#allie writes

[sameheart-sameblood]

Love in the Time of Cordyceps

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: when the world ends, you promise you'll never love again. joel miller makes that rule hard to stick to

words: 7.1k

warnings: mentions of gore (pretty tame but still), swearing, sickness, angst, fluff, two dummies not realizing they love each other until one of them almost dies 🙄

a/n: this was supposed to be more angsty but then i remembered life is hard enough already. and i just want soft joel soooo here we are. also i meant to write 2k at most but boy do i love to ramble

read on ao3!

After the world goes to hell, you promise yourself you’ll never love again. A person, an animal, a place, nothing. Only a fool would choose to make themselves that vulnerable, needing every fiber of your being one hundred percent devoted to your survival and nothing more. 

Was a life without love worth living? Every time that question enters your mind, you swat it aside. It’s like a nagging fly that buzzes around you until your persistence finally drives it away completely. Of course you could live without love. You’d been doing it just fine these past fifteen years. 

Living without attachment proves useful in the new world you find yourself in. It makes the countless people you lose along the way easier to move on from. In the early days, your heart still twinges as the people around you drop like flies. Most fall victim to the bites of clickers, some to raiders’ gun, a few by their own hand. 

The first group you had travel with is filled with Midwesterners who see the terrors of the new world and still somehow have a smile and a joke for you. Their joviality can’t save them, though. Clickers swarm you one rainy night two years after the fall of civilization. The sight of Gail, a woman who reminds you of your grandmother, having her stomach ripped out by an especially voracious clicker cures you of your need for any connections to the living. 

Over the years, you make your way to the East Coast. Smiles, defiant in the face of adversity are replaced by permanent grimaces etched into the faces of everyone you meet. It seems as though every survivor has lost the ability for happiness of any kind. Good, you think, they’re finally learning. You wonder what took them so long. 

Tales of peace the Canadian wilderness has to offer reaches your ears. In your heart you know it is most likely a tall tale spread by desperate survivors. But the good thing about a zombie apocalypse is you now have nothing but time on your hands. Working your way north, if all goes well, you’ll reach Saint John by May, continue to Port Elgin and then decide if you’d try for Prince Edward Island or turn east to Nova Scotia. 

Plans are made to be broken, though, and yours, along with your ankle, break clean through one day as you make your way through Boston. It would have been over for you if not for the two survivors that find you nursing your injury in a department store that will most likely be swarming with clickers by nightfall. 

The woman, after she puts her gun away, introduces herself as Tess. The man doesn’t offer his name, preferring to keep the barrel of his shotgun pointed at you. As they argue quietly over what to do with you, you observe their faces. Both are etched hard with years of loss and worry. Even harder than your joyless face. It’s impressive albeit in a sad kind of way. 

Tess had somehow persuades the man to help you back to the Boston QZ. Joel. You hear her call him Joel. “Fine,” he had grumbles as he places your arm over his shoulder for support, “but if she scans red, I will not hesitate to put her down.” Oddly enough his threat somehow makes you almost like him. You sense a kindred spirit. Another follower of the “no love, no attachment” way of life. 

You do not, in fact, scan red and are allowed to enter the QZ. An apartment is assigned to you, a crappy little studio with faded lime green paint. The old you would have adored it, called it quirky and planned out how best to decorate it with your meager funds. The new you just appreciates a safe place to sleep. 

After your ankle heals, Tess invites you to join her smuggling scheme. Thoughts of Canada flee your mind for the time-being and you gladly welcome something to keep yourself occupied. 

“But what about the cowboy?” you ask. 

“Joel? What about him?”

Your eyebrows arch, “He threatened to shoot me.”

“Only if you were infected. Just don’t get infected.” She says it like you’re discussing the weather. 

Joel allows you into the group begrudgingly, probably because he thinks they can use you as bait or a distraction if needed. Fine. Let them label you bait. You’ve been called worse before. 

The first few months working together are tense. Joel reprimands you for the smallest mistakes and warns Tess you’ll get them all killed. At first, you bite your tongue, reminding yourself of the part he had in saving you. But one night after he scolds you for the millionth time about not checking your blind spots for clickers, you snap. “Fuck off, Joel! I survived the clickers for fifteen years. I think I know what I’m fucking doing!.”

He holds up his hands in surrender, wandering off with a hurt pout like he wasn’t the one who was just being the asshole. You wonder why your victory leaves you feeling hollow. 

After that, Joel keeps his mouth shut around you. No nagging, no “helpful” tips. Just the bare minimum of whatever he needs to convey. You’ll never admit that it hurts. You don’t have to, though. Tess, at the end of her rope, explodes one night as the three of you eat dinner in awkward silence. “Couple of fuckin’ babies I’m working with,” she seethes. “If you don’t grow up I’m finding a new crew.”

It’s decided that you and Joel will do the next supply run to Bill’s. Alone. No Tess there to act as buffer between you and him. Joel grunts at that but doesn’t argue, always deferring to your leader. The trip to Bill’s goes as well as you can ask. There are no arguments between the two of you at least. You’re sure you even see Joel crack a smile. Of course it’s when you clumsily tripped over a raised tree root…But hey, progress is progress.

With the supplies in tow and Frank’s compound behind you, you actually think this trip might be a success. A gang of raiders lying in wait to sabotage you dashes your hopes of that. They had seen the two of you lugging your supplies and thought it would be an easy win. At first, they are correct. They outnumber you and Joel in size and wickedness. The four of them aren’t content to kill you outright. They tie you up and discuss what to do with you next. 

Of course their attention quickly falls on you. The man with an ugly gash across his face leers at you. “Maybe we should keep her around awhile. She looks like fun.” Try as you might to act tough, that sends the blood rushing through your ears. 

You almost don’t hear Joel snarl at them. “You lay one finger on her and it’ll be the last thing you ever do.” The venom in his voice snaps you back to reality. While their attention is on him, you discreetly start ripping at your bonds with the little pocket knife you thankfully decided to stow in your back pocket. 

They beat Joel senseless by the time you get free. You honestly think you’re too late as you stab the goon nearest to you in the thigh, by some miracle hitting his femoral artery. The others turn to you, blindsided as you go wild at the sight of your bloodied and broken companion. Gash-Face comes roaring at you, all brawn no brains. The look of surprise as you lodge the knife in his neck makes you smile with sickening glee. 

The remaining two corner you, murder in their eyes. Your gun is just beyond them, taunting you to come retrieve it. The only “weapon” you have is the belt you’re wearing, it’s clasp heavy and silver. You undo it and swing it at the nearest man. He grabs it, cackling victoriously as he uses it to pull you closer. In their grasp, you become the target of their blows. You curl into the fetal position, angry that after all the near death experiences you’ve had, this will be the way you go out. 

A shot rings out, then another. Two thuds on the ground next to you make you open your already swollen eyes. As you look up, you realize your savior is Joel. Back from the dead. His face is covered in blood, like some kind of ghoul. But in that moment, you have never seen someone look more like an angel. The two of you limp back to the QZ where Tess nurses you as she simultaneously curses the deceased thugs. 

Joel corners you in the bathroom the next day as you study your bruised face. “You could have run,” he hisses at you, making you jump. You don’t know what he wants so you just shrug. He invades your space, making you back against the counter. “Why didn’t you run?” His voice has gone low, anger simmering just beneath the surface. 

Faces inches from each other, all you can muster is a weak, “We’re a team. I wasn’t going to leave you.”

Several emotions flicker across his face in quick succession. Anger, fear, worry and something you can’t quite put your finger on. Pride? Maybe that was you projecting but you hope you were right. Joel studies you for a moment longer, then reiterates, “Next time, you run.”

******

After that, things change. Joel is still a man of few words but the ones he does grace you with are softer and more intentional. Instead of berating you for the knowledge and skills you lack, he takes them time to teach you. He shows you how to identify fake ration cards and to spot the kind of guard you can bribe. Nights are spent with you following behind him like a shadow as he shows you all the secret ways in and out of the QZ. When your hands shake during target practice, he places his calloused ones over yours. It steadies your hands but frays your nerves, threatening to awake a feeling long thought dormant. 

It goes both ways. Joel lacks attention to detail in certain situations and you show him how to read people and ascertain their flaws that can be exploited. During your runs you point out the flora that can be consumed safely or used as medicine. At Flynn’s, the only bar in the QZ, you teach him how to play pool. An essential to survival? No. But it sure helps you win a huge stash of ration cards from your fellows survivors. It also gives you an excuse to sidle up behind him and mold your body around his, all in the name of helping him get the “proper pool stance.”

Your excuses to fleetingly touch one another became more and more common. They are all perfectly innocent but carry the weight of something elicit, at least to you. Joel is never one to give away his innermost thoughts, happy to wear a permanent poker face. For all you know he couldn’t care less about you. Maybe he just knows keeping you alive is good for business and that’s why he takes a particular interest in making sure you’re safe. Whatever the reason, you hope he never stops. 

******

During one supply run, a torrential thunderstorm forces you to spend the night at Bill and Frank’s. You know it makes Joel nervous to be indebted to anyone for such hospitality but you can’t hide your glee. A night there means a cozy bed and a hot shower, something hard to find in your home where the water runs tepid at best. 

Afterwards spending way too long in the bathroom, you curl up in your bed, toasty and content, only to find sleep won’t not come. Your hosts are dear to you, even the grumpy Bill, but their snoring through the wall you share makes hopes for a deep sleep impossible. 

After an hour of tossing and turning, you decide to go make your bed on the couch. As you tiptoe down the stairs you run into Joel, on his way up . “Going somewhere?” he drawls, exhaustion making his voice deeper than usual. You shrug, “Couldn’t sleep. There are two buzzsaws in the room next door.”

Joel chuckles, “I’ve had that room before. Can’t say it was the best night of sleep I’ve ever had.” You lived for these little snippets into Joel’s life before you came around, always eager to hear more. But the trek to the house through never-ending sleet and over the turbulent river left you more tired than you had felt in years. Right now all you want is to get where you could pass out immediately. “I’m just gonna make camp on the couch,” you say, stifling a yawn. 

Joel shakes his head. “You take my room. The couch is good enough for me.” This man. Hadn’t anyone told him chivalry is dead. You sigh tiredly and beckon for him to come back up the stairs with you. “It’s a big bed. We can share.” There is silence behind you where there should have been footsteps. Joel’s smile disappears as his forehead creases in thought. “Please,” you pout, “I can’t sleep in my room and I won’t get any rest knowing you’re crammed on that dainty little loveseat.”

It takes far more coaxing than it should but finally Joel gives you a little nod and follows you into his - your - room. You gesture to the bed, “Care which side you get?” Joel thinks, then shrugs. “Left is good.” You flop onto the right side, eyes immediately drooping shut. Once again, there is no movement from your companion. Without opening your eyes, you chide him, “If you’re gonna be weird and watch me sleep all night then you can go sleep on the couch.” That got him moving again. 

The sound of the shower turning on lulls you to a sleep that is disturbed only when you feel the dip of the bed several minutes later. You watch through barely opened eyes as Joel does a strange shimmy under the covers. It’s clear he’s trying his best not to wake you. The sight makes you laugh softly and his head whips to you. 

“Thought you were asleep,” he murmurs. 

You hum, “I was. You woke me up.” 

It’s meant to be a joke but Joel grimaces. “Sorry.”

The sight is sweet and your heart flips, his frown making him look almost boyish. “It’s ok. It’s your bed.” 

As you burrow into your cocoon of blankets, Joel props himself up, a pillow behind his back. He looks from you to the bedside lamp and back again. “You mind if I read for a few minutes?” 

That surprises you. In all your time together you had rarely seen Joel do something just for the pleasure of it. There was usually no time. But Bill and Frank’s is a sanctuary and even the hyper-vigilant Joel Miller is able to slow down here. You nod enthusiastically, perking up. “What are you reading?” 

It’s like you had asked him what his darkest secret was. He reddens, then finally grabs a book from the table. Pride and Prejudice. He stammers, “It’s just…I never had a lot of time for reading before and this was a favorite of…it was a favorite of somebody I knew.”

“You can read out loud to me if you want,” you offer with a grin. Honestly it was half in jest and half a serious hope. It had been decades since anyone had read aloud to you. Joel, always thinking you were making some sort of fun of him, smirks sarcastically. “Not a chance.” 

Your glower slowly melts away at the sight of him putting on his reading glasses and settling in. Silently you curse as you feel your hardened heart crack just the tiniest bit. Idiot that you are, you try to talk yourself out of your own feelings. You aren’t attached to Joel. How could you be? He’s just a handsome, rugged man who keeps you safe and reads Jane Austen in his spare time. Maybe some lesser fool would fall for him but not you. No, sir.

The next morning, you find yourself curled into him, chest pressed against his back and arm draped over his side. Like a bomb diffuser, you carefully try to extricate yourself from the position, every movement slow and precise. Joel, still asleep, lazily grabs your hand, keeping your arm around him. He sighs contentedly as you settle back down and you swear under your breath, nestling your head at the crook of his neck. You are so that lesser fool. 

******

The thunderstorms of summer give way to the pleasant days of autumn. Those good days don’t seem to last long enough. You should have appreciated them more while they were there but so is the way of being human. 

Winter in Boston isn’t fun. Ok that’s an understatement. It makes you long for the soul-sucking, never-ending Midwestern winters you had lived through for most of your life. There is something about being next to the ocean that makes everything feel colder. 

The nights are especially hard, the wind seeping through the cracks in the walls of your apartment. No matter how many blankets you tuck around yourself, your body never truly feels warm. Runs to Bill’s or anywhere outside the QZ become less frequent and more difficult. Only those deemed truly necessary are attempted and even then there is always a long discussion beforehand weighing out the pros and cons. 

Runs between the months of November and January are too risky and after much debate, it  is decided you three would lay low in the relative safety of the QZ. In the meantime, you’d assess your stockpile, make connections over the radio and wait for the spring thaw. With less food smuggled in from the outside, you decide to put your energy into earning ration cards. Even though no one could argue you don’t pull your weight in the group, you often feel like the weak link. Making sure Tess and Joel have a hot meal every night is the least you could do. 

Joel had always told you to stay away from sewer work. It paid double what the other jobs did but at a high risk. Besides not being able to wash the stink off for days, the tunnels under the city were treacherous. Many had gone down there only to be blindsided by a stray clicker or jumped by a loner who made their home away from society up above. Some just got lost in the labyrinth, never to be heard from again. Or at least you had been told. You hoped those were just myths. 

You and three other desperate souls are sent down to the sewers with the task of clearing the rubble from a recent cave in. A hard day’s work definitely but you were optimistic that you could get it done in a few hours time and be on your way.

The first few hours go well, the biggest pieces of the concrete being cleared easily enough. Your back aches and callouses quickly form on your palms. But still, all of that you can deal with, mollifying yourself with the thought of the stack of ration cards you’ll proudly gift to Joel and Tess. 

Maybe if you hadn’t been daydreaming you would have heard the shouts of your fellow volunteers sooner. Finally coming back to reality, you move just in time to avoid another piece of falling rock. You save yourself from being crushed but lose your footing, coming down hard on your shin. 

A stream of bright blood instantly trickles from the gash and you swear as you try to keep the tears that spring to your eyes at bay. Wanting to prove yourself, you brush off your group’s insistence that you go get it checked by the doctor. It doesn’t matter if you complete ninety percent of your shift. You still don’t get your payment if you leave early. So you suck it up for another hour, slogging through the muck as you finish the job. It’s fine, you tell yourself, it’s just a scratch. You’ll wash it off when I get home and be good as new. 

With the job done and ration cards tucked away in your pocket, you hobble back towards your apartment. The thought of a shower, as lukewarm as it will be, is the only thing keeping you upright. That is until you feel someone putting your arm around their shoulder. Joel helps you the few blocks to your house, his icy silence hurting you more than the cut that now throbs with every jostle. 

It’s only after you get inside and are deposited on the couch that Joel speaks. He rolls up the leg of your jeans, cursing as he sees the already festering wound. “I told you to stay out of the sewers.” 

You suck in a pained breath as he starts wiping away the dirt. “I’m fine. It’s just a little cut. Besides, it was worth it,” you pull out the stack of ration cards and present them to him proudly. The sight gives him pause. But the look on his face isn’t one of gratitude, it’s worried exasperation. His signature grimace returns, “It’s not worth it if you lose your leg.” And people claim you’re dramatic. 

Pushing him away with a shoo, you rise, limping to the bathroom. “I just need a shower. Then I’ll be right as rain.” As you peel off your now ruined clothes, Joel hovers on the other side of the door. “I can hear you pacing,” you call over the sound of the warming shower. 

Even through the almost closed door you can hear Joel sigh. “I just think we should take you to the doc. Make sure you’re alright.” The water hitting you makes you audibly moan, the filth on your body washing down the drain and with it, the memory of the hard day. You appreciate the concern but all you want to do know is forget about the day. You call out to a still pacing Joel, “I’m fine. You worry too much!”

******

It turns out Joel worries the right amount. Of course he does. As eager as you are to forget about your day, it’s not long before you can’t ignore your leg. The wound is an angry red and the area around it has swollen, leaving it tender and throbbing. Thankfully you have Joel there to dress it because, honestly, you can’t stomach the sight of it. These past years have been filled with much blood and gore at your own hands. But there’s something different when it’s your own blood. 

In any other circumstance you would have reveled in the feeling of Joel holding your leg so tenderly, his fingers brushing against your skin as he wraps the bandage around you. It would have driven you insane seeing him crouched in between your legs as he is now. But at the moment all you can think about is how you much pain you’re in. 

You try not to show your discomfort, but your poker face is nonexistent. Joel’s eyes flick up to yours as you slowly exhale, trying to keep calm. Avoidance has always been one of your favorite tactics when dealing with uncomfortable situations so you pipe up, overly perkily, “See? All better. Now about those ration cards, I was thinking for dinner-“ 

Joel rolls his eyes, standing with a groan, his knees audibly cracking. “The only thing you’re gonna do tonight is rest.”

You slowly turn your body to prop your leg up on a pillow as he watches. Pouting has never worked on Joel but you figure it never hurts to try. “I still have to eat,” you mope. 

“You will. I’ll open a can of soup or something.”

The disappointment is real and bubbles to the surface quicker than you realized it would. “I just wanted us all to have a nice dinner. You and Tess do so much and I feel like…” Thinking how you feel is different from saying it out loud and you have to psych yourself up. Joel’s softening gaze helps you continue. “I feel like I’m useless. I just thought this was one thing I could do to really contribute.”

The silence between you feels heavy as you avoid his stare. Finally, he speaks, confusion contorting his features, “Of course you contribute. We wouldn’t have kept you around if you hadn’t.” It’s meant to make you feel better but it doesn’t, especially in your current laid up state. 

“So are you going to get rid of me if I’m no longer useful?” you gesture at your leg, feeling your eyes beginning to sting with tears. 

Joel sits down next to you. Your fear has made you defiant and you meet his gaze, wanting to fight. But Joel speaks in a soft, level voice, as if teaching a child a lesson. “First of all, you’re going to get better. You just need to be patient. Second, you’re thinking there’s only one kind of way to be useful.”

“I can’t shoot like you two can. I can’t fight. I can’t threaten people into getting what I want. I can go on runs and earn ration cards. That’s it. I’m too soft for anything actually important.” 

Joel frowns, “You say that like it’s a bad thing. ‘Being soft’ in a world like this is an act of defiance. It’s brave as hell. What you consider important? I don’t want that for you.”

Warmth spreads through your chest as you observe him. He’s trying so hard to find his next words, to make you believe his truth. “Me and Tess, we let the world harden us more than it needed to. It was easier that way. But having you around reminds us there’s still innocence and good out there.”

The angry tears have turned to ones of gratitude. The sentiment is too much for you, unused to such vulnerability from Joel. You give him a small smile and he returns it, leaning over to wipe a tear off your cheek. “You’re useful just being you.”

While you still wish you matched Joel and Tess’ levels of badassery, the conversation helps ease your mind. You might not think much of your survival skills but you remind yourself that you’ve stayed alive in a world that wants you dead. Fifteen years you’ve been fighting and surviving and that’s nothing to look down on. 

“And for what it’s worth, “ he adds, “you scared the hell out of me the first time we met.”

You grin at him, shocked, “Really?”

He nods, smirking cheekily, “Really. Still do sometimes.”

******

Joel heats up a can of tomato soup for you to share. You try not to think of how old it must be as he prepares it. But actually, it’s not bad, the taste reminding you of your childhood. 

It also helps that you’re sharing it with someone you care about. A part of you hates that how easily you’ve let him into your heart. The one thing you swore off all those years ago is now all you can think about as you watch him sitting across from you, ladling out the steaming liquid. 

He catches you staring and breaks the silence, “Were you even going to tell me you got hurt today if I hadn’t run into you.” The fuzziness of your feelings for him makes your brain a little mushy and instead of having a grownup conversation, you reply with a childish, “No, I thought I’d let it be a soup-rise.” 

Joel rolls his eyes in mock annoyance. You chuckle and continue eating your rapidly cooling dinner. You sober up a bit and add, “The extra ration cards will be good, though. Right?” 

He nods, “Yeah. I think it’s soup-er.” His eyes flick up to yours as they crinkle, the only sign that he finds himself amusing. 

After dinner, Joel excuses himself to go work his overnight shift. When he leaves and you’re left along, the throbbing in your leg returns with a vengeance along with a mild fever. Your usually chilly apartment now feels stuffy and you have to remove all of your layers except your t-shirt to be even somewhat comfortable. 

Worry creeps in as you sit there, alone and increasingly unwell. You long for the company of Joel or Tess, anyone to reassure you that you’re fine. But you’re alone and the dark thoughts creep in, whispering in your ear that whatever is brewing is not good. Unsure of what else to do, you slip in to bed, hoping that whatever this is will be better by morning. 

******

You don’t wake for two days. Or at least, you have no real memory of the past 48 hours. Later, when the worst is over, Joel will tell you the details of that lapse in your memory. He’ll recount how you faded in and out of consciousness, sometimes submitting to your fever for so long that he wasn’t sure you were coming back. His voice will waver as he remembers how bad it got and how fragile you looked…

But for now, he stays by your side, foregoing his own health to make sure you stay alive. The first thing you remember is waking up to the sounds of Joel and Tess arguing in hushed tones. 

“We need to get her to a doctor. Now.” Joel’s voice sounds strained, like he’s trying desperately not to lose it. 

Tess still maintains her signature composure. “We can’t, Joel. It’s too late for that.”

Joel must make some kind of face because Tess sighs and re-words. “It’s too late to take her in because if we bring her to the hospital all they’ll focus on is her fever. They’ve put people down for way less. You know that.”

In your addled state, you wonder who they’re talking about. Your throat hurts to much to speak up though and ask. 

“The doc will give us the meds. We’ve bribed him before.” 

Tess shakes her head, “Antibiotics are on lockdown. Shipments have been delayed because of the weather. No one gets any without FEDRA knowing. Breaking in guarantees we get caught. We’re no good to her dead. ”

Joel scoffs, “So what do you suggest we do?”

“She rides it out.”

“She’s been ‘riding it out’ for two days. Look at her,” Joel’s voice gets closer as he peers down at you, “she’s fighting but she’s losing.”

Oh. Fever may have taken hold of you, making your brain fuzzy and concentration near impossible, but you understand now that you are the subject of their argument. For Joel to sound so forlorn you must look bad. 

If you’re dead soon, you want to let them know to leave it and just let you slip away. Your well-being means nothing if it puts them in unnecessary danger. Rule be damned, they’re your family now and you care about them. If you’re being honest, you’ve cared about them since you met them. It breaks your heart thinking you won’t be able to tell them that now. It nearly kills you right then and there to know you won’t get the chance to tell Joel you love him…

Opening your mouth to articulate all of that takes great effort and when you do try and speak, all that comes out is a strangled groan. The two rush over, Tess sitting down beside you. She takes your hand, an uncharacteristic show of tenderness. Yep, you’re dying. 

“You’re ok, kid,” she whispers, “you just have to hang in there.” It would be easy to ignore reality and blindly trust her. But you’ve always been stubborn and so you shake your head and continue trying to speak. Again, nothing comes out but garbled nonsense as you writhe around trying to make your limbs do what your brain wants. 

You must look a sight because Joel lets his anger overflow. “Maybe you can sit here and watch her die, but I can’t.”Heavy footsteps and Tess yelling are all that you can focus on as you fade back into oblivion. 

******

Living is hard and unconsciousness is addicting. Peaceful and cozy are feelings you can scarcely remember having. It would be easy to stay in that enveloping darkness but the feeling of the back of someone’s hand on your clammy forehead pulls you back to the realm of the living. You grumble weakly as you’re made to come to. 

Everything is painful. Stabbing jolts of electricity radiate up your leg from the cut. Your chest is tight, making breathing troublesome and your eyes can barely stand the dim, watery sun coming through the shades of the window. Someone places a damp cloth on your forehead to keep the fever at bay. Still out of it, you try and swat it away. 

A gentle hand grabs yours, shushing you. “It’s alright. It’s only me.” 

Joel. Maybe you have died and this is heaven. The man you love by your side, nursing you so tenderly. It’s more than you could have ever hoped for. This might be the afterlife believers talk about if only you weren’t in so much pain. The neurons in your brain begin firing more rapidly as your fever dies down. They remind you that you and Joel aren’t lovers. Your cowardice, disguised as intelligence, has kept you from telling him how you feel. 

“What’s happening?” Your voice comes out croaky and soft but at least it’s intelligible. The bed dips as Joel moves closer to you. As you peer up through barely opened eyelids you can see him leaning over you. His tired eyes look down at you as he caresses your hair. 

“You got real sick, honey. That cut you got festered and turned into a fever. We thought we were gonna lose you.” The slight falter in his voice makes your already tight chest contract. 

“How long was I out?”

“Three days. We got you some meds, though. You’re gonna be ok.” He says it firmly, which does some good in easing your worry. 

Trying to open your eyes a bit more you continue your questioning, “Where did you get the antibiotics from?”

Joel hesitates, “Bill and Frank had some.”

You try and sit up, angry that he made that trip and put himself in danger. Even now, you can see the snow whipping around outside your window. Knowing he made the trek there and back through that storm makes you curse. Joel tuts and puts a gentle hand to your chest, keeping you down and resting. 

“It’s done. No use getting angry about it now.”

You glare up at him even though you’re really just upset with yourself. “Why would you do something so stupid?”

His smiles peacefully down at you, exhausted but eyes bright. “We’re a team, remember?”

It’s too much for you to handle. You cover your face just in time to hide the angry, relieved and grateful tears that spring to your eyes. Silent sobs wrack your frame, making you seize with pain. 

Joel pulls you into him, shushing you as he resumes stroking your hair. You hide your face in his side, trying to regain your composure. Crying shouldn’t be something you feel the need to earn. But you’re all sorts of broken, so you take this rare opportunity to not judge yourself and weep with abandon. You almost died, for Christ’s sake. Surely that warrants some show of emotion.

After a few minutes, the tears stop and your breathing calms. Peeking up, you see Joel has his eyes closed. His face is the most serene you’ve seen it in ages, most of the worry lines softened. There’s still a few that refuse to relax, though. The crease in between his eyebrows remains stubbornly indented. You gaze up at him as he continues to run soothing patterns along your back. 

Feeling the weight of your stare, he opens his eyes. Coward that you are, you glance away. “Thank you,”is all you can mumble out as he gazes at you. After a moment, you add a shy, “I would do the same for you. You know that, right?”

Joel pulls you gently into him, almost to remind himself you’re still here with him and that the danger has passed. He nuzzles into your hair, murmuring an affectionate“I know, honey. I know.”

******

After a few more hours and another dose of antibiotics, you begin to feel more like yourself. Joel still won’t let you get out of bed yet, except for a trip to the bathroom for a quick shower. Even though you’ve been dead to the world for much of your ordeal, you’re quickly getting bored with bed rest. But you’ve learned long ago that resistance is futile with Joel. So you shower like a good patient, scowling as the water hits your scabbing cut. 

Once you finish, Joel hops in and washes the grime and worry of the past three days off. As you settle back in bed, you can hear him singing softly to himself. Through the patter of the water you can hear his soft rendition of Fleetwood Mac’s Songbird. It’s one of your favorites, too, and you hum along as you settle back into your pillow. 

After a few minutes, sleep still won’t come. You toss and turn as Joel finishes getting ready for bed. He comes in to find you still awake. “I thought I told you to get some sleep.” He says it like a loving mother gently scolding their rebellious child. 

You flail as you try and get comfortable. You shoot back a moody, “But I’m just not tired.” Joel chuckles as he sits down into the arm chair next to your bed. He smooths back his wet hair and gives you a faux stern look. “Your body’s been through a lot. You need rest.”

“What are you doing?” you ask. 

Joel looks confused, wondering what he did wrong. “Sorry I just thought I’d sleep here tonight in case you need anything. I can leave, though.” 

“No!” you yell out, completely abandoning any hope of looking cool. You give him an apologetic smile, “I want you to stay but you’re not sleeping in that chair one more night.”

Joel glances to the spot on the bed beside you, then looks to you for confirmation. He sighs, a smile playing at his lips. “If I stay will you promise to go to sleep?”

You nod very seriously. “Of course.”

Joel grins, knowing you too well to believe you. “Liar,” he chuckles but still gets up and makes his way to the other side of the bed. You pull back the blankets so can get in, then cover him up. Settling on your side, you watch as he suddenly looks lost, unsure of what to do now. It’s cute, this powerful man rendered helpless by something as innocuous as sharing a bed. 

You can’t help but laugh at him and he looks down at you, eyes wide. Taking pity on him, you make a suggestion. “If you’re not tired you could read to me.” Joel opens his mouth to refuse but you blurt out a quick, “I did almost die, you know.” He glares at you but his lip quirks up. He grabs the book from the other room then flops back down in bed, opening to a spot in the middle. 

Frowning, you reach out to touch Joel’s arm. “Do you mind starting from the beginning?” He rolls his eyes but flips back to the first page. You grin triumphantly as you settle into his side. Joel places his arm around your shoulder as he begins to read. “It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife…” 

His southern drawl mixed with the Romantic Era style of writing makes for an amusing but  pleasant combination. After a few chapters, your eyes get heavy and Joel feels you nodding off against him. Jane has just been invited to Netherfield Park but even that can’t keep you awake. Joel puts the bookmark in to save your spot and places the novel on your bedside table. 

You grumble in weak protest as he tucks you in and turns off the light. “We can keep reading tomorrow. But right now you’re going to sleep.” Joel lies down beside you and with the pale light of the moon through your curtains you can see him studying you. He caresses your face and you close your eyes, delighting in the sensation. 

“Don’t ever scare me like that again,” he whispers. 

You force your eyes open, needing him to see the truth of it when you pledge a soft,“I won’t. I mean it.”

Joel nods gratefully and you reach out for him. He slides into your arms and you rest your chin on the top of his head. He’s watched over you for long enough. It’s your turn to take care of him and reassure him that, in this moment, you both are safe. 

For most, an outright admission of affection is needed to understand how you feel about the other person. But you and Joel are cut from the same cloth, stubborn and slow to reveal your feelings. In this world, for people like you, ’I love yous’ are rare and replaced with actions and deeds. 

You realize that even though you've never told Joel that you love him, you’ve shown it. Joel has been showing you all this time too and you were just too dull to realize it. While you know you’ll long to say the words to him soon, for now it’s enough to have him in your arms. 

Joel’s breathing deepens and you feel him completely give himself over to sleep. Looking at his face bathed in the moonlight he looks like a new man. His edges soften and his vulnerability brims to the surface. It tugs at your heart and you understand how rare of a sight this is for Joel to allow anyone to see. 

Smiling sleepily, you close your eyes and nestle into him. This feeling coursing through you is something foreign but familiar, an old friend you thought you had said your final goodbye to long ago. The love you have for Joel will leave you vulnerable. But it’s a price you’re willing to pay a thousand times over. 

******

[itsalliebitheway]

You're Like A Puzzle (I'm Always Trying To Solve)

Kara hadn’t been prepared for one thing since she had managed to make Lena work healthier hours: How easily bored her girlfriend would get.

In an attempt to quell her girlfriend's boredom, Kara starts building Lena Kryptonian puzzle boxes for Lena to solve, and she always hides something special inside.

Read the full fanfic on my ao3 here

[oblivious-idiot]

you asked about lockwood & co inspiration :

maybe lockwood x reader inspired by the deleted scene with the pyjama and towel thing. i thought it was hilarious. could include some teasing bc of anthony‘s color choice

Heart patterned pyjamas

A/n: Ahh thank you so much for this!! I love this idea so much omg, hopefully you like it!! 🧡 Warnings: mild swearing, but mainly fluff Word count: 5oo Pairings: Anthony Lockwood x Reader

After a late night on a case with the team, you head up to your room to take a shower. You were absolutely covered in soot and dirt as always so it was nice to finally get clean and wash away all the thoughts from case. It was the early hours of the morning still, so everyone was so exhausted and ready to sleep before you all even walked through the front door.

You put your radio on while you shower, one of Lockwood’s favourite songs starts playing - it was a song by The Cure, which makes you smile to yourself as you thought about his stupid cocky smirks he sends you all the time, or the way he clutches onto your hands to make sure you’re okay after battling Visitors.

Once you finished your long, much needed shower you step back into your room, just as you realise you forgot to bring your clean laundry and pyjamas upstairs. “Shit” you mutter to yourself, really hoping the boys are in bed by now so they don’t have to see you in just a towel, having to stop yourself from blushing at the thought of Lockwood’s face.

Silently you creep down the stairs to the kitchen, your bare feet slightly sticking to the wooden floor boards and your hair dripping onto your shoulders. As you enter the kitchen, your eyes immediately meet with Lockwood’s, who’s just casually sat drinking a cup of tea in his pink button up pyjamas.

“Sorry I-, I forgot to grab my pyjamas from the dryer” you say to him, trying not to laugh at his appearance “nice er, pyjamas Anthony”

“Thanks!” his face lighting up, looking at you and only just fully realising what you’re wearing - which is very little. “Nice… towel” his gulp audible as he pulls his eyes away from you as you kneel by the dryer. Heat rises to your cheeks when he comments on your appearance, quickly grabbing onto your warmed clothes.

You look over to him and notice that his pyjamas have small embroidered patterns on them, and you can’t stop yourself from walking over to him and touching the fabric on his collar, surpressing a snigger from your lips. “You know Lockwood, I never saw you as the kind of guy to wear baby pink pyjamas, let alone ones with hearts on them.” His face visibly turning red from the fact that not only are you stood so close with your hand on his shirt, but also from seeing you in just the towel, hair still dripping. “The pink really brings out the rosy colour in your cheeks” you add with a chuckle before giving his nose a little boop and leave him in the kitchen.

George was, of course, stood in the kitchen doorway the whole time, and when he catches Lockwood’s eye from across the kitchen he just sighs and laughs. Lockwood looks at him as if nothing weird just happened “What?” “Nice towel? really??” George replies, shaking his head in bewilderment.

(I know Lockwood doesn't technically have hearts on his pyjamas, I just thought it would be funny to add it in!)

[subeteaishite]

🍎🦌 Ascensionsim 🍎🦌

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Pairing: Alastor/Lucifer

Rating: E, for explicit

Word Count: 3.6k

Summary:

Alastor revels in watching the King scramble for every crumb of attention he gives, and revels even more in the pain and heartbreak in Lucifer’s eyes each time he realizes the Radio Demon will never love him back.

Songfic for “Ascensionism” by Sleep Token

Notable Tags: NSFW, emotional manipulation, all hurt and no comfort, top!Alastor, bottom!Lucifer, heavy sadism and masochism, biting, blood drinking, blood as lube, wing-fingering, anal sex, scratching, mentions of cannibalism, and Alastor being a terrible person

Minors DNI

{Cross-posted on Ao3, show me some love there!}

Who made you like this?

Who encrypted your dark gospel in body language?

Moans permeated in the air, hanging heavy like the drunken haze that had overtaken the two bodies entangled on the luxurious, four-poster bed.

As a general rule, Alastor didn’t let anyone touch him, nor did he touch others if it could be avoided. The sensation of hands against his skin had always been laced with abuse, leaving his body haunted with the ghosts of pain well into his afterlife. Those specters played into his own motivations for touching others, a well-taught lesson in how to inflict that same abuse, but with far greater tact; how many people and demons alike had he killed with a feather-light caress of his lips or the back of his hand, the effortless movements the nectar that lured them into the maw of the pitcher plant? Mortal souls were so predictable. At their weakest, they always wanted the same thing: connection, affection, adoration. All things that Alastor never cared for, but was more than happy to exploit in others for his own personal gain or his own twisted enjoyment. There was nothing sweeter than watching that easily-fostered security wilt away into terror and regret, self-hatred for falling for the light of an anglerfish.

Even immortal souls shared the same vices, leading him to make such a rare exception to his own rule against touch. After all, the King of Hell was so downright vulnerable, it was delicious. Alastor was a simple sinner, with simple desires; desires to wound and rip into the flesh of anyone who dared to consider themselves superior to him, dared to be superior to him. Lucifer Morningstar was superior—he held a level of power, a command of sorcery, that Alastor knew he would never hope to achieve, and he hated the king for it. Resented him, tremendously. It wasn’t as though he kept that information a secret. He addressed Lucifer with outright hostility, seeking to undermine him at every turn, to flip the power dynamic of any interaction they engaged with to get the upper hand, to render him subordinate. Their encounters filled Alastor with a hunger, one that could only be sated by hunting the king as a predator would his prey, to corner him and taste that divine flesh for himself. It wasn’t as though Lucifer was oblivious to this; truthfully, he seemed to admire it, taking every opportunity to goad Alastor further, driving his appetite to spiral. It was almost like he was flirting, and Alastor was certainly the type to see an opportunity when it presented itself and use all manner of tools at his disposal to seize it.

Nobody better than the perfect enemy

Digital demons make the night feel heavenly

Lucifer knew better, yet here they were.

The sight below him was almost too much to bear as Alastor leaned up, cleaning the rose gold blood from his fingers with his tongue. The fallen angel was disheveled, to say the least; his golden hair tousled, his white blouse unbuttoned and bloodstained, his pants bunched up at the center of his thighs, just above his knees, underneath a cacophony of deep, oozing bite marks he’d left there. Alastor grazed his palm across his handiwork, digging a razor-sharp claw into one of the welts left by his fangs. Lucifer cried out in agony, but his face betrayed an opposite sentiment, glowing with ecstasy. He was a masochist, which paired far too well with the sadism all but written into Alastor’s genetic code. “More!” he whined, pleading with the sinner through half-lidded eyes. The deer happily obliged, twisting his wrist and exacerbating the incision, reveling in the way Lucifer’s body jerked, his hands grabbing onto Alastor’s fully-extended antlers for purchase, cheekbones illuminated by the faint, red glow of his eyes.

They only played in their purest demonic forms; it would be a pointless exercise otherwise. Their monstrous visages were the most accurate representations of who they really were, of the madness that lurked beneath the masks they tried so hard to maintain in mixed company. There was no need to keep up a pretense behind closed doors, not when they craved to indulge in the absolute worst of one another. Alastor pulled his finger from the wound, now made twice the size it had been previously, and smeared the blood across Lucifer’s lower lip. He leaned down to lap it up, his prey whimpering and inclining his head forward to make it a full-blown kiss; not that Alastor minded. It gave him the perfect opportunity to worry the man’s lip beneath his pointed teeth, drawing more of his sweet, practically addictive blood.

The Radio Demon’s hands whispered across Lucifer’s cock, the fallen angel twitching and gasping with each tiny caress. He was so sensitive when he was vulnerable like this, his stare betraying an emotion Alastor knew was there, but Lucifer would never speak into full form. It made him want to laugh as he thumbed at the slit, smearing precum across the head; to think, the King of Hell had fallen again, for someone so far below his status. How poetic, how predictable. It wasn’t the first time he’d fallen in love with a human soul. Alastor wrapped his hand around the shaft, laying each digit against the fevered skin one by one, so agonizingly slowly that Lucifer’s hips bucked with each moment of new contact. He tightened his grip, flicking his wrist as he languidly moved his hand up and down at the perfect speed to make the king begin to fall apart beneath his palms.

These trysts had become so common for the two of them in the past few months. From the second they laid eyes on one another in the hotel, they believed they saw past each other’s charade. Lucifer, pretending to be a caring father—like he hadn’t spent the seven years since his wife left him wallowing in self-pity, not giving his daughter the slightest ounce of his mental energy, only getting in touch with her to slake off his responsibilities. Alastor, pretending to be a well-intentioned, civil hotelier—when in reality, he was only around to manipulate Charlie and everyone in her vicinity for his own selfish gain, a monster who found his greatest joy in watching others suffer, particularly those tried endlessly to do the right thing, only to fail. Their mutual disgust and disdain for one another had become a game of preying on each other’s weaknesses; Alastor’s gluttonous need to relish in the agony and flesh of others, Lucifer’s need for physical contact and emotional intimacy. They each came to the table thinking they were going to win, but Alastor knew he was the only one equipped for victory.

Tell me you met me in past lives, past life, past what might be eating me from the inside darling…

Half algorithm, half deity; glitches in the code or gaps in a strange dream?

Humans and angels both were made in the same mold, made to be images of a God who knew nothing but love—a love that Lucifer had muddied with his fingerprints and a few sets of bite marks on an apple. If Alastor could fill a human with infatuation, make them go against their better instincts to follow him to their final resting place in a shrouded wood, a fallen angel would be just as simple to manipulate. After all, they were modeled after the same Creator; there couldn’t be too many differences. He knew, the moment he agreed to this arrangement with the king, that after months of these encounters, Lucifer would fall in love with him; and he did, just as Alastor had predicted. Oh, he loved being right. It was truly intoxicating, stringing along someone who was in love with him. Watching them come to the realization, over and over again, that those feelings would never be reciprocated, but unable to prevent themselves from desperately accepting any shred of attention Alastor gave them, was a high unlike no other—a sumptuous feast of agony that, every so often, slaked his need to consume, consume, consume flesh and bone alike.

Alastor dragged the sharp point of his index finger around the base of Lucifer’s cock, down across his perineum, down even further to circle against the tight ring of muscle there. The disgraced seraphim bucked his hips downward, almost far too eager to indulge in carnal sin. The Radio Demon laughed, enthralled by how such a simple action could make the king squirm, make his mind start to go blank with desperation, lust, unadulterated desire. What a thing to experience—Alastor wouldn’t know what that was like, and he knew he never would. He didn’t want to, lest he end up vulnerable and exposed, writhing beneath the hands of someone as poorly-intentioned as himself.

“Please, just put it in—“

“Shut up.” Alastor withdrew his fingers, shoving them in Lucifer’s mouth with enough depth and force to make him choke; Alastor adored the feeling of the king’s throat convulsing around him. He briefly fantasized about those being the final twitches of the angel’s life—but if they were, would he ever have so much fun again? There would be no one else for him to play with that met his criteria, no other prey that would leave him truly satisfied—no one strong enough, no one with a high enough social station, for this weakness to be enthralling instead of pathetic. “You know you won’t get a thing otherwise.” He pumped his fingers in and out of Lucifer’s mouth, pleased with the way submission reflected in Lucifer’s demonic red eyes. He continued with that until he was content with the former seraphim’s demeanor, dragging his fingers across the king’s formerly pristine skin, now marred by the deep lacerations he’d left there with his teeth.

Alastor’s hand continued its slow crawl downward, blood gathering around his fingers, until it found that ring again, circling twice before beginning to press his middle finger in—more abruptly than any sane person would, not caring a bit for Lucifer’s comfort; the fallen angel wouldn’t like it if he did. He was providing far more compassion than in past encounters. Blood wasn’t the most effective lubricant, but it was better than nothing, more than he felt Lucifer even deserved. Lucifer seemed to enjoy the abrupt, thoughtless intrusion anyway, bucking his hips like a wild bull just to make that finger go in deeper, thrust faster; Alastor stilled the king’s movements and tore a scream from his throat all at once by adding two more fingers without warning, giving Lucifer a brief taste of blissful pain.

“Fuck! That—“

Alastor rolled his eyes; he hated the sound of Lucifer’s voice when those pretty lips formed words. He curled his fingers, the pointed tips of his claws grazing against a small bundle of nerves that completely cut off anything the angel was trying to say. He glanced up at Lucifer’s face, pleased to see that the simple motion had made his eyes cloud over with mindless lust, dragging him deep into a submissive headspace. He knew from previous experience that the king wouldn’t be speaking much anymore, at least coherently or in full sentences. He repeated the movement again, letting the pads of his fingers do the work this time, each stroke making Lucifer’s needy whine jump a few notes higher; the sound of Lucifer falling even harder, promising Alastor the continued entertainment of heartbreak and misery.

Alastor removed his hand, smoothing it across the litany of bite marks decorating Lucifer’s skin, smearing ichor around like paint on a canvas. Oh, how he wanted to bite in to that slight musculature, to pull and cut through muscle and sinew, down to the bone. Taking Lucifer apart emotionally was just a means to an end, foreplay for the event he truly wished to indulge in—literally, physically tearing Lucifer apart. It would occur in time, though he wondered how many more of these meetings it would take; how deep in love would the father of lies have to fall before he willingly gave up his flesh? As the question bounced around, repetitively, in Alastor’s mind, he pressed the tip of his member against Lucifer’s entrance, giving him only the slightest warning of what was next before he forced himself inside; only halfway on the first thrust, but even that was enough to make Lucifer’s spine arch so high off the mattress that Alastor was surprised it wasn’t followed with the beautiful percussion of snapping bone. A second thrust, a third, a fourth; Alastor was finally enveloped in the tight, white-hot warmth of his favorite prey.

Alastor stayed still, the head of his cock applying a constant pressure to Lucifer’s sweet spot, reveling in how the king himself twitched and convulsed around his length. His inky, black hands reflexively clenched and unclenched the bedsheets in the futile hope of keeping himself from falling further into subspace, past the point of no return. Lucifer was restraining himself, and Alastor wasn’t going to have that. He needed the king to fall harder for him, to inflame the torturous agony of unrequited love, to encourage him to give Alastor everything—his body, his flesh and bone; he withdrew from Lucifer’s shaking form only to immediately slam himself back in at full force, with enough momentum to fucking bruise the angel’s prostate. Lucifer screamed, leaving Alastor giddy as he watched the final flickers of rebellion fade away from his ruby eyes, replaced by a dazed, hazy look of unadulterated submission.

Tears welled in the corners of Lucifer’s eyes as Alastor established a rhythm that was brutal, punishing even. With each snap of the Radio Demon’s hips, the king’s moans grew lower and lighter, more infrequent, the angel so overstimulated he was rendered practically mute, at least momentarily. Good. The further Lucifer’s mind fell into that liminal space, the further he would fall into those insipid feelings of love; the further he fell, the sooner Alastor would get to use his teeth to rend and tear, to make Lucifer suffer physically just as he suffered emotionally. He closed his hands around the king’s throat, craning his neck down to lick away the tears that had begun to track down his cheeks, salt and pleasure and sadness intermingled into one. “What a good boy you are for me, cher,” Alastor growled, his brows knit together as a result of his own pleasure, eyes half-lidded and watching Lucifer with equal parts hunger and nefarious intent. “So talented at debauchery, so willing to embrace sin—it was your finest creation.”

Lucifer’s eyes snapped open, leveling a stern glare at the demon hovering over him; the comment had clearly pissed him off, and he was able to maintain that fiery annoyance despite the way Alastor was able to make him see stars with every collision of his cock into his prostate. “It—ahhh, fuck—it wasn’t sin,” he argued. “Th-that’s what—oh, god, please—that’s what y-you shitty humans—ahhhh!—chose t-t-to do—“

“What’s the matter, can’t use your words?” Alastor goaded, like he was paying no attention at all to what Lucifer said. “That’s alright, you’re much cuter when you can’t speak.” The fallen angel looked slightly wounded at the comment, once again acknowledging how Alastor didn’t want to hear his voice, didn’t care in the slightest what he had to say. It must hurt—being in love with someone and knowing they prefered you when you were silent. Alastor pressed down harder on Lucifer’s throat, acutely aware of how the king’s pulse thrummed invitingly beneath his palm; he wanted to rip apart the thin flesh above his jugular and bathe in that sickeningly sweet ichor. He pulled out of Lucifer, the tip of his cock resting slightly against that ring of muscle, and commanded: “Flip over.”

The king was wholly obedient, immediately gathering his wits about him enough to do as Alastor ordered, rolling onto his stomach and bracing himself on his hands and knees—even though it was difficult, even though he was trembling so hard, he wondered if he’d be able to support his own body weight when Alastor chose to re-enter him. Lucifer gave Alastor a sultry look over his shoulder, but the sinner didn’t even notice; he was more transfixed by the six diagonal, narrow slits that ran down Lucifer’s spine at the center of his back, three on each side. Oh, how he wanted to dip his fingers into those crevices and pull, but he wouldn’t. Lucifer would have to beg for it, eventually; Alastor was damned and determined to drive him to that point. He ran a single, long finger between those openings, summoning a thin rivulet of blood. As he leaned down to lick up its length, he roughly slammed back into Lucifer and the angel howled.

The new position allowed him to fuck rougher, deeper, and Alastor could hear that Lucifer’s moans had turned into tearful sobs of ecstasy. Reaching forward, he grabbed a fistful of Lucifer’s hair, twisting harshly to keep his head at an awkward, uncomfortable angle, looking over his shoulder so Alastor could admire the mindless expression on his face. Alastor’s mouth watered, black drool dripping from the corner of his mouth as he watched the angel cry in rapture, wondering in the back of his mind if this was the same expression he would make as Alastor tore him limb from limb, savoring the taste and texture of his divine flesh. The thoughts alone sent the deer into a frenzy, his hips pistoning at twice the pace; Lucifer’s brain seemed to short-circuit and switch off behind his glowing red eyes, and he whimpered and moaned as he could think of nothing but the pleasure being given to him. Alastor could read the emotion behind his pupils, as he’d seen it multiple times before; love. If he wasn’t so preoccupied with driving himself to completion, or fantasizing about how orgasmic it would feel to finally consume the king below him, he would have cackled in sadistic glee.

The hand in Lucifer’s hair violently shoved his face into the mattress, while the claws of his free hand fingered the slits where Lucifer’s wings emerged. The former seraphim’s entire body spasmed around Alastor’s fingers, around his cock, tensing so tightly that Alastor feared he might lose himself posthaste. But he reigned himself in, if only to dive his fingers in and out of those small openings to make Lucifer cry out in an addictive mixture of pleasure and pain. “St-sto—“ Alastor dug one claw in deeper, and Lucifer’s word was cut off with a wail. He repeated the movement again and again, deducing by the way each of Lucifer’s whimpers grew higher in pitch that he was close—and Alastor didn’t even have to touch his cock to get him there this time.

“That’s it, cher,” Alastor purred, maintaining the tempo he’d set with his hips and his hands. “Lose yourself for me, Lucifer. Fall for me.”

Alastor’s urging was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Lucifer gripped the bedsheets so hard he tore them, just like his orgasm tore through him. The Radio Demon laughed this time, unable to suppress the humor he felt at seeing the King of Hell so vulnerable, so debauched, in absolute shambles beneath him. Lucifer had tightened impossibly further around him when he came, and it only took a few more fast, hard thrusts before Alastor reached his peak as well. Unlike Lucifer, though, he didn’t emit a single sound, retaining his composure even through the high of his orgasm; he didn’t want to be as affected as the man below him, he did want to show how truly in control he was, after all. The two stayed there, twined together, for a brief moment, until Alastor pulled out, watching with the slightest hint of pride as his seed dripped out of the fallen angel. It was as though he was claiming his territory, an indication that this man would be his next meal—if he ever finished toying with him.

The Radio Demon was quick to extricate himself from Lucifer. He snapped his fingers and his shadow came forth with a towel, allowing him to clean himself off well enough to start redressing in seconds. Alastor offered no such courtesy to his bedmate, who laid half-catatonic on his sheets for a few seconds before trying to right himself into a sitting position. The deer had already started pulling his jacket back on and re-straightening his tie when Lucifer asked, “Um…Alastor? Would you, ah, like to stay the night?”

Alastor laughed, the sound full of mockery and derision. “And be caught leaving the King’s palace in the morning? Mm, no, I think not.” He picked up his microphone with a flourish of his wrist, stealing a glance at himself in Lucifer’s dresser mirror. Despite everything that had just happened, he still looked impeccable, as though he hadn’t just spent the last two hours of his afterlife railing Lucifer into his mattress, fighting back his own primal urges to turn his fuckbuddy into dinner. All good things came to those who waited, after all.

Lucifer’s face fell, disappointed. “Oh, I…I see. Yeah, you’re probably right…” his voice was forlorn, clearly upset by Alastor’s unwillingness to stay. No one ever stayed, and that was an insecurity Alastor would be a fool not to play with; it made the times he did come around even more effective, breadcrumb by breadcrumb. “It would get people talking…”

“Splendid!” Alastor chirped. “You’re a smart man, I knew you’d see it my way!” His smile widened imperceptibly with joy and entertainment as he watched how Lucifer’s heart seemed to crack behind his piercing, red eyes. The fallen angel gave him a sad, desperate look as Alastor faded into the shadows, and he knew it wouldn’t be long until Lucifer gave him what he wanted—the last bargaining chip he had to make the Radio Demon stay.

So I’ll take what I want and leave.

[alpineandbucky]

killin' me slow by liloau.

Explicit || 2,5k words || status: WIP James "Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers

“This ain’t a free show,” the bartender says in greeting, eyebrow raised as he glances toward the empty glasses in front of them. “You guys gonna keep drinkin’, or should I let another pair of voyeurs get in some viewin’ time?” *** inspired by this video

READ IT NOW ON AO3.

[aesthetictarlos]

Well, I don't know how this happened (we'll blame the chin grab) but apparently my brain can't shut up about BuckTommy so I wrote another fic.

Three fics in a week, that never happened before 🥹

Tags: established relationship, emotional hurt/comfort, Tommy Kinard takes care of Evan Buck Buckley ❤️

[avdiobliss]

Wdym you don’t have all of your mutuals notifications on?! I love seeing @oblivious-idiot reblogging posts and @bella-rose29 talking about DTH(anyp) and @tangledinlove responding to asks/ compliments from their inbox about the luke fic and @neewtmas posting about LW&CO random shit and @novelizt just being freaking amazing

[honeysuckleharrington]

𝐚𝐭 𝐚 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 | 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧 *ೃ༄

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐚𝐲 “𝐢 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮”

𝐧𝐨 𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬* *𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐢𝐟 𝐢 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐚𝐝𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐲!

“steve!” you hissed out your window, the cool breeze of the night creeping into your bedroom and making you shiver. your boyfriend stood below you with his hands shoved into his jean’s pockets. he looked up and smiled at you, a mischievous grin hanging from his lips.

“come on,” he pleaded, “your parents won’t even know, i promise,”

had it been anyone else, you would’ve shut your window and climbed right back in bed. but steve? you would follow him to the ends of the earth without a second thought. and that considered, sneaking out for a drive seemed like nothing at all.

“okay,” you smiled back at him, “two seconds,”

you quickly snatched a sweatshirt from your desk chair, threw it over your pajama shirt, and replaced your old shorts with a warmer pair of sweatpants. after throwing on some sneakers, you began to slip out the window onto the patch of roof that attached itself to your bedroom. the porch railing beneath made it easy for you to climb down, steve helped you, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist from behind and spinning you around.

“i missed you,” he whispered into your ear, innocently placing soft kisses along your jaw and cheek.

“i missed you more,” you replied, turning around, and savoring the warmth of his body against yours. he held you close as he walked you to his car which was parked a few houses down, afraid he would wake your parents. he held the door open for you.

“m’lady,” he said, bowing pretentiously, earning a quiet laugh from you. he kissed your hand as you stepped into the car.

the cold of the night seeped through your sweatshirt and you wrapped your arms around you. reaching into his backseat, steve pulled a blanket up into your lap. you took it gratefully, wrapping it around your shoulders.

“came prepared,” steve smiled at you, sending warm and fluttery butterflies through your body. of course he brought a blanket for you, he knew you better than you knew yourself.

“thank you,” you intertwined your fingers with his, calloused but still soft with an always delicate touch, “where are we goin’?”

“just trust me,” he squeezed your hand, bringing it up to his lips, placing a gentle kiss across your knuckles.

“better be worth it,” you teased.

“aren’t i always worth it, sweetheart?”

“you are,” you said, sleepily, a yawn warping its way into your words. you closed your eyes and snuggled closer into his arm, taking in the faint but comforting smell of his sweatshirt: a mix of vanilla and teakwood.

the small bumps in the road and the lulling sound of the car radio quietly playing bryan adams’ heaven, rocked you in and out of a light sleep, the world around you dipped in a dreamy glaze.

“y/n,” steve whispered quietly, turning the car engine off and tracing a light finger along your jaw.

“hm?” you blinked awake.

“we’re here,” he threw open his door and ran around the front to your side, doing the same for you. he collected another blanket from his backseat and took your hand, leading you just a few more feet to a beautiful open lookout over hawkins.

he laid his blanket down on the ground and after smoothing it out, he sat down satisfactorily with you following suite. he placed an arm around your waist, and pulled you in closer, resting his chin atop your head.

the town was much more pretty at a distance, you’d always thought so. that way you couldn’t see all the years of scars that etched their way into the sides of buildings and on the sidewalks or the dust that was caked into any and every crevice it could find.

at a distance, it just looked like a storybook small town with it’s miscellaneously painted stores and mismatched houses, some of which the lights were still on, pitcure-perfectly dotting the view like fireflies.

you didn’t have to ask steve why he brought you up here, the answer was more than obvious. he saw hawkins the exact same way, a visual representation of the loneliness he received as a boy, the years that passed with his parents away. a school of fake friendships and jobs that didn’t work out weaved their way into the structure of the streets leaving a bittersweet taste in the mouth.

but when he stepped back, and really looked at the city that raised him, only one thing stood out above the rest. you.

and that’s the only thing that mattered now.

“steve,” you said, quietly, independently drawing both of you out of your thoughts, ”i love you,”

steve knew you did. you showed it to him every day with the mundane. asking him about his day, running your fingers through his hair when he was stressed, visiting him at work with a snack and slushie, the list was endless. but to hear the words slip out of your mouth for the first time with such confidence, he had no choice but to believe you. for the first time, steve believed that you loved every part of him: dirt, scars, hawkins-stained soul, and all.

“i love you,” he replied, kissing you so sweetly, it made you dizzy. you leaned your head into his chest, wanting to stay in that moment for a while longer.

“please don’t ever stop loving me,”

“i won’t, sweetheart,” he said, “never ever.”

[criminalshminds]

Finding Hope Chapter 6: A Flurry of Movement

Summary: Now that the team knows their secret, will it be smooth sailing, or will something come up along the way to break their hearts? Sequel to The Secret Union.

FF / AO3

Um, hi? I know it's been a LONG time, I have no excuse other than I kind of let life get in the way as well as my hyperfixation on the show has indeed left me for a bit. But, I'm back and I'm gonna be continuing this story! It will probably be slow uploads, but I'm determined to finish it like I promised. So without further ado, I give you chapter 6!

If you missed it, here is the first story:

The Secret Union

FF / AO3

[nellievances]

just a little preview of this fic dropping tonight :)

[sameheart-sameblood]

Need You Now

gif credit: @javier-pena

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: when your new life in jackson leaves little time for each other, you and joel sneak away looking for some privacy

words: 3.6k

warnings: 18+, smut, car sex, fingering, unprotected sex, soft joel strikes again

a/n: apologies for this *gestures at the whole fic* i was horny and joel is hot

read on ao3!

You’re surrounded by people, yet all you can focus on is Joel. That’s not unusual. You could be in a room of hundreds and still hone in on his whereabouts in an instant, like some kind of heat seeking missile.

 It’s how it’s always been with you two. He’s the heat, you’re the incessant missile. Being together for a few years, you’d think that your draw to him would have lessened slightly. But it just seems to grow stronger with each passing day. 

Joel knows it, too. He remains in conversation with Maria and a group of her devoted followers but you can’t miss the ghost of a smirk as he senses your eyes on him. He teases you by bringing the beer he’s holding to his lips, leaving them lingering on the rim much longer than necessary. 

Joel finishes his swig, running his thumb gliding across his lips to collect the residual beads of moisture left behind. Asshole. He’s toying with you and there’s nothing you can do about. 

As you wander home from the party later hand in hand, you pull him aside. The shadows of the Aspen Trees lining the pathway gives you some seclusion as you press your lips to Joel’s. He grunts in surprise but quickly melts into your embrace. Only the sound of Ellie and Tommy calling your names make you break apart. 

You hide for a moment longer as the hunger for each other threatens to overtake you once again. “I need you,” your voice comes out as a whimper. 

Joel cups your chin, bringing your face up to meet his. He kisses you quickly, “I know, honey. Soon.”

******

Life in Jackson was peaceful and idyllic but it left a few things to be desired. The biggest problem was the lack of privacy. Tommy and Maria had been nice enough to put you up in their house the past few months. The one they offered you across the street from them needed repairs. All of the unoccupied houses in the community had varying levels of damage that needed to be addressed before you could move in. 

They had let you pick out the house you wanted, a truly generous offer that had left you speechless. The last one you had seen was a milled log cabin on the bank of a large pond within the Jackson boundaries. The house was tinier than some of the other offerings but it just felt right. It felt like home.

One look at Joel had told you he felt the same way. The two of you gazed in awe at the cabin that would soon be yours, your arms encircling each other. The peace was broken by Ellie grumbling, “You guys would choose the most ‘old person’ house in town.”

You grinned, used to her saying whatever thought crossed her mind. “What would you expect from two certified old people?” Joel grumbled at being called old but kissed you on the top of your head, pulling you closer. 

One arm still encircling Joel, you reached out to Ellie. “Come on. It won’t be so bad. You can decorate your room however you want.” She shuffled towards you, trying to hide how desperately she wanted to be included in the scene of domestic bliss. 

“Can I get first pick of rooms, too?” she asked hopefully as she snuck into your embrace. 

Joel reached around you to tousle her hair. “Not a chance, El.”

******

Your cabin, cute as it is, has a few pressing matters to deal with before it can be occupied. The cosmetic issues have been fixed but the roof is due to be completely replaced and the floor needs reinforcement. While those are finished, you’ve been crashing at Tommy and Maria’s house. 

The one free bedroom they have to offer is your current home. The bed is shared by you and Ellie while Joel takes a mat on the floor. Ellie, to her credit, has offered to switch spots with Joel several times. But as she and you both know, he’s too proud to accept the offer. You’re his girls and he won’t have you sleeping on the floor if there’s any other alternative. 

The close quarters have, to put it bluntly, put a dent in your sex life. Back in Boston QZ you at least had the privacy of your apartment to sneak away to. There was also no fourteen year old there to cramp your style. You love Ellie to bits but you’ve also never met a bigger cock-block before. 

Since you’ve arrived in Jackson it’s been all hushed quickies that you were certain someone would walk in on at any second. Maybe a different person would thrive under that kind of pressure but you want Joel to yourself. 

The morning after the party, you’re the first one up, probably because you’re the only one without a hangover. Well, you and Ellie. She’s still asleep, though, too. You decide to make breakfast as a thanks to your hosts. The pancake batter is resting as you begin to crack eggs for omelettes. A pair of arms envelopes you from behind as Joel’s sleepy voice croaks out a ‘good morning’. 

You lean back into his chest for a moment, smiling as he hides his head in the crook of your neck. “Coffee’s brewing,” you offer. 

“God bless you,” Joel murmurs as he releases you. You giggle as you watch him pour a massive cup and begin sipping without any sugar or cream. 

The rest of the household wanders in soon after. Tommy catches sight of you working the griddle and pats your shoulder. “Stay as long as you want,” he grins through a mouth full of barely cooked pancake. 

Around the table, the five of you fall into easy conversation. Ellie regales you all with a few of her latest puns and Tommy and Maria share their plans for the day. Eyes fall on you and Joel, waiting expectantly to hear what you’ll be up to. You open your mouth to admit you don’t know when Joel speaks for you. “We need to get some timber for the house. Thought we’d go scout some out.”

Tommy nods, “Good idea. I’ll come with you.” 

Joel interjects, “No, you’ve done enough for us already. We can manage this ourselves.” He says it nonchalantly but you don’t miss the way he’s quick to refuse Tommy’s help. “Think we can borrow your truck?” Joel adds. 

As Tommy, Maria and Ellie clean up breakfast, you pull Joel aside. “Timber, huh?” you tease, raising an eyebrow. 

He grabs your ass, then leans in to whisper in your ear, “Had to find some way to get you all to myself.”

After the house clears, you and Joel prepare for your outing. You don’t know exactly what Joel has in mind but you know from the look in his eyes earlier it probably doesn’t require much in the way of clothing. Sifting through the pile of Maria’s clothes she had offered when you first arrived, you find a red sundress with white flowers dotted on it. It’s completely impractical. But you’ve grown tired of worn jeans and flannels. You want to feel pretty for your impromptu date. 

Joel likes your decision too. He whistles in awe as he sees you walk up to the truck. Your face heats as you beam shyly at the approval. You duck into the backseat, stuffing your backpack full of sensible clothes to change into later into the footwell. 

Joel grabs you from behind and turns you around, pressing your back against the car. He cages you in, kissing you fiercely. “You trying to kill me with that dress, honey?” he sighs.

You pat his cheek, then push him gently away. “Come on, cowboy. Can’t keep that timber waiting.” 

The drive takes you past Jackson security. They wave you through after they hear where you’re planning on heading. Joel has to assure them that you’re fully armed and prepared for stepping outside of the safety of the community. 

It’s been awhile since you’ve been past the safety of the walls. You should be nervous but all you feel is anticipation. For the first time in weeks, you have Joel truly all to yourself. 

“You wanna tell me where you’re taking me?” 

Joel smiles at you, “I saw a clearing by a little lake when we made our way into town last supply run. Think you’d like it.” You can tell he genuinely means it and you smile at him. 

“How long will it take to get there?” you ask as you start rubbing his thigh, wandering dangerously close to his belt buckle. 

He chuckles, “10 minutes or so. Think you can wait?”

No. You’ve been waiting long enough. 

You shrug, face deceptively calm. “Might as well get started without you.”

Joel glances at you, smile falling away as he sees you toying with the straps of your dress. “What are you doing?”

You offer him your best doe-eyed look of innocence. “Nothing, Joel.” The strap of your left shoulder falls and you pull at it more to expose your breast. “Just taking care of myself since you won’t do it for me.” Definitely not teasing you like you did to me at the party last night.

Joel curses under his breath but doesn’t say anything else, his ability to string together a coherent sentence seemingly gone. You smirk as you pull the other strap down, completely exposing your chest. Your hands wander across your skin, paying extra attention to your nipples when you catch Joel side-eyeing you. 

Chuckling at his expense, you pull up the hem of your dress. One hand wanders between your legs as the other continues to play with your hardened nipples. Your clit throbs as you rub it and you let out a relieved moan as you reacquaint yourself with the feeling of pleasure. It hasn’t been that long but god it’s felt like forever. 

You sneak a glance at Joel and find his eyes trained ahead, knuckles white on the steering wheel. His jaw clenches and relaxes over and over. It gives you great joy to see how much you’re affecting him already. 

The prairie fades away and trees begin to rapidly rush past your window. Joel’s doing his damndest to make it to the lake before he completely loses it. He won’t dare pull over a second sooner. It would give you too much satisfaction to win at this little game and he’s too proud to admit defeat. 

At first, you play up your pleasure to get more of a rise out of him. But soon, the sighs and moans you’ve been exaggerating become very, very real. You don’t want to cum like this, not without his full attention. But you can’t stop now that you’ve started. Subtly, you slow down the rubbing of your clit and silently urge him to get you to your destination. 

After a few more minutes that feel like hours, the car stops. You open your eyes and are met with a sight that makes you briefly forget what you were just in the middle of. The lake in front of you isn’t the biggest but it’s blue like a jewel, the hue bright and clear. It’s gorgeous and you can’t wait to go for a swim. 

Joel has other plans at the moment, though. You hear his seatbelt unbuckle and he leans over the console, grabbing the back of your neck to make you focus back on him. Your gaze meets his and you know you’re in for it. His eyes, usually a soft, warm brown have turned almost black. They bore into you as he reaches over with his free hand to start rapidly rubbing your clit. 

It’s so much better than what you were doing and you close your eyes, basking in the sensation. Joel stops his fingers and tuts, “You keep your eyes on me or you’re not getting anything.” Usually, you’d think about pouting. But you need him and so you just nod vigorously as he rewards you by beginning to rub again. 

You settle in, angling yourself more towards Joel and spreading your legs to grant him better access. With his eyes still locked on yours, he moves his fingers down from your clit and shoves two inside of you. You gasp in surprise as he starts fucking you with them. Joel’s usually the lovemaking type but you’ve teased him too much and he needs to teach you a lesson. A lesson you will enjoy but a lesson nonetheless. 

Never once do his fingers stop, aided by the slick you’ve built up on the car ride. Moans are drawn out of you, seemingly of their own volition. Your eyes travel down to gape at the sight of his hand working between your legs but he tightens his grip on the back of your neck. He pulls your face closer to his as he watches you, knowing you’re a goner. 

Joel’s fingers curl inside you and you’re done for. You cum hysterically, eyes never leaving his. Joel slows his strokes but continues rubbing lazily at your walls, helping you down from your high. He pulls you gently to him and kisses you, back to sensitive Joel. 

Finally, you close your eyes, relishing in your orgasm. Joel doesn’t stop you. You don’t even realize that he’s left the car until you hear your door click open. Still in a haze, you’re lead out of the front seat and ushered into the back. You watch as Joel climbs in to sit next to you and closes the door. 

You grab for him, pressing your lips to his. It starts sensual and romantic, then quickly devolves into a sloppy make-out session. Joel pushes you to lay down on the seat so he can climb on top. Instead, you push him back into a sitting position so you can clamber onto his lap. 

Joel steadies you while you get into position straddling him. It’s uncoordinated and you smack your head on the ceiling. Imagining how clumsy you must look, you let out a laugh. Joel joins in, caressing your face as you smile at each other. 

Once the giggles subside, you take his face in your hands. “I’ve missed you.” 

The admittance sobers him and he grabs your hand, pressing a kiss to your palm. “I’m right here, honey. I’ll always be right here.”

It’s amazing how he can always make you feel as giddy as the first time you admitted your feelings to each other. Your heart leaps, fit to burst and all you can think to do is show him how good he makes you feel. Leaning down, you kiss him with as much passion as you can muster. 

You could get lost in the feel of Joel but the sound of a muffled moan coming from him pulls you back to attention. Continuing the kiss, you reach down and start undoing his belt buckle. Years of practice have made you an expert at getting him out of his pants in seconds. But it’s been a minute since you two have done this and you’re so excited you find your fingers don’t seem to work. 

Joel smirks as he reaches down to help. He undoes his belt but moves his hands aside so you can continue. Reaching down, you slip his cock free and encircle it, beginning to slide up and down at a languid pace. A soft thud brings your eyes back up and you see Joel has leaned back against the headrest. 

Labored breathing fills the truck as you press your lips to Joel’s now exposed neck. You suck red marks along his skin that others back in Jackson are sure to notice. Joel curses but grabs your wrist to encourage you to speed up. You do as requested but soon feel a throbbing between your legs. “Joel,” you whimper and his eyes shoot open to see what’s wrong. 

He reads your expression and nods, helping to lift you so you can position his cock at your entrance. Slowly, you lower yourself and the two of you groan in unison. The feeling of him and the realization that you can take as long as you want makes your head spin. 

But it becomes apparent that this is gonna be a quick fuck too. “I’m not gonna last long,” Joel confesses. 

He’s not the only one. Even just staying still with him inside you is making it hard for you to focus. “It’s ok. I won’t either,” you murmur. 

Joel grabs at your sides to encourage you to start moving. You roll your hips against him and Joel’s head falls back against the headrest again. Smirking, you continue the pace. The realization hits you that Joel has entirely too many clothes on. Thankfully he’s wearing the denim shirt with snaps you love so much. You rip it open, exposing his weathered chest and lovely soft belly. 

Joel comes to, watching in fascination as you bend down to start kissing his chest, leaving marks there for only the two of you to admire later. The roll of your hips stays consistent until you moan when Joel’s cock hits one of the more sensitive parts of your walls. 

The sudden snap of his hips makes you stop in your tracks. You look up to meet his lust clouded eyes and recognize that he needs release and he needs it now. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders you bury your face in his neck as he begins to fuck up into you. 

Sobs cascade out of you as the pleasure begins to bubble up. They’re muffled into his skin, though. “I wanna hear you,” Joel orders and you nod, leaning back to let your wails fill the truck. They grow louder and more desperate when Joel slows his hips, bringing his mouth to your breasts, sucking on one nipple then moving to the other. 

Joel gives one last kiss to each breast, then continues fucking you, hips pistoning up with a fervor you’re not sure he’s had since you’re first days as a couple. Your back arches as you cum, not even able to give him a warning before it happens. You stay that way, paralyzed with bliss as Joel chases after your orgasm. 

Collapsing into his chest, you come down from your high as he ruts into you a few more times before spilling his release inside. His cock continues to pulse as he wraps his arms around you. Sighing, you turn your head, pressing your cheek to his chest. His rapid heartbeat soon slows and you lie there for a few minutes listening to its strong pulse. Joel hums a song you don’t know as he rubs your back. 

“That’s nice,” you murmur, “What is it?”

Joel answers quietly not wanting to break your little bubble of serenity. “Just something that’s been floating around my head the past few days.”

You straighten up and kiss him. “You’re something special, Joel Miller.”

He looks up at you, a loopy smile plastered on his face. “You’re the only special thing about me, honey.”

A look of incnesed shock flashes onto your face, making Joel laugh. He might not truly believe that there’s nothing special about him but also…he very well could. His confidence and self-worth are maddeningly low for someone who most others would label “the whole package.”

Your thighs tremble from riding him and you long for a nap but you won’t rest until you’ve shown him just how much he means to you. A brush of your lips against his own makes his softened cock, still nestled between your legs, twitch with interest. He may not be as young as he once was but his lust for you never fails. 

“Guess I didn’t do a good enough job just now of showing you how exceptional you are. Let’s try again, shall we?”

It takes a few more hours of fucking, interspersed with a brisk skinny dip in the lake, before Joel admits defeat. He concedes that, yes, he is unique, admirable and all of the other complimentary adjectives you’ve bestowed upon him. 

The sun begins its descent towards the horizon and it becomes apparent that your day must come to an end. Joel slips back into his jeans and shirt as you abandon the dress to the bottom of your pack in favor of a more practical hoodie and khakis. You’re already going to get enough questions about how you spent a whole day in the woods and yet have no timber with you. Best not to give more fuel to the rumors by showing up in a disheveled sundress. 

“So what’s our story for today?” you question, slumping back into the passenger seat. 

Joel considers the question as he turns the key in the ignition. “The truth?” he shrugs. 

You laugh and shake your head. “Yeah, we’re definitely not doing that.”

Joel puts his arm on the back of your headrest as he looks behind to reverse back onto the drive way. “I’ll take the long way back. Give you some time to think about what you wanna tell them.” You roll your eyes and he puts a comforting hand on your thigh as he drives. “While you’re at it, think of a few more excuses we can use for next time we need a day like this.”

“You planning on this becoming a regular thing?” you tease him. 

Joel squeezes your thigh as his eyes crinkle with amusement. “Well, I’m no fortune teller but we will be sharing a house with a very nosy teenager… ”

Oh, right. You’re going to need a whole arsenal of excuses to get some privacy. But the thought of the three of you being a content, little family makes it all worth it. 

******

[alliekitaguchi]

omg hi i just saw your excerpts in the obikin tag and i have to say i love love loved the snippets that you’ve shared. i’d read the hell out of this story if you ever decided to share it with the rest of us.❤️❤️❤️

Thank you so much!! 😭😭 it’s my first Star Wars fanfic so I was suuuuper nervous since people are really protective about the world/characters, but everyone has been so nice so far ❤️ hopefully I’ll post an actual chapter soon!

[oblivious-idiot]

Don’t wanna see you crying anymore

Anthony Lockwood x fem!Reader

Summary: after Lockwood deems you housebound while your injuries heal from a case (broken arm and cracked ribs), you reconnect with Kipps, which only makes Lockwood jealous

Warnings: Fluff, a little bit of angst, language/swearing

Word count: 1.5k

Pairings: Anthony Lockwood x fem!Reader, Quill Kipps x fem!Reader (in the past)

AN: This is my first bit of writing so I apologise if it's not the best haha, I also have no idea how to end these either oops. I'd love any feedback but please be kind!

You’d been working for Lockwood and Co. for a while by now, it had just been your first anniversary with the team when Lucy joined, and you were all the more grateful to have another girl in the building. After previously working for Fittes and then joining Lockwood and Co, you’d quite frankly needed a change of pace. You and George had been close friends while you worked at Fittes together, which is how you ended up joining the team at 35 Portland Row.

Lockwood you couldn’t quite get your head around - he always seemed to pay attention to you while you worked for Fittes, maybe it was because you were dating Kipps at the time, maybe it was just that he didn’t like Kipps all that much. The two of you had grown quite close in the past year though, you’d had your fair share of arguments and patching each other up after cases. It was only after Lucy had joined that you realised you had fallen for him and his soft security.

You and Lucy were getting ready in your shared room before your next case after having a disagreement with Lockwood in the kitchen if you should come or not. As you were going over a few newspaper clippings Lucy looks at you from the bathroom mirror.

“You should go easy on him, you know.”

“Go easy on him? What for Lu?” You scoff

“He’s just looking out for you y/n, he doesn’t want to see you hurt” she says as she walks over to you on the bed

You chuckle a little and look up at her “Lu, we fight ghosts for a living, I’d be surprised if we didn’t get hurt once in a while”

She takes hold of your hand “you know what I mean, smartass. I’ve seen the way he looks at you, it would break him to lose you”

You sit up straight and look at her soft smile, confused as to how she thinks he likes you “wha-, Lu he doesn’t-, we’re just friends”

“Just try not to be too reckless tonight, alright?” She gets up and smiles at you again, before heading downstairs.

Surprisingly, the case didn’t go as plan. The alleged Type One that you and George had been researching all week turned out to be a Type Two. You knew something didn’t feel right when you picked up this case, but Lockwood was so adamant in taking it that you didn’t want to crush him.

You and Lucy were trying your best to hold off the Type Two while Lockwood and George went to look for the source. You could tell that you’d began to tire and you didn’t know how long you could keep going. You looked at Lucy worriedly, but that was your mistake, because the ghost lunged towards you causing you to lose your footing. You fell down the first flight of stairs, your foot getting caught in the bannister and your body slams so hard into the wall you go out cold.

It had been about a week since the case when you were finally allowed to leave the hospital. Your arm was in a cast after breaking it in your fall, as well your chest and ankle being tightly bound - the doctors had told you that you’d cracked a rib as well as spraining your ankle from getting caught in the bannister. Lucy and George picked you up from the hospital, but when you asked about Lockwood, Lucy just smiled at you softly.

“It’s been really hard on him y/n, this past week. He’s been worried sick”

You look at them both confused “but it’s not like it was his fault, he didn’t push me down the stairs, did he?” you say a little sarcastically to try and lighten the mood.

George sighs and looks at you, “you know what he’s like y/n. He blames it on himself for not getting to the source fast enough.”

“He really cares about you y/n” Lucy chimes in “just go easy on him, okay?”

When you got back to 35 Portland Row, Lockwood was waiting in the kitchen. You smiled at him as you hobbled over to give him a hug. He looked like he hadn’t slept since you’d last seen him.

He sighed once you’d all gathered around the kitchen table. “I think it’s about time we had a talk” his eyes settling on you and your broken arm.

“Y/n, you’re not to go on any more cases until you’re fully healed.” He hangs his head when he sees your hurt expression. “This isn’t up for discussion. We cannot lose you, I-“ he cut himself off and left the kitchen before you could get a word in.

You hastily got up from your chair and followed him, trying not to hurt yourself as you went. "Lockwood!" you called after him, making him stop in the hall. Once you caught up to him you couldn’t read his face “I’m sorry y/n, you just need to heal. I can’t have my best agent getting more hurt on my watch.” He squeezed your hand and smiled before heading upstairs to his room.

After another week being housebound, you'd began to get restless. Although Lockwood was keeping his distance (you think he still feels guilty for your injuries), he almost scolded you for daring to put on your coat because you were out of milk. As an apology later that night he gave you one of his hoodies, in which the larger size made it easier for you to wear with your cast.

Shortly after the team left for another big case, you hear a ring at the door. You assumed it was George forgetting the chains again, but instead it was Quill Kipps.

"Hey," his voice was gentle as he studied you all bandaged up. "I, uh, I heard you were on house arrest, so I thought I'd stop by to check on you"

You smiled "I'm not your girlfriend anymore Kipps, you don't have to check on me." looking down, you notice the brown paper bag in his hand "I-, did you bring sandwiches?"

A big grin spreads across his face "Your favourite. I haven't had them since you left" You invite him in, knowing you didn't have much of a choice when Kipps made up his mind.

Over the next week, Kipps would stop by the house on his days off and have lunch with you. You hadn't told the team, you didn't know how they'd react, but it was nice to have the company every one in a while, the free food was good too.

One day Lucy and George went out to the store for food while you and Lockwood went over files for the current case you were all working on - Lockwood still wouldn't let you out in the field but it was nice to be included again. You hear ring of the doorbell and Lockwood goes up to answer it, the next thing you hear is his rapier unsheathing and raised voices.

You hobble your way out to the hall to see Lockwood pointing his rapier at Kipps, who was holding a bag of fresh sandwiches and... flowers?

"Anthony, put your bloody rapier down" you say, but he doesn't move. "Anthony, put it down" raising your voice this time.

"I'm curious to see what the weasel is doing here, trying to charm his way into stealing our cases now? Nice try Kipps but I don't like flowers" he smiles dryly.

"They're not for you, Tony, but I'll keep that in mind for Valentines" Kipps says sarcastically.

Lucy and George arrive back and they both give Kipps a strange look, before looking at you in the hallway. Kipps hands you the bag and flowers "I'll call you later" and he flashes Lockwood a look before leaving.

Once Kipps was gone, you brush past Lockwood to go sit in the Library. "Y/n!" he calls out after you, before following you into the room.

"What's going on y/n?" Lockwood says softly as he sits next to you, he sounded hurt. "If you needed anything while we were gone, you could've told me..."

"Anthony, I haven't left the house in weeks, I can't work, all I get are the four walls of this house." You look over at him "What I needed was company. I needed you. And Lucy and George"

He takes a hold of your free hand brushes your hair out of your face. "I'm sorry. I just-, you know how I get with you and Kipps, if he hurt you again..."

"Anthony look at me" you say as you squeeze his hand "I am never going back to him or Fittes ever again. This is my home now."

"Thank god," he chuckles softly "I remember the day you arrived here, looking for George. You were such a mess."

"Gee, thanks for making me feel better Lockwood" you laugh and push him away softly.

[subeteaishite]

🍎🦌 Indebted 🍎🦌

Rating: Explicit (for smut, canon-typical violence, and character death)

Pairing: RadioApple (enemies to friends to lovers)

Chapters: 5

Word Count: 27.4k

Primary Characters: Alastor, Lucifer Magne, Lilith Magne, Charlie Magne

Tags include: Mutual pining, angst, hurt/comfort, trauma discussions, boundary discussions, blood drinking, biting, gradual relationship growth (more tags included in the link)

Summary: Lucifer could never stand Alastor’s attitude; but when the Radio Demon shows up at the palace, nearly dead, on extermination day, he decides that maybe he isn’t so bad after all.

or;

When Alastor arrives in Lucifer’s workroom, on death’s doorstep, the conversation that ensues paves the way for a romance they never expected. Together, they put together pieces of information that reveal a nefarious scheme that poses a direct threat to Hell and makes the hotel ground zero for a new, even worse conflict.

[aesthetictarlos]

Now I remember what it feels like to fly, you give me butterflies

@bucktommyweek Prompt: Alternate first meeting

Rating: General Audiences

Summary:

“Hey, I’m sorry, I'm looking for Evan Buckley,” a firm but gentle voice says, coming from somewhere behind him. He's currently bent over, rummaging through the box of supplies, perfect timing.

“I’m here, in the back of the ambulance!” He announces, voice loud as he straightens back up, running a hand through his hair.

He climbs down, rounds the corner and– stops in his tracks. He didn't know what he was expecting exactly but surely it wasn't– that.

The man is– well, he's slightly taller than him which is– something he's not used to, actually. And he's also broad and ripped, if the way the sleeves of his shirt are straining against the bulge of his muscles.

“Uh– H-hi,” he stutters, suddenly flustered. “I'm Evan. Evan Buckley,” he says, holding his hand out.

Notes: for #bucktommyweekend

[avdiobliss]

eli my beloved!! i realised i never asked you this before but what other shows/books/movies are you into!! there is lco of course but i wanted to know if there was any other things we both like 🫶🏻🫶🏻

ALLIEEE!!!! Hello :D

Honestly I’m into so many things.

Shows: Big Brooklyn 99 fan, Gilmore Girls, Reacher, Once Upon A Time, Friends, I Am Not Okay With This, End Of The Fucking World, The IT Crowd, Atypical, Superstore, Heartstopper, Stranger Things, Inside Job, Cobra Kai, Bridgerton and so many more that I can’t remember lol

Films: The Pitch Perfect films. All three. Masterpieces. I also love the Princess Diaries 1&2, Scary Movies, Crazy Stupid Love, La La Land, Karate Kids, honestly and all Noah Centineo movie they’re amazing (specifically TATBILB).

Books: I am such an avid boon reader this might take me awhile… Obvs LW&Co series, The Cruel Prince, AGGGTM, Powerless, the Elsie Silvers books, anything written by Ali Hazelwood, Assistant to the Villain (which if you haven’t read I highly recommend you do it was my favourite read of last year).

Also just wanna say: A special mention to comedians cause I freaking love them, like James Acaster and Mae Martin <33

Another also just wanna say: Both James and Mae have specials on Netflix if u wanna check them out :))

I hope there’s something here that’s atleast a little similar 😁😁