I just- I guess I don’ really see it… Do ya’ know what I mean?” You glare at her, ignoring her statement and waiting for her to just get out of your way. “I mean…” She steps closer to you. “I remember when you first got here…” 

You can feel shame and embarrassment curl in your stomach at the mention of your arrival. You weren’t in the best place, mentally, and you did a lot- a lot- of things that you wished you hadn’t, lots of men you wished you hadn’t. “Don’t be an ass, Susan.” She backs away from you, a sinister smile on her face and her hands in the air. 

“Hey! I’m” She laughs. “I’m jus sayin’... You were interested in a lot of different guys!” You start walking, refusing to listen to what she has to say. But the psycho bitch follows you. “I mean are you even sure that it’s him that you want? Weren’t you with Jared just a few months ago? I mean…” 

You’re speed-walking to Joel’s now. You’re only a house away when she hops in front of you again. “Hun! I told you he ain’t home! I’m just-” She sighs and lowers her head as you crane your neck, hoping and praying Joel had made his way to the porch by now. But he hasn’t. “If you just want a man I can set you up with some of my friends! Some people who are… Gosh! How do I say this without bein’ rude? Some people who are more in your… lane… league?” Your head whips back at her, fury raging in your eyes at her audacity. 

“Excuse me?” You question, low and threatening. “Well. Hun, c’mon now, don’t get all bent outta shape, I mean well! You and I both know Joel is too… hmm, well. He’s too good for you I guess.” You’re not staring at her, you’ve turned your head to the patch of sky you can see through the trees beside you, choosing to count the stars instead of listening to this shit. 

“I’d strongly disagree.” You can hear her gasp and spin around as a smile spreads over your face.

Joel. 

“Oh! I- I thought you weren’t home, sugar.” She tries to lean into him but he walks around her and grabs your arm, pulling you past her with a mumble of “Yeah. I know.”, ending the conversation. 

Joel doesn’t speak until he’s gotten you inside. “I dunno why you listen to that woman. She spews nothin’ but garbage.” You watch him dart from cupboard to cupboard to retrieve his lighter and a little joint you can tell he rolled because it’s dented in the middle. “She’s always saying some dumb shit. I fuckin’ hate it.” 

His eyebrows are furrowed and his face is hard as he lights it up. You can’t remember the last time you’ve seen him so angry. You watch the tension fall from his shoulders, his face relaxing as he inhales. You take your shoes off, still watching him as a small smile spreads over his face and he exhales. “Are you gonna share Joel?” You ask as he goes in for another hit. 

“Hey-  Be nice darlin’, it’s mine after all.” He teases while handing it to you. You push yourself up onto the counter, sitting next to where he’s leaning as you take a drag. 

“Yours schmours, you’ll be fine.” He giggles— giggles— at your statement, his hand coming up to cover his smile as he laughs. All you can see are his pretty brown eyes, the creases around them, and the way they almost shut while he laughs. You feel your heart race, bringing along that urge that has gotten you in trouble many times over. Your eyes flicker to his lips and you immediately avert your gaze, taking another hit to try and calm yourself. 

You wait for him to come back up from his designated, folded, laughing position and hold the joint out for him. You snort at the misshapen stick, causing you to choke on the smoke you were holding. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s what you get for laughing. Mhm.” You’re coughing up a lung as he says this, making the situation worse because you cannot stop laughing at him. He continues his remarks after taking a hit, you’re still choking and laughing, and you hold an arm out to him. 

“Joel-” You cough. “Joel-” You laugh. “Joel, stop it. I’m- oh fuck.” You start coughing again in a way that has Joel turning to face you, amusement and a bit of concern on his face. “Oh my god, stop. I’m gonna die, don’t make me laugh- oh my god.” 

He’s beaming at you, proud that you find him so funny and the high really hitting him. You can tell, his eyes are a bit hazy and his eyebrows are raised for some reason. He walks towards you when your fit dies down, pushing himself between your legs with a dazed look on his face. He’s just staring at your thighs for a moment, his head turning from left to right so he can look at both of them before looking up at you. Your heart is thrumming out of your chest as you try to keep your expression neutral, maybe a bit inquisitive. He stares at your lips for a bit before you see his hand raising with the joint. He brings it to your lips and looks back up at your eyes, his eyebrows jump, prompting you to inhale. 

You take a long hit, trying to get as much smoke as you can, hoping it will calm you down. His eyes stay on yours, darkening as his breathing becomes a bit shallow. He pulls the joint away from your lips and puts it out right onto the counter before bringing his hand up to your cheek.

You haven’t exhaled yet, savoring the hit while he slowly brings your face to his. You’re watching his eyes, still on yours as he pulls you in. You begin to exhale, not wanting to hold the smoke in if he’s going to kiss you. That’s when he pushes your lips together. You try not to choke as he sucks the smoke out of your mouth and pulls away. You’re in a stupor as he grins at you and breathes your smoke out, re-lighting the fire in the pit of your stomach, the one that always seems to flare whenever he’s around.

“What’d ya think of that, huh? Good kiss or?” He’s wearing a smirk but his eyes are uncertain at your silence. You keep it up, not saying anything, just pulling him back in and smashing your lips into his. He accepts your kiss with a grunt from the force of it as his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you in. 

You’re gripping his hair like it's your lifeline, gripping his face like it’ll fall apart otherwise, it hurts a little but he’s fond of your eagerness. Your hands slide onto his shoulders and you dig your fingers into his skin brutally, pulling a wince from him. He separates your lips and strokes over your cheek with his thumb, admiring you. It's a soft, tender moment until you yank him by his belt loops, crashing him against the counter painfully to whisper in his ear. “I want you, Joel”

He smiles at this and kisses you again as you undo his belt. You remove it from the loops and let it drop to the ground so you can get to work on his button and zipper. You feel his lips stutter against yours and he pulls away, confused. “Not- not here, darlin’. ‘M not gonna do this in the kitchen.” He sounds a bit confused as he grips your hips and lifts you off of the counter and back onto the floor. They come back up to cradle your face again as he places a quick, soft kiss on your lips. “ ‘M gonna make love to you in my room, on my bed, baby.”

Make love..?

Confusion flows through your mind but you go along with him, assuming it’s just some outdated terminology. “Yeah? You gonna fuck me in your bed, Joel?” He is so shocked by your response. He doesn’t understand why you’re being so aggressive about it. He’s trying to be gentle, and loving but you seem to reject it. He gives you a brief but genuine smile before leading you to his room,

Your heart is racing as you follow Joel to his bedroom. This would be the first time you’ll be having sex with someone you care about, someone you love. You wondered if it would feel any different when he was shattering your hips with his own, would there still be that soft look of adoration in his eyes? You don’t see how the two could go together. 

You get to his room and he shuts the door quietly. “Can you stay still, honey?” He rolled his sleeves up, only halfway, showing off his thick forearms. He’s circling you as he questions you, holding eye contact and stopping in front of you. “I- I wanna undress you.”

Your throat feels like it’s closed. 

Undress me? Why would he want to- That doesn’t seem very time-efficient… Oh, but look at him. 

His eyes are silently and subconsciously begging you to let him. You let him. 

He takes a deep breath and his eyes rake down your body the moment you nod at him. He grabs your hips, pulling you to him with a boyish grin before running his fingers along the hem of your shirt. They tickle your skin softly as he brings them up, bunching the fabric before pulling it over your head. He looks right into your eyes as he does this. That soft look digs into your chest, it feels like you may explode. 

He only breaks away from your gaze to throw your shirt on a chair in the corner. He brings his empty hand to cup your cheek, stroking his thumb across your skin as a sort of apology for diverting his attention. He looks back at you with a smile so gentle you may melt. 

Your knees almost give out when he unbuttons your pants, he sticks his thumbs in the back of your waistband, leaning into you. He’s so close. He’s so close. He’s smirking like he knows you want to kiss him. He leans forward, licking his lips before abruptly ducking down, pulling your pants with him. 

You let out a surprised squeal that has him smiling up at you. Your hand comes up to bury itself in his hair before you realize it. You admire the softness of it, how fluffy it is. His eyes droop, getting a foggy, clouded look in them as he stares up at you. 

Make it good for him. Everyone likes it rough. 

You pull it, much harder than necessary, and watch his eyebrows crease in what you assume is arousal as he grunts again. He lifts from his kneeling position and kisses you, a little harder than he did before. 

His hands were running down your back, cupping your ass, and then stroking down your thighs. He’s breathing heavily against your face as his hands squeeze your inner thigh. They roam all over your body but never go where you want them, where you need them. 

“Okay, Joel. Enough I need you. I- I need you.” He smiles underneath his bitten lip as you push him away and gesture to his entire body. “Take them off… Off!” 

You’re basically ripping your undergarments off and running to him, unbuttoning his shirt for him as he takes off his pants. The moment your hands push his shirt open he’s kissing you instead. He walks you both onto the bed, tripping over his pants with a giggle before landing safely on the covers. You waste no time in climbing over him, whining out when his cock rubs along your soaked pussy. He lifts himself to try and kiss you but you’re not looking at him. You’re trying to push his dick into your soaking, aching pussy. 

“Shit- Damn. Fuck, honey.” He slams himself back onto the bed, his hands tighten around your hips as you position your legs beneath you and slam your hips onto him. It fucking burns. You’re wet and wanting but he’s huge, the stretch of his fat cock burns inside you as his tip jams itself into your cervix painfully. You bit off more than you can chew. Joel is grunting harshly beneath you so you power through, attempting to hide your grimace as you let out half-honest moans. 

“Fuck- No. No, no, stop, baby.” His hands force you down and hold you there, rendering you immobile as he sits up. You’re watching his abs clench as he sits up with no assistance but his pure muscle, your eyes only move to his face when he clears his throat. 

You’re embarrassed now, under the impression that you’ve done something wrong, something he didn’t like. You wouldn’t know what to do if that were the case… You were doing what you normally do… You don't know any special moves or anything like that. “Did- You didn’t like it..?”

You ask as timidly as possible, hoping he could hear it and would be gentle. 

“I- I mean I guess but it’s not what I want.” Confusion and a bit of anger flares inside you. How were you supposed to know what he wanted? 

“Okay well, what do you want then, Joel?” His brows furrow and he brings a hand up to caress your face again. 

“I want to make love to you. I told you that.”

There’s that fucking term again. 

“I don’t know what that means, Joel! Isn’t it the same as fucking? I don’t get it.” His brows unfurrow instantly, becoming soft and a bit upturned in what seemed to be concern. And to add insult to injury… you can feel him softening inside you. 

“What do you mean?” His voice is much softer than yours, but it frustrates you. You struggle not to roll your eyes at him. 

“I do not know what that means. I do not understand.” You talk slower than necessary, not actually explaining anything. You’re being a brat.

He tilts his head at you, giving a gut-wrenching, disappointed look. He kisses your cheeks and tells you to be nice, that he’s just trying to understand you.

“No… It’s not the same as fuckin’. It’s gentle and lovin’. It’s me takin’ my time with you, gettin’ you to open up for me.” You can feel his dick filling back up, stretching you out beautifully.

“It’s me learnin’ about what you like, showin’ you what I think you’d like, and getting you to cum around me and for me as long as I can. It’s more focused on- on love rather than lust.” He sighs quietly. “I’m- I’m bettin’ you’ve never had that though…” 

You hear sadness leak into his voice as he ends his sentence, watching you avert your gaze. He watches frustration and shame creep onto your face. “So what? I don’t even- I don’t think I even like it that way. Slow? It already takes me long enough to cum… I don’t need to be here for hours on end, Joel.”

He shakes his head at you sadly. “You would like it, baby.” He has one hand back on your hip as the other spreads out, his large hand spread over your back as he slowly flips you both over, resting you on the bed softly. “I- fuck, I know you’d love it, honey.”

His words resonate deep in your core, bringing a new wave of wetness to run over his cock. “Oh-” His hips stutter into yours as though he could feel the extra cream flowing over his dick. “Yeah, oh you’d- I think you’ll like it, darlin’”

He places you on the bed and finishes talking before kissing you and raising to straighten himself out. His hips thrust slowly into yours and fuck does it feel good. I mean of course it does, Joel is towing over you like a Greek god and his cock is sliding within your walls smoothly, stimulating every nerve it comes across. You start to buck your hips, impatient with the slow build of the pleasure. You wanted something explosive, something that will leave you heaving for breath and you cannot comprehend how you could possibly get there like this. 

Joel smiles, shakes his head at your agitation, and presses his hands down onto your sporadic hips, forcing them to stay on the bed. “No. Softly, baby. Be gentle with me, c’mon.” He continues his rhythm before, rocking into you with breathless pants. Your pleasure felt just out of reach and it was insanely maddening. “Calm down.” He tells you in a low, warning tone. You swear he can read your mind. 

“Tell me.” He leans down so his lips are right by your ear. He places a kiss on your temple and looks down at where the two of you connect, shoving his hair in your face. “Do you like this?” He keeps at his regular pace, the frustrating, agitating, insanely maddening pace. “Or… Do you-” He lets out a shuddering sigh right next to your ear, your eyes nearly rolling back at the faint sound. “Or do you like this?”

His pace changes into something indescribable. His hips are swiveling into yours and hitting eighteen different pleasure points at once. Your arms come up to grip his biceps, one instantly sliding down to his lower back to encourage him to keep it up.

“Oh-” You sound shocked and out of breath. “Oh. I like that one, Joel. This one. I like this one- please” His pace speeds up and he moans at the sound of your whimper. His attention is finally pulled from where you both meet and he’s looking right into your eyes.

This man and his fucking eye contact. 

It’s doing something to you… the way he’s looking at you. It’s burning into your stomach and has you clenching around him, pulling another ragged, angelic moan from his lips, hitting your lips directly due to his position. You lean up and kiss him as much as you can, most of your brain had shut off the moment he flipped you both over. 

He was hitting so deep inside you, a whole section that you didn't know existed. His cock is slowly sliding over every ridge in your pussy, his veins stimulating your sensitive walls. “Joel-” 

It slips out like a whimper as your moans release. You’re suddenly on 100% volume, unable to hold anything in. You never learned how. You thought you just didn’t moan against your own will, never having been in enough pleasure to let out authentic moans. 

Your hand comes from his lower back to slap over your mouth, desperately trying to hold all your noises in but Joel rips it away. “Don’t do- fuck you feel so fuckin’ good-“ His voice is shaking and breathless.

“Fuck, don’ cover up your- your moans, please. Fuck I wanna hear ‘em” He intertwines your fingers with his and holds your hand next to your head. He straightens himself as much as he can while keeping your fingers interlocked so he can grind into you more deliberately. He’s angling himself a million different ways until you convulse onto yourself. You try to hold in a scream as he fucks into… something. It’s almost painful, the way pleasure punches through your body with every thrust. 

“Yeah?- God fuckin’ dammit."

His hips stutter as you involuntarily suffocate his dick in your pussy. “Fuck- Is that it? Your special spot, honey? I got it dead on, huh?” He’s wearing an irritatingly calm smirk as he teases you. You, on the other hand, can barely breathe.

You’re clawing at anything you can get a hold of, his arms, the back of his neck, his back. You feel like you could cry- or throw up at the otherworldly pleasure Joel is forcing onto you. Your mouth is perpetually open, spewing out moans every other second. Your eyes keep rolling back into your head despite your attempts to look at Joel. You can’t even wrangle together enough thoughts to coherently explain how good it feels, how good he’s making you feel. “Jo- Joel. F-” You’re cut off with a whine as he pushes himself into you more forcefully.

“Joey, please- You’re right it’s s’much better. Shit- Joel!-” You let out a more devastating moan than you have all night, causing Joel to groan out in response. Your eyes open to look at him and he’s staring right at you, his eyes are something you’ve never seen, they’re dark and threatening, like a lion stalking its prey. But in this situation the lion is in love with the gazelle, it’s evident in his eyes, all over his face as he moans for you. 

“Of course ‘m r- right- Fuck, you’ve really got no clue how- how fuckin’-” His statement melts into a whimpering moan as he bends back down to moan into your ear. “You feel fuckin’ heavenly, darlin’.”

It creeps up on you out of fucking nowhere. A moan rips through your chest and destroying throat as you cum around him, his words pushing you to the edge. “Oh fu-uck. Yeah? S’that good, baby? Fuckin’- fuckin’ c-cumming all over my cock with no warning, love? Oh fuck me you’re s-so good, sweetheart.” 

His words fuel your world-demolishing, soul-shattering, mind fucking-ly amazing orgasm. You can feel the pleasure coursing through your veins like molten gold. Your entire body is vibrating, you’re lifting off the bed into an ethereal plane as Joel keeps thrusting into you, moaning soft praises in your ear as you gush all over his cock.

Your eyes are permanently in the back of your skull as your hand runs frantically all over his body, trying to find something to ground you, to keep you from flying away on the cloud of pleasure Joel was providing for you. 

He slows his thrusts in favor of you. Your moans had begun to get a bit desperate, all over the place, feverish and distraught as your pleasure bubbled over into overstimulation. Joel is kissing your neck softly, whispering even more soft words laced with love as your soul returns to your body with a broken whine of his name. He pulls his face out of your neck with a smile, his hips still thrusting into you slowly, just toeing the line of overstimulation. It has you losing your mind. You’re writhing against him as he smirks at you. “Do you want more? I can keep going, baby. I’ll go slow, soft, just like this.” 

He gets a bit breathy at the end, his free hand comes up to cup your face as the one holding yours tenses for a moment. His head drops onto your shoulder as most of his body collapses onto you.

He’s still thrusting into you gently as he groans out against your neck. “Fuck me. You’re turning me into a fuckin’ teenager again.” He grunts out a whine into your skin. “Can’t fuckin’ control shit. O-oh I wanna make you cum again, sweetheart.” His hips speed up as he rambles to you. You lean away from him a bit, forcing his head from your shoulder, and turn to look at him. 

He looks so wrecked. His lips are trembling, glossy, and red from all his biting. You didn't even notice. His eyes are on yours but they regularly lose focus, rolling into his head with a groan. “You’re makin’ me feel so fucking good, love. I just want you to feel as good- I wanna make you cum again.” He sounds more desperate than you could’ve ever imagined, your hand slides up the back of his neck and buries itself in his hair, scratching at his scalp softly, causing his eyes to cross lightly as he moans against you, hips stuttering. “Let me. Let me, let me. Let me pl-lease”

His unabashed begging has you clenching around him erratically, pulling a ruined groan from his lips. “M-make me cum again, Joel. C’mon, baby. I want-” He’s already moaning into your mouth as you speak, his hips fucking into you unsteadily. You’re already close from the intensity of the moment, Joel’s hand cradling your face, your hand in his hair. His head is resting against yours, forehead to forehead but his eyes are still open, piercing your soul and your heart with the love that's residing in them, it has your pussy clenching around him desperately. He’s moaning out shamelessly, loudly, and right into your face, into your mouth. 

“I’m gonna- I need you to c-cum. Holy sh-” You cut him off with a wet, searing kiss that’s mostly groans and whines into the mouth of the other. Your hips lift off the bed to buck into him softly, grinding your clit into the patch of curls that rests on his pelvis. He’s smiling at your movements, the contrast in how they were when he started with you.

“Y-yeah. Good, baby. Soft. Just l-like that, sweetheart. You’re so fuckin’ pure.” His eyes roll back into his head as your pussy begins to flutter around him. You can feel it this time, building inside you. The coil in your stomach tightens as you feel the angelic feeling inch back into your veins. Your hands grip his hair more desperately, pulling his ear to your lips as your orgasm begins to spill over. 

“I’m- I’m cumming, Joey.” You’re voice stabs into him. The high-pitched and desperate, shocked innocence in it has him twitching inside you. His pace is ruined the moment you utter those words into his ear. He can feel his eyes shoot to the back of his head as he falls into your shoulder again and starts to cum inside you. 

It’s more than heavenly, cumming at the same time as you. His cock is throbbing, shooting out thick, heavy, ropes of his cum inside you as your pussy pulses in time with him, milking him for everything he has. He can’t breathe, all the air has punched out of him as he tries to warn you that he’s cumming.

He wants to moan out for you, call your name over and over to hear you work yourself up into those whining moans you can’t help but let out. He gathers enough strength to push himself up and look at you. He feels like a whole new round of cum spews out of him at the sight. Your eyes are crossed as you moan out at the ceiling. He’s vaguely aware of the way your hand has twisted and tightened in his hair as you cum, your nails digging into his other hand.

He’s smiling through the second round of cum that pumps into you, deliriously happy with how hard he’s made you cum. You sound like you’re in the same situation as him, all the air suddenly gone from your lungs. You’re just letting out barely perceptible moans of his name on loop. 

His thighs shake as his dick finally stops pouring into you. He looks down at the ring of white sitting on the base of his dick and groans. He looks back up at you, wanting to show you the mess you’ve made on him but you’re still so far gone. Your pussy pulses around him arrhythmically as you mutter up at the ceiling, your hand stroking through his hair subconsciously. 

He’s able to come down before you. He pulls out and lays next to you, his head on your chest while he’s muttering those same, soft praises into your ear as your soul tries to find its way back to your body again. You follow the sound of his low praises, grounding you and pulling you back to reality. “-baby. I’m so in love with you. Thank you so fuckin’ much for waitin’ for me, I know it was hard, but I love you so fuckin’ much. You’re so incredible, so so incredible, baby. The best lady I know, the only lady I wanna know. You-” You have a faint, tired smile spreading across your face as he goes on, sounding more out of it than you feel.

“I love you so much, Joel.” You mean to say it softly, fondly but it comes out as something more like a sob. He gasps and looks up at you, that’s when you notice the tears that have escaped your eyes. “This is so embarrassing…” Your hands wipe at your escapee tears furiously as Joel watches you in shock.

“Hey,” He starts to wipe some of your tears away alongside you, although much more softly than your own hands. “ S’not embarrasin’.” He places an endearing kiss to your lips. “I think it’s so fuckin’ cute. The cutest things I’ve seen in years, honestly.” 

You giggle at his exaggeration and kiss his cheeks. “I’m bein’ serious, baby.” He’s giggling too now, placing kisses all over your face, stopping every tear that slips out with his lips.

“I love you so much, Joel.” You take a deep breath as his kisses slow. “It feels like my heart is being choked, squeezed, and like thrown around in my chest whenever I’m with you. I don’t even have the vocabulary to explain how much I feel for you.” 

His eyes are wide and a bit watery as you speak. One hand is on the top of your head, running over your hair as you speak while the other is on your him, his thumb stroking over the skin, sometimes lifting to draw specific patterns. “I wish I had a way to make you feel what I feel toward you, Joel. It’s so fucking much. I feel like it’s gonna explode and pour out of every orifice.” He chuckles and kisses you again, this one feels more emotional, more loving, grateful, and comforting. 

“There you go, talkin’ all proper again.” He kisses you again shortly. “I- I feel the same way darlin’. Except I know even less words to use to explain it to ‘ya. Fuck I- I fuckin’ I wish I could tell ‘ya. You- You feel like- like my whole existence. If that makes sense… No, no it doesn’t, does it? Damn. I- Shit.” You place a hand on his face and make him look at you. 

“You don’t have to say as many things as I did. You’ve already shown me that you love me through your actions… through this. I didn’t even know it could be like that, Joel. That it could- could feel that… good. I didn’t know it was a thing, and then you came in- with all your love and softness, and you showed me a whole new side of everything. I already know… is what I’m trying to say. I know you love me, Joel. I just hope you know that I love you.”

A single tear slips out of his baby cow eyes and he quickly wipes it away with a smile. “I- I know, baby. Trust me, I know.” He smiles wider and brighter than you’ve ever seen, he’s blinding you with its beauty before laying back down on the bed next to you. He wraps an arm around your shoulder and pulls you onto him. 

“You’re gonna stay, right? Sleep in here with me?” You shake your head disapointedly against his stomach.

“Obviously, I’m staying here, Joel.” The sigh of relief he lets out almost breaks your heart. You place a few kisses on his belly for reassurance. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He chuckles at your words and sounds far away, sleepy, adorable. “Okay… Good. Good, I want you to stay… ‘M gettin’ tired though, honey.” As if on cue, a yawn makes its way up and out of your mouth. “Yeah, me too. Goodnight, Joey.”

He sighs, and you can’t see it, but a smile splits his face the moment he hears the nickname. “G’night, my love.”

thank you so much for reading!! please please please give any feedback you may have! I want it all! also if you liked it please take a look at my masterlist!

[greml1nb0i]

I'm fearing the day when human alastor design on screen as I feel like it's gonna really make the show seem very racist as they where willing to change niffty demon design from yellow to a pale pink. But wouldn't change alaster skin nor hair. Like I understand because people are used to the design, but on the other hand, viv probably should have just made alastor not use voodoo and just literally anything else

Omg yes, 2 points to be made here.

ISTG Viv only gave Alastor the "he's half creole" label as an excuse to not draw black features on him, while yes it is true not all creole men are dark skinned, they're still black and have black features, so Viv' excuse is thrown right out of the water, then and there.

For example:

Vs

you see how the melanin is still there even though these are all different images of light and dark skinned creole men, they still have their features that make them creole men. Alastor doesnt have that. All he has is dark skin in his human design and that's it, there's no other black features.

Also idk where she's getting this idea that Alastor would even be allowed his own radio show, especially in the 1940s-50s. He would've had the worst time just trying to get people to take him seriously. Black owned businesses were a thing back then, however it was so difficult because of the racism, that for him to be able to do it all without any sort of mention of discrimination or a hassle is telling me Viv doesnt think that hard about these time periods.

Viv is [imo most def] racists.

Point 2.

I am pagan, i was raised into it. So you can probably understand why a lot of people, not just those who actually practice spiritual/occult practices, closed or otherwise, get real fucking pissed whenever its used for "ooo evil, scarwy, oh no satan aaaa" type bullshit. Its 2024 people dont do this type of shit anymore for horror or evil characters unless theres a literal reason.

for example:

American Horror Story S3 The Coven, uses allusions to paganism, witchcraft, wicca and voodoo, BUT even though it's used in a horror show, the use of the occult practices is used for both morally good and bad reasons, cuz just like nature there is no good without bad and vice versa. This is made especially clear with the character, embodying the real life Voodoo Queen, Marie Laveau. Character Marie uses her practice for both good and morally bad things.

SPOILERS: She was responsible for giving Delphine LaLaurie an immortality elixir before murdering the LaLaurie family and burying Delphine alive. Then, Marie imprisons Delphine and hacks off her hand. For those who don't know, Marie is literally punishing Delphine for her actions towards others, [she's racist, watch the season if you really want to know her story and what all she did.]

Regardless of the moral implication, Marie used her practice for, what she considered to be, justice. She has a motive. Regardless of how some people may feel about AHS now, you cant deny at least they did their research.

However for Viv, Alastor's voodoo powers are strictly used for evil and there's no real reason given as to why he chose voodoo or even practices it.

Voodoo itself is a closed practice, for a reason. It also isn't something to make light of. How is it Viv can make a show that supposedly critiquing Christianity but she uses pagan and voodoo practices as stand ins for evil magic?? you are just perpetuating a stereotype that CHRISTIANS came up with. That the Occult/Spirituality is inherently evil.

& If Viv says "its cuz he's black and so he can," im going to actually scream.

Small correction: Alastor died in the 1930s so that makes his radio show an impossible achievement. Also the first black man to get a radio show host was in the mid 1940s. Alastor wouldn't have even had a chance.

Thank you to @bump-inthe-night for giving me the correct information, so to correct myself.

[lover-of-mine]

https://www.tumblr.com/lover-of-mine/765722515353026560/im-curious-for-a-gg-or-lw-update-after-that

hi love gg here

i need to add something: that bit of interview that come out yesterday where ostark called tommy “someone who is a first responder in episode 5” we this confirm their theory that tommy is going to propose like bobby did with athena (so very quickly) and this would also confirm why buck needs to talk with maddie because he isn’t sure if he should accept but them tommy is going to take both of them in the restaurant where they had their first date and buck will accept: it’s all coming together apparently

but we need to go into the deepest place of their community where i lurk: they are pissed they are mad and they are lashing out using anon ask on here and ngl on twitter so they can have a reason to be hateful spiteful and mean without people being able to understand who it is; they are mad at oliver they are mad at tim they are mad at lou too bc he isn’t able to be respected by tim and oliver that should treat him better because they should be lucky in sharing their time with someone that took part in a lot of project so why lou is going around allowing them to disrespect him so much?

they feel betrayed and used and they are mad like super mad i saw someone suggesting writing to abc bc they keep giving us content while they are being neglected

also they are trying so hard on main to be happy about eddie being there eddie haunting the narrative eddie not having a sl if not for buck

lw also said something about the spinoff and let me tell you it was funny because they were still hoping for tim to take rg and eddie and use them in the new spin off to give bt a lot more of screentime but when yesterday we saw the proposal of hawaii as the spinoff destination they had a little meltdown bc eddie being in hawaii??? not happening but tommy well tommy fly helicopter and in hawaii there are a lot of helicopters it’s an island so tim is going to take tommy to this new spinoff

also i think you already know that jlh is going to be part of that remake so they are sure that tommy is going to take her spot like taylor did but jlh has already little screentime and tommy didn’t get her screentime 🤷🏼‍♀️

Hi my love!!

Well, this was an experience. When I tell you I SCREAMED when I read propose. I don't even think bt like each other all that much, what do you mean proposal????? And in the disaster date made of secrets restaurant (not only for bt but also for hen's mom, let's not forget that) of all places?????? Of course it's all coming together.

Of course they are mad at everything and everyone. As if Lou has any power here, please. The dude is a perpetual guest star or the star of very weird movies (and I say this having watched most of his filmography, he is just some guy). Writing to abc to complain there isn't enough bt 💀 I'm literally CRYING.

The spinoff taking Eddie away or being about Tommy is never not going to be funny. Because sure. Dream high I guess lol and honestly, Maddie has barely been around and even if she is super involved in the sequel, I doubt that Tommy will be the thing filling out that space.

[diejager]

Something crazy lol

How would the monster 141 guys react to hunter sneezing so hard their nose starts bleeding? cold is crazy where I am that this just happened

Cw: weird medical thing, blood, bloody nose, tell me if I missed any.

You caught a fever on the last mission, having to treck through the cold, rural regions of Finland, your bodies victim to the biting frost and staying in an abandoned bunker turned safe house for a few days resulted with that. As a medic - the medic of the Task Force - you knew what to do and what not to do, it was implemented in your training to rid of a cold or small sickness as quick as possible for a weakened body. They naturally flock you like worried mothers once you’re back on base, whenever someone was free, they’d tail you around the base, helping you with things if you had trouble with it because of your runny nose and dazed mind. They became your shadows, a perpetual shape following you from behind or the side.

It was expected from you to help even when you were sick, wearing a mask around people, taking care to avoid infecting others with your strand, and eating farther from your team or in the safety of your room where you wouldn’t worry about sharing the contagion while you ate. You took your medications on a regular schedule, a pill of ibuprofen for the aches, your pounding head, your throbbing joints and general soreness, and acetaminophen for your growing fever. You estimated, from prior experience, that your fever would break a week or two in when you took care to drink water, ate correctly, took your meds and slept regularly, but it persisted. Your fever was like a pest, consistent and stubbornly staying in your system. 

It got to the point that your nose became much too irritated, sensitive to the slightest touch or whenever you sneezed again and again. Your nose pained you with everything you did, and after one too many sneeze, something ruptured. You splattered blood on the inside of your mask after a painful sneeze, a raspy cough following it and a flurry of panic from them. Throwing away any caution and self-consideration for their health to hurry to your side, worried hands pawing at you and whispering their concerns at your sudden bloody nose. 

If they were worried about you before, now they were extremely concerned. Price had you confined to your room, tied down to your bed and left under watch with at least one man by your side, and they ignored every little complaints and huffs you threw at them. Ghost and Horangi had to manhandle you to your bed, laying your head on the soft pillow Alejandro and Rudy went on a hunt for and covering - wrapping you in with how much you struggled against them - you with a thick and warm blanket that Gaz went to the trouble of buying on a sudden whim. 

The sergeants had more time on hand, rerouting to your room so often that they lived with you, entertaining you when you grew bored from reading novels and watching a série or documentary on your tablet. They made you laugh and made your moments less depressing. Ghost and the colonels had less time to visit, but they came whenever they could, always bringing a plate of sweets or a snack to fix your occasional hunger; Ghost with his chip bag, König with his pastry, and Alejandro with his spiced food. Price was the busiest man of the team, glued to his desk and old and used chair, signing paperwork and having to think of a temporary replacement for you, but he still had time to pass at night or after he ate, bringing you a plate from the mess hall. 

You hated being sick, it went against all you stood for and it ultimately made your Task Force worry and fuss about you.

Taglist: @craxy-person @crowbird @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @angelcakes-22 @cassiecasluciluce @ramadiiiisme @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @im-making-an-effort @love-dove-noora @jinxxangel13 @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @mul-pi @danielle143 @beau-min @makayla-666 @urfavsunkissedleo @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @luvecarson @petwifed @randominstake @heartelysia @jggykhug09090 @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @call-me-nyxx @sans-chara @infpt-zylith @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @thigh-o-saur @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami

[scoobydoodean]

losing my entire marbles at deancrits saying he's abusive bc he was parentified like????? a) do you know what parentification IS and b) tell me you dont have real problems without telling me

anw heres a pretty pic of dean w glasses that im obsessed with to help cope w all the anons

DEAN IN GLASSES!!!!

Someone just put it very very plainly in Courtney's inbox, but we all knew Dean's parentification was the force underlying the take that Dean has power over Sam... didn't we? ...I mean. I guess I can't speak for anyone else exactly, but I've written about how Dean's parentification is the driving force behind the narrative that Dean is abusive several times this year alone. In fact, before that anon clarified their meaning, I'd already done it for them.

Hardcore samgirls and others with this take on Dean seem to think Deangirls just "don't understand" the "power imbalance" in play. They think we've just never thought about their perspective, but... they actually just don't understand ours? They don't understand that what is absolutely vile and repulsive about their view is that it begins and ends with the perpetuation of Dean's childhood abuse.

One of the greatest horrors of parentification as a form of abuse is that it involves the illusion of power. It ascribes "power" to a child that that child does not actually have, and then judges that child for mishandling that "power".

"Something Wicked" is a great example of this. John blames Dean for Sam getting hurt, based on a lie that Dean had the power to stop the shtriga. In reality, Dean couldn't have done anything even if he'd been there, because the idea that he had power was nothing more than an illusion. He was far too young and inexperienced to be expected to carry through with a seasoned soldier's battle temperament when faced with a terrifying monster, but that isn't even the most direct expression of the illusion of Dean's power. His shotgun is. To harm a shtriga, you have to have iron-consecrated bullets. Dean did not have a weapon that could have harmed the shtriga. The gun only provides an illusion of power. When John blamed him, and Dean blamed himself—both did so because of a lie that Dean had power in a situation where Dean had absolutely none.

John blames Dean because he doesn't want to take responsibility for his own power and authority. He doesn't want to live with the fact that he had the knowledge, temperament, experience, role of protector, and consecrated bullets... but just wasn't there when Sam and Dean needed him. So he assigns all of the power and authority to Dean. Dean had the power. Dean made the wrong choices. Dean got Sam hurt. It wasn't John's choices or John's absence that nearly got Sam killed. John was helpless.

Every single time that samgirls claim Dean holds power over Sam through parentification, they refer to an illusion used to scapegoat a child for the actions of another. They assign Dean "power" over Sam that Dean does not actually have and then judge him for mishandling that "power".

The idea that Dean has authority over Sam through his childhood parentification is a lie. It is an illusion born from abuse. And when Sam occasionally decides he is unhappy with the outcome of the choices he made and doesn't want to face his own culpability, he does exactly what John did to Dean, because the poison drips down. Sam watched John treat Dean as if he possessed authority and power Dean didn't have for 18 years and some change. He learned how to assign Dean the same false authority and power and he learned Dean would absorb it, and now Samgirls want Dean to "curb that shit", while Sam blames Dean for his own choices in episodes like 1.10, 1.22, 5.04. In reality, there is no power imbalance.

Even if we want to argue that the false perception of Dean's power created the potential for an extremely toxic relationship regardless of whether the power is real or not, Dean would hardly be guaranteed the handle side of the knife. Sam has more than proven he can put that blade to Dean's throat.