#but if he's tired it's probably really obvious that it means so much to him (maybe... too much for such a simple gesture)

[ancientschampionau]

RealAgeAU Drabble - Dawn

I am back because i got home from work and I got no chill! :D @spotaus

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Okay. So why this one? Because i realised it was a while since i wrote a drabble from Horror's point of view and that is criminal and it is a great excuse for me to showcase some stuff from the quiet and very observing sockets of Horror! (also gives me an excuse to not think about the drabble order i got now and that thought i messed it up a bit which I need to think of a solution for)

Ready? Let's go!

*------------------------*

Horror makes sure to carefully close the door to the greenhouse. It is still early but he is used to those.

He enjoys the cool fresh air as he walks towards the house, small basket filled with fresh monster food. Horror is happy he got permission from Crop to harvest the plants in there for their meals.

He quietly opens the door and listens for a moment. He saw Cross leave the farm a little while ago to do his own morning workouts and by the sounds of it the other three are still asleep.

Which is good because he needs his own sleep. Horror knows very well that Dust is the one to wake up with Nightmare if something bothers him in his sleep.

He found the two of them awake and reading a book one too many times for Horror to believe they just had an allnighter.

Horror likes being up early. Maybe strange for him but he got used to it in his old universe. The best time to check his traps and search for food had been in the very early morning, or very late night depending on how you look at it, as most people would be asleep.

It is a leftover habit and he just kept going with it when he joined Nightmare's gang.

He puts the food away in all the right places and goes about getting the ingredients for todays breakfast. He notices the fresh milk and eggs and the choice is obvious. Some pancakes would be great.

He starts preparing the ingredients as he takes the time to measure it all. The milk makes him chuckle.

Watching Cross realises there was a cow had been funny. Finding Cross in a tree shaking with a cow under it had been hilarious. Crop ahd been apologetic as he explained that his cow, Betty (Killer had mutters "of course it is claled betty") was aparently mischievious.

Horror had his doubts but Cross swore that the cow would know when he left the farmhouse. That the cow would stand at the edge of her field and stare at him.

Cross did not go to the east side of the farm anymore. aparently that was Betty's territory in his mind.

Nightmare liked petting Betty however so you have your ups and downs.

Horror mixes the ingredients slowly but surely. Thinking about Nightmare, "Shouldn't you still be in bed?"

silence before a soft mutter "Not tired anymore."

Horror chuckles as he shoots Nightmare a look. He looks fully awake and adorable in his new wool sweater. Horror grins "God powers?"

Nightmare shrugs "I mean probably. I never needed sleep before. that is still new." They hadn't really noticed anything that could be connected to Nightmare's godhood at the moment. Maybe it had gone domant, at least that was Cross's guess. Dust just thinks Nightmare's magic is now focussed on healing instead of weird god shenenigans.

Speaking of healing! Horror gives him a stern look "bandages?"

Nightmare rolls his eye lights but mutters his answer "All still in place and good. Killer replaced them after the bath last night,"

Horror nods. With that secured he relaxes abit "Want to help?"

Nightmare is already by his side and stands on his tiptoes. Horror chuckles as he gives him a look "Need a chair?" he would offer a stepstool but the chair is more stable for him.

Nightmare looks at the counter annoyed before nodding his agreement. Horror grabs a chair and puts it near the counter. Nightmare climbs it easily.

Horror really wants to pick him up but they do have the rule that inside Nightmare should walk around himself to carefully train his spine. It is still much to early to already start carrying him. Horror knows that if any of them start they won't stop.

Nightmare reaches for the ingredients, some fruits for inside the pancakes, before pausing and staring at his sweater.

Nightmare has been very careful with his new gifted clothes. Horror himself is also very careful with the set of clothes Dust got him.

Horror frowns at the food he is making. He really hopes he can quickly find soemthing to do here to earn money. At the moment only Dust has something and it is starting to show, even Killer seems to be getting annoyed with himself over it.

Until now Horror and Cross helped around on Crop's farm. Which he was happy to do as it only seemed fair as a way to repay Crop for letting them stay. Horror has also been learning the basics about farming, farmland and farmwork from Crop. It is still a lot and not everything sticks in his skull, probably falling out of that hole. But he is getting better at it. He hopes with this Crop can maybe get the news out that both of them are more than willing to help around with heavy duty work and get a bit of cash flow.

Killer... Killer has a very specific set of skills. Sadly not specifically useful on a farm. Even if he is great with the animals and can herd pretty much anything, which is very useful but well. Most people won't let you near their animals unless they trust you and Killer is Killer.

Horror just feels bad that Dust is pretty much still Ngihtmare's main caretaker, got the rough end with the backstory they settled on, and has to deal with work to get cash. Only to spend all of it on them all.

Horror can see it is starting to wear him down. He just hopes they can figure out how to balance everything better.

It is another reason he loves these mornings. Because morning time means Dust, and Killer, both sleep in and Horror gets time to supervise their babybones. Horror adores the time wiht Nightmare. Especially when alone because then others don't watch them nervously the whole time.

It is exhausting to be seen as something dangerous even if he knows it is true. It is why they mean so much to him, they never treated him like that. None of them did.

A glance confirms that Nightmare has carefuly rolled up the sleeves and is taking extra care with cutting the fruits, using one of the duller knives which won't be able to cut bone. Horror turns back to getting everything else ready. He has to concentrate to push his intent into the food. He wants them to enjoy and like it. Feel the things he can't say to them.

Horror knows what he wants and feels but also knows none of them are ready to hear it. Horror has known that from the moment he realised what he felt was. The curse of being the only emotional stable one.

He still remembers all the way back near the start of them meeting and chuckles to himself. they did not get along at all.

Nightmare immediantly looks up "What is funny?" he looks adorably confused.

Horror thinks for a moment "Remember when you brought me in?"

Nightmare blinks before giving a slow nod "Yeah... I had hoped you would calm Killer and Dust."

Horror chuckles "Can't believe you thought i could do that."

Ngihtmare shrugs as he finishes up his task and just sits normally on the chair "I mean... It worked." his hands find the glass of juise Horror got him.

Horror pauses for a moment before nodding. Nightmare is kinda right with that one. It hadn't worked right away but he made it work. Mostly because he had had a lot of motivation.

Nightmare, still a fully active god at that point, had offered him that he would slowly but surely fix the food problem in his universe in trade for his service, something about it being too severe for him to be able to instantly fix but if Horror worked for him he would work on it. Horror had figured Nightmare had known about his little weird immortality situation with his own universe's core and accepted.

Turns out he just wanted him to fix whatever had been going on with Killer and Dust. Because they would fight. Constantly. And those two got very close to killing each other a few times.

Horror had eventually managed to somehow form a connection and bond with Killer. It had been rather easy and Horror was able to become friends with him over coworkers. Eventually find him not just annoying but funny. And later think fondly of his antics.

Dust took longer. Which had been a combination of Dust just being an introvert and not looking for connections or at least not in the way that made that clear to Horror. And well Horror heard bits and pieces of what Dust had done and had honestly been disgusted with the idea that Dust just murdered his whole universe and his own brother. Just to fight one human? Just to end a timeloop?

It was well after he managed to get them to stop, or at least contain the damage of, their fighting. Well after he started working for Nightmare more permanently that Horror realised how the multiverse worked.

And how fucking unfair it was.

Because aparently? stupid fate or some shit? That decided how your universe worked. His would always have ended up with a famine and starvation. Killer would always lose control and be controlled, abused and used by the human. Cross would always be the end of his universe. Dust... Dust would always have to kill his universe. No matter what he tried or solution he tried.

It wasn't until later Horror learned that Dust had tried everything. Multiple times. That Dust had learned to play multiple musical instruments in the time of resets. That he had learned to cook, and tinker. He master chemistry. Everything in the hopes it could give him a solution.

But the fates had already decided his ending, much like for all of them there was only one ending possible for them. And in the end locked him in a dead AU make by his own hands when no other options was left. Just like all of them had been.

Horror has to admit it took him a long time to get Dust to admit those things to him. Msotly because Horror had been standoffish before and that he accidentally gave Killer advice to treat Dust like one of the many stray cats he interact with.

He hadn't specifically said that. horror had just told Killer that maybe Dust would like Killer more, or at all, if Killer learned to respect his boundaries. Horror had mentioned how Killer could learn each cat's limits so why not Dust?

Worst part was that it actually worked.

Horror rubs his face "I give him cat advice." his voice sounds pained. Dust had been so mad at them both.

Nightmare nods "I remember. Dust left for three weeks." he snorts "which really is very catlike..." more thoughtful "And then you two got mad at me for not telling you where he went." He blinks and shrugs as he drinks from his orange juice.

Horror ignores the cat comment as he looks at Nightmare "Why didn't you tell us?" Dust had actually been recruited to help Nightmare with the balance. Something Horror only started to do after helping Killer and Dust be less homicidal.

Nightmare blinks at him wiht those wide sockets "I didn't want to force any of you... If you wanted to leave..." he speaks softer and softer "I wasn't going to stop you if you wanted to leave... if you didn't want to stay..."

Horror frowns and picks Nightmare up. He embraces him and hums "I am sorry we left..."

Nightmare shrugs as he pushes clsoer to him "You came back..."

hah... yeah they did. Much like Dust did all that time ago. He was gone for a few weeks before returning after killing Ink bringing back one of his fucking sketchbooks as proof. Obviously killing Ink does little in the long run but it was quite the powermove. Dust had glared at them daring to say anything. Killer of course had muttered something about Dust bringing back a kill much like a cat.

Horror is still not sure how he managed to stop Dust from Killing Killer that day.

Horror puts Nightmare at the table and gets a small yogurt and fruit snack ready for him. Just so he can eat a tiny bit. See how his magic will handle food today. Nightmare starts eating it when offered and that is a good sign. Means his magic is actually sending out the signal that it needs food today.

Horror goes back to flipping pancakes. Horror tries to stay in the here and now but his injury makes his mind likely to wander. and with already having been thinking about them.

He still remembers one of the early missions, after Horror learned about fates cruel games. Dust had still acted the same but Horror had tried to be more friendly. He had been close to giving up on it as clearly it wasn't working as Dust was still standoffish. Only for Dust to pull him out of the way of an attack from Ink, getting hit instead.

Later Horror had demanded why he did that and Dust had just shrugged. He hadn't had an answer for him. It confused Horror to no end. Horror was immortal because of that fact that his magic had been used in the core and bonded to that. Meaning as long as the core in his universe was fine he would return to life.

The gang had known this and Horror knew that Dust knew this. And yet. Dust had heard all of that and looked at the large monster Horror had become saw soemthing worth protecting. Something that needed protection.

Horror thinks he fell a little bit in love that day.

Much like how one day Horror just realised he couldn't stand the idea of not being near Killer or never seeing him again. That even if Killer could be annoying that he didn't wish him any pain or harm.

How it warmed his soul that Killer, and Cross later, would hide behidn him. Seeing him as someone safe that would protect them. See him as someone trustworthy.

Cross, so eager to please and desperate for affection and affirmation. but once he relaxed so smart and funny. Loyal and always ready to help...

But now is not the time to try and see what any of them thought or felt. They are dealing wiht a lot at the moment and they need to concentrate with trying to make staying here work.

The front door opens and Cross walks in quietly. He sneaks a glance at them and smiles when Horror catching him looking. Cross waves to Nightmare "Hey guys. All good?"

Horror nods "Nightmare helped." he flips another pancake as Nightmare drinks his juice with a smug little smile.

Cross grins "Good to hear. I will quickly get cleaned up and help. Dust and Killer?"

Nightmare hums "Still asleep." and he sips his juice again.

Cross nods "Good to know. be back in a bit" and he goes towards the bathroom. The pipes groan softly as Cross no doubt turns on the shower.

Horror finishes the last pancake and gets to wrok on getting the drinks and coffee ready.

Another day for them to figure out how this will work. Horror is just happy they are all here, everything else can wait as long as they stick together.

*-------------------------*

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[olliesneweyes]

still thinking abt the wreck that is train!andrew's office once he falls asleep at the desk tbh because godd i love imagining messy workaholic offices

conductors also kind of do everything on the train, like they oversee the other train employees, take payments for boarding, check the tickets, make sure passengers are safe and comfortable, etc etc so he is. SO exhausted probably

i think bc to me this andrew is kind of. stoic and polite (he would still melt if you were nice to him i think) he doesn't have many signs other than getting slightly more unkempt and i think his hands shake REALLY bad w sleep deprivation, or he seems like he's focusing on not literally just crinkling to the ground and fifudhf anywaybi really like traindrew

i watched about 22 mins of the first murder on the nord express gameplay vid btw and i'm gonna cry both victor and andrew are so djfjfj

Exactly!!

[simplyreveries]

I ADORE YOUR WRITING!!

what about a reader who’s unknowingly flirting with the twst wonderland cast (specifically savanclaw, octanaville and diasomnia) because of culture differences and species differences?

e.g petting their ears, giving them gifts, smiling with teeth (bc for moray eels that’s how they mate 👀)

OR fem reader who has her period and some of the twst students can smell it I LITERALLY HAD A NIGHTMARE ABOUT THIS 😭😭😭😭

OMLL I APPRECIATE ITTT!!! sorry for the wait!!! i chose some from each dorm bc of my character limit btw!!

azul ashengrotto

despite how much azul continues to do his best to learn about life on land… relationships are certainly difficult for him to understand sometimes considering how long he has spent his life in the sea and though there are many similarities between merpeople… there are still some differences. once azul is rather close to you he does become unintentionally— clingy with you. (when you two officially get together that's another story) but he has a habit of wanting to lean close to you or have a hand on you in some way, like on the small of your back when showing you something in the mostro lounge.

so needless to say, he is in love with any sort of touch from you he takes that as some sort of hope and sign that you reciprocate how he feels haha. jade and floyd tease him ALL the time about it especially when he was struggling to keep his cool-headed composure after you once gave him a hug after he did something to help you once.

like I've said azul really doesn't think about it or even try to be this way around you he just does aljdfajdkhf. he’ll feel like a smitten fool as he sits in the vip lounge as he's doing papers and just think about how you playfully linked your arm around his to bring him somewhere. small things like that are actually quite big to him when it comes down to the differences.

jade leech

he's aware you probably don't know that you're unknowingly flirting with him, but he finds it amusing and plays along with you, nevertheless. he thinks it's cute that you don't know and all the more enticing, you’ll find him chuckling, trying to hide his grin with his gloved hand “oh my, I didn't know you liked me that much fufu” he’d say. you can't help but feel confused as to what he finds so interesting… like you literally just yawned.

it'll take him a while to actually tell you what it means since he finds the obliviousness to be quite cute. you only put two and two together when he tells floyd about what you did right in front of him and the two laugh about it. now you've got floyd teasing u about it..

like azul he is a little more affectionate just in a different more. in a less obvious fashion, though there definitely have been a few occasions where he likes to bring your hand to his lips and see your reaction, he finds it so amusing. he always has his teethy grin plastered on his face.

leona kingscholar

he hates the way he can always tell when you're wearing cologne or perfume and he hates that he likes it as well, he may or may not be a bit addicted to your scent. he literally can tell if you're near just because he knows the damn fragrance you use.

if you two are particuarly close... like him falling asleep around you and such. if you happen to pet his head and his ears, he immediately shoots you this look then mumbles something before being too tired to do anything about it or give you some retort. he just lets it happen... he does enjoy it anyway. slowly he kinda doesnt realize how clingy he can get with you because of it. he becomes a little needy and wanting more attention from you. he cant help it.... i mean you basically just showed him that you're fine with it anyways.

leona seems to be someone who can get pretty possessive, unintentionally too over you. kind of territorial, like if you're someone he has eyes for then he doesn't expect others to really get in the way of that.

malleus draonica

malleus is not only a fae but a pretty sheltered one too, I’d think he’d take almost anything from you as a sign of you being completely infatuated with him as he is with you. you could offer split your ice cream or invite him out somewhere, show any sort of interest in him as he talks about gargoyles as he’s doing single club activities. the one time you asked curiously and wanted to touch his horns, he’d be searching for the loveliest jewel to bestow you for your wedding day.

speaking of jewels… he gifts to you a lot especially after you give him anything first (it could be a cool rock you found) and he’d be so smitten and glad to reciprocate that by giving you earrings, rings, necklaces etc. and when you accept them even though you're not exactly fully understanding why he takes it even more as a sign of you accepting his advances.

after taking any of your little acts of being somewhat kind to him and he’s already so deeply into you, lilia would certainly be someone who hears just all about it. i think he would only feel happy for malleus, as it appears he must’ve found the right one. he is just supportive of malleus and is simply overjoyed to know he has some little human that makes him so happy.

lilia vanrouge

he has lived long enough and in different places to understands human courting's and more so than someone like malleus. he knows how different it is, trust me he is fully aware, but he thinks it's amusing. lilia pretends to take it the wrong way and watch you get all confused, when he's just being playful.

just cant help that he finds it so adorable when you unknowingly show him affections as a fae would in his culture. even just being slightly affectionate with him is enough to have him giggling and warning you to be careful to what fae you do that to. they do tend to take very kindly towards any affections and gifts!

lilia will straight up tell you though too, you could gift him and give him something neat you found or made, and he'd look up at you with a stupid grin like "kfufu... i accept your love, dear" NO???. he still holds onto anything from you with the utmost joy.

[peachesofteal]

you satisfy the urge to see Ghost with little babies and simultaneously make me want more of him with little babies

Light on - single mom/neighbor fic Simon Riley/female reader

He sleeps like the dead on and off for the almost three days.

Uninterrupted, undisturbed, face buried in a pillow, television cranked as loud as he can get away with, the noise one of the only things capable of lulling him to sleep and keeping him under when he’s not on an op or in an active engagement zone. He gets up to eat, use the bathroom or shower, climb the four floors to the roof to smoke, but otherwise, he sleeps. He eats, and sleeps, and repeats this very simple routine, as he always does when he’s here, until it’s interrupted one night, by the tap of a hesitant knock on his door.

The sound freezes his blood, every nerve ending in his body lighting up in alert, muscles priming for an offensive position. He finds the one of many guns stashed in the flat on his way to open the door, mask slipping over his face, holding the weapon tucked carefully behind his body as he looks through the peephole to find… you. The girl from the roof, the baby, Emmaline, in your arms, your eyes nervously darting down the hallway before looking back to his door expectantly. Shit.

“I’m sorry.” You rush out immediately when he opens it, peering up at him with exhausted eyes. Emma is against your chest, and one of your hands cradles her head, the other under her bum, while you bounce her up and down while also rocking back and forth. “I don’t mean to be a pain in the arse but, is there any way I can ask you to turn your TV volume down a bit?” You try to smile but it straightens into a grimace and then your eyes dart to the ground before looking back up at him. “We uh, share a wall.” You tilt your head to the left, to the unit next to his and his eyes widen. “I’m so sorry. I don’t mean to bother you, I’m not trying to be that neighbor but-“ Jesus Christ. You share a wall with him? His mind drifts to an image of you asleep in your bed, tucked up under your covers all sweet, lashes laying delicately on your cheeks.

“Of course. It’s not a bother.” The baby cries in response, a broken wail making her lower lip tremble and you pat her back soothingly until she quiets, little hiccups coming from her mouth while she rubs her face into your shirt.

“Thank you.” You’re still bouncing, still swaying, and he’s mystified, watching you stroke a gentle finger through her fine curls. She yawns sleepily against you, and the tension leaks from your body a bit, spine slumping slightly, shoulders relaxing a notch. You look down at her, checking for something he doesn’t understand, before raising your radiant, tired face back up to his. He really, really wishes he wasn’t holding a handgun behind his back right now. “They told me, when I rented… that you weren’t around much. I thought it’d be a good fit since…” you gesture with an eyebrow towards Emmaline, and he nods.

“I travel for work.” His voice sounds more raspy than normal, a byproduct of too much sleep, something you look like you’d probably kill to have. Fuck. He’s been blasting his television while you’ve been up with a screaming baby for two bleedin’ days.

“Right, well I hope we won’t be too noisy for you, when you are home.” A door slams on third floor above the two of you, the bang of it swinging shut too loud and you tense, something bleak flickering across your face before it’s chased away with a half-forced smile. “Anyway… thanks, again.”

“Of course.” He repeats it, like it’s obvious, and then just as you turn away, he remembers something: “I’m Simon.” You glance back at him, timid smile tugging at your lips, your own name falling from your mouth like you’re giving him a gift.

“Oh, and you know Emmaline already.” You lightly tease, and he nods, his own lips lifting in an almost smile behind the mask in response.

[thestarrynightslover]

Discreet Not Detached

Pairing: Harvey Specter x Fem!Reader

Word count: 1,397

Warnings: None, really.

Summary: Mike goes to Harvey's apartment to deliver some files only to be proved wrong about his boss being a lonely workaholic.

Disclaimer: I don’t own the show Suits, or its characters, also not associated with it in any way, or know anyone involved with it.

A/N: My first Harvey fic in a while, I had the idea based on an episode (I don't remember exactly which) and tried to elucidate to it here. Anyways, I hope it doesn’t suck and feedback is appreciated as usual!

(y/n) = (your name) (y/l/n) = (your last name) (y/n/n) = (your nickname)

| masterlist |

Another day in the office, another drama for Harvey Specter: this time it was his associate, Mike Ross, wanting to tell his girlfriend the whole truth about the terms of his employment and Harvey couldn’t let him do it, for obvious reasons. But, as you’d expect, namecallings happened and it all ended with Mike throwing in Harvey’s face his being an alleged workaholic in lack of a personal 一 and, in this case, love 一 life. Emphasis on alleged, cause what Mike didn’t know was that his boss actually did have someone to go home to…

It had been a long day but at least you got to go home to your excentric puddle of comfort of a boyfriend: New York City’s best closer, Harvey Specter. Once you got to your place, where the two of you lived together, you were welcomed with the smell and the view of a freshly cooked dinner that Harvey probably had someone making for the two of you.

As you started taking off your coat and shoes by the door, Harvey came out of your shared bedroom wearing nothing but sweatpants and looking like he’d just taken a shower. “Oh, hey, honey!” He greeted you with a smile on his face. “Sorry I didn’t wait for you to shower but I mingled too much with people of dubious hygiene today, so I kinda really needed to get clean.”

“Ah, that’s okay,” you said while pouting cutely at the same time. “At least dinner is ready, 'cause I am starving!”

“Ha! You say it like it’s cutting-edge news!” He tells you, as he puts on a shirt 一 much to your disappointment. 

“What is that supposed to mean?!” You ask feigning offense while putting away your bag, shoes, and coat.

“It means that you’re always starving, sweetheart,” Harvey answers nonchalantly like it’s nothing.

“That is not true! Or at least it’s not entirely true: I’m always starving if it’s past mealtime and I haven’t eaten!”

“Sure, whatever you say, baby!” He says it already knowing that your hunger and all the pet names will only soften you.

“You know what? After today I don’t even have the energy to bicker with you…”

“That bad, huh?”

“The ED was a complete chaos today, apparently all hospitals were swamped, which is why they called more surgeons downstairs to help out. I’ve been on my feet the entire day! I’m basically dead.”

“Dramatic… But I’m sorry you had a shitty day, baby.” He said coming to hug you from behind in your bathroom. Looking at your reflex in the mirror 一 both of you, together like that 一 filled your heart with love and your mind with peace. Harvey was definitely your happy place.

Some time later, after you’d had your dinner, gotten ready for bed, and watched a sappy rom-com you chose, you and Harvey were already cuddling, almost asleep when you heard insistent knocking on the door.

“Stay here, honey, I’ll go see what that’s all about.” You sorta heard Harvey say to you as you lost your personal space heater.

Out in the living, Harvey opened the door only to find his associate Mike Ross standing there looking all tired and disheveled. Before his boss could even say anything, he went ahead entering the apartment mumbling about the case they were currently addressing in the office.

“Harvey, you’re not gonna believe what I found about our not-so-innocent school teacher!” He said to the older man with such energy that sounded like he had had a few too many energetics.

“What the hell, Mike?! Why are you showing up on my doorstep this late at night?”

“Because I knew you’d wanna see this as soon as possible, besides, it’s not like you’d have anything important going here, would you?” Mike asked sorta mocking Harvey.

Ignoring his employee’s last comment, he took the papers Mike was offering and said: “This better be good, Ross, otherwise you’re gonna meet a whole different side of me.

As Harvey started reading all the documents, Mike started having a look around, cause when would he have another chance at taking a peek at his boss’s house like that again? And he couldn’t believe what his eyes were seeing, he would definitely be making a few thousand jokes about it in the near future: there was a romance novel lying on the table, one of those with drawings on the cover that were becoming so popular then.

“Oh my God, Harvey, when were you gonna tell me about your love for reading?” He asked while pointing at the book with his head. 

As Harvey’s eyes emerged from the papers in his hands with a confused look to them, Mike continued: “You know you could have told me, in fact after seeing the kinda genre you like I might actually ask for some recommendations, you know, to get my grandmother a few as presents.” The younger man said already starting to laugh loudly.

“That’s not mine…” Harvey began to answer with his mind still on the documents at hand.

“Oh no? You know there’s no need to lie to me, I promise I’ll try not to judge!”

“Funny. But that’s actually-”

“Mine!” You said as you came out of the bedroom wearing nothing but one of Harvey’s expensive dress shirts. “I don’t think we’ve met yet!” You exclaimed, already extending your hand to shake Mike’s. “I’m (y/n), Harvey’s girlfriend.”

“Girl- g- girlfriend?” Mike looked so shocked he almost choked on his laughter.

“Yes, but it’s doctor (y/l/n) for you.” He answered instinctively moving to your side. “What are you doing out of bed, sweetheart?”

“Sweetheart?” Mike murmured to himself in disbelief of the version of Harvey he was seeing, especially after their argument in the office and the things he’d said to Harvey.

“Well, I assumed it was something work-related when I noticed how long it was taking you to come back and came to drag you back to bed!” You announced to your boyfriend entangling your bodies with certain disregard for the other man standing there in shock.

Only then did Mike notice a framed picture on the sideboard behind him and it displayed both you and Harvey looking at each other with love in your eyes as he carried you bridal style into the water on a beach. Which was another surprise to the young attorney since he didn’t even know that Harvey was a fan of beaches.

“So you’re the famous Mike Ross, then?” You asked, catching his attention again. “You know, it’s very rare for someone to impress Mr. Specter here like you did!”

“Oh, honey, don’t do that, or he’ll spend an entire month finding new ways to subtly bring up in every conversation-”

“Oh, there won’t be anything subtle about it, Mr. Specter,” Mike said mockingly, finally coming out of the shock he had been on. “But I’m curious now, how long have you two been together?”

“About three years, isn’t it, babe?” You answered quickly not paying any mind to the mockery on Mike’s voice.

“Yeah, that’s right.”

“Wow, I never would’ve guessed it. Harvey never talks about you. Like ever.” Mike impolitely announced. “I mean, I didn’t even know he had a girlfriend and it’s been months since we started working together.”

“Well, that sounds about right since we don’t like to display our personal lives at work.” You said nonchalantly.

“But do Jessica and Donna know?”

“Of course they do. Must I remind you that you’re not a Donna or a Jessica, Mike?”

“Ouch. But do Lewis and Rachel know?”

“No, and no. And as interesting as your findings were, it’s time for you to leave. We’ll talk more about it tomorrow at the office.”

“But-”

“Mike. Now!”

“Oh, Harvey, don’t be like that.” 

“He needs to go now and we need to go back to bed, so bye, Mike!” Harvey said while shoving Mike out the door.

And after he was gone, just like in the picture, Harvey picked you up from the floor and started carrying you back to the bedroom.

“Harvey!” You squealed out. But he didn’t mind it as he tossed you on the bed, got on top of you, and started kissing you. Apparently, Mike’s visit had put him in a good mood. And, apparently, it was going to be a long night.                                                                 

[nouvellevqgue]

✦ IT GIVES YOU WINGS OR LOVE?, M. VERSTAPPEN

sometimes, the team that brought you in, could also gives you more opportunity to even meet your lover there.

taglist: @queenofmanydreams @muglermami @4limq @avengers-assemble123456 @cabbyhabs @meowtastick @4mula-1 @miarabanana @amel1ee @dinosushilun1 @auggieblogs @namgification @charli123456789 @cherry-piee

yourusername

liked by redbull and 237,144 others

yourusername Woohoo !!! SO hyped to grab 🥈 at my first slopestyle World Cup since the 2022 Olympics. Genuinely had so much fun out there today. Congrats to everyone for the insane level of riding, and thank you, as always, to the supporters for all the love ❤️ A few areas need a bit of work still, but none more than my champagne skills 🥴

view all 1,247 comments

redbull Super proud of you, Y/n! 😍

username there's something about redbull athletes and winning and i can't really put my finger on it...

maxverstappen1 Proud ❤️

username What is this motherly comments, Max

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redbullsnow It was magnificent

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username why? what's wrong with being dutch?

username I'M TIRED OF HEARING THEIR NATIONAL ANTHEM OKAY LEAVE ME ALONE

username naw brother, prepared to hear them national anthem at the same time

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1 and 188,316 others

yourusername Celebratory lunch + A lil hair touchup 😆

view all 1,589 comments

username Ahem... No pic cred?

username I think you forgot to dry your hair

yourusername My stomach's grumbling so loud already, I can't hold it anymore to even dry my hair 😂

username UGH SHE'S SO PRETTYYY 😍😍

username PLS SAY YOU WILL RENEW YOUR CONTRACT

maxverstappen1 Don't forget to spare me some 🍴🍴

yourusername How cliché of you to comment this while eating my sushi 🤨

username HER SUSHI 😭😭

username Max late commenter is back but not with his motherly comments, but with a LIE who is now debunked by his own girlfriend

maxverstappen1 I thought she wouldn't reply to this

username better not to lie to a skier

username All of these were very much so obvious. You guys don't have to act like doing a soft launch when she already dropped a literal bomb to confess that she's dating Max in GMA

username heart eyes heart eyes heart eyes heart eyes heart eyes heart eyes heart eyes heart eyes heart eyes

username I want to be her gf 😭😭😭

username You're unreal OMG

maxverstappen1

liked by carlossainz55 and 472,580 others

maxverstappen1 Flexing master #TiffanyPartner #TiffanyHardwear

view all 1,096 comments

yourusername I agreed to post here but what was the caption supposed to mean?

username It's giving Lily + Albon's dynamic

username Max influencer era is here and ready

username I want that hand to choke me

yourusername Whoa

username Istg she looks like a carbon copy of ＠lilymhe period.

username omg max is stealing her endorsement????

landonorris okay. the trial's over, let's make your own jpg account.

maxverstappen1 Wait, really?

landonorris no, just baiting.

username WHY IS HE SO ANNOYING 😭😭😭😭

username supportive bf max is my new favorite gender

username Who taught him to be like this?

alex_albon He's definitely has attended Alex Albon school of boyfriendery

username how come did her hair never looked the same in every frame she's in?

username but the hair color remain consistent till the end of the day

maxverstappen1 Drafts do exist, you know.

username OO ENDED THEM

username pls do a tutorial on how to make your fingers as long as hers

username I bet that is not Max's hand

username Break the bet, it is not

redbullracing · 24m

yourusername

liked by victoriaverstappen and 102,445 others

yourusername Truly enjoying my paddock debut here. Thank you ＠redbullracing for the invitation, definitely having much fun in Shanghai 🥰

view all 973 comments

username Me and the bad bitch I pulled after being WDC:

username LILY GO BACK TO ALEX'S GARAGE

username Rb couple domination is real

username Max: 🧍

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lilymhe Why are you guys looks so stiff? 💀

yourusername Wait until I asked him to go skiing. Let's see how stiff he would be.

maxverstappen1 NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

username Can't wait to see Max skiing with her. Wonder if his skiing skill has improved ever since he's with her.

username next stop: the alps

username Oh it's her paddock debut? I thought I have seen her attending gp in Ausgp?

username That time she wasn't his gf just yet

alexandrasaintmleux Ahhh your fit is so cutee <3

yourusername YOURS TOOOOO 🌹🥺

username QUEEN IS BACK IN TOWN, SLAYING AS USUAL

username Whys your paddock pass looks different from the rest of the WAGS?

yourusername I was invited by ＠redbullracing as a guest. So that's why mine's different 💁🏼‍♀️

username Why would they invite you as a guest when you're already his gf tho😂

username Can you stop asking?

maxverstappen1

liked by yourusername and 463,197 others

maxverstappen1 Alps: Day 1 ⛷️

view all 1,638 comments

username Wait why is it different?

maxverstappen1 Sometimes, one of us played it harshly and losing the original glasses. So we bought it new.

username AND IT ISN'T YOU??!?? OMG

username Awwww if my relationship not this sweet, I don't want it.

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username probably i should drink red bull to have someone like them

danielricciardo Who wins?

yourusername We're both... Losing, actually

danielricciardo I KNEW IT

yourusername

liked by schecoperez and 157,839 others

yourusername Turns out, he's not that bad of a skier too.

view all 2,630 comments

maxverstappen1 Hey, I don't look like that

maxverstappen1 How could you do this after I posted out sweet moments yesterday

maxverstappen1 What is this betrayal

username Alright Granny, let's get you to bed

username WHO'S THAT ON THE SECOND SLIDEEEEEE

charles_leclerc What was that outfits 😂😂

yourusername Don't say as if your fits were not like that

charles_leclerc Mine's fashionable, sorry.

lilymhe Fashionable just for leo's eyes

username i love how contrast their posts are. ah soulmate

username I want what they're having toooooo

username His digital footprints is something that I have to go for a dig

username Well apparently the both of them were losing

username says who?

username Daniel and Y/n on Max's post

username I know they were never gonna be the best at competing at each other

username if their relationship was really a pr, i don't believe it

[familyvideostevie]

the meaning of it all

joel miller x reader

summary: Joel Miller, of all people, teaches you to ask for help. 

word count: 13.6k

warnings: jackson au, post part i, joel and ellie worked it out! joel is soft! language, violence, fluff, learning to accept help and love.

a/n: this fic is a soft joel (think part ii joel but make it two years into jackson because he and ellie resolved everything <3) and a reader who is much more me than i've written before. i hope you like it! thank you again to @strangerfreaks who held my hand through this, i owe you my life.

___

Luck. God damned old-fashioned thank-fuck-for-that luck has kept you alive since the world ended. Deep festering rage and a near-constant state of fear have helped. But every bullet you've found, every undamaged can of food, every shot that landed in the right place so you were the last one standing -- that's all luck. Or a curse, depending on the day. Depending on how you're feeling about it all.

And Jackson? That's the biggest stroke of luck you've had in twenty years. A single woman on her own with plenty of working years left and no obvious red flags was probably a no-brainer for the community to take in but you feel like you've finally made it. After two decades of violence and horror and pain, you fucking made it somewhere safe.

You spend as much time as you can making sure everyone knows how grateful you are. You don't have any special skills, not really. You can shoot well enough, cook well enough, clean well enough. Young enough when all the shit went down that you don't have a trade or any work experience, you just go wherever they need someone in town.

Keeping busy means you're bone-tired most nights. Exhausted sleep means fewer nightmares, less time to wander the halls of your very nice but much too-big-for-you-home and miss everything you've lost. But picking up shifts wherever you can also means you don't meet many people beyond hellos and exchanging names. Farming is easy and you get to work with a lot of the kids in town, daycare much the same. You're lousy with power tools but you're able to carry materials wherever they're needed. Cooking is easy when it's stew for hundreds of people and doing dishes is even fun when someone turns on the radio. You're making it work.

Patrol is...patrol. You're able, so you're on the roster. It's not that you hate it, not exactly. Going outside the walls makes you feel like you're someone else. You slip back into the mask of fear and anger, the one that kept you alive for so long. And the worst part is it's comfortable. 

You've done the training runs, the group patrols for three months. Infected still freak you out a little but you're smart enough to be more scared of people. All of the senior patrol members have cleared you for paired patrols and today is your first one.

Tommy meets you at the stables to check-in.

You don't really have any friends, though everyone is perfectly nice to you, but Tommy and Maria are probably as close as it gets.  You figure they take a shine to newcomers like you, ones who come in alone, maybe to keep an eye on them as much as anything else. But they've both got a smile and kind word for you whenever you see them, always asking if you need anything. You always tell them no, you're fine, thank you.

"You ready?" Tommy says. "I've had them pull Apollo for you." You pat yourself one more time to make sure you have everything. Pistol on your thigh, knife at your hip, pack secure on your back. Hat and gloves tucked into your jacket pocket to account for the wind on the trails.

"I think so," you tell him. You blow a raspberry at your horse and he blows back, nudging your shoulder with his nose.

"After this, pretty sure you'll have done every job there is to do in this town. Pullin' crops, plantin' crops, cookin' crops. Kids, the library, cleanin', buildin' that ramp at Lenore's last month. You've been here, what, six months? And you've done it all."

It should make you feel good that he's noticed. It does, but only a little. You still feel like you could work every day for the rest of your life and not repay what he and this town have given you. To make up for the things you've done on the road.

"I'm the best floater in Jackson," you joke instead. Smiling makes people like you. You haven't had much cause to smile in recent years so you're still getting used to the urge. Tommy scoffs. "I don't do important council stuff like you and Maria, though."

He ignores that. "Y'know, pretty sure they call that a jack-of-all-trades. A real Ren-ai-ssance woman." You try to come up with a retort, eyes wandering to the patrol assignment board. Your name is under ELK CREEK and under it is --

"Quit harassin' her."  Tommy rolls his eyes and flips off whoever comes up behind you. You turn around and see a man you know of but have never actually met.

"Joel," Tommy says. "I believe this is called havin' a conversation. You ever tried it?"

"Funny," Joel replies. He nods at you. "You my partner today?"

"Seems so." You introduce yourself, Apollo's warm breath at your back.

"Joel Miller," he says back.

You're a little intimidated, truth be told. You know him by reputation mostly. Tommy's big brother who came to town a few years ago with a little girl. They're both pretty much everywhere. Joel fixing houses and talking to kids in the street, going on patrols and always bringing back extra for whoever needs it. Ellie galloping around town with other teenagers and bringing home the biggest game. You've handed her books a few times at the library, too, seen her bright eyes and infectious energy underneath teenage angst that transcends even an apocalypse. And you've seen them together, heads down in the dining hall or pressed closed walking down the street -- heard rumors about why they came here, how they came here, too -- and one thing is clear to you: the Millers are beloved. By this town and by each other.

It's a miracle all its own in this fucked up world.

"You two ain't met yet?" Tommy says, pointing at the space between you. You snap out of your thoughts. "You've been here long enough to have met everyone by now."

"Guess not," you say with a wry smile. The younger Miller is too polite to call you out for not having a single friend in that time period, either.

"Well, here we are," Joel says. "Gonna keep us here forever, Tommy? Or can we do our job?"

Tommy claps him on the shoulder and winks at you. "Tone down the asshole for her first paired patrol, yeah?"

Joel snorts. He grabs a horse that was already tacked for him and leads it out of the stable. You follow with Apollo. The patrol coordinator hands out rifles and reminds everyone of the rules.

You hop on your horse. "You ready?" Joel asks, startling you a bit. "We'll gallop to the mouth of the river and then start patrollin'."

Something in you relaxes a bit at his clear confidence in you to handle yourself. You know you're with him for a reason -- he's one of the best. That, or maybe he just doesn't give a shit. Somehow you think it's the former.

You follow him up the hill outside the gates and through the tree line. The noise of the Outside is different than that of Jackson. Birdsong, snapping branches and dry brush under your horse, the wind rippling down the hill. You take a deep breath through your nose and feel a part of you come alive. It's funny how a world so beautiful can be so deadly.

Joel gallops a little ahead of you, strong and steady. You watch him, think about what you know. He's older than you, that much is obvious. Greying hair curling around his ears, lines on his face from more than just a stressful life. But he's strong, good at what he does. Those rumors come back to the front of your mind. How he and Ellie showed up, half-starved and bloody. How he and Tommy are the most famed patrol duo for Infected kills and otherwise. It makes you feel safe. It makes you want to learn from him. It makes you want to know more.

And he's got kind eyes. Somehow, he's got kind eyes.

"Alright," Joel calls back to you. "Route starts here." He slows his horse and you pull up beside him. He shifts in his saddle and turns his face to you. "Now, I know this is your first pair," he says. "I won't order you around or nothin' but my main piece of advice is that everyone has a different patrol style. Know how to adapt."

You dig your gloves out of your pockets and wiggle them on. Joel watches before his eyes snap back to yours. "Noted." You honestly didn't think he'd talk this much. "And let me guess. Yours is patrol in silence?" You punctuate the nervous quip with a smile.

Joel snorts. "Nah," he says. "Unless you're Max. Can't stand that fucker."

It startles a laugh out of you and any ice you'd imagined breaks for good. Max is one of the middle-aged men who probably would have been a lawyer or a politician based on the way he likes the sound of his own voice.

"Now," Joel says. "You done this route before?" His knuckles are a little red but he doesn't put on any gloves.

"Twice, I think. First log book in that old station, right?" Joel nods. "Second in the town?" He nods again.

"Color me impressed." His mouth tugs up at the corner into something you might call a smile. You try not to look too pleased with yourself. "Some of the dipshits on the roster don't even remember that much."

It feels like you've passed a test. His praise makes you feel nice. Noticed. Not something you often seek but you know yourself well enough to admit that you'd like a little more of it. Even if it's from a man you just met.

"Not that hard," you say softly. Joel looks at you for a moment longer before clicking his teeth. His horse starts to walk. You signal to Apollo to follow.

The patrol goes off without a hitch. Joel signs the log book in the station and you sign it in the tower. He lets you snipe two runners that he spots and doesn't scold you when you take three tries on the second one.

"Settlin' in okay?" he asks once you've rounded the town one last time and started back towards Jackson. "Six months, Tommy said?"

Despite his earlier words, you haven't chatted much this patrol. While you'd like to know more about him, want to get him to smile at you again, you're really just enjoying being out here with someone else, knowing that you're safe. That you've got somewhere to go back to.

"It's nice," you sigh. "I never imagined I'd find a place like this."

You really should pick up the pace to get back to town but he doesn't seem to be in any hurry.

"I know the feelin'," he murmurs. "Ellie'n me slept on the floor for a good two weeks at the start. Been two years and some nights I don't take my boots off."

"What a fucking life, huh?" That earns you a wry smile. "Having a house is...strange. All of the hinges squeak and I --"

"The hinges squeak?" You look over at him and Joel's brows are furrowed.

"Oh, I mean, it's no big deal --" You stumble over apologies. You don't want him to think you're complaining about a home his brother gave you when he sure as shit didn't have to.

Joel taps his thumb on the pommel of his saddle. "Can get that fixed, y'know."

You didn't know, actually. "Really?"

Now he looks at you like you're a little stupid. "Ain't you the one hauling shit to people's houses when they need a hand?"

He has a point and you hate it. It never occurred to you to ask for someone to come fix your hinges. They're just hinges, for fuck's sake. Other people have holes in their floorboards or leaks or need new rooms for family members. You're just...you.

Joel sighs. It feels like you've disappointed him and it swirls in your gut. "I'll take a look at it this week."

Your neck cracks audibly with how quickly you look up at him. "What? No, Joel, you don't have to --"

He says your name in a tone that you know means no arguing. "I know I don't have to. I offered."

"You don't even know me!" The words fly from your mouth before you can stop them.

He brings his horse to a full stop so quick you almost run into him.

"Look," he says. His gaze holds yours. Wow, he really can be intimidating when he wants to be. You can only imagine the things he's done, the things he's capable of. Anyone who has made it this long has blood on their hands. You've washed it from your own skin plenty of times. And yet, you feel completely safe. And you know that you'll probably do whatever he tells you. "I know how it can be."

Your gut swirls. "You don't know what I've been through," you say softly. It's not a jibe, it's just the truth. No one knows because you've told no one because it doesn't matter. You're here now.

"I've been alive for a while longer than you," he continues. "I've seen the world, just as you have. I've been out here. I was out here for a long, long time." He runs a hand through his beard, fiddles with his broken watch in what looks like reflex. "I know how hard it is to ask. To get back to something that makes any damn sense. But you can if you try."

The words linger in the chill around you. He's right, obviously. He's so fucking right that you want to be mad. You haven't asked for anything because you don't want to fracture the good thing you've got. Don't want to be too much, to be a burden they can't support, to make people think you don't deserve to be in Jackson. All things that don't make any fucking sense, not really, but you can't stop them. It's just how you're wired.

"So I'm comin' over this week to fix those hinges. Alright?"

"Alright." Something in Joel softens when you agree.

"Good," he says. "Good."

You finish the patrol in comfortable silence. All told it's been nice. To talk to someone, to feel like they give a shit about you even for just a few hours. You have no doubt Joel will be over to fix your hinges but you figure it'll fizzle out after that -- it always does. You don't know how to ask someone to stick around, anyway. But even this little bit of him will have been worth it.

Something both loosens and tightens in your chest when you get back to Jackson and through the gates. Goodbye beautiful, horrible outside world, hello safety, community, home. It's a trade-off. You and Joel hop off your horses and return your rifles. You're about to hand Apollo off to be brushed and returned to the stables when you feel a hand on your shoulder.

Joel says your name and you turn around.

"Good job today," he says softly. "Not too excitin' of a patrol, but you're good out there."

You blink owlishly. "I-- thanks," you manage. "Maybe we'll get to go out again as a pair." You're showing your hand but you can't help it. You want more of whatever this was.

Joel's mouth pulls up at one corner. "Maybe."

___

Two days later you drag yourself out of the house for community breakfast. Most mornings you're out the door and at your work detail for the day before you can pop over but you don't have anything assigned today. It's a rare respite and it has you antsy. You don't remember how to be idle, aren't any good at it. Sitting in your empty house means your mind might wander to the thoughts you try very hard to keep at bay. The loneliness, the regret, the fear. The loss. It's always there and you've gotten better at dealing with it after so many years but some days you really just wish you could talk about it to someone, could just bitch and moan about how fucking awful this life can be.

But everyone is carrying their own shit and you don't need to add to it. You don't want anyone to have to carry yours, too.

Breakfast is quiet this morning. You settle at a table with your toast and your eggs and your potatoes and smile back at anyone who smiles at you but no one sits with you. If they did you don't know what you'd say.

But then the air changes. Your neck feels a little hot and you slowly look around until you see what's caused it -- Joel and Ellie are here. He's already looking at you when you meet his eyes and he smiles a little, a half-moon curve of his mouth, and nods. You wave.

Ellie waves back, which you don't expect. She says something to Joel and he frowns, rolls his eyes. She punches him in the arm and he flips her off and grabs two plates, starts to fill them. You smile down at your own food.

"Man, are the potatoes that fucking good today?"

You look up and find Ellie in front of you. You're pretty sure she's 16 or thereabouts, still growing into herself based on the way she shifts on her feet. Her right forearm has the outline of something floral. She notices you looking at it and crosses her arms, looking unimpressed. Ah, teenagers.

"Pretty okay," you tell her. "I don't know if we've met yet --"

"We kinda have," she interrupts. "I know your name and you know mine, so. And you're at the library sometimes when I check shit out."

This still does not explain why she's over here talking to you. You can see Joel in the breakfast line still, glancing over his shoulder every so often to see if she's still in the room. You try not to catch his gaze because you're a little afraid of what Ellie might read in it.

"Can I do something for you, Ellie?" you ask, not unkindly. She scrunches up her nose and then sighs.

"Joel told me not to bother you but I wanted to ask if you could look out for a book for me. At the library." Her words get faster as she reaches the end of her sentence. She takes a look at you, sees that you're not telling her to fuck off, or something, and keeps talking. Some book about the history of comics or something.

"Oh," you say. You feel a rush of affection for her and the fact that she can hold the record for headshots on a group patrol and still want to read about something she loves in her free time. "Yeah, I'll look for you. I don't have a library shift until tomorrow but I'll look and put it aside if I find it for you."

Ellie tugs on her fingers. "Don't you need to write it down or something?"

You smile at her. "No, I'll remember." You recite the title and author she just told you back to her and it seems to satisfy her. It's like a switch is flipped -- her earnest expression morphs into something you can only call mischief.

"So Joel's coming over to fix your doors, or whatever," she says. "How'd you crack him?"

"I--what?"

"You patrol with him once and he's coming over to your house," she says. "It took him like, weeks to laugh at one of my jokes. And I'm fucking funny!"

You have no idea what to say to that. Patrol with Joel was your first time talking to him and while he's a bit intimidating, sure, he never came off as anything other than...good. But you'd bet he wasn't always that way in this world. Maybe this girl in front of you had something to do with it.

And honestly, you're sure he just feels a little bad for you. He's nice enough to worry, to make sure everyone in town can do their part and you'll take what you can get even if it's temporary attention.

Part of you knows Ellie is just giving you a hard time because she's a teenager and you're kind of connected to the guy who looks after her so you're fair game, too. But she's talking to you like she wants to which is throwing you for a loop. And you're realizing it's been a long time since you actually wanted someone to like you. Well, Joel aside.

"You want to tell me one?" you ask. She looks surprised and then delighted.

"Oh, fuck yeah. Okay, let me think." You take another bite of your breakfast. "Okay, okay, I got it. What did the mermaid wear to her math class?"

You give it a few seconds before you shrug. Ellie grins. "An algae-bra."

Your laugh makes her grin bigger. "See? Fucking hilarious." She holds out her hand for a high five and you oblige. "Anyway, Joel's gonna come over tomorrow, I think. Seriously, dude, I don't know how you did it. He never used to be this nice!" She looks over her shoulder at the man in question. He's sitting down at another table. "He's getting soft."

Her voice is fond and you're pretty sure she doesn't notice. "You should go eat your breakfast, Ellie," you tell her.

She sighs like the weight of the world is on her shoulders. "Yeah, I'm fucking hungry. Let me know if you find that book!"

"I will," you call after her. You can't help but watch as she barrels back to her table with Joel and immediately makes an attempt at his bacon. He fends her off with his fork before surrendering a piece with a scowl.

He looks up and catches your eye again. You stand with your tray and nod at him, turning around before you can see his expression. Stupid, so stupid to be caught looking like that. But you can't help it -- looking at the love still alive in this shitty world and wondering what it feels like.

___

You run into Joel on your walk home from the next day's shift at the library. You spent probably far too much of it looking for the book Ellie wanted but it was worth it because you've got it tucked under your arm. It feels like a small miracle but you're not one to question it.

Maybe it's the good mood you're in, but when you see Joel from behind you call out his name. He doesn't stop walking but turns his head like he heard something. When he spots you he does stop, waiting for you to catch up.

"Hi," you say, suddenly a little less brave.

"Howdy," he replies, amused. "I'm headed your way."

"You --" He lifts a toolbox you now realize he's carrying. "Oh, right. Hinges."

"I can come by another day if it's not a good time."

Joel could knock on your door in the middle of the night and it would be a good time. "No, ah. Now's good." He motions for you to lead the way even though he clearly knew where he was going. He must have asked Tommy.

It seems like everyone waves as you two head for your street. They call out Joel's name and he knows pretty much everyone. You feel a little self-conscious being seen with him like this -- you, pretty much a nobody in town through your own doing and Joel, beloved by all.

It doesn't stop until you're almost at your door. "You're popular," you say, trying to make it sound teasing. Instead, it sounds awed.

Joel runs his free hand through his beard. "Don't remind me," he grumbles. "Can't go for a walk without a damn conversation."

You pull out your keys and unlock the front door. There are plenty of people in Jackson who don't lock their doors but you can't shake the need. "Sounds difficult."

He chuckles and you feel it zing up your spine. It's nice to make him laugh. "Yeah, yeah. S'pose it's nice." The front door opens with a creak and you look at him sheepishly. His eyebrows touch his hairline. "They all like that?"

You nod. Joel whistles. "Christ," he says. "Alright." He follows you into the house. You try not to think about what he sees. You've tried to make it your own, just a little. Posters you traded for, books you've collected. You cleaned the whole thing top to bottom when you moved in but somehow it still looks a little un-lived in. You're working on it.

"Don't let me bother you," Joel says, getting on one knee with a grunt and prying open his box. "Probably need 'bout an hour to get 'em all. I'll holler when I'm done."

That's your cue to busy yourself with something, anything, but you don't want to. You want to talk to him, to watch him do whatever he's going to do, to soak up this time with Joel before he walks out the door and you go back to being acquaintances.

"What are you going to use?" you ask. He looks up, a little surprised, before pulling out a spray bottle and a rag. He shakes it at you.

"It's some sorta homemade shit one of the younger guys cooked up," Joel says. Somehow he manages to sound self-deprecating, like he thinks he should've thought of it first. "I think it's...soap? And cleanin' stuff? Fuck, I don't know." He huffs a laugh. "I know it works, though. Back in the day we'd use shit you could buy on the shelf." He stands with a grunt. "You old enough to know that?"

That gets you to laugh. "Yeah, Joel," you say. "I'm old enough to remember the hardware store."

His gaze feels a little different than before, like he's allowing himself to look. "Hmm," is all he says. "I'll just --"

You don't know how to justify shadowing him as he oils your hinges -- there's a joke there's somewhere -- so you don't. You grab a book from the shelf and settle on your couch and try your best to read but your mind wanders.

It's pretty clear that you have a crush on Joel. You've spent one patrol with the guy but somehow he's gotten under your skin. It's inconvenient but also...nice? A crush at the end of the world. The fact that you can still feel something so sweet, so juvenile after all you've seen and all you've done is almost laughable. And it's not like it's going to go anywhere -- you're sure Joel thinks you're too young for him, too green, and he's probably tripping over admirers in town. But you can let it be something to keep your days interesting until it fades.

It was hard enough to love yourself before the world ended for reasons anyone could understand. Societal pressures, stupid comparisons, things that don't matter at all now. Who has time to think about being loved when you're constantly faced with death? Feeling desired, feeling loved, feeling looked after isn't exactly top of mind. You're not even sure you remember how. You put one foot in front of the other and that's enough.

But wouldn't it be nice to be on the receiving end of affection from a man like Joel?

"All finished." You startle and realize you haven't turned a single page of your book. If Joel notices he doesn't say. He wipes his hands on a rag and eyes you. "Pretty sure I got all the doors."

You hop up from the couch and try to find your words. "I -- that's -- you're --"

"Thank you will do just fine," he says with a smirk. He tucks the rag in his back pocket and crosses his arms, leaning against the wall.

"Let me cook for you," you blurt out instead. "In exchange." You can make a few things fairly decently and making him something is another excuse to talk to him like this, to be on the receiving end of those eyes. "I can make chili. Does Ellie like chili?"

"Don't have to do that," he says kindly. "Helpin' you ain't a business deal. S'what people do here." He stands straight and heads for your front door, picking up his toolbox on the way.

"Joel," you say, snagging his sleeve with your fingers. You pull them back quickly and grab the book you brought home, holding it out for him. "Ellie asked me to look for this. Could you give it to her?"

He looks at the book the same way he looks at his kid. It's tenderness so raw you look away. "I will," he says softly. He tucks the book under his arm like precious cargo. "Thank you for findin' it for her." He clears his throat and looks at you, smirk back in place. "Wasn't so bad, was it?" he asks. You don't follow. "Havin' someone help you," he adds.

Your face feels hot. "I'll still cook for you," you say, opening the door. He shakes his head.

"You let me know if you need anythin' else, alright?" A quick smile and he's down the steps and back into the street, strolling back to his own home.

"I will." You say it to yourself and almost mean it.

___

You patrol a few more times over the next month but never get paired up with Joel. If you were a little braver you'd ask Tommy or the kid he's training to take over the schedule to put you two together but you don't. Instead, you wave at Ellie when you see her, nod at Joel from the other side of rooms where he's always talking to someone else. You let yourself enjoy the way your heart picks up at the sight of him and the thrill you feel after he smiles at you. It's a nice change to the boring, lonely routine you had before.

The doors in your house open and close silently.

Being outside is fine. You don't like it any more or any less, it just is what it is. Life at the end of the world continues on.

Until you have a bad patrol.

It's no one's fault and no one gets bit. You and your partner, Astrid, are tailing a buck that's wandering along your route. If you can shoot it you can load it on one of your horses and ride back together on the other. Winter is on its way and any extra meat helps.

You follow protocol. You're lining the deer up through the scope while she keeps watch. Just as you prepare to pull the trigger you feel it -- the pull of your gut telling you something isn't right. That feeling has kept you alive all these years so you lower the rifle and turn to Astrid just in time to see a stalker lunge out of the brush.

Its broken and jagged nails catch your shoulders and you go down hard enough to bruise. You can't hear anything over its snarls and the blood pounding in your ears but you do your fucking best. You wedge your forearm under its chin and try like hell to keep its mouth away from you. Your other hand somehow makes it to your belt and unsheathes your hunting knife and in one swift movement, you shove it into the soft jaw of the infected. Hot blood spurts over your face and you keep your mouth closed, shoving the corpse off you.

A gunshot has you whirling around and scooping up the rifle. You've got it ready to fire but you only find Astrid standing over a stalker corpse of her own, forehead bleeding and revolver smoking.

"You clean?" you ask her, eyes on her forehead. She nods.

"Shoved me into some thorns. You?"

"Yeah. Can we go home now?"

Your hands don't shake until you get back to Jackson. They tremble when you wash the blood from your face, your hair. You wish for just a second that you had someone to hold them, someone to tell you it's alright. Someone to talk to about how shitty your day was and how scared you were and how sometimes this life is so fucking exhausting and just when you think you're safe you're reminded that no one is safe anymore.

Maybe this is the kind of thing Joel was talking about. Asking for help.

The thought fades quickly. You can deal with this. You're just out of practice. You just got comfortable.

You go to bed as early as you can bear, closing your eyes and hoping for dreamless sleep.

You could only be so lucky.

You're no stranger to nightmares. Hell, who isn't? Usually, it's the same old shit -- people you've lost, fucked up things you've done, horrors you've seen. You know how to deal with it.

But this is the first time in a while you've got new nightmare fuel. The hot, rancid breath of the stalker and the agonizing sound of its moans. Your own choked gasps as you try with all of your strength to keep its rotting teeth away from you. Unlike reality, your dreams don't allow you to grab a hold of your knife and instead, you feel it take a chunk out of your neck, hot blood splattering your face and you have to just lie there as it bites and bites and bites --

You jolt upright with a small gasp. Necessity has taught you to wake silently.

"Fuck," you say to the empty room. No way you're going back to sleep after that. You swing your legs over the side of your bed and put your head in your hands. "Breathe. Breathe."

The sky is black through your windows. You have no idea what time it is but you stand before the lingering panic can take hold and make things worse. Fresh air will get the iron smell out of your nose. You dress in the dark in more layers than necessary but you want to stop shaking.

Jackson at night is quiet but there are always a few people around, always someone else who can't sleep. The sky is clear and the moon is bright and it smells like woodsmoke and the unique earthy feel of the valley. This is your home. So long as you have this you can get through it.

Your feet take you through the streets of houses, most of the windows dark. Just another lap around town and then you'll go home, try to sleep again.

Then you hear something. The gentle strum of an acoustic guitar weaving with the night air like a dream. A song from before, a song you recognize but don't know the name of, don't know the words. You wrap your arms around yourself and follow the sound down Rancher Street. If you find whoever is playing it you'll wave and walk slowly home.

Your breath catches in your throat when you see whose house it is. Joel is on the porch, rocking slowly and head leaning back, eyes closed as he strums. How did you not know he played guitar? It only makes sense that the hands that are capable of such violence can also make something beautiful. He can ruffle Ellie's hair and pull the trigger and fix your doors and do this.

Something in your chest tightens.

Joel's eyes open and land on you immediately. You realize how it looks -- you standing in front of his house in the middle of the night, watching him. But he stops his playing and calls out your name.

"Hey, you alright?" he says. You hover between taking a step forward and a step back.

"Couldn't sleep."

He shakes his head. "Can't hear ya," he says. "C'mere."

Step forward it is. Up the stairs and onto the porch that creaks a little under your boots. There's only one chair and a small table with a lantern on it. Wind chimes dangle over the railing and you drag your hand through them on instinct like a child with a toy.

"Sorry," you say softly.

"Only got one chair," Joel says. He's got one boot resting on his knee, guitar slung across his lap. He looks tired. "I'll go get another --"

You wave him off. "No, please," you say. "I'll stand. I'm too antsy to sit, anyway." If you sit down in a chair next to Joel Miller you might never get up.

He frowns but settles back into his seat. "You alright?" he asks again.

His gaze is a little too much. You feel silly all of a sudden, not sure how you got here. A fucking nightmare? God, you're ridiculous. You cross your arms and lean back on the railing and look anywhere but him.

"Couldn't sleep." Joel hums.

"Heard that one before."

He strums some more and you relax again despite yourself. "Sounds nice. Do you play a lot?"

"Sometimes," he says. "Old habit."

"It's a nice one. Better than walking the streets in the dark." Your tone is harsher than you mean it to be and Joel frowns.

"It's safe to," he says, as though your wellbeing is his personal concern. "Bit cold, though."

"Why are you out here then?" You're frustrated with yourself and taking it out on him just a little bit. The smell of blood fills your nostrils again and you press your fingertips into your crossed arms, hard, and close your eyes. Your breath stutters in your chest.

"Nightmares," Joel says wryly. There's some shifting, the scrape of wood on wood and you open your eyes. His are fixated on your fingers and you stop squeezing. The guitar is now leaning up against the house and he's got his elbows on his knees like he's about to ask you a serious question. The lantern light makes his hair look darker, less silver, but it also makes the lines on his face look deeper. You wonder what kind of shit he's seen. What things he has nightmares about.

"Had this conversation with Ellie a million times," he huffs, rubs his hand through his beard in what you now consider a familiar gesture. "You don't need to talk if you don't want to. But can't hurt."

Is he asking you to talk about your nightmare? Does he actually want to know? Do you know how to talk about it?

"I take it you're a fountain of emotional sharing, huh?" Again, the misplaced frustration. You don't know how to turn it off.

His eyes flash but he just leans back in his chair and shrugs. "Depends on the day."

The low-level hum of your infatuation with him flares and your traitorous brain bats it down right away. You want to see all sides that he can offer you, want to make him frustrated and angry just to see if that'll make him sick of you.

You run your hand through the wind chimes again, watching your fingers move through the air. You remember what the knife felt like in your hand, the way the blood was hot as it dripped down your wrist and onto your face.

"Tough patrol," you say. "Messiest since I got here." Joel says nothing and you don't look at him. "I...it was fine. We got jumped by some stalkers and it was fine but...close. And I -- I didn't realize how badly I wanted to come back here until then. How badly I wanted to go home at the end of it. Does that make sense?"

You finally look up and Joel's knuckles are white on the arms of his chair. When he sees you looking he crosses his arms. "Sure," he says, clears his throat.

The urge to try to explain more is overwhelming. "I mean, we've all done fucked up shit. I've been up to my elbows in infected guts and still come out on top and slept like a rock the night after. And all of a sudden I can't fucking handle a stalker getting in my face. It's like I've never had to get my hands dirty before and what if it means I'm going to fuck up next time --"

"Hey," Joel says firmly. You feel a hand on your forearm and realize you've been pacing, arms flailing as you rambled. He gives it a squeeze and then releases you. "Feel like I gotta say fuck now to catch up with you."

A wet chuckle works its way out of you. Where did that come from? Are you about to cry? On the porch of the man you have a stupid, stupid crush on? This is embarrassing. And his touch. People touch you all the time, all things considered. A tap on patrol indicating silence, a hand on your arm to get your attention, to brace you as you lift something. Children in town who don't know the horrors outside the walls give affection freely. Hell, Joel touched your shoulder after your patrol. You're not touch starved but you feel like no one has touched you with tenderness and meant it in years.

"Sorry."

Joel tuts. "C'mon," he says. "I asked."

"I don't think I feel any better."

He stands and grunts as he does so. He's so much closer than before, so close you can smell what you can only describe as Joel: wood shavings and gunpowder, laundry soap and leather. It's a little dizzying. He leans on the railing next to you.

"Bet when you go back to bed you won't dream," he says. "Usually what happens."

"Here you are again," you sigh. "Helping me out. I promise I get on just fine on my own."

"I know," he says. His eyes are warm and so, so deep. "Don't have to, though."

Joel, for all his kindness and popularity in town, is a man just like any other. A person who has seen and done shit that no one should have to see and do. You know he's got his fair share of secrets, of things he won't talk about. You all do. You know he can be unflinching and maybe even cruel, dangerous and deadly. Whatever is happening here -- this openness, this desire of his to help you out -- is hard won. You think about what Ellie said and let yourself have a dangerous thought: maybe he's this way with you because he wants to be.

You sway into him just a little before catching yourself and standing up straight. "I should go try that dreamless sleep," you say softly. "And you should, too." It does not escape your notice that you haven't talked about Joel's nightmares, whatever they are. You don't think he'd be that open. A piece of you imagines a world where you ask and he answers.

"I might," he says. Neither of you move.

That small piece of you would stay here all night. That small piece of you tries for the next best thing.

"Will you let me cook for you now?" you ask. It sounds a little desperate to your own ears. "Please?"

"Persistent, ain't you?" He taps his closed fist on the railing once, twice. "Well, if it's that important to you. Chili, you said?"

"I can have it done by sundown tomorrow. I'm on greenhouses but we always finish early. You can come by and get it. I'll do enough for you and Ellie for a few days." You're rambling but finally he's going to let you do something for him. Hinges, nightmares, it's too much. Maybe you can somehow cook out this affection for him, get rid of it with your own hands if you try hard enough.

"Alright," Joel says. He puts his hand on your shoulder lightly and squeezes once. You feel it all the way down to your toes. "Now get outta this damn cold."

He doesn't offer to walk you home. You'd say no if he did. You need the time to sort out the mess in your mind. You give him the most earnest smile you can manage and he watches from his porch until you turn out of sight.

__

Joel is on your mind all day. More so than usual, which is saying a lot. The crush has turned into something...more. Something that makes you hope and that something is dangerous. It's just setting yourself up to be hurt through no fault of Joel's when it goes nowhere. Because why would he be thinking about you?

"You're smiley today," Dina says. She's a sweet girl and you're paired together on greenhouse shift today. She's always got a story to tell about plants she and her sister saw in New Mexico or some weird mushroom she found on group patrol. You love how positive she is and you try to absorb some.

"Am I?" you say lightly.

She tugs on one more cucumber, putting it in your shared basket before wiping her face. She gets dirt on her nose. It makes her look young. "Got big plans?"

Your face feels hot. "Just cooking for a...friend." It's the first time you've said that out loud. It's probably true, right? Acquaintance, at least. Joel is important to you and it's taken an alarmingly short amount of time for it to solidify. That's just how the world works these days -- you never know how much time you have so everything moves faster. You care harder despite years of proof that nothing good comes of it. You can't help it. You were made to leak love like an open wound.

"A friend," Dina teases. Teenagers. You remember that she's friends with Ellie and it's very possible she knows exactly what you're talking about but she's too kind to say anything more.

"Yep," you say, popping the p. "Do I have to start teasing you about Jesse or are you going to cut me some slack?"

"Well, hey," she laughs. "I think it's nice to be excited about something. You're so serious all the time."

"Am not," you mutter.

Something you appreciate about Dina is that despite her age she knows when to leave it. "Whatever you say," she says primly.

Once work is over and you're back home the cooking goes quick. You focus just enough considering you want this to actually be good and for Joel and Ellie to like it. It's thank you chili, it's you are important to me chili, it's I want to see you every day for the rest of my life chili.

Well. It's thank you at the very least.

And food, especially in this world, means something extra. There's enough to go around in Jackson, more than enough, but anyone taking the time to fix something with their own hands means more. You know how different a meal can taste when someone makes it with care.

And to say you care is a bit of an understatement.

The chili is simmering and you're about to start on the dishes when there's a knock on the door.

"Shit," you say. You wipe your hands on a towel and pad down the hall in socked feet. When you open it you find Joel bathed in the golden light of the sunset. His hands are tucked in his pockets, the collar of his coat turned up to protect his neck from the chill that's settled in for the season. His face softens at the sight of you but his shoulders are still tight. Is he...nervous? No, you're projecting.

Here he is on your doorstep again. If you're not careful you'll get used to him being there.

"Sorry for bein' a bit early," he says at the same time you say, "I was just thinking about you ."

The tension melts out of him and he smirks like a man with a secret. "That so?"

Your eyes are wide as you find your words. Hopefully ones that aren't embarrassing. "Come in," you say. "I'm letting the heat out."

He follows you to the kitchen. "Smells good," he says.

"It's not quite done yet but that's a good sign, I guess." You stir the pot before rolling up your sleeves and taking your spot in front of the sink. "Sorry it's a bit of a mess, I was about to start on this --"

"Now I know you ain't about to do all that yourself," Joel drawls. It's a syrupy tone you haven't heard from him, not really. Is he...flirting with you?

"I...what?"

"Scoot," Joel says. He steps beside you in front of the sink and gently bumps your hip with his. "Seriously."

"Joel--"

"Does it look like I'm kiddin'?"

He keeps his eyes on yours as he shrugs off his jacket, tosses it on this island, and rolls his shirtsleeves up to his elbow. You look away from him so you can watch.

"This is getting ridiculous," you tell him even as you hop up to sit on the counter closest to the sink so you can see his face. He turns on the tap and starts on the various things in the sink even though some of them are clearly not from cooking tonight. "You'll be sick of this chili before I can pay you back."

"I told you it ain't like that," he scolds. "So quit it."

There's no real bite to his tone but you do as he says all the same. You kick your feet out a few times and do your best not to stare but fail miserably. The fall sunlight seems to have followed him into your house, pinkish-golden beams falling across his face. You can see a triangle of chest at the top of his shirt, a few dark curls teasing the hair on him. The scar on the bridge of his nose is much harsher up close, much deeper than the countless other ones that dot his forehead, his temples. He doesn't look as tired today. Maybe he got some sleep after all.

So did you. You didn't dream.

"How was your day?" you ask. Joel's eyes flick up to yours for just a breath before he looks back down at his task. His mouth pulls up at the corner.

"Fine," he says. "Had to fix the water heater at Ellie's place."

A piece of hair falls in his face and you shove your palms under your thighs so you don't brush it back.

You tap his denim-clad thigh with your socked foot, almost like a compromise with yourself when it comes to touching him. "And that took all day?" Damn, are you the one flirting now?

Joel seems amused in a grumpy way. "Well, no," he says. The faucet is on so he speaks a little louder. "Did some house chores. Worked on a guitar. Took a nap."

The image of Joel sprawled out on a couch is clear as day. You bet he looks relaxed in his sleep, the lines on his face not as pronounced, his breathing steady and even.

"Busy day," you say softly. He's about to say more, lips parted to ask about your day, maybe, but you're not about to admit that you spent all day thinking about him so you keep talking before he can. "Does Ellie like living in the garage?"

"Think so," he says. "She spends a night in the house every so often but I think she likes havin' her own space. S'important to me to give her that."

This is uncharted territory. You desperately don't want to step in shit, to somehow make him bring his walls back up. Everyone is protective of the things they love in this world and for good reason and you're pretty sure there is nothing and no one Joel loves more than Ellie.

"She's a good kid," you offer. "Everyone in town loves her."

Joel smiles down at his hands, that soft, raw smile you've seen a few times when talking about her. It makes your chest ache. "She is," he admits. "Pain in my ass, too."

You want so badly to ask him the details. How did they meet? How did they get here? How did they become so devoted to one another? And what happened in the last twenty years to get him to right now, washing dishes in your kitchen?

But you haven't earned that stuff yet. Maybe you never will.

"Does she like Jackson?" You remember what he said about them settling in, sleeping in the living room with their shoes on. You imagine he kept watch for weeks, maybe months, before deciding it was safe.

He nods. "S'good for her to have friends. And havin' school is good for her. She's real smart." He clears his throat. "And you? D'you like it?"

"Well, I like it much better now that my hinges don't squeak."

Joel laughs. "I'll bet you do." He's almost done, everything from your chili-making washed and set aside to dry. He's doing your dishes from breakfast but shows no signs of stopping."Do you cook like this a lot?

Your brows furrow. "I-- no, actually," you admit. "It's just me, so. Not worth putting in the effort that often."

He turns off the tap and grabs a towel and starts to dry. You should offer to help but you feel frozen to the counter. If you get any closer to him you might snap. His jaw is tight.

"When Ellie and I --" he stops, takes a moment to focus on the bowl in his hands. Joel, you've noticed, doesn't tend to say things he doesn't mean, at least not to you. It's like he knows that every word counts in a life as unpredictable as this. "We had a bit of a rough patch last year and we didn't talk for a while. I was damn near eatin' canned veggies on days Tommy didn't drag me to the community meals." He sighs and sets the bowl on the counter ever so gently. Violence and tenderness go hand in hand with him. "Just didn't have it in myself to try cookin' if she wasn't there to eat it."

It's the most vulnerable thing he's said. He keeps doing this -- offering you pieces of himself that you want to hold close, that make you think maybe he wants you to know him.

"Joel--"

"I guess what I'm sayin' is it's easier to take care of yourself when you're also takin' care of people who matter to you. That make sense?"

"Yeah," you breathe. "It does."

The whole scene is so...domestic that your chest aches. Joel in your kitchen doing your dishes. He's helping you yet again but this feels different. It feels like he wants to be here, talking to you. It feels real.

He finishes his task and dries his hands on a faded towel. You hop down from the counter to check the chili. "Should be done," you say. "Do you want to try it? Make sure it's worth it?"

"Oh, it's worth it," he mutters. You work to keep your face neutral. What does that mean? "Sure."

You pull a spoon from the drawer and while it would make more sense to just hand it to him you don't. Instead, you dip it into the steaming liquid and hold it out for him, your other hand cupped underneath to catch any spill. Joel stares at your offering for a few seconds and you wonder if he can hear your heart beating.

Then Joel reaches out slowly like he's afraid you'll bolt if he goes too fast, and lightly wraps his hand around your wrist. It's the first time he's touched you skin to skin and you know immediately that it's a mistake.

You'll never stop wanting him now.

His palm is warm, callused fingertips pressing gently into your skin and he tugs, bringing the spoon -- and you -- closer to his mouth. Everything moves in slow motion for a few moments and it's like you are the only two people in the world. Your kitchen fades and it's just Joel. His lips part and he slides the spoon into his mouth at the same time as his thumb strokes the inside skin of your wrist.

It's very possible that you gasp a little.

He closes his eyes and you're torn between watching his face and his throat as he swallows. You could look at him forever, you think, and never get enough. The set of his brow, the hard line of his jaw. Lines around his eyes and mouth from years of terror and violence but also from laughter and smiles. You want to learn every inch of him if he'll let you.

"Christ," Joel says. His eyes fly open and find yours. "That's good. That's real good."

"You're just saying that," you say weakly. He hasn't let go of your wrist and his thumb strokes once again. You wonder if you realize he's doing it.

Something in his face changes, something so small that you only notice because you're watching. It feels like he has decided something and you wish you knew him well enough to say what. You dare to hope it has to do with you.

"Oh, sweetheart, I'm a good liar but I ain't just sayin' that."

Sweetheart. It echoes in your ears, burrows its way into your chest and takes root.

You're so fucked.

But there's something in Joel's gaze, in the brush of his thumb across your skin, in the fact he's just done all of your dishes and talked to you like he wants to be here that gives your traitorous heart some ground to stand on.

You send him home with as many glass containers of chili as he'll take. He argues that you won't have enough for yourself and manages to convince you to keep a few. You don't tell him that what you really want is to sit next to him at a table and eat it, knees bumping under the wood and his smile making your empty house feel warm.

"Tell Ellie I say hi," you say once he's out your door and on the porch. "And let me know if she likes it."

"Will do," Joel says. You hug your arms around yourself against the chill. He frowns slightly.

You wonder if he'd touch you if his hands weren't full.

"And thank you for--"

He shakes his head. "Not acceptin' thanks," he chides. "Not from you."

You don't know what to say to that. Joel seems to realize he's rendered you speechless, not for the first time, and nods his head before heading home.

"See you around, Joel," you call after him. It sounds half like a question and half like a wish.

He turns. "Countin' on it."

___

You do see him around but not as much as you'd like. Things pick up around town before the seasons can change and send Wyoming into winter. You find yourself in the kitchen most days helping seal jars for the community food stores, hands chapped from the hot water and heart light when you think about Joel. He nods at you from across the dining hall, opens the door of the library when you're going in and he's coming out, and tells Ellie to tell you how good the chili was when you share a shift at the stables.

"Fucking amazing," she says.

You sleep fairly well, going to bed each night with a little bit of lightness in your heart that you allow because why not? There's no way out short of Joel telling you to fuck off and you don't think that'll happen. If only you could get over yourself a little more and actually do something about it.

As much as you want to keep telling yourself that this -- glances across rooms, smiles from a distance, memories of his hand on your skin -- is enough, you're not sure that it is. The force of your want is destabilizing considering the most that's happened is maybe a little bit of flirting. But maybe this is you taking his direction to ask for...no help, not exactly, but to ask for something. To ask for him.

Today you're going on patrol. You decide as you mount your horse that you're going to ask Joel if he wants to get a drink when you get back. You want to talk to him again, let him under your skin a little more. Maybe tell him some things about yourself. Sometimes he's milling around the gate or on wall duty but you don't see him as you and your partner -- a fairly new kid in his twenties -- take your rifles and head out. You're on an easy route today, just clearing out the town over the hill and the highway exits near Jackson. Shouldn't take you more than a few hours.

It goes to shit fairly quickly.

The kid -- Conner? Charlie? You can't remember -- is rambling about the infected he's killed for some reason when you realize something isn't quite right. You can't hear any birds. Apollo snorts and it sounds panicked. You motion for the kid to stop talking but he either ignores you or doesn't see.

He sure shuts up when the clicker bursts out of a house to your left. Apollo startles and rears at the moment you reach for your gun and you can't grab hold in time.

You go flying, bouncing off a rusted-out car and landing hard on the broken pavement of the street with a popping sound. There is a pain in your shoulder so intense your vision whites out. The kid is shouting, the clicker is making that awful sound, but then you hear two gunshots and nothing else.

"Holy fuck," he says, rushing over to you. "Fuck, are you okay?"

Well, for a talker, this kid a good shot.

"Get the -- horse --" You roll onto your back with a groan and he grabs Apollo and settles him.

"What happened?"

You stare up at the sky, blue turning purple. It'll be sunset soon and you very well might be fucked if this is what you think it is.

"I think my shoulder popped out," you say through gritted teeth. Your head doesn't hurt like you smacked it and your side is only a little sore. Maybe some bruised ribs. Your hands are scraped, blood beading on the heels of your palms. "Help me up."

"Holy shit." He helps you sit up and then stand, your left arm hanging limp at your side. You hiss through your teeth as it gets jostled and lean heavily on the car. "You don't look so good," he says. "Can you ride? We should only be a half hour out of town."

"I...don't think so." You're pretty sure you'll pass out from the pain and this kid doesn't look like he can handle that. You don't want to fuck up the joint any more than you have to. "You're going to have to go back and bring someone to set it for me, okay?"

"But the rules say --"

"I know what the fucking rules say," you snap. Don't let your partner out of your sight. Your shoulder is throbbing and you might cry but not until this kid is on his way back to town. "That's why you're going to go as fast as you can, alright?"

"We should at least clear a building first so you can --"

"No time," you say, looking at the sky. "If we want to be back before nightfall you need to go now. I'll handle myself."

You really should know his name. He sets his jaw in a move that reminds you of Joel which causes a pang in your chest so intense you want to rub it away. "I'll clear that garage, okay?" He points behind you and before you can stop him he runs towards it with his gun out.

Lucky for both of you it's clear. You take Apollo inside and slump against the wall, pistol in your hand. The kid closes the garage door behind him and you hear the clop of his horse as he gallops away.

"Fuck," you say into the empty room. It's dusty and full of cobwebs and not much else. Empty metal shelves, a rusted-out lawn mower, some tarps so ratted they're useless. Apollo snorts. "Not your fault, buddy."

Death has been nipping at your heels for twenty years now. You've always expected it. And you're fairly certain you won't die out here. Maybe end up spending a night on this floor, having to walk yourself back to Jackson tomorrow morning. But you can't help the fear that rises in your throat. You know how an injury like this means so much more in this world. You won't be able to work for weeks. You won't be able to patrol, to pull your weight.

You're going to need a lot of help.

You close your eyes against the stinging tears and thud your head against the wall.

The pain dulls the embarrassment you feel when you catch yourself thinking of Joel. You wish he was here. If you'd been on patrol together this wouldn't have happened. You wonder what he's going to think of this.

What you'd really like is for him to hold you and tell you it'll be alright.

A few tears slip down your nose. Apollo noses at your knee.

There are no windows so you don't know how much time has passed. You start to question if this was the right call. Maybe you could have made it back on horseback, or at the very least slung across the back of Apollo like a sack of flour, arm be damned.

Your traitorous brain is about to remind you of all the things that go bump in the night out here when you hear something. 

Someone is calling your name. Yelling it.

"Here!" you scream. Apollo whinnies. "I'm here!" You have no idea if they can hear you. You press your good shoulder into the wall behind you and try to push yourself to your feet but just as you do the garage door is hauled open and there stands --

Joel.

A sob bursts from your throat and you will yourself to pull it together. Behind him the sky is much more orange than it was when you first sat down.

Joel's eyes look you up and down once before cataloging the space and locking on some milk crates. He stacks two of them.

"Sit," he says. His voice is tight.

"Joel --"

"Sit."

You do as he says. He kneels at your feet and rummages around in his bag. His horse stands munching on some overgrown grass on the driveway. Did he come alone?

"How are you here --"

Joel cuts you off with a glare. His eyes are blazing, jaw grinding as he holds out a length of bandage.

"Hold this." He stands and his knees crack. "Kid said it's your shoulder. Anything else?"

The throb is still deep, still intense, but his arrival almost made you forget all about it. You shake your head.

"Didn't hit your head? Crack ribs? Nothin' like that?"

"No, I don't think so --"

"Need you to sit up straight," he says. There's no warmth in his tone but it's a little softer now that he's taken stock of the situation. "I ain't gonna lie to you, this is going to hurt like hell." He digs in his pocket for something and pulls out a square of leather. "Need you to bite down on this."

He squats so that you're just about face to face and holds out the leather. It feels like being in your kitchen, you holding out the spoon and fighting your desire to touch him. Except this time he won't look you in the eye. You open your mouth and he gently places it between your teeth, thumb catching the corner of your lips and trailing along the edge of your chin before he pulls away and stands up.

"I'm going to reset it on three, alright? Bite down hard on that." He finally meets your gaze and you nod and close your eyes. He puts one hand on your shoulder and the other on your wrist and you wince even though you feel incredibly safe in his hands. "Alright. One...two --"

Joel jerks your arm up and around before he hits three and you barely hear it pop back into place because, as he said, it hurts like hell. You bite down hard on the leather which also serves to muffle your scream.

Someone is talking to you."I know, baby, I know. Good job, you did a good job."

You open your eyes and wipe away a few tears with one hand and pull the leather from your teeth. Joel looks pained but his face snaps back to neutral when he sees you watching. His eyes narrow.

"Where did that come from?" He gently grabs your wrist and looks at your palm and you both find it bloody. "Got it on your face."

"Scraped my hands when I fell," you say hoarsely. He clicks his tongue.

"Give me that bandage." You don't even get a chance to hand it to him because he plucks it from your lap. "Gonna make this into a sling for this arm. Try not to move it much. Then we'll clean those hands and head home. Get you to the clinic for some meds." He gently positions your arm, which hurts a lot less than before but is still throbbing, and ties a sling so it's bent close to your chest. You can feel his breath on your neck as he does the knot.

And then he's back crouching in front of you.

Joel Miller on his knees for you so many times in one day makes you a little dizzy. Or maybe that's the adrenaline.

"Are you angry with me?" you ask softly as he wipes clean your palms and cheek with firm touches. The muscle in his jaw twitches again and his hands freeze for a split second.

"No," he says. "I ain't mad at you. I just can't believe the fuckin' kid left you here."

"I told him to."

"Can't believe that either. You know better."

"It's fine, Joel," you say. "It doesn't matter. I would have just walked back in the morning if no one came --"

He pulls his hands away and tosses the rag to the floor. "Damnit, it does matter," he curses. "'Course it fuckin' matters. Cut that shit out."

Now you're confused. It sure seems like he's angry with you. "Joel, I don't understand --"

His hands cradle your face and the protest dies in your throat. "You matter to me," he says thickly. His eyes are wide but his stare is steady. "Ain't it fuckin' obvious?" Anger and desperation are dripping from his words. "It matters."

For one long second you think he's going to kiss you. Now that might kill you.

You wrap one hand around his wrist and lean into his palm. A thousand thoughts swirl in your head but you focus on one. Joel is here which means you're safe. Joel is here which means he's going to take care of you. Joel is here. Joel is here. Joel is here.

"Oh," you breathe. You turn your face in his palm and press your lips to the center of it. His breath hitches and it feels like something big between you shifts, slots into place. "Okay," you say against his skin.

He pulls his hands away and stands. He works his jaw a few times before shouldering his pack and holding out his hand. "Let's go home," he says.

You stand with his help. "I think you'll need to help me get on my horse."

"Not a fuckin' chance," he growls but you can still see tenderness in his eyes. "Can't hold on well enough with one arm. We're ridin' together."

This Joel is one you haven't seen. But this is what you wanted, right? You want to see every part of him. Something molten and heavy sits in your stomach at how tense he is, how his hands remain gentle despite his harsh words. How he just told you that you matter to him. Maybe this is all a dream.

He helps you on his horse and then gets on behind you, tying Apollo's reigns to his so you won't lose him. He wraps one arm right around your stomach, mindful of your arm.

"Ain't gonna be comfortable," he says in your ear. "But it'll be over quick."

You lean back into him. Hell, it's all on the table now. If your arm is going to hurt you might as well enjoy your time pressed against him.

"Oh, I don't know," you say. "This isn't so bad." He snorts and snaps the reigns.

He talks low and steady in your ears as you gallop, his palm firm on your abdomen to keep you as still as possible though it's a hopeless venture. Your shoulder aches, sends sharp tendrils of pain through your entire arm with every stride.

He tells you that he was on the wall when your partner came back alone. That he knew something was wrong with you as soon as the kid came into view. He'd seen the patrol assignments and knew you were paired together. Kid didn't know what flag to use to signal his approach because you're not supposed to leave behind your partner.

Joel tells you how he hopped down from the wall and asked the kid where exactly he left you. Demanded to know how hurt you were, if you'd been bit. He was on a horse before anyone else could get their shit together, told them to get Tommy and have the clinic ready for you. Started hollering your name as soon as he got to the street, rifle ready for any infected to show up.

"Damn miracle when you yelled back," he says just as Jackson comes into view. You're sweating and dizzy from the pain, practically all of your weight slumped back into his chest. "Almost there, sweetheart. Doin' real good."

The rest of it is a blur. Joel takes you to the clinic where he becomes increasingly agitated that he set your shoulder wrong until one of the staff says he did it just fine. They give you a real sling and one painkiller to take if you hurt really bad, despite some harsh words from Joel in an attempt to get you more.

"Don't move it above your head for two weeks. Keep the sling on for that time, too. Ice it today, start moving it back and forth a few times in a few days. You got someone to help you for a bit?"

Before you can open her mouth Joel answer for you.

"Yes." The nurse hides her amusement well. She lets you go. Joel keeps his hand on your back as he walks you to your house.

You stop him when you get to your front door. "Joel --"

"If you're about to argue with me, so help me God, I'll --"

"I was going to ask if you need to go check on Ellie." You pull out your keys and after a second hold them out for him. Maybe letting Joel help you is helping him, too. You can handle that. You think.

"Told Tommy to when I left. I'll go home once we get you settled."

We.

"Okay," you say softly. He unlocks the door and motions for you to go in. You sit gingerly on the couch and Joel brings you a glass of water.

And then he paces. He looks at the books on your shelf without seeing them and rubs his thumb against his first two fingers over and over. And all of a sudden he won't look at you.

"Joel, sit down or something," you grumble. "You're making me nervous."

He stops. "Fine." His tone has a bit of bite to it that makes you close your eyes. There's an armchair in the room but he sits next to you instead. He presses his knee to yours, almost in apology.

The adrenaline has faded by now and all you feel is the ache of your shoulder and ribs and rawness of your palms and heart. The shoulder hurts like hell but in a way all of this hurts deeper, harder than that. In the way you know love, or the beginning of it, can hurt.

You sniffle.

Truth is you're overwhelmed. By what happened, by Joel coming to get you and saying all that shit. By him touching you, by him being here, by your own heart beating so quickly at his nearness. Even though you dared hope he felt something close to your affection for him it's a shock to realize he cares about you because you're you, not just because he's a good man. You've always wanted love that came from a place of purpose, which feels selfish on the best of days. You should just accept whatever kindness comes your way in this cruel world.

But, fuck, you've always wanted to feel chosen. Like you matter.

And you do. Right here, you do. From his own lips he's said you do.

You don't even realize you're crying until Joel curses softly and one wide, warm palm is on your face again.

"What's wrong? You hurtin'?" His thumb swipes at your tears. "Talk to me."

"I'm fine." You press your face into his shoulder and he holds you, hand soft on the back of your head. "I'm just -- I'm just really glad you're here, Joel."

"Course I'm here," he says into your hair. "C'mere."

There's nowhere for you to go considering you're already pressed against him. But his arms come around you fully, mindful of your shoulder, and your fingers fist in his shirt.

You should be embarrassed. On the scale of fucked up shit that's happened to you, today is remarkably low. But you let yourself have this. You breathe him in and let him hold you.

"I was going to ask you to get a drink tonight," you mumble. His chest vibrates with laughter.

"That so?" he says. His hand rubs up and down your spine. "Reckon I'd say yes."

You pull back just enough to see his face. This close you can see how his eyes have a bit of gold in them. "Really?" Even with proof of his affection right in front of you it's a little hard to believe.

"Am I readin' this wrong?" he asks. "It's okay if I am--"

"No," you say quickly. "No, you're not."

"Thought so." His lips pull up at the corner just a bit. "But, still. You've had a real rough day, and --"

"Joel," you breathe. You free your good arm from your embrace and put your hand on his jaw. He's touched you plenty today and you want to give it a try yourself. His face is warm, his beard gently rubbing against your skin. His eyes flutter close for a breath before he opens them wide and leans into your hand just a little.

"Alright," he says softly. Then he says your name, just once, ever so tenderly. It sounds like a prayer.

Joel Miller kisses you in the middle of your living room. Despite the affection you've been nursing for him over the last little while you never allowed yourself to imagine what it would be like to kiss him.

It's like this: the first press of his lips is soft like he thinks you'll pull away. When you don't he takes your lower lip between his and presses a little harder. Your hand slides into his hair and he palms your hip with one of his and cups your face with the other. His tongue traces the seam of your lips and you open for him, let him lick into your mouth. You sigh into it and tug on his hair just a little. Joel makes a sound deep in his throat and then pulls away.

You're both breathing heavier than before, both smiling. Joel presses his lips to your forehead, your temple. He holds you against him and you breathe against the skin of his neck.

"Will you let me take care of you?" he says into your hair.

"For my sake or yours?"

You think he'll laugh but he just breathes. "Both," he says. "Hell, you know what's goin' on here. I showed my hand. Been showin' it." He pulls away so you can see the honesty in his face. "I told you in as many damn words as I know how."

He did. He did and you make yourself believe it. Love in this life is worth holding on with both hands. Whatever this is, whatever this is going to become, you want it. You want to let this man continue to teach you to ask for help. You want to learn from him, maybe teach him a few things of your own.

You want to love him. You think you could sooner rather than later.

You trace the line of his brow, run your fingertip over the scar on the bridge of his nose.

"Can you kiss me again?" you ask.

"What a fuckin' question," he says. "C'mere."

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, general masterlist here!

[happyhauntt]

a grey day — spencer reid.

writing masterlist | askbox

─── summary: spencer meets the newest member of the department.

─── pairing: spencer reid x autistic!medical examiner!reader.

─── warnings: fluff, reader is autistic & a mom, spencer's iq gets slashed to sixty when he talks to pretty girls and it's my favourite thing. no use of y/n. reader is performing an autopsy so mentions of blood but nothing too graphic.

─── word count: 1.3k.

     YOU KNOW IT'S A GREY DAY before you even manage to open your eyes.

     And really, you’re expecting it  ━  this whole week has been filled with pale pink and lime green with solid, unwavering turquoise blobs in the middle, because you started your new job on Monday and the apprehension, the excited, the nausea, they've all been stirring up inside you for days now.

     Waking up to a grey day doesn't hit you as hard as it usually would.

     Still, you feel sluggish when you drag yourself out of bed ten full minutes after your alarm has gone off. The shower is a no-go this morning  ━  if you’re honest with yourself, the shower is a no-go most mornings, when your skin feels soft and sensitive and your brain can't cope with the idea of a barrage of hot water raining down on you  ━  so you slap on some deodorant and spray some dry shampoo in your hair, tugging it up into a rough ponytail.

     You take your time with your makeup, though; strawberry lipgloss and lots of concealer, a heaping of eyeliner and your favourite gold hoop earrings are exactly what you need to feel better. When you step out into the hallway wearing your comfiest black jeans and a jumper that's probably smart enough to pass the dress code, hearing your daughter giggling in the kitchen, the grey day lightens a little.

     It gets even better when your sister-in-law presses a travel mug of iced coffee into your hands.

     "Jackie, I fucking adore you," you say around a mouthful of delicious, soul-quenching caffeinated goodness. You’d half-expected Jackie to have something planned. Four years of living together means that Jackie tends to know about your off days before you do.

     The other woman suppresses a smile, coupled with a sharp look. "There's a three-year-old right there!"

     You snort, waving your hand nonchalantly. As if you don't have this conversation every single day. "Nellie knows not to repeat what I say." You turn to your daughter, your heart swelling three sizes as the little girl at the kitchen table looks up from her drawing. "Nell, baby, what am I always telling you?"

     "Don't go home with strangers."

     "Well, yeah, but I meant the other thing."

     The little girl brightens, revealing a missing front tooth. "If Aunt Jackie won't say it, then I shouldn't say it."

      You giggle, scurrying over to drop a kiss on your daughter's forehead. "Exactly right, my little love."

     When you turn back toward the kitchen counter, your sister-in-law's face is painted with an affronted look, her mouth half-open. "I can say bad words!"

      You wrinkle your nose. "I'll believe that when I see it."

     By the time you leave the house, sliding into your car with a second cup of iced coffee in hand, the day has lightened to a pale blue. You hope it will stay that way.

     "YOU LOOK SO TIRED, DUDE."

     Well, alright, he'll admit it wasn't the first thing he was expecting to hear when he entered the coroner's office. It's been a while since he ventured down to the morgue, sure, but Dr. Peterson has never talked to him like that before, and he's fairly certain not that much has changed in the three-or-so weeks it's been.

     And Spencer's observant. He prides himself on being able to notice things, tiny details other people seem to miss, things that are so obvious to him that he can't comprehend how normal people can't see them.

     So if anyone asks, he'll never admit that it took a full twelve seconds before he realised that the girl in the white lab coat, elbow-deep in an open chest cavity, is definitely not Dr. Peterson.

     "Uh..."

     It's the most intelligent response he can muster in the moment.

     "It's okay," you add, hardly bothering to look up from the corpse. "I'm tired too. And you're not the worst-looking guy in the room." You jerk your head at the dead guy on the table. "Although I'd say that's a pretty low bar, all things considered."

     "Where's Dr. Peterson?"

     "He retired. Or got a promotion, I think? Not totally sure." You shrug, raising an eyebrow at him. "I thought I'd met most of the department already, but I don't recognise you.” You tell him your name, squinting at him through your plastic glasses.”I’m the new... coroner, medical examiner, pathologist, dancing monkey? They didn't totally specify the position when they offered it, which I think says more about me than anything else."

     Spencer blinks. He's not totally sure he's ever met anyone who could talk nearly as fast as him before. "Dr. Spencer Reid, Behavioral Analysis Unit. Nice to meet you."

     "Oh, cool!" The liver in your hands gives a wet squelch as you drop it into a metal dish. "I'm under the BAU! I answer to your Section Chief, um, Agent Strauss? She's a little harsh, huh? I'd, uh, shake your hand, but..." You hold both hands up, mimicking a surrender, showing off the blue medical gloves slick with blood.

     An inkling of a smile creeps onto Spencer's face. "I don't shake hands."

     "That's fair," you say with a shrug. "Can I help you, Dr. Reid, or did you get lost looking for the cafeteria?"

     “No, actually.” He remembers the files he was supposed to show you and reaches into his satchel. The intensity of your gaze is like lasers on his skin and he can’t help but fumble, almost sending a stack of documents scattering across the floor.

     When he looks back up at you, cheeks flushed rosy, your stare hasn’t wavered even slightly. Amusement lingers in your eyes.

     He clears his throat and holds out the files as if they are a peace offering. He doesn’t quite understand whether a battle has been fought, but he definitely feels like he lost one. “Hotch— uh, Agent Hotchner sent the Howard County ME’s report on the Richardson case. He wanted you to look it over and sign off before they file it for the District Attorney.”

     You nod at him. The corner of your mouth quirks a little at his stuttering. You’re not sure you’ve ever been so immediately endeared to somebody before, but there he is, blinking at you like a deer caught in headlights. It’s so adorable.

     “Sure, I can do that,” you say. “Just pop it on the desk over there and I’ll get on with it when I’m done here. Can’t get any bodily fluids on the paperwork, y’know? That’d be a nightmare.”

     The volume of your laugh startles him, and he jerks slightly. The sound of it is loud and warm and it should really freak him out, considering you’re wrist-deep in a cadaver and cackling like a maniac, but it doesn’t. It’s actually kind of sweet.

     “If that’s all, Dr, Reid, I’d like to finish rooting through this guy’s insides so I can sew him back up.” Your words are an obvious dismissal, but he doesn’t feel offended, not with the kind smile still adorning your features.

     He nods and backs away. His feet feel a little numb. “Sure thing. I’ll, uh, catch you later. Have fun!”

     “I’m sure I will.”

     You sound like you’re about to laugh again. Have fun, really? He knows he’s fairly inept when it comes to women, but have fun? He scurries out of the morgue and back into the land of the living, and as Spencer boards the elevator all he can think is that he’s so glad Derek wasn’t there to witness that.

     He’s certain he’d never live it down.

     Meanwhile you resume your autopsy with an odd, fuzzy feeling in your chest. You start to hum beneath your breath, a song that must have played on the radio while you were driving to work.

     Your grey day feels a little pink at the edges.

[ci3n]

can i request sort of airhead mc with mammon and luci !! tysm love uuu :))

lucifer + mammon with an oblivious mc

➺ i haven’t written in so long i hope this is okay and i did like an oblivious mc cause i think that’s what u meant idk 😭 hope this is what u wanted :)) (also not proofread btw)

obey me masterlist !

lucifer

you’re taking years off this demon’s immortal life

you seriously can’t tell he’s in love with you like he has made it so obvious.

he could just straight up tell you, but his pride won’t let him, of course, so he sticks with romantic gestures.

takes you out on fancy dinners, showers you with expensive gifts, compliments you all the time, gives you his coats to wear, let’s you in his room/office and touch his stuff, makes an effort to spend time with you, remembers every tiny little detail about you, doesn’t hang you upside down when you get in trouble

and you think he’s just being nice to you for diavolo and the exchange program

old man is so tired pls notice him

his brothers feel so bad for him, like it’s so painfully obvious to everyone but you (satan and belphie do get a kick out of it, but at some point they also feel kinda bad)

tries dropping subtle hints, asks you questions like, “have you thought of whom you want to spend the rest of your days with?”

“uhm, i’m obviously gonna spend it with you guys; i mean it’s not like i know anybody else here, lucifer.”

“no, i didn’t mean the rest of the program i- nevermind mc”

solomon watched the entire thing happen and was losing his shit at the back until lucifer yelled at him

probably gets angry one day and just ends up telling you

“listen, mc, i’m in love with you. i have feelings for you. romantic feelings, so please get that through your thick skull”

“okay, i love you too, but you don’t have to be so mean about it”

mammon

just like his brother, he also won’t tell you because this man’s ego is bigger than the sky

he tries his best to do cute things for you, but he’s so bad at it

he got you flowers one time, but they were some sort of wild devildom flowers and you almost died when you sniffed them, tried to get close to you while watching a movie by trying to put his arm around you but hit you in the face really hard and almost broke your nose.

by now, you probably think he’s trying to kill you

asmo tries to help his brother by telling you for him much to his dismay “mc, you know mammon really likes you.”

“thank you, mammon; i appreciate it.”

what do you have against him pls

after a lot of convincing from his brothers, he finally decides to put the ego aside and come clean about his feelings, and this sweet idiot is so very happy when you say you feel the same, like you have no idea how relieved this demon is.

[bluexiao]

#”aren’t you tired of me?”

–when you ask them if they feel sick of you | a request | comfort | dipsy anon, here’s your request! I hope this will at least comfort you :)))

SCARAMOUCHE

“Are you-” stupid, was what he was about to blurt out–what he wanted to, anyway, but with that look, you were giving him, it was quite impossible to let the words out without him biting his tongue. And so, with a sigh, he purses his lips and flicks you on the forehead.

“Ow!”

Another flick, but this time, you will be able to dodge it by placing a hand over your forehead.

“What was that for?!”

“For being an idiot.”

First of all, he finds it idiotic for you to think that someone like him would seriously think that way, especially after everything you two had been through. And second, he did not really expect you to say such things, and he is still coping with the shock while being “mean” to you.

He’s just annoyed—not at you, hell, he’ll probably first think that someone else had triggered you to say that stupid question, but in a few, he’ll slowly start to doubt himself; had he done something to make you think of him that way?

Yes, he’d think back over the few times he’d tease you out of affection—not that he would want to make it too obvious—and also the times he’d be utterly shit at you mostly because he’s too much of a brat to admit his feelings—which, in his defense, he only did in the first few weeks (or months) of meeting and soon dating you. Now that you’ve seen every single part of him and he the same to you, this anxiety of yours is quite surprising to him as well, and he also partly blames himself that above everyone, he prides himself that he knows you very well, but now in the end, he doubts that he does know everything about you.

Maybe he is the idiot this time.

“Tired?” He chuckles loudly. “Darling, did you really think I have such a short fuse that I would tire of you all for nothing? Or are you quick to forget about the years we’ve been through together, huh? Shall I help you remember?”

XIAO

Immediately has his forehead crunched and eyes boring into yours with a look of bewilderment, and it does take him a while to respond to you. Probably, he thought that you would follow up with “Just kidding!” with a little giggle, but when it seemed like you won’t, he bites with; “Is that really what you thought of yourself?”

Honestly, he would be quite offended, but not to the point that he’d selfishly bring it up to you upon realizing the way you felt inferior enough to prioritize someone like him over yourself.

Quite frankly, he thinks he should’ve been the one who should ask you if you’re tired of him.

Slightly annoyed, but more so with the crippling thought of; who or what made you this way? Is there someone who belittled you like this? Or maybe… did he?

The mere thought of him being the source of your worries and heartaches would be his downfall.

“Y/n, tell me,” he has his hand on your chin, urging you to face him and look into his eyes, and once you did, you could see the softness in them—a look that despite being on his face quite a number of times, you still could not fathom how on Teyvat you had managed to pull it off of him, “Is that really what you thought of yourself?”

Your lips purse and your gaze waver, only for his hand to travel to your cheek instead, urging you to make contact with his gaze again, “Love? Talk to me.”

You frown as you obliged his wishes, weak for the softness and genuine way his voice sounded. And then, you could feel his lips on yours. Just a small peck. But it was enough to ease your mind and muscles down.

“Our bond is too deep to sever,” he interlocks his fingers with yours, the other hand still caressing your cheek as he gazed straight into your eyes, pecking you on the lips one more time before continuing on, “I will never tire of you. Never.”

comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

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[temozarela]

-> miss you already

GETO X READER MDNI, smut, slow burn, fluff, angst, soft geto, comfort, mutual pining

geto finds you after his defection to say goodbye

WORD COUNT: 4.5k

inspiration (@ayyy-pee)

part 2

ao3 version

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The beginnings of dusk settled over the mountains, soft lavender clouds blushing as the amber sun settled behind them. You were settled at your desk, pen loose in your grip as you stared out of your window. The breeze was cool on your cheeks and you knew that it was probably time to pull the windows closed since the remnants of Summer were scarce, only obvious through the very last of the green leaves, of which were tinged red at the very tips. You could see the main courtyard of Jujutsu Tech from your room, meaning that you often knew who was present and where they were. Previously that day, you had watched Geto leave at 7am, then Nanami at 2pm, and Shoko and Gojo- presumably to the bar- at 5pm. You didn’t get offended about the lack of invite, after all, you often said no these days. Since Geto didn’t choose to go out much, you often chose to stay back with him instead. It was nicer than the sweaty noisiness of the bar Shoko liked. It was her special discovery in second year- a bar that didn’t ask for ID. The others quickly adopted it too, and despite them now being of age, they never grew out of it. You guessed they were emotionally attached to it now, despite the poor quality of the drinks. Geto and you often read together on those quieter nights, or you watched shitty horror movies. You had a tendency to be shyer around bigger groups, so being able to have time alone with Geto was nice, and you felt a lot closer to him because of it. You weren’t an idiot though, you knew he got a lot of female attention. It wasn’t uncommon for you to get glared at when you went out together, and there were occasions where girls had come up to you for permission to ask him out. Truthfully, these girls were often stunning, and part of you even resented Geto for being the one who got their attention, especially since he always politely apologised with a bow- or on his lazier days, he gave them Gojo’s number instead. What a waste.

You had been expecting Geto back at 4pm, but you hadn’t seen him come back yet. In an act of desperate boredom, you’d even checked his room, the training areas, the vending machines, and even the classrooms. Nope. No Geto in sight. It was a shame that he wasn’t there for a ‘just us two’ evening, but that concern was long gone by 6pm. Where was he? You had tried texting and calling him. No response. You had even texted Gojo about whether he’d contacted them.

Nah but u sure he isn’t stuck in the toilet or smth? xoxo

And Shoko.

nope.

not since tues soz

So there you were, sat at your desk, anxiously watching the school entrance. For a second, you had wondered about reporting him missing, however you shook it off. What could the police do that a special grade sorcerer couldn’t?

By the time it was dark, your back ached and you hadn’t made any progress on your homework for at least 3 hours. 9pm. Something was definitely wrong. You tried not to fret, you had noticed how tired he’d been lately- maybe he had chosen to stay in the city for a while to get his mind off things. You groaned, burying your head in your arms. You really missed him, and the worst part was that you were the only one.

See, Shoko and Gojo had the mindset of ‘if it was something he couldn’t handle, it’d be all over the news’, and you were more sensitive than them- you knew that- but it hadn’t stopped you from turning the news on anyway, letting it drone on in the background. Just in case. However, after a while, the hours of constant murmuring about war, murders, a girl being kidnapped, and heavy rain forecast for the next few days wasn’t doing much for your emotional state, so now you finally reached for the remote, turning it off, and by consequence, plunging yourself into deafening silence.

It was late and you were still in your uniform, you noted. You were tired too.

With a hefty sigh, you collapsed onto your bed, staring at your ceiling. The wind whispered, lowly outside, causing goosebumps to rise on your arms. You idly chided yourself for forgetting to close the window, but you couldn’t find the energy to do anything about it.

Finally, after a few deep breaths, you found solace in sleep.

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You narrowed your eyebrows as you felt your body being jolted, large hands gripping your face, and then your shoulders. Groaning softly, you turned in your sleep, trying to make sense of the voice fading in and out of your brain. It didn’t sound like it was from your dream… It was hushed… low… soft…

It sounded like your name.

Cold hands touched your face again, turning your head. In response, your eyelashes fluttered open. You were surprised, in your groggy state, that you couldn’t see your room. Was something blocking your view? Then, regretfully, you noted that your uniform was sticking to your skin, and that you never did change.

Also, it was freezing.

“Hey.”

You jumped.

“What the fuck.” You croaked, squinting upwards. “Geto?”

“Yeah-”

“Finally.”

“Look-”

“You fucking stink.”

“Ok, just-”

“No seriously, it’s rancid. Hang on, let me get the light…” You mumbled, blinking sleepily.

“Wait, first I should tell you-” Your numb fingers found the light switch, and you flicked it on.

“Ok, ok,” You paused, eyes widening as his figure was illuminated, and suddenly you were very awake. “What the fuck.”

Geto was dripping with blood. His face, his shirt, his trousers- drenched. You studied his face, head cocked. He thinned his lips, looking… mildly unimpressed.

“As I was trying to say,” He started, “I’m leaving.”

“You… just got here.” You muttered, squinting at him.

“No, I-” Geto sighed, running his dirtied fingers through his loose hair, “I’m leaving Jujutsu Tech.”

“Why?”

“I want to create a world of only Jujutsu sorcerers.” He swallowed, hands clenched by his sides. You stilled, mind buzzing.

“How…” You rubbed your temples, looking around, “How… did you get in here?”

Geto stared at you, dubiously. “That’s what you want to ask?”

You nodded. “I have other questions too, but I lock my door at night and now I have safety concerns.”

“Your window was open.”

“Oh yeah.” You mumbled, running a hand over your face. “Fuck.”

“I’m tired of the higher-ups avoiding the root of the problem, so I’m leaving.” Geto continued, carefully.

“Oh.” You said, struggling to find words. “Right now?”

Geto looked at you strangely, then nodded.

“Do the others know?”

Geto shook his head.

You stared at him for a second, eyebrows furrowed, a pensive frown fixed on your face.

“Holy shit!” You sat up, eyes wide with realisation. “Whose blood is that?” You raised your voice, gesturing at his shirt. You were so used to seeing gore as a sorcerer, it hadn’t even occurred to you that the blood on his clothes was anything strange at all.

“Don’t be so loud.” Geto hissed, “It’s just from some non-sorcerers.”

With a raise of your eyebrows, you scrutinised him, “Just some non-sorcerers’?” You scoffed. “Just? How many?”

He swallowed, “112.”

You blinked at him.

“Just… 112… innocent people?” You replied, slowly.

Geto breathed, deeply, “I had to.”

“What would’ve happened if you didn’t?” Your voice climbed as you gestured frantically.

“I wouldn’t have solidified my resolve.” Geto’s shoulders tensed.

You almost wanted to laugh.

“It’s always you and your fucking resolve, isn’t it?” You muttered, dryly. Geto watched you, uncomfortably, his arms hanging uselessly by his sides. A heavy silence hung in the air like a toppled vase, microseconds away from shattering on the floor.

You sighed heavily, crossing your legs, “So… what now?”

“Come with me.”

“Excuse me?”

Geto crouched to your level, hands reaching for yours, “I don’t care if you hate what I do, just come with me.”

You froze, fingers twitching between his clammy hands.

“You’ll have a home, an allowance, I’ll try to give you the best life possible. I don’t want to leave you here to work 50 hours a week and then to die at 26.”

He had a point.

It was a good offer.

Your eyes darted between Geto’s dark ones. “Why me? Shouldn’t you take Gojo?”

“I couldn’t, even if I wanted to.” Geto squeezed your hands tightly. “Satoru enjoys it- fighting with the higher ups and spending his free time exorcising curses. It’s who he is. It’s not who you are, though.”

“It’s not.” You agreed, softly.

Geto moved to perch on your bed, but you swatted his shoulder, silently gesturing at his bloody clothing. He nodded, an amused glint in his eyes, as he moved to politely kneel on the floor. You climbed out of your bed to sit next to him, shivering slightly at the iciness of the wooden floorboards. Stretching your legs in front of you, you slowly exhaled.

At least he was safe, right?

To be honest, you still didn’t really know what to think of it. It’s not something you had even thought to prepare yourself for. You’d miss him if he left, you knew that. He knew that you didn’t enjoy being a sorcerer, and you were a little pissed that he had used it against you, but he wasn’t wrong. Being a curse user with him didn’t sound half bad, either. It wasn’t an easy decision to make though and he had to understand that.

“We need to get you out of those clothes.” You murmured.

Geto looked at you, “Do you even have anything I can change into?”

You shook your head, “I can stop by your room, I’ll get a bath running.”

“We can’t.” He replied, “I don’t want to be seen.”

“It’s 2am, Geto.” You said shortly after sparing a glance at your clock, “We’ll be fine.”

Geto looked hesitant as you stood up, offering him a hand.

The walk to the bathroom was silent as you snuck past the dorms. Gojo and Shoko were long asleep, so being caught wasn’t too much of a concern. After retrieving a few bits from Geto’s room, you crept into the bathroom, locking the door behind you. The tiles were cold under your bare feet, but you paid it no mind as you turned the bath tap on, waiting for the water to run hot. Behind you, Geto changed out of his ruined uniform, and you willed yourself not to look. Silence settled over the two of you again, but you knew this time it was because you were deep in thought. Once the tub was full, you turned the tap off, stepping back to allow Geto to climb in. He thanked you softly before stepping in, but your eyes were fixed on the floor as your cheeks heated. When you looked up again, you saw that he was mostly submerged by the water, the ends of his inky hair soaked and curling as it floated in the crystalline water. He watched you expectantly, his gaze sweet and warm, like honey, as you rolled your sleeves up.

Carefully, you poured some of the water over his hair using a cup. You then reached for the shampoo. After pouring a dollop onto your palms, you massaged it onto his scalp. He leaned back, sighing softly as you washed his hair, fingernails gently scratching his skull.

“Where are you going next?” You started, continuing to wash his hair.

Geto hummed pensively, “Who knows… Where do you want to go?”

Your hands froze in place. “I never said I’d go.”

“Right,” Geto said, “but you will, won’t you?”

“No.” You replied, defensively.

“No?” He sounded amused.

“Nope.”

“In that case, maybe I’ll go abroad…”

You swallowed, “How far?”

“Maybe somewhere pretty like Croatia.”

“…That’s far.”

“It is.” Geto agreed.

“Can I convince you to stay?”

“Nope.”

“Ok.” You frowned, resuming the movement of your fingers in his hair. After a moment you stopped again, “What if I promised to join you later?”

Geto sat up.

“I have too many loose ends,” You added, “I don’t want to regret this.”

“How long?”

You exhaled, slowly, “Maybe a year or two?”

Geto looked at you over his shoulder, his stare dark, “That’s long.”

“Well,” Meeting his gaze, you raised an eyebrow, “I hope you’re willing to wait for me, then.”

“I am.” His response was quick, maybe even too quick as it took you off guard.

“Ok.” You nodded slowly, “That works.”

The rest of the bath was quiet, the two of you in contemplating the decisions being made. Only the lulling waves of the water, lapping against the white porcelain tub, alongside both of your soft breaths filled the otherwise silent room. Geto’s hair was silky as you ran your fingers through it. In the light of the bathroom, you noticed how the finer strands looked more chocolate than black, notes of hazel glittering amongst the glistening, dark locks. You squeezed the excess water out of his hair, then dried your hands on your trousers. Afterwards, you moved to stand in front of the bath so that you could see his face. He looked elegant. It seemed that he had either lost, or chosen not to wear his gauges as his gaping earlobes hung, empty. You realised then that you had never seen him without them before. It was different. Previously, you had brushed his hair away from his face, allowing you to see him without obstruction, and you thanked yourself for it now. His face was chiselled, everything about him seeming so sharp from his cheekbones, to his jawline. There seemed to be more colour behind his tanned skin, at least more than there used to be. The purple blotching under his brooding eyes was still there from months of exhaustion, but his facial expressions no longer held that lingering fatigue anymore. He looked healthier, happier even, than he had for a while. Geto’s thin eyebrows were raised as he stared at you, no doubt because you were staring at him. You couldn’t help it though, the way droplets tumbled down his broad shoulders was hypnotising and you almost wanted to condemn the water for concealing the rest of his body under a thick layer of bubbles.

“Are you done?” Geto drawled, sounding equal parts charmed and bored.

You cocked your head, furrowing your eyebrows, “No, not quite.” You muttered, absentmindedly.

He really was beautiful.

In that moment you understood every girl who had given you death glares for standing with him, and every girl who had boldly asked for his number. God knows, you’d be too scared to. You pitied that they were never able to see him like this. Every girl deserved this at least once, you thought, it was definitely more therapeutic than anything a psychiatrist could offer you.

Lethargically, you stretched your arms above your head, yawning. “Ok, yeah I’m done.”

For a second, it seemed that Geto was trying to glare at you, but starting with the slight twitch of his mouth, he broke into soft, flustered laughter.

“Fuck,” He ran a hand over his face. “You really are something, aren’t you?”

Suddenly unsure of how to respond, you looked at him, wide-eyed, your cheeks burning.

Geto smiled at you affectionately, “Just pass me my towel, please.”

You nodded, reaching for the white, fluffy towel you had left out for him. When Geto made a move to get out, you covered your eyes.

“I was meaning to ask,” His voice sounded somewhere behind you, “how come you’re still wearing your uniform?”

Oh yeah.

“I didn’t exactly intend to fall asleep like this, you know.” Your hand moved from your face to pull at the creased fabric, self-consciously. “I was kinda distracted yesterday.”

“Oh?” The rustling of Geto’s clothing paused. “How come?”

You scoffed, “Because you went missing? I had the news on and everything.”

“You did?” He cooed, teasingly, pulling a shirt over his head, judging from what you could hear.

“…Yes.” You scowled.

The way he said your name after that was far softer than you had ever heard it before. It made you feel warm in every nook and cranny of your body, like fire spreading from your cheeks, and flickering inwards to consume your beating heart. When you felt his hand land on your shoulder, you tensed, chewing on the inside of your cheek with anticipation.

“I’m sorry.” He said, voice low and smooth.

You turned to see him changed into a white t-shirt and grey joggers. “Really?”

Geto nodded, “I didn’t realise that you’d worry.”

“Of course I would.” You looked up at him, carefully studying his face.

“I know it’s selfish but… I’m glad you did.”

His confession made you smile warmly.

“Stay the night.” It wasn’t a question, you knew that he wouldn’t be able to find a hotel room at this time.

Geto shook his head, “You know I can’t, my room is directly next to Satoru’s. It’s too risky.”

You rolled your eyes, fondly, “Stay in mine, then. Shoko won’t wake up until 3 in the afternoon.”

He opened his mouth to protest.

“This is non-negotiable, by the way.” You added.

His mouth closed.

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By the time Geto had tucked himself into your bed, you had changed into pyjamas. It was cute seeing him snuggled next to your plushies, it just seemed so… right. You climbed in next to him, unable to close the gap between you, despite yourself. Admittedly, you had been expecting some kind of argument over who would take the bed and who would offer to sleep on the floor but end up taking the bed anyway, but much to your relief, Geto seemed too exhausted to care. You weren’t going to complain. For a while, you just watched each other, wordlessly, eyes half-lidded.

“Will you be gone when I wake up?”

You knew the answer, but you asked anyway.

Geto shifted under the covers, brushing his hand against yours. “Probably.”

“Shame.”

He watched you for a moment, moving his hand to cup your cheek. Like many times that night, you met his gentle gaze, leaning into his touch, gingerly.

“A year is a long time.” Geto murmured.

You agreed.

“It’s a long time to wait to do something I’ve been wanting to do for months.”

Fuck anything you had said before about being tired, you were wide awake.

“Excuse me?”

Geto smiled at you, lopsidedly, “Sorry if I read you wrong but… I like you. I really do.”

“And…” You swallowed.

“I want to say goodbye to you… properly.”

Fuck.

“I’d like that, Geto.” You whispered.

Before you knew it, he was on top of you, muscular thighs hugging your hips. You sat up, hands reaching to pull him down by his collar. When your lips crashed into his, you felt euphoric. As his warm lips moved against yours, your hands moved to his hips, slipping under his t-shirt to trace the ridges of his abs. You felt his muscles tense as you touched them, paired with a low ‘fuck’, whispered into your mouth. When Geto leaned back to peel his shirt off, you instantly missed his body, but the sight of his torso in full was… jaw-dropping. Without doubt, you knew that he was the kind of man that the Ancient Greeks erected temples for. Everything about him was beautiful, from the dusky areola which orbited his nipples, to the trail of hair below his navel. You swallowed, running your hands up his torso. In response, Geto leaned down, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.

Next to go was your shirt, which ended up on your floor next to his. Geto’s hands were quick to cup your breasts, fingers brushing the sensitive nubs as he gently squeezed them. You whimpered, softly, looking up at his focused face.

“Please…” You arched your back, pushing your chest towards him. He swore under his breath before pushing you down so you were horizontal. In an act of fleeting tenderness, he brushed your hair from your face, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips, before attacking your neck with bites and kisses. You gasped as his hands roamed downwards, grazing over your stomach before his fingers strayed under your waistband. He paused his work on your neck to look up at you, silently checking on you with a sweet smile. You nodded, slipping one of your hands into his damp hair as you guided his head back to your neck. Without hesitation, he started pressing open-mouthed kisses to your skin, no doubt leaving a myriad of marks. When his hand breached your pyjama bottoms, cupping your cunt with excruciating affection, your stomach erupted with butterflies.

“How- do you- want- me?” He asked you between kisses, nose buried in the crook of your neck.

You swore, hips uselessly pushing against his touch, “I’m really not picky.” You rushed, becoming more and more desperate for his touch.

Geto snorted, pressing a gentle kiss against the column of your throat, “That’s not very helpful, sweetheart.”

“Just- touch me!” You whined, impatiently, your grip on his hair tightening. As you tugged, Geto made a low noise at the back of his throat.

“Whore.” You laughed breathlessly as he playfully bit down on your neck, his fingers finally slipping between your folds.

Geto smirked into your neck and you could feel it. “I wouldn’t be getting so cocky, if I were you.” He warned, circling your clit with his fingertip.

“Do your worst.” You grinned, pulling his face back to yours to make out with him again. When you pulled his hair again, he moaned against your lips oh-so prettily, fuelling the burning lust inside of you. You were hyper-aware of every graze of his skin against you, somehow his fingers against you felt 10 times better than you own and it made you insatiable. You could feel the coil in your lower stomach begin to snap as Geto’s tongue fucked your mouth, shamelessly moaning against your tongue. You were so close, soso close…

Geto pulled away, watching you with a grin. “Sorry, sweetheart.” He kissed your cheek, apologetically, “I’m impatient, and I really fucking need you right now.”

Despite your initial frustration, his words set your heart alite as you whined. He grunted as he lifted his hips, enabling you to kick your pyjama bottoms off, hastily. When you spread your legs for him, he sat back, using his middle and index finger to spread your dripping folds.

“Fuck.” He breathed, pressing his thumb against your entrance, “You’re soaked.”

Your hips involuntarily jutted into his touch, desperately searching for more.

“Geto, please.” You begged, hands clenching your sheets. His eyes flickered up to yours, his gaze dark.

“Suguru.” He muttered, starting to palm himself through his joggers, “Please. Call me Suguru.”

In the moonlight, the outline of his cock looked more impressive than any Renaissance painting you’d ever seen. You needed him so badly it hurt.

“Fuck, Suguru…” You pressed your thighs together, needily, as you watched him pull his joggers down, his cock hard and heavy, springing to stand against his lower stomach.

He was big.

No fuck that, he was massive.

You knew you had never even tried anything that big in your life, but maybe it was the way his precum dribbled down his thick shaft, you didn’t feel nervous at all.

Geto leaned in to kiss you softly, uttering gentle praise as he pressed his leaking tip to your entrance. Your fingers found purchase around his neck, fingernails digging in at the ache of the intrusion.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” Geto groaned against your lips, “Fuck, you feel so good, so fucking wet for me…”

Once he was halfway in, he slowed to kiss your cheek. “Such a good fucking girl.”

Impatiently, you rocked your hips against him, making him slide in further. You moaned, gasping at the feeling of being so full.

Geto wasn’t faring so well either, letting low whines slip as he inched in a little more until his hips were flush with yours.

His eyes met yours desperately, “You ok?” He swallowed, watching you carefully as you adjusted.

“Mhm.” You uttered, weakly, “You can move.”

Geto nodded, cheeks flushed, as he experimentally fucked into you, the steady slapping of your skin speeding up as you begged him for more. With a groan, he buried his head in your neck, releasing soft pants and grunts against your bruised skin. You cried out, nails raking down his back as his pace bordered on lethal as he pounded into you, forcing your body up and down your bed.

“Mhmm, ‘Sugu!” You whined, arching your back as he pressed inside of you. Geto nipped your neck, hands securing your hips as he changed his angle, hitting that sweet spot inside of you that made you drool.

“Right there- right there- please-“

You wrapped your legs around his waist as he abused your cunt, the wetness soaking the insides of your thighs and no doubt Geto’s crotch as well.

“Right there?” He teased, but his voice was husky and it was clear he was approaching his peak from the way he grunted after. One of his hands moved from its position on your hips, instead pressing down on your lower stomach. You wailed, thrashing against him as the burning pressure in your lower stomach climbed. You were so close.

“Fuck, please- Suguru I need you-” You were cut off by Geto’s lips as his hand moved to where you needed it the most, his fingers rubbing your sensitive clit. His pace sped up as he chased his own orgasm, the heat of your core irresistible to him.

“Fuck.” Geto groaned, “Can I?”

Your thighs tightened around his waist against your will. “Fuck no.” You hissed between kisses.

“Shit.”

It was too good, you didn’t want him to pull out, and you knew sure as hell that he didn’t either. You couldn’t risk it though.

With a final pinch of your swollen clit, you came, legs shaking and fingers tugging at his hair as you cried out. Geto wasn’t far behind, swearing as he pulled out despite your legs trapping him in.

With a few final tugs of his length, he came on your stomach, panting as he watched his spend dripped down your thighs.

“Fuck.”

“…Yeah…”

You closed your eyes, basking in the sleepiness of the aftermath. Somewhere next to you, Geto moved, leaning over you before you felt soft fabric on your lower stomach, cleaning up his mess on your body and your own mess between your thighs.

“Thanks.” You muttered, sleepily.

When Geto finally lay down next to you, he pulled you into his arms, kissing your forehead tenderly.

“I’ll see you again one day.” He whispered against your skin.

“You will.” You murmured, ignoring the lump in your throat, “One day.”

Geto released a content hum which vibrated in his chest and throat.

“I miss you already.”

[steddie-island]

Maybe it's not so obvious

@steddiemas day 16 - Angst themed sentence starters | WC: 996 | Rating: M (for language) | CW for light angst See full list of tags on ao3

“Just leave already. You obviously don’t want to be here.” 

Steve looked like he’d been kicked, and Eddie regretted his words immediately. Still, he had to put how he felt out there. He had to let Steve know that he was doing a terrible goddamn job of concealing the fact that he was miserable here. “Stop looking at me like that, like I just grew a second head. It’s true, and you know it.” 

“No it isn’t.” Steve was still frowning, and Eddie had the urge to reach out and smooth a thumb over his brow. He was going to get wrinkles if he kept doing that– not that Eddie had a problem with that, but the hundreds of dollars of skincare shit in Steve’s bathroom probably didn’t appreciate him making the problem worse. Eddie shifted where he stood and carefully made his way past the boxes of Christmas decorations scattered around the living room. The crutches made it easier for him to get around, but he’d proven a few times now that he could still fall while he was using them. “Just– stop lying, Steve. I’ve seen the way you’ve been acting, man. You– you’ve barely touched me, you won’t look at me. Just– stop pretending, all right? Do us both a favor and– go.” He fell onto the couch with a grunt, spent several long moments getting comfortable before he finally looked up at Steve.

Steve, whose eyes were wide and wet. “Eddie, you don’t– you don’t really think I don’t want to be here, do you?” he asked quietly.

“I’m pretty goddamn sure I just made it obvious that I know you don’t want to be,” he said. His voice was soft, despite the heat he meant to be behind his words. “You don’t want to be here, and maybe– maybe I don’t want you here, either.” Lie. That was a lie. Eddie wanted Steve here so bad that it made him ache, which made Steve’s wanting to be gone so bad hurt that much more. 

“You don’t… want me here?” Steve whispered. It was different if Eddie thought he didn’t want to be here, but if Eddie didn’t want him here… 

Eddie couldn’t answer, though, was suddenly very interested in the hole in the knee of his jeans. He’d barely gotten the lie out once, if Steve poked and prodded it was all going to come spilling out. 

“Eddie.” Steve took a second to move two boxes of decorations out of the way so Eddie could get around better later– always so goddamn thoughtful, even when he was being yelled at. “Eddie. Do… do you really not want me here?”

Eddie made a soft sound but didn’t look away from his knee. Why would Steve want to be here? Why would Steve choose to be in their shitty government bought trailer– which was less shitty than the trailer they’d lived in before, to be sure, but it was still a shitty trailer. Why would he want to be with Eddie when he had that big beautiful house, that he was sure was just dripping with decorations put up by some overpriced professional who carried a fucking chihuahua in her purse, even here in fucking Hawkins. His parents might not be there, but he could have Robin there, and the kids. Steve had no fucking reason to want to be here. With him. 

“Eddie.” Steve’s voice was small, quiet, and when Eddie looked over at him and saw the hurt on his face, he wanted to kick his own ass. 

“C’mon, Steve. I mean– why would you want to be here?” he asked, voicing some of his feelings finally. “I’ve seen you. The last few days you’ve walked around looking like you want to puke. I touch you, you pull away like you can catch something from me. If you’re tired of me–” He was cut off with a kiss, with Steve simultaneously pulling him in and surging forward himself, until their lips met in a kiss that was messy and clumsy. 

It certainly did the job, though, and when they broke apart Eddie’s eyes were wide. 

“I didn’t realize– I wasn’t trying to tell you that I don’t want to be here.” Steve swallowed hard. “I’ve been– trying not to let it out that I’m– these past few months, since you got out of the hospital… they’ve meant the world to me. Getting to know you, and your uncle… Fuck, Eddie. How could I want to be anywhere but here with you?” He swallowed. “I’ve been trying not to be a creep. I mean– I’ve helped you in the bath. What kind of pervert does that make me? And then the other day– you made a joke about mistletoe and I let myself hope for just a moment that maybe you could want me, too, but if you don’t–”

It was Steve’s turn to get cut off as Eddie gripped the lapels of his stupid fucking polo and pulled him in close. This kiss was clumsy, too, but as Steve wrapped an arm around Eddie’s waist and slipped closer, as Eddie leaned back into the corner of the couch and pulled Steve into his lap, it melted into something better, something warm and soft and so fucking tender. 

“I want you here,” Eddie whispered. “I’ve wanted you here the whole time, Stevie baby.”

“And I want to be here,” Steve murmured back. He lifted a hand to comb through Eddie’s hair, like he’d done a dozen times before, only this time he wasn’t just trying to help Eddie keep it untangled after a bath. “I’ve wanted to be here the whole time. Since before you woke up.” 

“I’m a fucking idiot.” Eddie shook his head and pulled Steve closer, until the other boy was practically lying on top of him. “Forgive me?” Steve bumped their noses together. “Only if you kiss me again.”

Eddie grinned, and was more than happy to comply. 

[thyln4gf]

Friends

✞ You and Carlos have been best friends since forever. But is platonic love really everything that you feel for each other?

✞ Word count - 2,5k

✞ I have synesthesia! Heres 5 songs that I associate with this fic - "genie in a bottle" - Christina Aguilera, "friends" - Chase Atlantic, "a rash decision" - Ice Nine Kills, "sonne" - Rammstein, "dont be so shy" - Imany.

✞ Warnings - smut, unprotected sex (wrap the beast before the feast, folks), the influence of alcohol. I also wrote the most of it at like 4am, so pardon the quality of it, thank yewww x

✞ Carlos Sainz x fem!reader

As soon as you step into the house, a soft groan of relief leaves your throat. Your heels immediately get kicked off of your feet, and you dont even bother to fiddle with the straps too much. You had a long, long evening - formal settings werent exactly your natural habitat, but being there with Carlos made them much more bearable. You are his best friend, and he is a famous figure, meaning that he invites you to all sorts of events all the damn time. Speaking of which - he was watching you with amusement, completely aware of the fact that you werent exactly in a huge amount of comfort at the moment.

"And whos not making any sense now? I told you not to wear those." Carlos slips the comment your way, making you roll your eyes only hearing the three magic words. He didnt tell you everything, though - yes, he knew how uncomfortable your heels were. And yes, he also knew that walking in them sucked. But he kept something to himself - the fact that only the thought of those heels excited him, as he had always liked to imagine taking them off for you. He could vividly imagine kneeling right in front of you, taking his sweet time, kissing your skin everywhere that he could reach. He liked the idea of it a little too much, to the point he found himself disappointed when the sight of you kicking them off greeted him.

"I had no choice, and you know it. I had nothing else to go with this dress!" You complain, vaguely gesturing at the dress you were wearing - the tired whine in your voice was obvious. Carlos' eyes slide up and down your body as you did so - he had a chance, and he took it. God, he loved this dress - the red, short-ish dress with a slit on the side - the tattoo on your thigh peeked through each and every time that you moved. He got a sudden urge to bite your thigh right there and then, but he knew that hed be overstepping the boundaries.

All he does is let out an amused, half-chuckle type of laugh. He loved listening to your rants. And boy, could you do that just fine - your mouth never closed. And he loved it.

He started slipping his own shoes off, all while watching you walk into your kitchen - your movements were so smooth, to the point that he swore that you were floating sometimes. He doesnt want to have you out of his sight for too long, so he takes his shoes off just a little faster than he normally would, and following your idea of entering the kitchen. There he found you by one of the counters, pouring yourself a glass of wine. He lets a small smile appear on his lips - he just couldnt help himself around you.

"Tired, amor?" His voice floats through the air, smooth as butter on toast, and just as warm. He always used that specific petname for you, and only you. And youd be a liar if you said that it didnt make you feel some type of way - the tone he used never failed to turn you on just a little, despite you two being... friends? You werent too sure at this point. You just shrug at him as a response, still trying to grab a set of words that were coherent enough. You swirl the beverage in your glass around, eyebrows rising up for barely a second before taking a sip.

Yet another thing that he enjoyed about you - watching all those small habits of yours, which you probably dont even notice. He liked observing you, just looking at you. And he didnt even try to hide it - he'd just wink at you each and every time that you caught him doing so, with no shame.

He wasnt exactly shy, but when it came to you... he felt like he was a teenager all over again. You made his head spin, and it was a much more enjoyable high than alcohol could ever provide. Only the thought of you made his chest tighten, the air threatening to escape his lungs. He shouldnt be so nervous around you, he thought. He could get anyone all giggly in the matter of seconds. Proof? Charles. But you were a special case... thats for sure. The roles were reversed - you were the one that had him thinking about you all day and night, wishing to get out of the friendzone that everyone hated oh so much. He might have had a wank or two with you lingering on his mind - the way you smelled, the way your eyes looked at him. If the dictionary ever needed a picture to describe being down-bad, they should just stick one of Carlos in there.

After a minute of him staring at you with your drink, you look his way. It felt like a routine at this point - you look away from him even for a fraction of a second, and you know that youre going to see his goofy smirk staring right back at you. But this time... this time, something was off. You couldnt tell if it was the alcohol, or something else (you had a pretty awesome night, despite the event being a formal dinner, but thats a standard at this point) - he was looking at you with an almost... hungry look in his eyes. He looked like he was about to drill a hole through your soul, and was particularly enjoying himself, shooting the usual wink your way, before walking up to lean against the counter, right by your side. His thigh brushes against yours, the material of the suit against your skin almost making you shiver.

"You know what would make tonight even better?" He speaks up, his eyes never leaving yours. Hes acting all smooth and smug right now, but you could see him swallowing his own saliva, and his cheeks turning just a tad bit more red.

"Spill it, big boy. Im listening." You reply, your voice sounding just as seductive as his, almost making his brain short circuit - and you can see it from the way his grin makes its way back onto his lips. He had always found your teases adorable, honestly. Hats off for that.

"Well..." Carlos hesitated for a second, which wasnt like him at all - he was nervous, and it was an adorable sight to witness. "We could have the evening to ourselves and..." his eyes moved to your lips for a split second, letting his gaze linger on them for way longer than what he had considered the "safe limit". He only managed to speak again in a second, seemingly collecting himself a little better now. It didnt mean that his cheeks werent heating up in embarrassment, though. "Well, you know."

A chuckle slips from your throat upon hearing his offer. He was beating around the bush slightly, but not like you minded. You had always liked this goofball of a man, and his methods of getting his way. You never let them sink in deep, confused on his true intentions behind his actions. But something about this evening... the alcohol has hit your brain already, and awhile ago, and all you could think about was your friends lips all over you.

You down the rest of your drink, and put the glass down on the counter, a little to the right of you. You turn your head to Carlos, once again. He couldnt be more predictable - youre greeted with a sight of him staring at the hand handling the glass, then your waist. Eventually, up to your eyes. You stare back at him. You raise your finger to trace it along his jawline, his chin, the bottom half of his cheeks. He gulps, getting much more nervous than he was before.

"Youre adorable, did you know that?" You whisper right in front of his face, your warm breath hitting his lips. He doesnt even get to respond, before he feels your lips on his. His brain doesnt even register what was happening at first, but his body reacts way before his brain - his left hand immediately went to your hip, pulling you to his body. The other one is now gripping the counter, and he finds himself hoping that his knees wont give out. He could smell the cherry and cinnamon wine on you the moment you got closer, and he doesnt waste any time - he pushes his tongue out of his mouth, hungry and desperate to taste more. He groans, and your hand slides to his neck in response, gripping it ever so slightly, pulling him closer. He takes it as permission to shove his tongue even deeper, earning a little chuckle out of you.

Quickly enough, his other hand goes down to your hips as well, now caressing them with great intensity. The material of your dress slides up ever so slightly, and he just cant wait much longer - he lifts you without even trying, and places you on the counter. His movements are harsh and desperate, and he doesnt notice the glass. He knocks it over, and it shatters to pieces, right on the floor.

"Carlos..." you groan against his mouth, trying to pull away a little, so you could actually look at what just happened. You earn a sigh out of him for that - out of all the scenarios he had imagined of your first time together... all the circumstances of you moaning his name for the first time were not that. He clicks his tongue, and grabs your chin, turning your face to his, slamming his lips back on yours. It was almost like him saying that he really couldnt be giving less shits. He wanted you, and he was forced to wait for way too fucking long.

His other hand travels down to your thigh, now kneading it like his life depended on it. A moan slips from you, right into his mouth. The grip that you still have on his throat only tightens, causing his movements to become even more aggressive.

He tries to slide your dress up to your waist, but the fabric being trapped between the countertop and your body didnt let him. He lets out a slow groan of frustration. Desperate times call for desperate solutions, no? He leans you against his body, leaning back a little himself. That lets him pull the skirt up. He has barely even brushed his fingertips against your skin, but it was just enough to make your certain area feel a little tingly already.

He wants to take off your underwear as well, while you two are at it. He finds that his back cant take much more of being in this position, but he still hesitates about doing that, his fingers tugging the lacy material ever so slightly. You notice it, and grab one of his wrists to guide him to take those off, almost desperately. You can hear him sucking in a breath, but not resisting anything at all.

Once theyre off, he sits you back down to your previous position. His lips pull away from yours first, something that he never thought that he would be doing. He keeps staring into your eyes, his hands reaching to take his own pants off. This man had his tongue down your throat just seconds ago, and even that didnt make your face heat up more than this.

His pants are off in the matter of seconds. For a second there, he was close to fucking you just like this, through the hole his underpants had in the front. He ended up taking the underwear off as well, and it flied off even faster than the pants did, his boner getting freed as well.

He cant resist looking down to your pussy, already so wet and ready for him. So needy. You had always put up a tough demeanour, which you were trying to maintain even now. Adorable, he thought. He looks back up to your eyes while getting closer to you again, his palms landing on your thighs, spreading your legs just slightly. He was desperate, almost shaking with desire. But he still wanted to get your consent. God, you love men doing the bare minimum so much. All you can manage is a brief nod, and its all it takes him - he almost explodes on you. His lips immediately attack your neck, pressing multiple kisses everywhere that he could reach. He was never a man who liked to waste much time, and it shows - he gave his cock a few pumps before entering you right away, yet still taking his sweet time to let you adjust to him. He earns a gasp out of you, as you throw your head back. He cant help himself, and the kisses on your neck turn into gentle bites. You moan a little louder - feeling him on you, and in you was almost overwhelming, and you could already feel the knot in your lower stomach forming. Though, you werent sure if it was that, or his length hitting you deep. Or both.

He was even closer than you were. The precum has leaked long before he even took his pants off. Honestly... Being near you was almost like keeping an infinite edging streak - sexually frustrating torture. He thrusts into you for a few more minutes, and he already knows that hes about to cum. He groans in frustration (but only because you havent reached your high yet - he was disappointed with himself. But its not his fault that you were so... hot) and is about to pull out, but your legs suddenly wrap around his waist, pulling him closer right before he can do that. A loud moan slips from his throat, the warm liquid already filling you up so good. And you find himself shutting him up with a kiss - the sloppiest youve ever had at this point.

His movements stop, his mind hazy from all the pleasure he's receiving. All he can focus on is you, and only you. You were content with leaving things like this, you were honestly about to cum anyway. Just another minute of him staying inside of you... But Carlos seemed to have gotten a different idea. Suddenly, he's in a kneeling position right in front of you, looking up with his pretty eyes. His eyelashes are longer than mine... what the fuck?

However, your train of thought quickly melts away when his tongue makes contact with your clit. He wanted to go slow just to tease you, but all the pretty sounds you were making teased him instead, and he found himself speeding up just a little, making sure to apply some more pressure as well. And, soon enough, youre riding your own high against his face. Both of your breaths are heavy, and both of you could be found smiling.

You both forgot about the load in you, however. You were still bathing in the dopamine after-high, the satisfaction making both of your heads spin. He looked up at you, again. And right at this moment, marrying your best friend seemed possible - something you never believed in.

[sanjisboyfie]

draken would be the best boyfriend. without a doubt. in all aspects.

the way he very fondly calls you "his" in public, as well as anything like that, "my boy," "my boyfriend," etc etc....its so endearing to see this absolute tower of a man just smile in the most innocent way and proudly saying, "oh, can't hang out tonight, my man's keeping me home to watch some shitty movies."

draken's casual dominance is something that really shines through. how many times he's pulled you in closer in crowded rooms by your waist. how many times he's guided you through said crowded rooms by the small of your back. but if it gets really hard to maneuver out of those places, he allows you to either hold onto his hand or his pant's belt loops as he guides you through - with the size of him, the crowd usually disperses in a straight line for him to walk through, thus making it easy for you to follow after him.

or, how he leans down however far he needs to in order for him to clearly hear you if you're in a noisy enviornment. and he goads you into repeating what you said with a smirk and, "no, no, c'mon, babe, i'm listening,"

he is so fucking annoying when it comes to kissing or public affection. not that he shys away from it or even minds, it's the way he purposely uses his height to taunt you. makes you really get on your tippy toes for a kiss, a smirk plastered on his face the entire time you're struggling. or, if he really wants to aggravate you, just completely engulfs your body with his. he hugs you from the back, cages you in his arms, and leaves you almost completely immobile and makes you only be able to move if he does. childish and taunting shit he does that's - kind of really cute and endearing, but draken won't let you walk down the street freely without his 6'1 self completely restricting your bodily movements.

has the most smitten look in his eyes when you do anything. bro is your no.1 fan and isn't ashamed to make it obvious. you could be just ordering your coffee at the counter and he puts his arm around your shoulder and leans into you while saying with a cheesy smile, "my boyfriend's just the cutest, isn't he?" and of course the barista has to agree because, "what do you mean you don't think my boyfriend's the cutest? you wanna explain that to me before i really send your ass flying, bastard?"

really treasures alone time with you. his life is hectic and he just wants to soak in any time he gets with you, just being with you. will hold you close in private moments, his head buried in your neck and shoulder, murmuring about, "i missed my boy all day," with a tired sigh and steady breaths, trying to take in all of your scent.

it's in those moments draken looks undeniably so much smaller than he really is. the way he looks as if he wants your entire presence to swallow him whole - at least, if that happened, he could just stay with you forever. it's the way he is completely buried in your arms, torso, and neck that makes him look so fragile. he's probably spent the whole day catering to other people's needs and following others orders that when he gets home, he just needs you to recharge and really calm down from his hectic schedule.

[rachetmath]

Ruby: Okay has anyone noticed anything wrong with Jaune?

Yang: Ruby he is in therapy. He’s fine.

Ruby: I know but that’s not the problem.

Weiss: She right he’s kind of been off lately.

Nora: What do you mean?

Blake: Jaune seems to get easily frustrated and distracted.

Nora: I mean when is he never?

Ruby: Yeah but you would think Jaune being in therapy he would not get like that so easily.

Yang: He’s probably having a hard time readjusting.

Ren: But it has been months though.

Nora: It’s a slow recover.

Ren: But it’s seems to be happening in a pattern.

Oscar: How so?

Emerald: It’s what causes him to lack focus and push him.

Yang: Wait does Jaune want to fight someone?

Blake: How are you not looking?

Qrow: What are you all talking about?

Ruby: Jaune’s issue.

Qrow: Yeah I noticed it.

Ruby: Really?

Qrow: Yeah and I understand. The struggle is real. He needs to get it.

Nora: So he does want to fight someone.

Ren: Nora, come on, keep up.

Oscar: None of you are making sense.

Ozpin: Oscar it’s obvious.

Oscar: What is?

Jaune: Hi, everyone.

Ruby: Oh.

Weiss: Wow Jaune you look... happy.

Jaune: Yeah I finally got what I needed to get the edge off.

Blake: *laughs and sarcastically*Really? By who?

Jaune: By Elm.

RWBQRE: *chew drop*

Jaune: Yeah, it was fun. And I feel a lot better now.

Blake: (No freakin way. With their height difference and her body mass.)

Yang: Well I’m glad you are okay.

Nora: Dang you and Elm must have went all out in the sparring match.

RWB, Qrow, Ren and Emerald: (What the fuck? They can’t be-)

Jaune: Yeah… ... a ‘sparring match’. Yeah.

Ren: (BULLSHIT! HE HAS TO BE LYING!)

Yang: How many rounds did you two go? I bet I could go more rounds than her.

Blake: YANG!!!

Yang: What?

Nora: Yeah Yang, you can go ten but I can go twenty.

Ren: *face palm* Nora please.

Nora: Ren come on you know I can do it.

Ruby and Weiss: (Idiots. The both of them.)

Oscar: Um-(covered)

Emerald: Shut up. You’ll thank me later once we talk.

Jaune: Sorry, Yang and Nora but I lost count after five.

Blake:(NO! No freaking way! You got to be lying! There is no way without getting your back broken.)

Ren: (How much frustration have you been holding?! And how come I couldn’t see it?!)

Ruby: Blake are you okay? You look frustrated.

Blake: Nothing Ruby.

Yang: Well okay we’ll ask Elm tomorrow.

Jaune: Um. I wouldn’t.

Nora: And why not?

Jaune: Reasons. (I over did it.)

Yang: Jaune there is no need to be embarrassed, we already know. She pinned you.

Jaune: (Oh hell no! F you too,) You know what, ask her tomorrow. She’ll give you both the juicy details. See you later.

Nora: Glad you’re okay Jaune.

The Next day

Yang: Hey Elm.

Elm: *tired and yawns* Hello.

Nora: Wow you look horrible.

Elm: What did you expect? Your friends was beast.

Yang: What you mean? Jaune was on an island for I don’t know how long. Of course he be difficult but he couldn't beat you.

Jaune: You know we talk outside if you want.

Elm: Yes, I see. No wonder he was bit ruff last night.

Blake: (NO!)

Ren: (No. No. No! No way possible.)

Qrow:(Damn, he actually hit that. And survived.)

Emerald: (How much heat was he packing?)

Jaune: I’m sorry. I know I over did it. I was overwhelmed.

Elm: Don’t worry you did wonders for me. Especially on your first try.

Yang: Yeah but--- wait “first try?” “Last night?”

Nora: … … …

Jaune: I mean I know I could have done better.

Elm: You were fine. Especially after round ten. You were a monster.

Nora: No. No. No way.

Yang: Impossible.

Elm: In fact my body is still sore after that. It was miracle I was able to stand up at all.

Oscar: *blushes*

Emerald: Told you so.

Ozpin: (*sigh* You’re going to need some time to process this.)

Yang and Nora: *blush and faint*

Blake: YANG!

Ren: NORA!

Elm: Oh. Too much.

Jaune: Yeah. Just enough.

Afterwards…

Nora: Jaune what the hell?!

Jaune: *laughs*

Yang: I thought you were having hard time readjusting?

Jaune: I was but...I had other needs.

Yang: Oh my gosh and I said I can last longer than Elm. In the sheets no less.

Jaune: *laughs*

Yang: *red eyed and blushes* NOT FUNNY!!!

Ruby: I mean how did you not notice it?

Yang: What are you talking about Ruby?

Ruby: Yang seriously? You didn’t know after Jaune was looking at your breast instead of your eyes.

Yang: What?

Blake: Or how he was staring at Emerald’s ass.

Emerald: I knew it. Especially after Nora-

Jaune: No-no let’s not go there.

Nora: Wait you mean when I… Jaune really?

Jaune: …. Sorry.

Ren: Or how Jaune was staring at every girl or woman that passes him.

Yang; Holy. T-then how did Elm-

Jaune: Elm saw. She teased me. I reached my limit. Wanted to hit it. She gave me a shot. Mission complete.

Nora: This can’t be real. Why?

Jaune: I was on an island. Alone.

Nora: So?

Jaune; I was alone. With no human people. Just toys and objects. What else must I say?

Yang: Okay. But why Elm?

Jaune: It was either her, Harriet, Winter, or Fiona.

Weiss: Hold on, what?

Yang: The f*** wrong with you?

Jaune: Again I was on an island. No humans. What do you expect? Booty was the second thing on my mind besides going home.

Nora: Well okay but why just Elm, Harriet, Winter and Fiona?

Jaune: … … …

Weiss: JAUNE!!

Nora: You mother-

Yang: Really?!

Emerald: We judging now?

Jaune: Hold on. Hold on now, I don’t recall any of you girls throwing me anything. What rights do you have to judge me?

Yang; She is older than you.

Jaune: I’m older than you!

Weiss: You were thinking about my sister?

Jaune: If it makes you feel any better she was my last option.

Weiss: No. No it does not.

Jaune: I mean for me it was worth it.

Ruby: Wait Winter is last? How are the others ranked?

Yang: Why is that your concern?

Ruby: I want answers.

Jaune: Well Fiona was my top choice. Harriet was my second. Elm was originally my third. And Winter is last.

Blake: Why is Fiona on top?

Jaune: She’s cute and doesn’t need ass or big chest to prove anything. And she actual helps her people.

Blake: *sad*

Ruby: Why is Harriet second?

Jaune: Nice ass, cute and good tits.

Nora: Elm?

Jaune: The challenge. And despite her warrior spirit, she's kind.

Weiss: Okay, I might regret this but… why is Winter last?

Jaune: You know why.

Weiss: F*** you too then.

Jaune: You wish.

Weiss: I did. I wish I could’ve been your first.

Ruby: Oh Weiss. You are Pyrrha now.

[fatuismooches]

HIII!! First of all I wanted to say that i love your blog and your writing! it brings me so much comfort :(( ANYWAY I WANTED TO REQUEST SOME CUDDLING HEADCANONS AND MAYBE A SMALL SCENARIO WITH DOTTORE?? fluff!! yknow just sleepy cuddles <3

It wasn't often that you woke up to your husband in the same bed as you. Of course, at this point, you were used to Dottore's absence, but nothing could quite fill the void that you felt when you rose from a cold bed. And although you did bother the other segments for affection to your heart's content, even they found themselves many times too busy to entertain sleeping in with you. Still, you were just happy to be with them and cherish the soft moments that happened whenever they did.

However, a habit of yours that had developed whenever you were feeling the lack of attention, was slipping into your husband's (or a segment's) room and snuggling on his (not very comfortable) bed. If you were being honest, Dottore's bed, much to your dismay, didn't really smell like him very much, for a simple reason - he rarely ever lays on it. An easy remedy to this, however, was just to steal one of his shirts. The scent was very... Dottore-like, something that oddly brought comfort to you.

On this particular day, you easily made your way into his office - empty, unfortunately, but not too surprising. He was probably in that lab of his as usual. Regardless, as you entered into the connecting (very bland) bedroom, you immediately made yourself at home on his bed. In fact, it was exactly how you left it a few days ago, messy and tussled, meaning that Dottore certainly hadn't slept on it again. Perhaps he didn't even enter his own room for that long. Your urgent words for him to rest only got through his thick skull once in a blue moon. Regardless, you pulled the blankets up and curled into them, eager to preserve the warmth, and too tired to fluff the pillows a bit more before you fell asleep.

When you woke up, the first thing you noticed was that you were a lot more warmer than usual. And then, when you tried stretching to pull off a bit of the blanket, your body's movement was strangely constricted by something else. Plus, it felt like it was a lot earlier than when you usually get up. Your sleepy mind had just barely begun processing the situation when a sudden voice abruptly woke you up a lot more.

"Go back to sleep." The voice was a bit deeper and gruff than usual, but undoubtedly, it could only belong to one person, which made your heart start racing with excitement.

"Dottore!" You immediately began wiggling in his arms, trying to turn around and see him, sleepiness still holding your body hostage, not to mention how tight his arms were. "Let me see you," you complained.

"Stop moving around," he grumbled some more. "Now is not the time I wish to entertain you." And yet he languidly began to nip at the nape of your neck. But that reminded you - for him to be in bed was already a rare occurrence, and from his voice, it sounded like he was genuinely sleeping. This was... excellent news, so you probably shouldn't push your luck.

"Fine," you complied, relaxing your body once more. A wave of sleepiness hit you despite your energy from a few moments ago, but you ignored it. "What are you doing here?"

"What am I doing here?" Dottore parroted, as his sharp teeth continued to dig into your skin. "I come back to my room and find my bed occupied by someone who wasn't invited. The question should be, what are you doing here?" You could only sheepishly laugh as you remembered everything.

"Well... you should know your room is mine too, you know! Besides, to make it even, you're welcome in my room anytime too!~" Dottore clicked his tongue, but it was obvious to you he didn't mind your intrusion in the slightest.

"Regardless, go back to sleep. You are tired." Despite your attempts to stifle your yawns and hide your drooping eyes, your husband had noticed it all too well.

"Don't wanna," you quickly protested. Before he could open his mouth again (and perhaps teasingly threaten to help you sleep) you spoke again.

"If I go to sleep again now, when I wake up, you won't be here anymore, will you?" You didn't need to see his expression or wait for a response to know the answer to that.

"So let me do as I please, Zandik. Let me be with you." Let you bask in this moment, fully conscious of what is going on, being able to feel and process his skin against yours and more, for you would hate to be unable to remember this gentle encounter.

"... Do what you wish, but don't bother me when you're too tired to do anything." His seemingly annoyed statement was betrayed by his arms tightening around you.

"I will." Your response ended the line of conversation, a comfortable silence now taking over. Needless to say, you wallowed in his strong back pressed against yours, his callused hands against your own, a long lock of blue hair tickling your neck. You made sure to take note of even the most minuscule details before it was time for life to resume.

What existed at this moment was merely two human beings, so similar yet so different, with their troubles and masks discarded to savor the presence of each other.