#file descriptor

[wirelessmemoryadministratorbrad]

[mentalisttraceur-software]

Process "File" Descriptors (PID FD)

Linux in recent years has fixed some of the biggest annoyances I had with the UNIX model, and I'm feeling rather happy about this. One example of this is with how you can refer to processes.

With traditional UNIX APIs, you can never signal a process without a PID reuse race condition. The problem is somewhat inherent to the model: a PID is just an integer reference to a kernel-level Thing, but crucially, that Thing is not being passed around between processes. If I tell you the PID 42, that's not qualitatively different from you randomly picking the number 42 - either way, you can try to signal whichever process currently has PID 42. You might not have permissions to signal the current resident of that PID for other reasons, but you don't need a prior relationship to signal it - you don't need to receive any capability object from anyone. I haven't given you something tied to any process, I just gave you a number, and in the traditional UNIX model there's nothing better (more intrinsically tied to a single process) to pass around.

Compare file descriptors. An FD is also "just" an integer, but having that integer is worthless unless you also have the kernel-level Thing shared with your process. Even if I give you the number 2, you can't write to my stderr - I have to share my stderr, for example by inheritance or by passing it through a UNIX domain socket.

This difference is subtle but technically crucial for eliminating race conditions: since an FD has to be shared from one process to another through the kernel, and the underlying "file" descriptor/description is managed and owned by the kernel, when you later use the FD in a system call, the kernel can always know a fully unambiguous identity of which Thing you were referring to. If you just told it 42 in some global ID space, well do you mean the thing currently at index 42? Or did you really think you were referring to a thing which existed some time ago at index 42? That information has been lost, or at least isn't being conveyed. But if you told it 42 in your file descriptor table, now that can hold more information, so it can remember precisely which thing your 42 was referring to when you last received or changed it.

So how did Linux fix this?

We now have "PID FDs", which are magic FDs referring to processes. Processes "as a file", in a more true and complete way than the older procfs stuff.

Unlike PIDs, which by design can only travel around like raw numbers divorced from the true identity information they gesture at, a PID FD can never lose track of the process it refers to: if that process dies, its PID FD will forever "know" that its dead even if the PID is reused (because when that process yields to or is preempted by the kernel for the last time, the kernel remembers that there's a PID FD for it which needs to be updated, and even if the kernel recycles the PID it knows not to update that PID FD to point to the new process).

And we now have a system calls which let us

create a new process (or thread!) and have that return a PID FD instead of a PID (or "TID" in the case of threads, but in the Linux kernel those are basically the same thing)

signal a PID FD instead of the traditional PID (or TID), and

wait on a PID FD (in fact, the FDs just plug into the normal poll, select, or epoll system calls, so waiting on process or thread status can just hook into all existing event loops).

The one crucial thing is that we must not forget that these guarantees only start once we've gotten the PID FD: in particular, if you get a PID FD from a PID instead of getting the PID FD directly, you still need to check once if the PID hasn't gotten invalidated between when you got the PID and when you got the PID FD. This is something you can only do as the direct parent or (sub)reaper of the PID in question, because then you can use the traditional "wait" system call on the PID after getting the PID FD - if getting the PID FD succeeded but then the wait reports that the PID exited, that means you could've gotten a PID reuse by the time you got the PID FD from the PID.

So ideally, we just don't deal in PIDs at all anymore. When we create a process, we can get its PID FD atomically with the creation. (If we can't do that, if we're creating the process and then getting the PID FD with a separate system call, we do the wait check described in the last paragraph after getting the PID.) Then we pass the PID FD around - this might superficially look like passing an integer around, for example if you need to use the FD number in a shell redirection or communicate it to a child process, but underneath that the actual FD would be getting passed around either by inheritance, UNIX domain sockets, or whatever other means are available.

I've been wanting this for years. I've spent a lot of mental cycles trying to figure out the most elegantly minimal and composable primitives which could work around various problems in service supervision and automatic restarts in the face of random processes dying or getting killed. Those edge cases are now much more simple to totally cover by using the PID FD stuff, at least so long as we're willing to lose compatibility with the BSDs and other Unix-y systems until they catch up. Which, honestly, is an increasingly appealing proposition as Linux has been adding good stuff like this lately.

P.S. On that note, another thing we now have, is the ability to reach into a process (if we have its PID FD and have the same relationship to it (or elevated privileges) that we'd need to hook into it with debugger system calls) and copy a file descriptor out of it. This means we no longer need a child process to have been coded to share it with us through a domain socket or by forking or exec-chaining into a process we specify. Accessing file descriptors in already-running processes enables some neat monkey-patching and composition, and it's simpler to implement than the UNIX domain socket trick. I remember being frustrated about 7 years ago by the lack of ability to do exactly this - reach down into a child process (for example into a shell script, which has no built-in ability to access the "ancillary data" of a socket) and pluck a file descriptor out of it.

[arolesbianism]

Alright boys pack it up no more rain world posting new oni dlc is coming out in less than a week

[finnyinspace]

[littleaipoms-rebagel-carpentry]

🎉 i love doing this every year c:

[grandisknight]

afternoon treatment | zayne

summary: Zayne follows the "doctor's orders" in order to feel better.

tags: suggestive, established relationship, gn!reader (no specific descriptors), soft zayne, medical kink, 'doctor' kink, kissing, medical procedures (auscultation), medical inaccuracies (in a sense), chest mention, straddling

wc: 2.2k | ao3 | kinktober in deepspace masterlist

a/n: relax time affinity 80 with zayne and that one liner he has. that's it, that's the tweet.

Afternoons at Akso Hospital were always the busiest, from routine check-ups to meetings alike. Staff and accompanying patients hustled through the halls and hushed rooms—there was always something happening, and the cardiac surgery department was no different.

Yet, today seemed to offer Zayne some grace and time to reside in the chilled comforts of his workspace. The morning surgery went well, and his next procedure wouldn’t be for another hour or two. 

Therefore, he’s rewarded himself with a simple diagnosis report. The file was lighter in subject, easier to digest in comparison to what was usually on his plate. In his mind, this was a well-fitted solution to kill some time before returning to sterile scrubs and tense operating rooms.

Glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, he looks over their exterior when a soft series of familiar knocks reach his door.

“It’s open,” he calls out, rectangular reflection returning to the onscreen data. Without missing a beat and sparing another glance, he adds on, “Weren’t you supposed to visit a No-Hunt Zone today?”

“Finished my observations earlier than expected,” you chirped, pushing the door to a close and striding towards his busy desk. 

Recent reports of Metaflux fluctuations had consumed your bright morning with Herte Knaves running amok. Nothing out of the ordinary from your usual line of work, easily dealt with in a couple of bulleted blows. Their dispersing remains flecked the air in a quiet flurry that reminded you of snowflakes—naturally, your feet led you to the pristine floors of Akso soon thereafter.

Curiously, you sidestep to shadow his focused form, gaze altering between the wall of text and precise clicks of his keys. “Thought you were on break, but it seems like you’re working,” you mumble, in awe of his steady pace. “As always, Dr. Zayne.”

He speaks with an obvious, “Well, I am at work. The call is coming from inside the house.”

“Zayne,” you punctuate. His sarcasm doesn’t go unnoticed, and you cross your arms in turn. “You know what I mean.”

A faint chuckle passes under his breath. “You’re accusing me as if I’m in the wrong.”

He was not, actually—far from it. That goes without saying when you were in the middle of his office, imposing during said work time. But you’ve been in his graces for nearly a year now, and know well enough that it was only around this time in the afternoons would he be able to catch a breather.

You shake your head, putting on your best voice before coming to your defense. “No, but the doctor’s orders require you to take a break.”

This catches his attention, fingers slowing their clicks and chair swiveling to face you head on. Slight confusion quirks his brow, mirroring your folded arms in observation. “And pray tell, who would that be? Last time I checked, only one of us is a certified surgeon in this room.”

Your eyes instinctively dart to his stationed badge, credentials on full display against his chest pocket. He had you beat there, at the very least.

“You may hold a degree for medical hearts,” you start, taking a step into the space of his parted knees and tapping your chest. 

“But I hold the degree to your heart.” Your finger redirects to the meeting point of his neckline, resting above the aforementioned muscle.

“Is that so?” The corners of his lips lift, amused by your display and newfound authority. “I was unaware of such a professional. Surely, I would’ve remembered seeing someone as dedicated as you during my studies.” 

He takes the chance to brush away a strand of hair hugging your cheek, neatly tucking it behind your ear. Gentle appreciation fills his comment of, “Would’ve made them much more enjoyable, too.”

“That’s besides the point.” You wave him off, though it doesn’t fan away the heat blushing your ears, sensing his underlying meaning. 

Returning to your self-presumed role, you nod. “As your dedicated and completely legitimate doctor, I believe you’re showing concerning symptoms.”

Zayne hums, withdrawing his hand. “I’m afraid your assessment is lost on me. What exactly are these symptoms?”

“Well, my patient seems to love working overtime. This can cause unnecessary stress to the body and mind, for one.” 

You lift one knee to bracket his, the other following in suit—Zayne adapts rather quickly, leaning back to give you space as you carefully straddle his waist. His arms naturally circle around you, hands hovering your tailbone to keep you steady.

Neatly settled on top, you continue with your mild lecture of reported observations. “Even though he should be using the precious time in-between work to give himself a well-deserved break, he does the exact opposite.” 

“He is on a break,” Zayne says to his defense. “It’s barely considered heavy work.”

“Doing any kind of work during down-time does not count, mister,” you chide.

You gently tussle his bangs, pushing them to the side and revealing his forehead. Smoothing over the skin above his brow, your eyes searched his expression before noting a shadow of fatigue beneath his lashes. He really was working himself to the bone, even if he didn’t want to admit it. 

“A dire symptom of a workaholic is when his skin is faring worse than usual,” you exaggerate. “Your eye bags are so prominent they could be checked in at the airport.”

“It’s not that bad,” he murmurs, eyes crinkling at your touch. They flutter to a close when your hand slides to cup his face, thumb brushing the high of his cheekbone in gentle care. “The lighting just makes it seem worse for wear. I’m fine.”

“I beg to differ.” You slowly trail downwards, caressing the side of his neck with a pursed lip. 

His pulse point thrummed nicely against your fingers, and a curious press elicited a low sigh from him. Unexpected, though the sound was music to your ears and had butterflies rampant in your stomach. A part of you wanted to hear more of the gravelly timbre that rarely made an appearance—you knew what needed to be done.

Picking up where you left off, more of your self-declared medical ramblings followed. “See here? Another symptom, such a fast pace surely isn’t for the faint of heart. Your apical pulse,” to which your fingertips lightly drag themselves towards, “can’t lie to me.”

Zayne is breathless by the time he formulates a response in sincerity. “How can we go about a treatment plan, then? It seems pretty serious.”

A slowed, purposeful pronunciation follows soon thereafter. “Doc-tor.”

Your heart skipped not one, but two beats—dangerous, surely, but it fell short in the face of Zayne’s steadfast compliance. He peers up at you, factually smitten and framed softly by the office lights blending the contours of his face. You raise your other hand to hold his fine face between them. Admiring, in awe of all that he was.

“There’s only one known treatment option, I’ll have you know.” Unable to hide your smile, you quickly add, “Might require mouth to mouth if things go south.”

Zayne’s pools of hazel flick to your upturned lips, before meeting your mischievous stare with a hint of his own.

“Is this truly scientifically proven, or did you come all this way just to kiss me?”

“Yes,” was all you offered to his question, before placing an airy kiss to his cupid’s bow. 

A second found its way to the bridge of his nose, laid over the slight ridge you adore before another rested between his raised brows. His eyes flutter to a close when your lips gently pressed to his temple, stilling at the contact. Slowly, you leave a trail of love across his cheeks, pausing once you meet the corner of his mouth.

Your thumb brushes against his lower lip, smiling at the way he parts them so readily for you. His chin tilts in the direction of your touch, mouthing the chase. A flush of pink sinked into his skin, a perfect peach for you to sink your teeth into.

“Tell me,” you say softly. Your fingers curl underneath his chin, observing the lidded gaze that follows. “Does it hurt anywhere?”

A tender exhale pushes past those very lips. “Right here,” he quietly admits. Closing the distance until you were only a breath away, his eyes focused on the plush of your mouth. “Please, Doctor.”

The union was gentle and warm, a kiss so kind that the same sentiment blossomed in your chest. Traces of a sweetened coffee picked from the hospital’s cafeteria and warm amber from his collar consumed your senses.

Zayne held you closer, chest to his and enveloping in a tender embrace. His hands traced the curve of your back, following your spine to gently cradle your head. Just to keep you this close, he was restless—realizing that he needed this more than he thought. The smile that cracks through another kiss is a testament to it, sealed with a deep breath of contentment.

It was perfect, a moment in time where your thundering heartbeats were equally matched. The world was nothing but a witness to the seconds spent in meaningful lip-locking.

“Mmph,” you groan unceremoniously. 

Something firm brushed against your brow, pulling you out of the sweet trance. The culprit looked back at you in its silver rimmed and glass glory, sliding down the bridge of Zayne’s nose.

“Hm?” He leans back, noticing your discomfort. “What’s the matter?” 

You contemplate on telling him, partially distracted by the puff of his lower lip. It has a sheen of your affection, and you were sure you looked no different in his eyes.

“Your glasses are falling,” you admit. You reach for the frames, intending on pushing them back to the high of his nose.

Zayne pauses your wrist then, a warm mirth in his gaze. “These are in the way, are they not?” He guides your hand, allowing the glasses to depart from his face and settling it on his desk. 

With or without the specs, he truly was handsome—the kind of beauty modeled in Greek busts, from the contours of his cheeks to the sharp angle of his brow bone. You’d have to thank his parents the next time you see them.

He sneaks in a kiss, no longer obscured by the barrier and face perfectly pressed to yours. “My Doctor seems to be distracted,” he comments, taking in your wandering gaze. A cool hand graces the crowd of your head, patting softly. “What are you planning this time?”

His touches brought you out of your daydreaming, and you nod. Hands settling on the curves of his shoulders, you slide them upwards with a murmur of, “I should check your apical pulse again.”

Your eyes wander to the space behind him, a stethoscope only a grab away. With some effort, you spare a hand to reach for it, rising from the chair to a degree. 

Zayne noticeably stiffens at his newfound view—your chest in his face wasn’t something on his agenda for today. The breath in his throat hitches, recognizing your fragrance. Comforting and pleasant, a piece of home warmly enhanced by your skin.

By the time you successfully have the medical device in hand, you nearly drop it at the feeling of his nose digging into your chest. 

“Zayne? You’re—mmh?!” His hands find their way to your midsection, holding you still as he inhales deeply. You only hear him hum between muffled fabric, and your mind dizzies at the heatwave the mere sound sends to your core.

He pulls back with a soft sigh, the peach of his skin notably deepened to a soft rouge. Zayne guides you back to sit proper in his lap, reaching for the stethoscope in your surprised hand. Carefully, he places the ear tips into place for you and brushes your hair back in the process. Nonchalant, as if he didn’t spend the last waking moments happily buried in your chest.

“If you’re checking my pulse for me, I hope you’ve read the hospital’s code of conduct.” He drops his hands then, patiently awaiting your auscultation. In the reflection of his coy stare, you find that your own blush is faring far, far worse than his.

“Right, right. I did, trust me,” you say in confidence.

You, in fact, did no such thing. But memory of past appointments guides your hand over his heart, chest piece sliding around to count the beats. Not a single count was missed, all perfectly in place and accounted for.

Though, the only thing you could hear was your own heartbeat drumming. It didn’t help that his eyes were entirely focused on you, pointed with affection and observation alike.

“Well?” Zayne hums. “How does it sound?”

“You have a heart, and it’s beating alright.” Your conclusion was far from exemplary, but at least it was the truth.

“That’s a relief,” he laughs quietly. He gently removes the stethoscope, setting it aside. “Realistically, this isn’t how an auscultation works.”

“My methods are just special, that’s all.” You shrug, lightly patting the space that protects the aforementioned organ. “But you seem to be feeling better, and that’s all that matters to me.”

“Mhm.” Zayne presses a kiss to your nose, and offers his gratitude. “Thank you, Doctor. I don’t know what I would do without your care.”

[fiendish-illos]

for said comparison, here's the old one

okay it's actually not too shabby, but like. still

i thought it was about time i update her design, yes the red crescent stripe by her eyes was always a pain to draw from different angles, since Tsunami's a bit more complex in design than Leo in rottmnt, but i still wanted to give a nod of reference to him, so i just decided to change up the shape of the stripe, and i quite like how it turned out!!!

Tsunami has been one of my favorite characters for some time now, and i wanted to do her some dignity!! (and also i mostly drew this just to redesign her playlist cover art on spotify, because the old one is kinda horrendous in comparison ngl)

[trulybetty]

third time is a charm | part two

pairing: dr. jack abbot x gn!reader word count: 1,888 warnings: grumpy x sunshine, minor mentions of a laceration reader receives, talk of a minor medical procedure, very tame to what is shown on screen, competency kink continues to be itched estimated reading time: 8 minutes summary: it seems the universe is intent on throwing you in the path of dr. jack abbot ao3: linked

« part one | part three »

Jack was halfway down the hall of the ED, mentally counting how long was left in his shift, when Lena, the night shift charge nurse, flagged him down.

“Hey, I need you on four,” she said, tapping the corresponding file folder on the counter of the hub, the heart of the Emergency Department. “Been waiting over two hours, and I need that bed.”

Jack glanced at the assignment screen, where there weren’t any details assigned to the name and the bed number, then back at Lena. “Then throw it to one of the interns.”

“I would, but they’re all with Robby on that MVC overflow. It’s either you or we let triage back up even more, and we wait for Gloria to come down and complain—again.”

He sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Anything I should know?”

“Nope,” she popped on the pronunciation, “Deep hand laceration. Bleeding had stopped by the time they brought them back.” Lena cocked an eyebrow at his exasperation, “You’ll survive.”

Jack muttered something that sounded like obscenities under his breath, but still turned towards bed four. Given the brief descriptor and the late hour, he was expecting some college kid or maybe a drunk idiot hurt in a bar fight. What he wasn’t expecting was you.

You were sitting up on the gurney, one hand wrapped in a polka-dot dish towel, which once upon a time had been mostly white, scrolling through your phone like you were in line at the DMV, not waiting on stitches.

His steps slowed.

While it had been a few weeks, he still recognized you instantly.

Looking up from your phone at the sound of the curtain being opened, you blinked, recognition dawning. Then smiled. “Oh, hey.”

Jack pulled back the curtain to close off the ward outside. “Please tell me this has nothing to do with your car.”

You shook your head, “In my defence,” you said brightly, “this wasn’t on purpose.”

He dropped onto the stool next to the bed and nodded at the dish towel around your hand, “Is that… from your kitchen?”

“It was the only clean thing I had,” you eyed it warily, “Well, clean-ish.”

Jack exhaled, heavy, “Of course it was.”

He rolled to the supply drawers, grabbing gloves and a suture pack. You tapped your outstretched feet together, watching him with a relaxed amusement that grated on him more than he’d like to admit.

“Let’s see it,” he says, nodding at your hand.

You peeled back the towel. The lack of pressure made you wince. Jack leaned in closer to examine the wound—a deep, jagged slice across your palm between your left thumb and forefinger. It’d stopped bleeding a while ago, but the edges were angry and starting to swell.

He huffed, “This could’ve used stitches hours ago,” he said, more to himself than you. “Any numbness? Tingling?”

“Nope. Just throbs.”

“You’re lucky. Could’ve cut something important.” He picked up the dishcloth as if it had offended him. He noticed the tomato sauce stains between the patches of blood, “This is not clean, by the way.”

You shrugged, “It was the best out of the bunch.”

He looked up from the suture kit he’d just pulled out, deadpan, “That’s not the win you think it is. Do you even have a first aid kit?”

You scrunched your nose, “I’ve got some band-aids somewhere.”

He gave you a pointed look: “Invest in a first aid kit.”

You grinned.

He sighed.

Straightening up, he prepared a shot of lidocaine. “This is going to sting,” he warned, and you hissed at the first injection of anesthetic. “Normally, I’d throw this to an intern, but the entire next generation of healthcare is on clean up from a multi-car pile-up.”

“I’m flattered.”

He didn’t dignify that with a response. Instead, he started to clean the wound, his touch brisk but careful.

“Let me guess, kitchen accident?”

“It was an avocado.”

“It come at you with a knife?”

“I only came at it with a spoon at first. Had it for a week waiting for it to go ripe, guess it had other ideas.”

He irrigated the wound and checked your range of motion. You were quiet for a beat, watching him thread a needle with a practiced hand. Evident that he could do this in his sleep if needed.

“You ever done this before?” you asked, lips twitching.

“Stitches?” Jack asks, pausing to look at you like he should ask if you hit your head, too.

“Yeah.”

Jack shook his head as he started the process of stitching your hand. “I’m an ER doctor.”

You tried not to squirm, even as you felt the ghost of the antiseptic burn a little at the edges and the tug of the first stitch pulled at your skin.

“You could be new, this is a teaching hospital, right?”

“I’m not, and it is.”

“Could be your first.”

He glances up, “You think I’d let you be my first?”

You shrugged with faux nonchalance, “Shame, could have been romantic.”

He worked in silence for a beat, “You’re lucky,” he says. “Could’ve hit a tendon.”

You hummed, watching him continue with the stitches, “Think I’ll get a cool scar?”

“Sure,” Jack muttered, “might want to come up with a better story for it though.”

“So, what name do I put down for my Yelp review?”

He paused slightly, needle midair—this was taking him twice as long.

He arched a brow, and you offered a smile in return.

“I just realized I’ve never gotten your name. Kinda rude. Since you know mine now.”

Jack huffed, “Actually, I don’t.”

You feigned offence. “Ouch. It’s in the file.”

“I didn’t read your file.”

“Well. That’s a little concerning.”

“I read what matters,” he offered by way of explanation.

“So, what name do I put down? Or do I just call you Dr. Jumper Cables?”

He finally glanced up, meeting your eyes.

“That thing still running?”

“Haven’t left the lights on since.”

“Doctor Jack Abbot,” he offered after a beat.

You nodded, letting it settle and running it over your tongue under your breath. “Okay, well, Dr. Abbot… you get four out of five stars.”

That earns you a stern look.

“What? It was a three-star—but you gained a bonus star for jump-starting my car the other week. Though maybe I shouldn’t mention that? You’ll have patients asking for oil changes with their stitches.”

He didn’t laugh. Not even remotely. But his mouth twitched, and you caught the way he ducked his head as a tiny smile fought its appearance.

Normally, he’d be calling in a nurse by now. Let them do the bandaging, offer advice on care and follow up. That’s what the protocols were for. What his time was technically supposed to be used for.

Instead, he rolled his chair over to the supply drawers and grabbed gauze, tape and a clean wrap. Gloves back on.

You watched him with a kind of relaxed amusement that does get under his skin, even if he wouldn’t admit it. Not because you’re mocking him—because you’re not bothered by him. Not in the way some people get with him. Even if some of it is mostly a result of his own doing.

He cleaned around the stitches, checking for residual bleeding, and wrapped it with careful, even pressure.

“Keep it dry,” he said, taping off the end. He held up a second unopened package of dressing, “and because I don’t want you using dishcloths again. Change this in twenty-four hours. Come back in five to seven days to get the stitches removed.”

“I’ll pencil it in.”

The moment was interrupted by a tannoy going off, ‘Abbott to trauma bay two’. He sighed. It was going to be a long night.

“You’re all set.” He said, standing and peeling off his gloves.

You glanced down at your hand, flexing your fingers. Then up at him as he scribbled something on your chart, and headed for the curtain.

“Someone’ll be by with your paperwork.”

“Thanks,” you said, no teasing in your voice this time.

Jack gave you a short nod, hand on the privacy curtain. But just before he was about to pull it aside, he paused.

A smile—not a full, but a real one—crossed his face for the first time.

“Don’t forget to turn your headlights off and get yourself a damn first aid kit,” he said.

And then he was gone.

A Week Later.

The sky was dark, and the sidewalk outside the hospital was wet and salty from an early morning flurry that the wind had blown in. You’d managed to get in early at the walk-in clinic to get your stitches removed. It was healing nicely, they’d said who’d ever done the stitches did good work and was saving you from a gnarly scar. You’d smiled at this. But now, you were scowling at your phone.

For a Saturday morning at seven am, Uber’s prices were rising like it was New Year’s Eve. You weren’t sure what circus was in town, but it didn’t look like prices were going to go down anytime soon.

You weren’t dressed for waiting or public transit—you’d figured you’d be in and out. Your winter coat was holding up just enough, but the cold was still making its way in and soaking into your bones.

You were debating on walking partway home—maybe enough to cut the fare, figure out the bus schedule—when the glass doors hissed open behind you.

Jack stepped out, hitching his backpack onto his shoulder and pulling his scarf tighter against the cold.

He was glad for the extra sweater he’d left in his locker, padding out his coat. His badge was clipped to his hip still, his truck keys in one hand. He spots you immediately.

You offered him a small wave, “Oh, hi.”

He stopped in front of you, taking in your ungloved hand that was wrapped in a fresh dressing, and frowned. “Tell me you’re not driving.”

“Nope. Waiting for a ride.”

“Uber?”

“Kind of,” you flashed your phone screen, “surge pricing. I’m hoping that if I wait it out, it’ll drop.”

He grunted, “What happened to the hatchback?”

You hesitated, wrinkling your nose, “It… died.”

Jack narrowed his eyes. “Battery again?”

“No, not this time. Transmission, maybe? There were a lot of words and car parts mentioned that I still don’t understand. It made a noise, then coasted to a sad little death in front of a bakery.”

His brow lifted, “That tracks.”

“But hey, I got a good pastry and an amazing coffee out of it while I waited for the tow truck.”

Jack didn’t say anything at first. Just glanced down the road, then back to you.

“You’re over on 48th, right?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

He knew it probably wasn’t going to do him any favours with what he was about to say next, “Want a ride?”

You hesitated, “Seriously?”

“It’s the festival today, Uber isn’t going to go down anytime soon, and half the roads are closed, so the buses are being rerouted.”

He started walking towards the employee lot, but looked back when he realized you weren’t following, “Come on,” he said, not breaking his stride.

You smiled and jogged to catch up with him.

[cimtee]

Actually. Here’s a thing.

Below: all canon physical descriptors of the characters. That I remember. And likely some that are made up bc my brain doesn’t have a working file system.

If any of them are incorrect please do let me know! And if there is anything significant I missed out, let me know that too! It will be very helpful as I finalize their designs 🙏

To be clear, my intention is NOT to be canon patrol. I love love love seeing all the different interpretations of characters. They are all so wonderful and distinctive and personal.

My own design development has been based on given details + incorporation of my own ideas, imaginings, etc. (Oft they are self-indulgent too. Always fighting the urge to put freckles and diastemas and prominent noses on every single person I ever draw)

Without further ado. A masterpost of sorts.

Edits in blue!

Blue

Race/ethnicity unspecified (personally imagine her with Desi roots, through Maura ofc. Artemus is her Welsh half. Presumably. His DNA may just be chloroplasts…) See @transronanlynch’s reblog about this. Btw all these green edits are thanks to their infodumping I LOVE INFODUMPING

Short (5’?)

Brown eyes

Short dark uneven hair, often held in place with clips

Doesn’t shave

Both her and Maura are “compact, athletic, and hard to tip over.” Strong enough for the fair bit of manual labor she does on page

Weirdo clothes (affectionate). Lots of self-made or secondhand items and layering. Look at reblog for some specifics!

Gansey

Anglo-Saxon poster boy

Average height

Light brown hair

Hazel eyes

Contacts mostly, round gold wire-rims otherwise

Straight nose

Straight white teeth

High cheekbones. I think he’s even described as having a “regal” face structure but I could’ve pulled that outta my ass

Dimples!!! How did i forget to write this. I marked it as Extremely Important the moment i read about them

Tanned and fit. Described as muscular several times and was also on the rowing team, so at the very least his upper body is strong. Apparently rowers have a pretty square build lol. Mentioned in trb that he has square shoulders actually!!

Good hair (usually styled)

Not very hairy, Ronan makes fun of him for not being able to grow a beard and Blue remarks as much at toga party

Golf club clothes fr🪦 often in brightly-colored polos. khaki slacks. boat shoes🪦🪦 fancy watch.

Adam

“White trash.” Really he is just some Creature

Tall and slim and “wiry” shoulders

He’s beautiful but it’s unconventional enough that he refuses to believe it

Dirt/sand colored hair that he cuts on his own (“close-cropped” in cdth. Nice. Always imagined he keeps it short for practicality). Perhaps he is the Sandman (google just told me the Sandman controls dreams. Idk what fucked up esotericism I just unearthed. Haha ‘earth’ like Adam’s hair. I am sleep deprived dawg what was i on about)

Blue eyes

Tanned

“Barely there” eyebrows

Prominent cheekbones

Hands - yess all these details are ringing a bell: they’re quite knobby, prominent knuckles and “thumbs that jut out boyishly” (still thnx Ronan for being rlly gay and supplying us with these highly important details)

Straight teeth (thnx Ronan?)

Alas the freckles are NOT canon but they might as well be

Secondhand uniform. Washed out/frayed. Always wears a cheap wind-up watch until he gives it to Opal in TRK. In TDT he has a dreamt watch that shows the time of wherever Ronan is

Casual: basic tees (infamous coca cola,, I think he looks so good in red tho) and jeans and cargos (wore a camo pair with the coke shirt). Has been described wearing boots. Probably sneakers too but I don’t remember a specific instance

Work: mechanic overalls for the most part. He’s often streaked and greasy from fixing cars

These three canon descriptors highly influence how I draw him: elegant, gaunt, sepia

He inherited Persephone’s tarot deck, whose cards are illustrated in pencil “vague, scratchy, and dark”

Ronan

Irish ancestry (again, presumably. He wasn’t exactly bred)

Tallest of the bunch. “Built” shoulders

Dark brown hair. Buzzed. Naturally curly

Icy/shark blue eyes

Pale skin

Thick brows

Misses one shave and looks like he crawled out of the backrooms (also affectionate)

Back tattoo (later: left arm)

Scars on forearms

Niall clone. They look the same

I believe Declan has been described with a Roman nose, and the Gray Man notes some of the brothers’ facial similarities, including their noses. In conclusion Ronan’s nose is arched in some sense. But in general his features are narrower/sharper than Declan.

Mostly black clothes. Tanks and jeans and boots and leather jackets (on the jackets: pretty sure he wears one in TDT when he’s on the run with Hennessy and Bryde. Also found a paper from when I first read trc that I wrote a bunch of descriptors on, and it said “has a biker jacket.” Not that I particularly trust my past self much). Leather bracelets that used to be Niall’s.

Incapable of wearing uniform properly. Loose tie, untucked shirt, just imagining him in the suit jacket is an atrocity

Noah

Czerny is a Slavic surname

Short

Pale. Light hair, eyes, and skin

Small eyes

Large ears yay!! I thought so but wasn’t sure enough to write it originally

Pointed, crooked nose (wonder if it was broken when he was killed?)

“Smudge” over his left cheekbone

Timid disposition, often slouching/making himself smaller. His hands often hang at his sides (it’s making me think of the typical socially-anxious “what do i do with my hands”)

Perpetually disheveled Aglionby uniform that is also perpetually on him

My guy wears Topsiders… (this makes sense but it also makes me uneasy. He’s a Vans kid in spirit. Is it even possible for him to change clothes, I have no idea. Weekends wearing Aglionby uniform would raise questions, but then again many other things should’ve raised questions too)

When he’s feeling particularly ghosty he becomes transparent/blurred/difficult to focus on. His eyes look dark and empty. The smudge on his cheek looks like an obvious injury.

Close to the end he starts lookin dead dead without Blue’s amplifying. I think bones n rotting flesh n stuff? “Soul threaded through naked bones.” Though I think what Blue perceives to be a terribly dead Noah is mainly metaphysical

Henry

Many thank to @robobee for all the Henry details (and some others above). I wrote this post at 3am and by the time I got down to Henry I was crashing out. I knew I had too little on him

Korean/Chinese

Tall!

“Glittering black hair.” Spiked but in a very deliberate Aglionby way idk

Can’t believe I for got the WICKED EYEBROWS they are literally my favorite part of his face to draw TT

And prominent cheek bones? What’s with all these boys and their chiseled faces

Wears showy clothing/accessories. “Snazzy jacket” I also could’ve sworn he wore Gucci glasses once but again my memory has a history of being fallible

Has been caught in HD in a Madonna tshirt

[writing-the-stars]

Hiii! You’re fics are amazing i’m in awe of your writing & the tension that you build between characters💞

I was wondering whether you could write an Aaron Hotchner fic which maybe follows on from your most recent fic about him, where Aaron and reader have their first kiss. I feel like it would all be in the little moments, like him being so gentle & reader being so nervous 🥹🥹🥹

Unraveled, Unveiled

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Summary: After finally breaking through Aaron Hotchner’s walls, a quiet, undeniable tension begins to build between you— one that can no longer be ignored. What starts as an evening of uncertainty and vulnerability gradually unravels the emotional barriers between you both, leading to a deeper connection neither of you expected.

Warnings: Angst (But it's not that bad. They're just nervous and awkward), Fluff, No Use of Y/N or Physical Descriptors (Hotch does call reader beautiful though), Smooching. Let Me Know If I Forgot Something

Word Count: 4.3k

A/N: Hi Anon! I was so excited to see your message in my inbox!! Thank you for requesting this!! Honestly, so happy you all loved my previous fic so much and I am so appreciative of the support! This is a continuation of the previous fic, but can be read as a stand alone. Thank you all so much for reading! I hope you enjoy!! Have a wonderful day!

Masterlist | Criminal Minds Masterlist

There’s a familiar tension in the air of the bullpen—the kind that comes with working a case. This one, a series of abductions around McLean, Virginia, has a particular edge to it. While a local case makes it easier for the team to collaborate, it still never sits right when the danger is so close to home. 

A flurry of activity surrounds you—agents moving in and out, phones ringing intermittently, the steady clicking of keyboards and pens. Yet, despite all the motion, your attention is elsewhere.

You sit at your desk, eyes skimming through the case files in front of you. But you’re not really reading. You’d like to blame it on the exhaustion you’re experiencing from the long hours of work, but it is something else entirely— a subtle pull that keeps tugging at you, an energy that hums quietly beneath your skin.

Across the room, you find the source of your distraction, Aaron Hotchner, standing near the whiteboard. His posture is stiff with concentration as he discusses how the latest victim correlates with the other abductees. His usual commanding presence is softened tonight, more by the weariness of the case than anything else. But his jaw remains tight with that familiar, quiet intensity.

The air between you has shifted ever since that quiet night in his office—a soft electric current that pulses in the spaces between your words. It fuels the quiet moments, sitting in the presence of each other, silent exchanges unnoticed by your unwitting team. The stolen glances, charged with something deeper than the usual camaraderie you used to trade. The brief brush of his hand when he passes you by. It’s consuming, this energy growing between you, undeniable.

As if pulled by the same magnetic undercurrent, his eyes meet yours and your heart stutters caught in that spark. His gaze lingers, longer than it normally would, eyes skimming every part of you before quickly snapping his attention back to the board— your shared moment of connection ending just as quickly as it began. 

You lean back in your chair, case files momentarily forgotten as you let the cool air from the ventilation above wash over your face. Everything in the room feels louder now, sharper. Your heart squeezes at the thought of what’s to come. In the week that’s passed, things have been quieter. No grand gestures. No long talks about where things are going. You aren’t trying to rush anything. You know Aaron needs time, but you’d be lying if you said the burgeoning tension wasn’t about to make you snap. You long for a space with him where case files don’t matter, where the professional boundaries of the BAU are nothing more than an illusion. Somewhere far from the constant pressure of work—where you can just be.

Deciding you have spent far too much time ruminating over this, you sit up, ready to return to your case files, and are surprised to find Aaron’s eyes already on you. He doesn’t smile, doesn’t even seem to breathe for a moment, but there is a flicker of understanding there. A soft, unspoken promise. 

And then, the text. 

“How about I pick you up at 7:30 tonight? I’ll take you to dinner— just us. No cases.” 

The words are simple, but the implications hit you all at once. Aaron Hotchner wants to take you on a proper date. The realization makes you feel suddenly vulnerable. Nerves pulse through you, but you can’t help the flutter of excitement that curls in your gut. You’ve been waiting for this.

-*-

As 7:30 draws near, you find yourself standing in front of your hallway mirror, second-guessing every outfit you own. Is it too much? Too little? Will you seem too eager? Or too reserved? You want to look nice, but not like you tried too hard—something that says this didn’t take nearly as much effort as it actually did.

After your fourth change, you finally settle on a simple look: the outfit you wore to your cousin’s wedding a few years back. It’s one of your nicer outfits, but you can’t help the small seed of doubt that lingers. You’ve never worn anything like this in front of Aaron before. Usually, it’s sharp business attire, tailored suits, and the professional look you know best. But tonight? Tonight is special. You want your appearance to match the moment. 

There’s a knock at the door, and your stomach flips. It’s time— no more second-guessing. You take one last glance in the mirror, smoothing a hand over your hair, and open the door.

There he is. 

Aaron Hotchner stands in front of you, and for a moment, your breath catches. His usual impeccable suit has been swapped for a crisp button-down shirt, the sleeves rolled up just a touch, paired with well-tailored slacks. But it’s not the way he looks that steals your breath; it’s the way he’s looking at you. His gaze trails over you, not overtly calculating, but with something more subtle, more intense. There’s awe in his eyes, and for a moment, it’s as if he forgets how to breathe. His lips part slightly, like he’s about to speak, but the words get stuck in his throat.

The sight of you standing there, bathed in the soft light of your hallway, makes his heart stutter in a way he hadn’t anticipated. Your outfit is simple, but somehow, it accentuates everything that makes you... you. Aaron has always admired your professionalism, your sharp mind, and the way you carry yourself. But now, something else hits him— your grace. It’s as though he’s seeing you for the first time— not just as his colleague or close teammate, but as you. And he can’t help but think how stunning you look.

He swallows, forcing himself to regain his composure.

You feel your pulse begin to thrum, a nervous flutter you can’t quite control. You knew he’d be here, but seeing him now— seeing him look at you like this— is a shock to your system.

You swallow and break the silence. “Hi,” you manage, even though it feels like the most inadequate word you could say in this moment.

“You look…” he falters, his voice deeper than usual, a slight rasp. He clears his throat, but there’s no masking the way his gaze softens as he looks at you. “You look beautiful.”

The compliment is simple, but the way he says it— like everything else between you and him— feels loaded with meaning. The words settle into your chest, warm and comforting. No one’s ever made you feel seen quite like this. No one ever looks at you the way he does now, like you’re the only thing that matters in this space.

An uncontrollable smile stretches across your face, warmth pooling in your chest. You try to calm yourself. This is just Aaron. Just Hotch. You’ve worked together for years. You’re friends. But this? This is something different. And everything about tonight feels new.

“Thank you,” you reply shyly, wishing you could say more— something that could convey how much his words mean to you. But you’re not sure how to verbalize it, how to make sense of the nerves suddenly wreaking havoc on you.

He smiles, a small, genuine smile that makes your chest tighten. It’s a rare crack in his professional exterior. His gaze flickers down to your lips for just a moment, a quiet hesitation before he meets your eyes again. The silence stretches between you—almost too long—before he reaches for you with a gentle, almost hesitant gesture. His hand is steady, but you catch the slight tremble in his fingers.

“Shall we?” he asks, the words hanging in the air like a soft invitation, a gentle nudge into the unknown.

With a nod, you slide your hand into his and allow him to lead you to his car. Like a true gentleman, Hotch opens the car door for you, letting you slide inside before he closes it gently and moves to the driver’s seat.

You buckle your seatbelt, your hands trembling slightly as you adjust it, but it’s hard to focus on anything other than the way Aaron sits beside you. He starts the engine, the soft hum of it filling the car, but it’s as if neither of you knows what to say. The conversation between you, usually easy and casual, feels foreign now.

You glance at him— he’s focused on the road, his jaw set, his hands gripping the steering wheel, but there’s a tightness in his posture that wasn’t there before. You’re used to Aaron’s stoic, controlled demeanor, but now, there’s a slight edge to his movements, a quiet nervousness that surprises you.

For once, Aaron doesn’t feel like he’s in control. He doesn’t feel like the Unit Chief of the BAU or the calculating prosecutor he once was. He feels like a man standing on the precipice of something new— and he doesn’t know how to navigate it.

He didn’t expect this. Didn’t expect to feel so much. But this is just like him, always a step behind when it comes to his own emotions.

He steals a glance at you, only to find you already looking at him with that same wide-eyed gaze he has come to adore. A small smile tugs at the corner of his lips. He thinks back to that fateful day, the moment he feared he would lose you— that you would never look at him that way again. A frown tugs at his lips. His grip on the steering wheel tightens. He had come so close to watching one of his greatest fears come to life.  

You feel the drastic shift in Aaron’s demeanor, the subtle change as his tension takes on a darker form, something more than just nerves.

“You okay?” you ask softly, your voice barely above a whisper, but it’s enough to break the quiet bubble between you two.

He glances over at you briefly, his dark eyes catching yours for a moment, and there’s something unspoken in that brief exchange. His expression softens, and his hand— still on the wheel— flexes slightly before he answers.

“I’m fine,” his voice is calm, but there’s an underlying warmth in it now— something unguarded, vulnerable. “Just…” He hesitates, and you can almost see the wheels turning in his head as he tries to find the words. “Just glad to be here with you.”

You blink at the simplicity of his words. It should’ve been obvious, but you hadn’t expected him to be so open— so real— about it. You nod slowly, a smile tugging at your lips.

“I’m glad too,” you reply, and the words feel more truthful than they ever have before.

-*-

The restaurant is quiet, intimate—just the right place for a first date between two people who have spent more time working together than anything else. The low hum of conversation and the clinking of silverware fills the air, but in your small corner booth, it feels like the world has narrowed down to just the two of you. No team, no cases, no distractions. It feels like the first real moment where you can both breathe without the weight of the world on your shoulders.

Aaron is polite, professional, just like usual, but there’s still an edge to him that wasn’t there before. His movements are slightly more careful, his glances lingering just a little too long. It’s subtle, but you can feel it. The air between you feels thick with unspoken words, with things that haven’t yet been said— haven’t even been acknowledged.

An unexpected shyness swells up inside you. The weight of this moment finally settles over you. You had longed for a moment like this. A chance to be with Aaron in a more intimate setting, to step away from the roles you’ve both played for so long, to just be. The chemistry between you, the moments that lingered just a little too long, the small touches that didn’t feel quite so professional anymore— these things have been building to this exact moment. But now that it’s finally here, you’re terrified.

Not of Aaron. Not of the way he looks at you, but of yourself.

What if you ruin it? What if this is just a fleeting moment of warmth and compassion on his end? What if it’s an illusion that will vanish just as quickly as it appeared? And if it does— what will that do to you? To Aaron? To the team?

You realize just how fragile the balance you and Aaron have been maintaining is.

You reach for your napkin, fingers restless as you fiddle with the edges. You haven’t been on a date in years— not since college. Back then, everything seemed so simple. You were so carefree, your heart open and unafraid of the consequences. But now, everything is complicated. With all the history between you and Aaron, the stakes feel higher, the potential for things to go wrong just a little too real.

You shift in your seat feeling the awkwardness of the space between you. The tension between you both builds with every passing minute, the unspoken words sitting between you like a quiet invitation.

Clearing his throat, Aaron breaks the silence.

“Jack really enjoyed that recipe you gave me. Although I’m sure he’d much prefer it if you made it instead of me.”

You laugh, a genuine sound that has Aaron’s chest tightening in a way he isn’t ready to admit. There’s something about it— your laugh that feels more open, more real than the usual quick exchanges you share at work. You seem more... vulnerable tonight. Softer, in a way he wasn’t prepared for.

“Well, you earned Jack’s approval, so it sounds like your version is just as good,” you tease, but the smile you share with him falters for just a second. There’s a certain hesitance in your eyes, an unease that he can see you try to cover up.

But it’s there, unmistakable.

The silence falls again, this time a little heavier, a little more awkward. You take a sip of your wine, the cool liquid offering some comfort as you try to find your footing again. Aaron, ever the profiler, picks up on every shift in your body language. The tightening around your eyes, the slight tension in your shoulders, the way your gaze flits to his face before bouncing anywhere else. This is a reaction he didn’t expect. You’ve always been calm, collected, and self-assured. But tonight, you’re something else— he can sense the uncertainty beneath the surface.

Aaron had been so focused on his own nerves, on maintaining control. He never stopped to consider that you might be feeling just as uncertain as he is. It’s a humbling realization. 

“What are you thinking about?” The question comes out softer than he intended, like an invitation to share something more than just surface thoughts. You realize, in that moment, that Aaron is asking for something deeper than just a simple response. It surprises you, though it really shouldn’t.

You meet his gaze, and it pulls you in, making you feel like you can’t hide behind your usual calm demeanor. “Nothing really... just nervous,” you admit, a shy smile spreading across your face as your eyes flicker down to your wine glass before meeting his again. “I’ve never really done... this before.”

Aaron’s brow furrows at the confession, and for a split second, his mind scrambles to find the right response. “A date?” His voice is soft, unsure if he should push or give you space.

You chuckle, a little self-deprecating, like you’re embarrassed by your own admission. “Well, no. Not since college. It’s been a while,” you confess to him, your fingers absently tracing the rim of your glass.

The revelation hits Aaron with an unexpected weight. He hadn’t anticipated this— hadn’t considered that you might be just as vulnerable as he is in this moment. It stirs something protective within him, an instinct to shield you from the unease you’re clearly feeling, though he doesn’t quite know how to do that yet.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I was the one giving you nervous butterflies.” 

 There’s a playful edge to his voice, but it’s gentle—reassuring in its own way. He’s trying to lighten the mood, trying to ease the tension. He wants you to know it’s okay to be this nervous, that it’s okay for both of you to be feeling your way through this.

You laugh again, the sound more relaxed this time. It feels good to admit it, to share something so personal with him. Something that feels so... human.

“It's not you,” you clarify quickly, shaking your head with a soft smile. “It’s just... been a long time. And this is, well, different.”

Aaron leans in slightly, as if trying to understand the weight of your words. “Different how?” His voice drops, a hint of curiosity threading through the quiet.

You hesitate, searching for the right words. You weren’t expecting this kind of openness from him— this willingness to understand what’s remained unspoken. It makes something in your chest loosen. But you’re not sure how to articulate it. Not entirely. So you start slow, the words coming out haltingly.

“I don’t know,” you say finally, feeling the weight of it as it settles in your chest. “It’s just that... all these years, we’ve always been on the same team, right? Always professional, always focused on the job. And now...” you shrug, a little self-conscious, but there’s a warmth to your smile as your eyes meet his. “There’s a new dynamic here, and I’m not sure how to handle it.”

Aaron watches you for a moment, absorbing what you’ve said. He feels a slight shift inside him, a slow understanding of the weight of what you’re saying. You’ve never hesitated before, never seemed unsure. And now, here you are—open, fragile in a way he’s never seen. It makes something twist inside him, protective and tender in equal measure.

“I get that,” he says quietly, his voice low, steady, “I’ve been feeling it too.”He pauses, then adds with a half-smile, “Though I didn’t think you’d be the one who needed more time to adjust.”

That pulls a soft laugh from you, the tension easing from your shoulders. You shake your head in mock exasperation. “I didn’t realize you were so smooth. But now that I know you’re actually just as nervous as I am...” you raise an eyebrow, teasing him a little, the playful banter easing the air between you.

Aaron chuckles, his eyes warming in response, “Guess we’re both pretending to be less nervous than we really are.”

The way he says it, so openly, makes your heart settle a little. You take a small sip of your wine, considering your next words. “I didn’t think we’d ever get here,” you admit quietly, your voice soft, unsure. “I mean, I had let myself hope, but with everything that’s happened.”

Aaron’s expression softens, and there’s a quiet understanding in his eyes. “Yeah. I’ve thought about that too,” he murmurs, his jaw tightening just a fraction, as if the memories are sharper than he’s willing to admit. “We’ve both been through a lot. And I wasn’t sure what this... us could look like.”

The rawness of his words catches you off guard. There’s an honesty in them that feels almost like a relief. This isn’t just a date. It feels like a kind of truth that has been long overdue— something neither of you has ever fully addressed, but always carried.

“And now that we’re here,” you say softly, your voice tentative but sincere, “What do we do with it?”

Aaron exhales slowly, leaning back just slightly, his gaze flicking to the table before returning to you. There’s something different about the way he looks at you now, as if he’s no longer trying to figure out the next step, just... accepting it.

“I don’t know,” he admits, his voice steady but with a hint of vulnerability. “But maybe... maybe that’s the point. We don’t need to have it all figured out right now.”

The weight of his words lands between you  like a small relief, a shared surrender. The uncertainty, the not-knowing, doesn’t feel heavy anymore. It feels like a mutual acceptance, a quiet understanding that, for tonight, it’s enough to just be here. To let whatever happens next unfold without needing answers.

“I think I can live with that,” you murmur, smiling softly, your heart still beating a little faster than usual.

Aaron gives you a small smile, that familiar flicker of warmth in his eyes. The air between you both shifts again, this time more relaxed, less tense. There’s no more pressure, no need to define everything in this moment. Instead, it’s just the quiet promise of now, and maybe, just maybe, that’s all either of you needs.

The rest of dinner passes in a warm blur. The nervousness from earlier dissipating. You begin to feel more at ease, more sure of yourself in his presence. His presence has always had a grounding effect on you, but tonight is different. There’s no longer any distance. No professional separation. 

He listens intently when you talk, eyes never straying from your face. There’s something about the way he is so present with you— like he’s hanging on to every word, absorbing everything you give him. 

And when he laughs? When he smiles like he truly means it— it’s a rare thing. It makes your heart flutter. It’s the first time you’ve seen him so... unshielded. No armor. No walls. Just Aaron.

As he walks you back to your apartment door, you can’t stop thinking about him. About the way he looked at you all evening, like he was struggling to maintain control. But even through his efforts, you could see the way his gaze kept drifting over you, lingering just a bit longer when he thought you weren’t looking. There was something in it— something that made your heart flutter, a warmth spreading through you.

“I had a really great time tonight, Aaron,” you tell him once you reach your door, your voice soft but sincere.

Aaron smiles at that, his heart inexplicably light. “I did too.”

And then, his hand brushes yours, and suddenly you’re aware of how close you are. The contact is small, but it feels like everything. It sends a jolt through you, and your pulse quickens— nerves, anticipation, excitement all rushing through your veins.

You had wanted this. Wanted him. But now that you’re standing here, so close, it feels different. More real, more tangible than you ever expected. You’re afraid to move forward— afraid of what could come next.

And yet, in the silence, you don’t need to say anything. You feel it— an unspoken invitation in his eyes. The way he steps closer, ever so slightly, until there’s no more space between you. Aaron understands exactly what you want. 

“Can I…” he hesitates, his hand lifting slowly, then pausing for just a moment before it gently cups your cheek. His touch is so soft, so tender, like he’s waiting for permission. Like he’s afraid to rush this. You feel the warmth of his breath against your skin, the scent of his cologne— familiar and comforting— encapsulates you, making your pulse race. His chest rises and falls just as erratically as yours. 

You lean into his touch, your eyes fluttering closed, the warmth of his hand against your skin a silent promise.

The world seems to pause just before his lips touch yours, and for a breathless moment, you’re not sure if it’s the right decision. But then his lips are there— soft, gentle, asking without words, and you know it’s the only choice that matters.

It’s tentative, careful. He’s holding back, as though afraid you might break. But the tenderness of it only makes the ache inside you deepen. You’ve waited for this. Both of you have, in your own ways. And here, now, it’s finally real.

You kiss him back with all the softness you had been holding inside, feeling the months of longing, of unspoken desire, finally spilling out. It’s nothing like you had imagined. No fireworks. No grand, sweeping declarations. It’s tender. It’s soft. But it’s everything. It’s an unspoken conversation between the two of you. An acknowledgment of everything that’s been left unsaid, of the quiet trust between you. Of how, despite everything— despite his professional walls, despite the stakes of your job— he’s letting you in.

The way he holds you so carefully, like you’re something precious. The way his lips move against yours, as though asking for permission, as though he doesn’t want to take anything from you— just offer it.

His hand moves to your cheek, his thumb brushing the curve of your jaw, a touch so intimate, it feels like a promise. The kiss deepens just slightly, but there’s no rush. It’s everything you’ve wanted without either of you saying a word.

You pull away slowly, forehead resting against his absorbing the intimacy of the moment. 

“Wow,” you whisper, the words escaping before you can even think about them.

Aaron chuckles softly, a quiet sound that makes your heart flutter. “Yeah,” he agrees, his voice thick with emotion.

With a final, tender smile, he leans in to kiss your forehead, a gesture so intimate it almost feels like a promise. He steps back slowly, eyes holding yours as if making sure you know he’s leaving, but he’s not really leaving.

“Goodnight,” he says softly, voice hoarse.

“Goodnight, Aaron,” you smile, the dreaminess of the moment filling you up, still feeling the warmth of his kiss lingering on your skin.

As you close the door behind you, you lean back against it, your hand resting for a moment on the handle. Your heart is still racing. You hadn’t expected a kiss like that—gentle, sweet, full of promise. But as you sink back against the door, a soft, satisfied smile tugs at your lips.

It had been worth the wait.

If you want to be a part of my taglist, please submit an ask specifying series, fandom, or all and I will happily add you!

[audiovideodisco]

hii

could you please do a chase x house!daughter (also a doctor) fic where chase meets her for the first time and dr wombat falls head over heels for her (followed by australian pining, much to the amusement of the team)?

thank you so much!

Hello!!!! thank you for the req!!

sorry i took a while, ive been a bit busy with my masters degree and ngl i forgot how exhausting uni is when ur ill, but this was a nice break ❤️❤️

i hope you like it!!

Worshipping the bloodline.

When Foreman hires a new doctor, things go a little bit sideways, and very down under. Who is she?

cw: mild language, house being house, one unintentional uncomfortable joke by taub, australians

word count: 964

requested: yes

relationship: chase x house’s daughter!reader

characteristics: doctor reader, she/her reader, no other descriptors

•••

“Dr. Veltz will be joining later this afternoon. Play nice.” Foreman said, directing his last words at House. He didn’t react much outwardly, but sent Foreman a cheeky eyebrow raise, which in turn made him roll his eyes and walk out the glass office door with a rhythmic thud of his new dress shoes on the hospital flooring.

“Who’s Dr-“ Chase started, soon cut off by House, not to anyone’s surprise.

“She’s… I don’t know. Ask Foreman. I didn’t hire her.”

“You didn’t?”

“Officially, I did. Unofficially? I don’t want anyone else on my team, wait, no, I officially don’t want anyone on my team either… You get the point.”

Chase looked at Dr. Park across from him, as if searching for information, but she just shrugged and began rambling about the case file ahead of her, and House gladly took the opportunity to steer the conversation away.

As the day wore on, the team almost forgot about the mystery Dr. Veltz, until she turned up at House’s office door.

“Hi, I’m-“

“Yeah, Veltz, I know-“

“Could we, um, talk, before I start? Uh… in private?”

House looked at her pensively but eventually nodded and took her to his office, shutting the door.

Chase couldn’t help but be mesmerised by the woman that had just walked into the room, rather unsubtly staring at her through the glass walls. She wasn’t his usual type, but she really was magical…

“HEY! AUSSIE!” Chi practically barked at Chase as she slammed her hand on the table, just about bringing him back to the differential office.

“W-woah- what?”

“You were staring. Like, directly at Veltz.” Taub said, not sure how aware Chase actually was of his actions.

“What? I wasn’t-“

“Yeah, you kinda were, she is very pretty, I don’t blame you…” Adams said, a little bit of amusement still lingering on her face, but her compliment to Veltz was genuine.

Chas put his head in his hands as he felt himself go read with embarrassment. Meanwhile, Veltz and House spoke in his office, trying to ignore the shenanigans in the other room.

“Don’t mind him. He’s just… well… Australian and Catholic.”

Veltz laughs softly at his teasing but isn’t able to hide her nerves.

“What is it. You’re practically vibrating.”

“Uh… I pushed for this job so that I’d get the chance to actually talk to you about something-“

“You’re not a patient are you-“

“No- no… nothing like that, I genuinely want this job, but I think you have a right to know about… well incase you don’t want me to work with you because of it-“

“Get on with it-“

“I’m your daughter.”

House’s face went quickly through all five stages of grief except acceptance.

“That’s ridiculous, I’ve never gotten anyone-“

“My mom… I took her legal surname, but you met her as a sex worker in medical school. Leonie Lane.”

His face flashed with recognition. Why the hell did he think he was able to defy nature back then… in med school of all places? Condoms, House… although, maybe this wasn’t a bad thing. She was clearly incredibly capable or she wouldn’t have even gotten this far.

“She… um… she never told me.”

“She knew you didn’t sign up for that, and said it was as much her fault as yours. She wanted me, and I’m the one who asked about your name.”

“My name?”

“Yeah. She told me my dad was a doctor who saved lives, but she didn’t pretend that something happened to you or anything, she told me the truth, and I had a lovely supportive family in others too. But I asked if she knew your name, I wanted to meet you. You’re the reason I became a doctor.”

“Wow. Um. It might sound horrible, but can we do a DNA test? I just-“

“Of course, that’s not horrible, that’s completely reasonable.”

He nodded solemnly.

“Alright, uh, let’s go back to the case for now, we can catch up more later…”

“Alright, cool.”

They go back to the room, hearing the other doctors bickering, which ceases as soon as they enter.

The weeks go on as normal, and House and Veltz find out that she is his daughter. It’s a bit confusing for them both to navigate, but it gets a little easier. Park, Taub and Adams notice his slight - very slight - favouritism towards Veltz, and Taub can’t help himself but make a remark about it. It’s a particularly bad pain day for House, so he’s even worse at masking his preference towards her, and his words are practically entirely unfiltered…

“Veltz has sauntered in and captured House’s heart, almost like he’s got the hots-“

“Don’t you DARE insinuate that about my dau-“ He caught his slip up, but it was too late. Veltz mouthed to him, knowing he felt guilty for her sake, not his,

“It’s alright.”

“Wait, does this mean that Chase has a crush on House’s kid?” Park says out loud before her brain stops her.

“Kid? I’m- wait… what?” Veltz turns to look at chase, who by this point is burning bright red, and had averted his gaze.

“Oh jeez.” Chase mutters.

“Okay. Let’s move on so our patient doesn’t die of SEPSIS before with untangle whatever the hell is going on here.” Everyone nods, looking back at the whiteboard.

As the case comes to a close, Veltz hands Chase the test results to file away, and a small slip of paper sat on the top. He had given up at this point, not thinking anything of it, but when he unfolded the slip, seeing her distinct handwriting…

Call me. (555)555 555.

he couldn’t help but smile widely, almost like a child, blushing furiously and stuffing the paper in his trouser pocket, calling her that very night.

[desiree-uk]

DXVK Tips and Troubleshooting: Launching The Sims 3 with DXVK

A big thank you to @heldhram for additional information from his recent DXVK/Reshade tutorial! ◀ Depending on how you launch the game to play may affect how DXVK is working.

During my usage and testing of DXVK, I noticed substantial varying of committed and working memory usage and fps rates while monitoring my game with Resource Monitor, especially when launching the game with CCMagic or S3MO compared to launching from TS3W.exe/TS3.exe.

It seems DXVK doesn't work properly - or even at all - when the game is launched with CCM/S3MO instead of TS3W.exe/TS3.exe. I don't know if this is also the case using other launchers from EA/Steam/LD and misc launchers, but it might explain why some players using DXVK don't see any improvement using it.

DXVK injects itself into the game exe, so perhaps using launchers bypasses the injection. From extensive testing, I'm inclined to think this is the case.

Someone recently asked me how do we know DXVK is really working. A very good question! lol. I thought as long as the cache showed up in the bin folder it was working, but that was no guarantee it was injected every single time at startup. Until I saw Heldhram's excellent guide to using DXVK with Reshade DX9, I relied on my gaming instincts and dodgy eyesight to determine if it was. 🤭

Using the environment variable Heldhram referred to in his guide, a DXVK Hud is added to the upper left hand corner of your game screen to show it's injected and working, showing the DXVK version, the graphics card version and driver and fps.

This led me to look further into this and was happy to see that you could add an additional line to the DXVK config file to show this and other relevant information on the HUD such as DXVK version, fps, memory usage, gpu driver and more. So if you want to make sure that DXVK is actually injected, on the config file, add the info starting with:

dxvk.hud =

After '=', add what you want to see. So 'version' (without quotes) shows the DXVK version. dxvk.hud = version

You could just add the fps by adding 'fps' instead of 'version' if you want.

The DXVK Github page lists all the information you could add to the HUD. It accepts a comma-separated list for multiple options:

devinfo: Displays the name of the GPU and the driver version.

fps: Shows the current frame rate.

frametimes: Shows a frame time graph.

submissions: Shows the number of command buffers submitted per frame.

drawcalls: Shows the number of draw calls and render passes per frame.

pipelines: Shows the total number of graphics and compute pipelines.

descriptors: Shows the number of descriptor pools and descriptor sets.

memory: Shows the amount of device memory allocated and used.

allocations: Shows detailed memory chunk suballocation info.

gpuload: Shows estimated GPU load. May be inaccurate.

version: Shows DXVK version.

api: Shows the D3D feature level used by the application.

cs: Shows worker thread statistics.

compiler: Shows shader compiler activity

samplers: Shows the current number of sampler pairs used [D3D9 Only]

ffshaders: Shows the current number of shaders generated from fixed function state [D3D9 Only]

swvp: Shows whether or not the device is running in software vertex processing mode [D3D9 Only]

scale=x: Scales the HUD by a factor of x (e.g. 1.5)

opacity=y: Adjusts the HUD opacity by a factor of y (e.g. 0.5, 1.0 being fully opaque).

Additionally, DXVK_HUD=1 has the same effect as DXVK_HUD=devinfo,fps, and DXVK_HUD=full enables all available HUD elements.

desiree-uk notes: The site is for the latest version of DXVK, so it shows the line typed as 'DXVK_HUD=devinfo,fps' with underscore and no spaces, but this didn't work for me. If it also doesn't work for you, try it in lowercase like this: dxvk.hud = version Make sure there is a space before and after the '=' If adding multiple HUD options, seperate them by a comma such as: dxvk.hud = fps,memory,api,version

The page also shows some other useful information regarding DXVK and it's cache file, it's worth a read. (https://github.com/doitsujin/dxvk)

My config file previously showed the DXVK version but I changed it to only show fps. Whatever it shows, it's telling you DXVK is working! DXVK version:

DXVK FPS:

The HUD is quite noticeable, but it's not too obstructive if you keep the info small. It's only when you enable the full HUD using this line: dxvk.hud = full you'll see it takes up practically half the screen! 😄 Whatever is shown, you can still interact with the screen and sims queue.

So while testing this out I noticed that the HUD wasn't showing up on the screen when launching the game via CCM and S3MO but would always show when clicking TS3W.exe. The results were consistent, with DXVK showing that it was running via TS3W.exe, the commited memory was low and steady, the fps didn't drop and there was no lag or stuttereing. I could spend longer in CAS and in game altogether, longer in my older larger save games and the RAM didn't spike as much when saving the game. Launching via CCM/S3MO, the results were sporadic, very high RAM spikes, stuttering and fps rates jumping up and down. There wasn't much difference from DXVK not being installed at all in my opinion.

You can test this out yourself, first with whatever launcher you use to start your game and then without it, clicking TS3.exe or TS3W.exe, making sure the game is running as admin. See if the HUD shows up or not and keep an eye on the memory usage with Resource Monitor running and you'll see the difference. You can delete the line from the config if you really can't stand the sight of it, but you can be sure DXVK is working when you launch the game straight from it's exe and you see smooth, steady memory usage as you play. Give it a try and add in the comments if it works for you or not and which launcher you use! 😊 Other DXVK information:

Make TS3 Run Smoother with DXVK ◀ - by @criisolate How to Use DXVK with Sims 3 ◀ - guide from @nornities and @desiree-uk

How to run The Sims 3 with DXVK & Reshade (Direct3D 9.0c) ◀ - by @heldhram

DXVK - Github ◀

[maple-the-awesome]

The Chain Meets You, His Partner || 1/3

Part 2 || Part 3

Pairing: Warrior, Twilight, Legend x GN! Reader

Requested by @temporarilyablog: i see requests are open still so im coming to you with a thought i had recently: how about a Link from the Chain interacting with the reader, another Link's s/o from their original adventures, when *their* Link isn't around. i can see some teasing another Link with the reader that they've only known through little stories here and here, or others grilling the reader relentlessly because another Link was so shy about their relationship and partner, and wants to know how that Link is like around someone he allows himself to relax. its kinda like when the Chain met Malon for the first time and interacted with her for stories about old man Time and as always stay awesome, i love your writing!

Zelda Masterlist 💙Fandom Masterlist

Concerningly delighted or eerily eager - the Chain can't quite agree on which descriptor best described their teammate the best once he realized they had all landed in his Hyrule. Bubbling with excitement ever since while maintaining a pace some of the other boys have to jog after, Link doesn’t waste breath saying where he’s leading them, although that giddy smile upon his face - as much as he tries to hide it - is plenty for the wiser heroes to get the hint...

Taking numerous shortcuts that avoid public attention, Warrior skillfully navigates the familiar streets of Castle Town with his only pause being at the doorstep of his apparent destination. There, he takes a quick second to smooth his hair and perfect his uniform before knocking a fist against the chestnut wood.

The curious murmurs of the boys huddled behind him adds ambience to his impatient wait where his thoughts temporarily worry that perhaps you aren't awake yet, after all the sun is only just rising above the waking town, however true to your many letters which have complaint of insomnia during his absence, the door soon opens not more than a minute later to reveal your tired figure.

Even with a mess of bedhead and a robe tied lazily around yourself, you look beautiful and sacred in Warrior's eyes - an observation he isn't alone in making. Some mainly Legend had doubted that you were even real or at the very least matching to the Captain’s honey-soaked descriptions, although none can deny how well you truly hold up to that image.

You awake in a snap and leap into your lover's arms with a cry of joy; a feeling that is contagious throughout the group who watches on in silent amusement. Suddenly their friend's excitement makes plenty of sense, especially knowing how much he's missed you throughout their journey. Seriously, he's never shut up about it!

You can't rid of the smile on your face when Warrior finally takes his attention off of you long enough to introduce the others, all of whom you’ve already learned about from his letters. Without hesitation, you invite the group of worn travelers into your home while waving off any concern raised about possibly intruding at such an ungodly hour.

"Nonsense. You’re all welcome here any time. I know from personal experience how much rest can mean during a long and perilous journey.”

"My love is a captain, as well~" Warrior brags proudly, his arm wrapped snugly around your waist as you both stand aside to let the others file through into the warmth of your home.

"We know. You've only mentioned it a dozen times," Four rolls his eyes teasingly while passing by.

"So I take it you all already know about me then. Hopefully all good things?" You eye Warrior with mocked suspicion, yet he’s hardly fazed, dodging any blame by pressing a quick kiss to your cheek.

"Of course. The trick is getting him to shut up about you," Twilight says, earning a laugh. You couldn’t deny it if you tried - that sure does sound like your Link, and seeing as he does nothing to argue against the claim, instead pressing another longer kiss to your cheek, he recognizes he’s a guilty man.

The group is simply happy for the chance to finally rest their feet somewhere homely, although none complain to your offer of throwing together breakfast, even if it’s just a small one made up of some toast, eggs, and a first-come-first-serve fruit bowl. While you gather this makeshift meal, Warrior remains practically glued to your side, sneaking kisses and lingering touches whenever he can manage before you shoo him away playfully.

The heroes have all experienced their fair share of interesting and distinctive adventures, however rather than saying much about themselves, they favor asking about you, wanting to confirm if everything Warrior has said is true, after all he’s built you up to be a talented soldier who’s sword should be feared by even the fiercest of monsters. It’s not to say they doubt it based on your build and stern undertone, but it would still be nice to hear from you personally.

You admit to your reputation, however are too modest to exactly rave about your military achievements or detail your victories during war. That role is left to your boyfriend who’s unafraid to brag for your sake while tying in as many compliments as possible, both professional and of the romantical sort. As for the boys, they only interrupt with brief questions or comments, mostly related to your relationship as curiosity and thirst for mischief get the better of some of them.

“Sounds like he was smitten at first sight,” Sky smirks after hearing the story of your initial meeting, not that he could ever judge. If anything, seeing you both together warms his heart with the memory of his own lover.

“Was the feeling mutual?” Someone else asks teasingly.

For once, Warrior remains silent, glancing at you subtly in an attempt to hide his own interest towards the answer. While you certainly struck him dumb with one look, your own expression had always held a bit of resentment during those early days, your attitude strict and standards held impossibly high - higher than they were for any other subordinate.

Link never blamed you, though. If anything, it made perfect sense for you to not be his biggest fan. All of your hard work had been largely overshadowed by the discovery of Hyrule’s new hero, his simple existence being to blame for the war you then had to fight tirelessly through. You weren’t willing to give him a pass just because of his shiny title and pretty face, instead holding him to expectations you’d set for anyone destined to defeat Ganondorf. He had to earn your trust and love overtime, at least what he always assumed.

Yet to Warrior’s surprise, you become slightly bashful as you stubbornly redirect your gaze and answer, “...I admit I found him attractive - both in appearance and personality…A little too cocky, though, and not the best listener there in the start. He had to be trained out of that habit.”

Startled by this revelation, Warrior mocks offense, “You barely gave me the time of day!” 

“I was putting your ego in check,” You reply easily.

“So you were playing hard to get that whole time?”

“Oh please, you were enjoying it,” You smirk, leaning in for the challenge with your noses centimeters apart. 

For a second, it’s as if you’ve forgotten about your guests, too busy staring into each other’s eyes affectionately, that is until Legend scoffs while biting into an apple, "If our captain here was smart, he'd hurry up and put a ring on it before you finally come to your senses."

Warrior’s eyes widen into a look of horror after the Veteran's comment, yet you take it in stride, laughing as you pat your boyfriend’s chest, “There’s really no need to rush, after all, life has only recently started calming down following Ganon, and the hope is that neither of us will be going anywhere anytime soon…assuming that you boys help keep this one out of trouble during your adventure.”

“Aye, aye, Captain!” The group cheers with a chorus of amused laughter resulting from Warrior’s flustered face; a rare sight they plan to memorize.

Your smile remains even as you lift yourself to sit on the counter where you can nibble on your piece of toast, Warrior following in suit with a huff while he shamelessly pouts like a child at your side. Alas, you merely find it endearing, kissing his cheek which seems to be addicting enough to have him chasing after your lips, pecking them as he takes your free hand in his and whispers in your ear for no one else to hear, “I’ll have you know I already have a ring.”

“And I’ll have you know I’ve already found it,” You smirk, placing a finger against his lips, “Keep trying and maybe one day you’ll be able to get one step ahead of me, my dear captain.”

He huffs again before stealing a quick bite of your toast.

The boys chase Twilight blindly through what appears to be a forest no different than the many others they’ve already traveled through during their adventure, however it’s when crossing a long wooden bridge over a canyon that they begin to connect the dots as to where they really are; a point soon proven correct once reaching a small treehouse standing by its lonesome amongst a meadow.

Even Epona seems eager to arrive here, confirming this is somewhere familiar to the two. She’s pleased to busy herself by grazing outside while her rider has other plans, leading his comrades up a steep ladder and into his cozy home. He invites them to make themselves comfortable, although he’s still clearly distracted by another thought himself. 

His eyes search the house excitedly, disappointment echoing on his face when he doesn’t seem to find what he’s looking for. He looks no different than a kicked puppy, his smile drooping into a frown that he doesn’t explain. There’s no need to. As quickly as his joy had soured, it returns in a blink when the front door once again opens from behind the group.

You’re understandably startled to look up and find eight heavily armed men crowded around in your house, however your surprise doesn’t stand long. Swiftly, you’re scooped up into someone’s arms then spun with ease. It only takes you seconds to realize it’s your lover doing, having already assumed he’d be somewhere within this party of travelers seeing as his loyal mare had been there to greet you just outside.

To say you’re both delighted to see each other again would be an understatement. You’ve been impatient awaiting the day Link returns, only having so many ways to distract yourself from his absence in this small village. With that said, you have no objections to the deep kiss he steals, instead savoring it as your arms steady themselves around his neck while he still holds you off the ground against his chest. It’s a display that has some of the boys gagging in mocked disgust, although most merely smile, finding joy through that of their brother’s. After all, if he can be this happy, maybe there’s hope for all of them.

Twilight has, of course, frequently mentioned you before to the heroes, but had never gone into too much detail nor had he exactly specified the extent of your relationship. Nevertheless, the boys already assumed you to be a lover, after all, you would have to be someone special to always occupy a rent-free space in their dear rancher’s head.

Only Time, Wild, and Four knew the exact specifics because one, they had actually gone out of their way to respectfully ask, and two, Twilight trusted them enough not to relentlessly tease. Seeing how long it took Warrior to drop the dog jokes after finding out his ‘wolfie secret’, Twilight could only imagine the jester that damned captain would become if possessing any other information about his intimate life…A fear proven rational now that the cat’s officially out of the bag.

Fortunately or unfortunately - Your boyfriend has yet to decide - you seemed to instantly forget that the eight travelers are total strangers to you and insisted they all stay the night; a kind hearted offer born from good intentions, but also the perfect opportunity for the boys to plan their rancher’s downfall by mercilessly interrogating you about your relationship.

“When did you guys meet and where?”

“Did he make the first move or did you?”

“How’d he ask you out?”

“Do you ever get tired of the dog smell?”

Twilight rolls his eyes, finding himself slowly regretting this whole show-and-tell of his lover. He should’ve just slipped away from the group and snuck home to visit you. They would’ve been none the wiser seeing as he often strays as Wolfie anyway. Surely had he told Four or Wild, they would’ve covered for him. Now he’s stuck listening to this meet-and-greet with the one person who knows all the good dirt there is to be found on him. It doesn’t help that you answer every question as if it’s your sworn duty assigned by Hylia herself.

“We met in Castle Town - back when he first set out to become a hero. Poor guy was completely lost, so I took pity upon him by pointing him in the right direction.”

“He made the first move, although I’d like to think I gave him a good push.”

“Oh, that’s one of my favorite memories! He set up this beautiful little picnic at Lake Hylia. It was very romantic.”

“...Sometimes, yeah.”

“Do you have any embarrassing stories to tell about him?” Wild asks with a devilish grin, taking joy in the betrayal that cuts across Twilight’s face.

“The better question would be where to start -”

“- Alright, alright. You’ve all had your fun. Don’t overwhelm them now,” Twilight cuts into the conversation at last, moving behind you with his hands set upon your shoulder. You wouldn’t be able to see it from where you sit, but he’s sending a warning glare to the other heroes who are hardly intimated.

“Oh come on! We’re just making up for lost time since you refuse to tell us anything about this lovely beauty,” Warrior punctuates his sentence by winking your way, making it clear he knows exactly how to push his friend’s buttons.

Twilight almost growls, seconds away from kicking everyone out under the stars for the night, however with your soft hand set upon his own, you smile up at him sweetly, “They’re okay, Link. I don’t mind the questions.”

‘I do,’ he wants to object, but he’s weak against your pleading eyes. With no other choice, he’s forced to sigh and take the seat next to you. The price of this compromise is your hand which he refuses to let go of, instead keeping it rested against his lap as the group eagerly continues teasing him questioning you.

“Have you always lived together?” Sky asks, perhaps the only one here who is truly innocent with his curiosity.

“Not until recently. It took some convincing for my family.”

“What, the goats and farm smells didn’t appeal to them?” Legend snickers playfully.

“Not exactly…” You grimace.

“They’re a well known noble family from Castle Town,” For once, Twilight answers a question himself, squeezing your hand with a smile that’s really closer to a smirk, “‘don’t think they cared much for their eldest running away with some plain o’ ranch hand.”

You return the action just as smugly, “But you won them over in the end.”

“Or they were just happy to get rid of ya’.”

“Why not a little of both?” You shrug before pecking his nose which leaves him grinning like a lovesick puppy. Legend sticks his tongue out and Warrior tells you both to get a room, prompting Twilight to promptly remind him whose house they’re currently in.

The rest of the Chain laughs heartily, save for Time who has been the only hero apparently mature enough not to actively take part in poking a wolf. He has simply been listening in respectful silence with his arms crossed over his chest and a small smile of amusement upon his face. Honestly, his presence could’ve been completely forgotten if not for him finally choosing to speak up as soon as the laughter dies down, “And does he behave himself around you?”

Twilight nearly chokes on his saliva and even you blush at this question, but you don't hesitate to offer an endearing nod, “Oh, of course. Link’s a perfect gentleman. I couldn’t possibly ask for anyone better.”

This seems to satisfy Time who returns your nod proudly, his smirk evident when Twilight dares take a peek at him, although the younger man struggles to fully face anyone beyond that; he’s too busy rubbing away the embarrassment from his face. 

Taking this as a sign that he’s officially reached his limit, you dismiss any further questions while placing a comforting hand on your boyfriend’s shoulder, yet your sympathy is a poor mask placed over the clear mirth even you take in his flustered state.

Legend never bothers announcing himself upon arriving home, although that’s something you’ve come to expect from your adventurous and often absent roommate. Seeing as you don’t get many visitors, it’s safe to assume it’s either him or Ravio whenever the front door creaks open, but nevertheless, you poke your head around the corner just to be certain. Yep, it’s Link…along with a group of strange boys?

“Funny. I didn’t think you had any friends,” Is your greeting as you lean against the doorway.

“You’re one to talk,” Legend scoffs back while simply brushing past you towards his chest room, “I’m just here to grab a few things and then we’ll be on our way.”

“Ah,” You nod, already accustomed to this pattern. As common as it is for his homecomings to lack any fanfare, it’s also fairly usual for his presence here to be short-lived so long as he has his sights set on adventure. Occasionally, he’ll take the time to fill you in on what he’s exactly doing, especially if planning on staying for a meal or nap, but other times, he’s in and out that door without a word.

You don’t mind, after all it’s exactly what you knew you’d be getting yourself into when you first agreed to move in, however it seems this group of travelers Legend’s brought along with him aren’t so used to his solitary ways. They all huddle awkwardly around the door, their eyes darting across the room and at times landing on you in clear curiosity that goes unspoken for now. You take it they’re unsure as to what they should be doing while waiting for Legend.

“Make yourselves comfortable. I’m sure he’ll only be a minute or two,” Your invitation is gladly accepted by the boys who quickly fill into the room instead of remaining in their crowded bundle. A few sit on whatever stools there are available at the table, but most remain standing. 

Faced with either awkward silence or a basic conversation, you decide to introduce yourself, telling them all your name with a friendly smile, “‘not sure if Link mentioned me or not, but I live here with him. I promise I’m not just some homeless person who broke in while he was away.”

“We didn’t think you were,” One chuckles stiffly, likely taking your comment as an odd ‘joke’. If only they knew about Ravio…

“Sooo, are you Lege - Link’s…Um -”

“- Roommate? Yeah. ‘have been for the last year.”

A brunette boy raises an eyebrow, even going as far as to squint his eyes at you as if you’ll suddenly confess to being a robber or something, “Are you only ‘roommates’ or…?”

"Well, what else would we be?" You ask, cocking your head to the side innocently. The boys all stare at you in disbelief.

“It’s just - The Vet talks about you all the time. Like, all the time!”

“Does he?” Now that’s a nice thought: Legend going out of his way to tell his traveling companions about you, speaking your name as if you’re someone important to him who always occupies a section of his mind…Oh, but you doubt it’s anything like that. He’s likely only mentioned you once and they’re exaggerating.

“I don’t know if he does ‘all the time’,” The shortest of the room argues almost as if reading your mind before adding more seriously, “But he has mentioned you. Pretty fondly, I’d say.”

“With the lovey-dovey eyes and everything,” The knight of the group nudges one of his friends teasingly and they both share a laugh.

You find it contagious, “If that were true, I’d suggest you check to make sure he hasn’t gotten a concussion. ‘Lovey-dovey’? Now that doesn’t sound like my Link.”

“What doesn’t sound like me?”

A few of the boys go pale while others smirk almost as if they take pleasure in having been caught. You never even heard Legend approach, although one look to your side and you see him already standing there with crossed arms, his eyes narrowed towards his friends.

You open your mouth, prepared to brush aside his worries and assure him they haven’t been saying anything bad about him behind his back, but then the youngest boy suddenly blurts: “Have you guys ever kissed before?!”

His question earns him a sharp elbow to the side and an even quicker scolding in a whispered tone, however the damage has already been done, particularly to your face which feels rather warm now. So that’s why they all seemed so confused by the whole ‘roommate’ thing. Apparently they doubt that’s the full story…

"No! I-I mean, not really...- It's not like we're a couple or anything if that’s what you’re thinking. We're just friends who decided to live together for convenience sake, that's all!" You explain in a rush.

“I needed someone to watch my house and stuff while I was away!” Legend adds, his face as red as his own tunic. Whether that’s from embarrassment or anger, you can’t tell, although the later might be the best guess given his puffed up cheeks. 

“Exactly! And I needed a place to stay.”

“Precisely! It was a ‘kill-two-birds-with-one-stone’ type of situation.”

“Simple as that!”

The group of travelers sit in silence, their eyes switching between Legend and you. Despite the diversity amongst them, they all manage the same deadpan expression; not a single one of them believes you, but then again, you’re not here for their approval. Hell, they’re in your house - Well, Legend’s house - NOT THAT IT MATTERS! You don’t owe these people an explanation for why you happen to live with a guy you may or may not find attractive! They’re not going to get one either!

Clapping your hands together, you do your best to change the subject, “So, no one’s told me how you guys have met yet. Let’s talk about that.”

.

.

.

Legend said they’d only be staying long enough to change his items, however that was a couple hours ago. You had lots of questions about finding out every stranger in your house was actually another version of him, all brought together across different timelines and kingdoms. A whole recap and dinner later, it had gotten late with many of the boys looking visibly tired from weeks on the road.

“What’s with the face?”

You want to call Link - your Link - a hypocrite because he’s had the same stupid pout on his face ever since he lost the vote on where they’d be staying for the night. You insisted that it be here, seeing no sensible reason for them to go camp elsewhere in the cold when they could have a warm roof over their heads. He did everything he could to argue, yet nine outweigh one.

“I’m just thinking about what your friends said earlier,” You sigh, rolling onto your back where you can stare at the ceiling instead of into his eyes as he lays next you. With the living room overflowing with guests, you’ve been forced to share a bed for the night not that you haven’t occasionally done it before, “I can’t believe they thought we’re dating. We’re friends who live together. That’s not illegal, is it?”

“Hmm.”

“And before they were saying you talk about me all the time like that means you’re in love with me or something. Like, I’m a fact of your life, sure, but I’m not your life itself, you know? It would be weirder for you to completely avoid mentioning me to other people.”

“...Yeah…”

“A-And maybe - just maybe - we’ve kissed before, but no further than a peck to the cheek or forehead…Only once have our lips actually touched…” You roll back onto your side to face him, biting your lip as you whisper, “...Maybe we should start putting more distance between ourselves to avoid any more misunderstandings like this…I’m sure if those boys already think we’re dating, the whole village must think it’s true.”

“...Or we could just do the opposite…” 

“What do you mean?”

Legend curls his face further against the pillow and his folded hands, doing everything he can to avoid your eyes as he mumbles barely audible words, “Clearly everyone is going to assume we’re in a relationship anyway, so we might as well avoid the hassle of having to explaining they’re wrong each time by just making it official…”

You blink, his hinted suggestion taking a few seconds to set in, although once it does you can’t help smirking. Leaning forward, you kiss his nose, causing his cheeks to flare as he stubbornly jerks away, “How convenient! I was recently thinking about looking for a boyfriend, but so long as you’re offering, you’ve saved me the trouble of finding someone as good as you!”

Legend grumbles, however that doesn’t stop him from inching closer to you and kissing your forehead, “...Just don’t say anything to them tomorrow or else I’ll never hear the end of it.”

[joels-shitty-puns]

I'm gonna make a request again (sorry your last one was too good for me not to ask again) but this time for a jealous Joel! Maybe the reader and him have been friends for a while and she's oblivious to his flirting and she finally lands a date? How it goes from there can be up to you! I just love the jealous and possessive trope.

The Jealousy Bug

Pairing: Jealous!Joel Miller x f!Reader

Hi!! I'm so sorry this took me so long to write, but thank you for the request!! I hope you like it!! I got a lil carried away... hope its not too much smut.

~~~~~

(Reader and Joel live in Jackson, amid the apocalypse)

Word count: 6.8K (oof)

Warnings: 18+ only, MDNI!! Smut smut smut. P in V sex (likely unprotected but not specified. Its an apocalypse, yo.), masturbation (m and f), sort of dubcon? voyeurism?? sorta?, kissing, talk of genitals and arousal, horny behavior. Explicit language and mean names. Alcohol. Violence: infected, guns, punching, mention of a knife. Joel is kind of a jerk sometimes. Possessive. Mentions of loss and grief (all within S.1 of TLOU). I haven't played part II yet so we're just gonna ignore what we know happens there. Joel and Ellie are happy in Jackson. Joel and Reader are friends and sort of neighbors. Clueless idiots in love. A total asshole of a guy in the town. Lil bit of fluff/romance? Mention of bugs (pill bugs), but not in a gross way. If I missed anything, please let me know, and I apologize!

Other Stuff: Avoidance of reader descriptors, other than reader is AFAB. Mentions of having hair on the noggin. She/her pronouns. Reader is clueless and also clumsy as hell. Reader also drinks coffee and alcohol. Italics indicate thoughts.

__________

It was around 4PM when you filed into the community center for another mandatory patrol meeting. It may be an apocalypse, but even now, you wished this meeting could have been an email instead. Alas, that was a thing of the past, and you were unfortunately stuck listening to the usual spiel about necessary vs. unnecessary items to raid… The importance of remembering to ABC, “Always Be Cautious,” plants that can and can't be eaten, etc.

You sat in your usual spot, the back row next to Joel Miller. A year ago when you first moved to this town, first started patrol, you came into this very room not knowing anyone. Friend groups stuck together, each of the two front rows filled, yet a few empty spaces here and there. Instead, you walked towards the back of the room. A handsome man, who you soon learned was named Joel, sat by himself, three rows back, behind the last full aisle. He was alone. The whole aisle of chairs was empty. He sat with his arms crossed, and you could tell based on his posing that he was not the social type. 

You were feeling a bit nervous, having finally found a sort of civilization in this mess, and hoping the people of Jackson accept you and not just shoot you, like most camps do when they see unknown faces. Unsure where to sit, you continued to head towards the back, slightly drawn to the gorgeous gray-haired man in the last row. Not wanting to intrude, you sat at the far end from Joel. You could feel his eyes on you as you sat, but you didn't dare look over and make eye contact. Years of survival instincts have told you that, especially when someone doesn't want to be bothered.

_____

When you first walked into the room, Joel looked up. He sat in the back row, as usual, not wanting to get close to anyone. However, even if he did, nobody gave him the time of day. They have heard stories of what he’s done, they have seen him around town, often grumbling about something. They could tell he wanted to be left alone and they had no interest in testing how badly he wanted to be left alone.

Joel found it easier to not form connections. Tommy kept telling him to make friends, come around more, socialize in the town. But Joel had learned over the years why making connections never ends well. All he has is Tommy and Ellie, and neither of those were his initial decision, but Tommy is his only family, and somehow he let himself care for Ellie.

But when Joel saw you… there was a flash of longing. He saw you smile gently at Tommy with a small wave. He could see you shrink walking to your seat past the cliques. You were beautiful, and if it were pre-pandemic, you'd be the exact type he'd probably take interest to.

But those days are over.

Or… so he thought.

He set his eyes back down on his hands in his lap, avoiding eye contact with you when you sat down at the end of the row from him.

Why did she sit so far away? Am I that horrible to be around? His heart questioned.

You don't want to be near people anyway. Good she sat far away. Leave me alone. His brain tried to argue.

Tommy droned on and on, the meeting nearing an hour by now, and you could feel Joel’s eyes on the side of your face every few minutes. You don't know why he kept staring, but it made you feel nervous. Did you have something on your face or clothes? Did you smell bad?

Tommy knew his brother well, sometimes more than Joel likes to admit out loud, and as he talked, he took note of Joel’s staring. At first his expression looked confused, maybe irritated or disgusted. Then it looked slightly… disappointed. But he kept stealing glances your direction, and so with a smirk, Tommy assigned the two of you to be on patrol together. Joel questioned his reasoning afterward, but he knew there was no point arguing with his brother.

After that day, you patrolled together. You both went to the bar with the group after meetings. You sat closer and closer to Joel. You managed to get some words out of him, and he listened to you chatter on. But it was when you brought him a cup of coffee before patrol one morning that he finally let down his guard. His heart had betrayed his defenses.

“What's this?” He asked, gruffly.

“Coffee, Joel…” you replied with a joking eye roll. “It's black. I know you don't like anything in it.”

He took a sip, shocked to taste that you actually knew how he took his coffee. “How did you know that?”

“I notice things Joel.” You patted his shoulder, walking towards the group.

_____

Now, a year later, the two of you were very close friends. You still surprised him with things you remembered or noticed, but much to his chagrin, the one thing you didn't pick up on were his advances. He'd call you pet names, be sweet to you, treat you like a gentleman, flirt a little, and it was like talking to a robot. You were clueless.

Tonight's meeting finally ended, the large group heading outside to the chill fall air. “You wanna get drinks with the patrol squad?” you asked Joel. 

“Wouldn't miss it,” he winked at you, putting his leather jacket on his shoulders.

Although you went as a group, ultimately you and Joel spent most of the nights in your own little bubble, occasionally making space in your circle for Tommy, or Maria if she joined.

Tonight, the two of you sat at the bar, the patrol group spread throughout the room at different tables. Joel excused himself to use the restroom, and while he was gone, Jimmy, one of the other patrol members approached you. Hurrying before Joel returned, he flirted and asked you out on a date. You told him you'd think about it, that you weren't sure if you were ready for a relationship after years of caution.

Not technically a lie, you thought. Although you really just weren't ready for a relationship because your heart was already taken by your handsome best friend. 

Joel returned just in time to see Jimmy walking away. “What did he want?” Joel grumbled. “Ah nothin, just wanted to say hi while getting a drink,” you lied. Joel accepted this answer and the two of you drank into the night. At the end of the evening, you seemed pretty drunk. Jimmy offered to walk you home, but before you had a chance to reply, Joel replied for you.

“I'll take her home, thanks.” He bit, turning you away from Jimmy. “I don't like the idea of that boy walkin’ you home. Don't trust ‘im. ‘Specially not when you're in this condition,” he wrapped an arm around you, shuffling you toward the door.

“You don't think I can handle myself, Joel?” You asked him, pulling away, a little bit irritated at him treating you like a weakling. “I seem to do just fine on patrol,” you argued.

“I know that, sugar. I didn't mean it like that. I just don't trust that guy. Heard how he goes through women. Don't want him trying’ anything with you,” he brushed his hand over your hair, causing you to soften at his words and actions.

You gasped lightly. “Is THE Joel Miller… jealous?” You knew he wasn't, but why not test the waters?

“What? Jealous? Of what? No ‘m not.” he balked. “Just lookin’ out for you…”

“Mmhm… you just wanna be the only big strong man walking me home, huh?” You teased, tripping over your own feet. 

Joel caught you in his arms. “Big strong man, huh? ‘S that what you think of me?” 

Shit… did I say that? You panicked. Maybe I'm more drunk than I thought…

Deciding to tease it off, you replied, “well you do always seem to catch me when I fall…” with a wink.

Falling in more ways than one… you thought, frustrated.

He rubbed his neck with the hand not holding you upright. You could almost see a pink tinge to his cheeks.

No, that has to be the lights playing tricks on my eyes… you thought. No way Joel Miller was blushing at your words.

“I kinda have to, ya big klutz. Practically a liability. I oughta tell Tommy to add a safety section on patrolling with you,” he bantered.

“Ah, shut up” you laughed with a push, causing yourself to lose balance instead of Joel. He just gave a knowing look, causing you both to laugh as you continued walking, now side by side instead of him holding you up.

After a few moments of silence, you spoke up. “You know, I could've walked myself home, Joel,” you stumbled, giggling.  

“Whoa there, sweetheart.” He wrapped his arms around you again, propping you up. “Don't worry about it. Let's just get you home. You've had way too much to drink.”

“You're so sweet Joel,” you pouted at him, booping his nose. “Joelly Joel.” You giggled. “Jolly Joelly.” Another giggle. “I dunno why people think you're so grumpy. I think you're just a big teddy bear,” you closed your eyes, leaning your head on his shoulder while he stumbled forward, trying to keep you upright.

“Who says I'm grumpy, darlin’?” He tilted his head towards you, smirking. “The whole town, silly. Silly Joelly. Joely-poly.” You gasped abruptly, causing Joel to jerk and turn to face you. “What? What is it?” His hand reached for his knife on his hip. Old habits die hard.

“Joely-poly!!” You squealed. “Awe! Roly-polies. Remember those!? I used to love them when I was little.” You pouted. “Before this whole world went to shit.”

Joel thought back to the little pill bugs, playing in the dirt with them when he was younger. Teaching his own daughter about them. His heart aches for what he lost, but he also thinks of Ellie. He bets she would love the little bugs too.

“That's a cute nickname for you,” you smiled. “They're so cute. Just,” you booped his nose. “Like.” Boop. “You,” you wrapped your arms around his neck, hugging him tight. Another gasp from your lips.

He flinched again. “Darlin’, if you don't quit that I swear-”

“Joeeeel!” You pouted. “Do you think the roly-polies all died off with the infection!?” Your eyes welled up.

“Oh, sweetheart, don't cry. There's probably still some out there. Bugs could get cordyceps long before the fungus attacked humans, and they were still alive back then.” You looked up into his deep brown eyes through your fluttering lashes. “You really think so?” You leaned in, placing both your hands on his cheeks. His breath caught in his chest. “Darlin’, you drank a lot tonight-” you cut off his sentence, running your hands down his neck, resting your palms on his chest. His heart was beating a mile a minute. If he didn't know better, he'd worry his heart would leap out and fly away. 

Your eyes lit up and you slid off his chest, lowering clumsily to the ground and gripping his sides for balance. You were now on your knees, eye level with his crotch, hands on his hips. His breath was ragged and his stomach full of twirling butterflies. “Wh-what do you think you're doin’?” He asked nervously. You looked up at him with big eyes, your hands slowly falling down from his hips to his thighs as you tried to balance yourself in your drunken state. He couldn't help but feel his pants begin to tent at the position you were in. He would never take advantage of you in your current state, but trying to ignore the desire brewing in his body after so many months of unrequited feelings was challenging. Did you finally see his advances for what they were? Feelings instead of friendliness?

You grinned up at him, finally regaining balance. “I'm gonna go look for ‘em!” you turned and waddled away on your knees, heading a couple feet away, towards a patch of flowers off the path.

She just needed to use me as a ladder, or what…? Joel thought to himself with a sigh and shaking his head in disappointment, his sexual frustration at its breaking point.

You crawled forward, falling onto your hands and knees in the soft dirt. Joel quickly stepped forward to try and grab you but realized, despite your lack of grace, you meant to do that. “Ugh… darlin', it's dark out here. It's cold. You're drunk. Let's get you home.”

“I'm looking for buggies, Joel!!” You leaned towards a leaf, arching downward so that your face was closer to the ground, ass up. 

“Oh, have mercy…” Joel groaned under his breath, his eyes drifting downward. Your ass was up in the air, facing him, the fabric of your dress having fallen forward towards your front. Your light pink panties were on full display for Joel, leaving little to his imagination in this position. Joel subtly adjusted his pants, looking up to the sky and shaking his head in a silent plea. 

You whined. “Joel, I don't see any.” You leaned farther forward, wiggling your butt somehow higher. Joel looked around, panicked at the thought that someone else might see you in this position. But luckily, you were close to your house and it was just the two of you out here. He turned back to you again. “I think it's time you get up and we go in-” you moved further forward, the streetlight shining above you and illuminating your ass. Joel tried to be a gentleman, but his eyes betrayed him. As he snuck another glance, he couldn't help but notice a little wet spot over the crotch of your panties. “In-inside…” he finished his sentence, words catching in his throat. He gulped, trying to divert his eyes. 

Taking a shaky breath and stepping forward, trying to ignore the throbbing need in his pants, he lightly grabbed your arm. “It's time to go sweetheart. The bugs are sleepin’ I think.” 

You looked at him and smiled mischievously. “I know, Joel,” you winked. Jumping up, you scampered towards your house, leaving Joel to wonder what the hell just happened.

“Woman's gonna be the death of me,” Joel muttered under his breath to himself. He caught up to you, just as you both approached your house. “Joel, I don't wanna go home. Can't I stay with you? And Ellie?” you batted your eyelashes at him. He rubbed his neck. “Ellie's with a friend tonight. But, you do have a point. You probably shouldn't be left by yourself in this state. Don't want you gettin’ hurt, or sick, and bein’ all alone.”

“Such a gentleman, Joel.” You touched his bicep, the two of you walking towards Joel's house across the street.

Hardly, he thought, grimacing at the reason he was aching in his trousers, feeling like an old creep, and a terrible excuse for a friend.

Once inside Joel's house, he gave you a baggy sleep shirt and a glass of water with some crackers to help with the alcohol. You changed, brushed your teeth with a spare toothbrush, and used the restroom. He let you have his bed, while he took the couch down the hall, scrunching his legs up to barely fit.

_____

Joel tried his hardest to ignore what he saw earlier and just go to bed, but the aching only continued, making it impossible to sleep. Sure that you must have fallen asleep by now, tucked away in his bed down the hall, he quietly reached into his pajama bottoms and boxers, pulling out his rock-hard penis. Even the mere touch of removing himself from his pants caused him to hiss, so worked up he could have cum just watching you bent over earlier.

He was a gentleman, but he was still a man, and one that hadn't been with a woman in a very long time. With as many people as he'd lost by one means or another, he'd told himself he wouldn't get close to anyone else. Sarah's mom. Sarah. Tess. Bill and Frank. Sam and Henry. He almost thought he had lost Tommy before Jackson, too. It was against his wishes that Ellie crawled her way into his heart, and then he almost lost her as well. He was beginning to think maybe it was him. He was cursed, doomed to have anyone he loved ripped away from him.

Which is why when you came to Jackson, he tried his best to ignore you. But you always greeted him, cheerful and sweet, like a little ball of sunshine that was somehow untarnished by the storm clouds of an apocalypse.

He was irritated to realize that he had made room in his heart for you. You caused an ache in his heart that yearned to be filled. A missing piece in his soul. A place for him to someday fit, tangled between sheets and loving words. It had been about a year since you moved to Jackson, and he still feared getting too close to you, yet he would try his hardest to woo you the way a gentleman should. Sweet nicknames, flirting, gentle touches. You never picked up on it. Whether or not you felt the same, he stupidly fell in love. Unsure if it was mutual, yet pretty sure it wasn't after all this time, he tried to ignore the dirty thoughts revolving around you when the late-night urges would hit him. Somehow it felt wrong.

But tonight, it was hard to avoid. Having you touch him. His face, his neck, his chest, his hips, his thighs. Kneeling eye level with his crotch. Slinking away, sticking your barely covered ass in the air, letting your wet panties be shown to him and only him. He couldn't get you out of his head as he stroked himself. First slowly, but then harder and faster, trying to reach his climax with the thought of him burying himself in that sweet spot underneath your wet underwear. How he longed to see you with his own eyes, begging for him.

He tried to be quiet, to keep himself hidden from you down the hall, but the noise of skin on skin grew slightly louder with each of his quiet moans and panting breaths that managed to slip from his lips. Imagining himself buried deep inside you, taking you from behind in the same position he saw you in earlier, imagining the tight grip around him and the slick noises he could only fantasize about. He could practically hear you moaning and sighing, the sound seeping from his subconscious to the living room. He pumped harder, swirling his thumb around the head, drooling with precum, as his climax grew closer. He could feel his strokes becoming less controlled and his balls pulling upward as he began to shoot load after load of white hot release up under his shirt onto his stomach. Stroking himself through it, he milked his last few ropes of cum out before laying back to catch his breath, slowly tucking himself back away in his pants.

Coming back to his senses, he realized the sounds of your moans and whimpers that he was imagining were still happening. Taken out of his fantasies when he finished, there was no reason for the sounds to still be in his head. Needing to grab a cloth from the linen closet down the hall anyway, he walked, nearing his bedroom door, and heard the unmistakable sound of you pleasuring yourself. Quietly, he padded down the hallway, closer to the door. He could tell you were trying to be quiet, but could still hear you, soft whimpers and pants, surrounded by wet schlick noises.

Fuck, he thought. He could feel himself already getting excited again, despite having just released a few minutes ago. He desperately wanted to join you in his bed, or at the least, stand by the door and listen to your sounds while pleasuring himself, but he wasn't going to be a creep, nor scare you to death. You were still his friend. Even if he did want to move the couch across the living room to hear you better.

_____

Meanwhile in Joel's room, you had tried to sleep. You really had. But tossing and turning, each roll causing your nose to be surrounded with his scent, you were thrown into a frenzy, like an animal in heat. Each smell of his cologne, shaving cream, deodorant, and natural body scent that you picked up from his bed sent a wave of arousal directly to your core. You wondered how many times he'd pleasured himself in this bed and how frequently. You wondered if he ever thought of you while doing it, imagining himself buried deep to the hilt inside of you, each drag of his cock more perfect than the last, much like you were imagining now.

You would be lying if you didn't say there were a lot of handsome men in Jackson. Granted, you had been without romance for a very long time, but still. Many of them were single, and some of them were very sweet and friendly. Yet for some strange reason, your heart had been drawn to Joel. The first moment you saw him, with his silvery curls and his grumpy face, his shining brown eyes and his patched beard, you were smitten. You were a bit disappointed that he seemed to be a massive grump, but despite what everyone said, he was always nice to you. Granted, you were always nice to him, so why should he be anything less, right?

He was always a total gentleman, calling you names like darlin’ and sweetheart, his southern drawl pulling you in like a lasso. His care for his unofficially-adopted daughter warmed your heart, and you could see he was a real family man from both their relationship, and the one he shared with his brother. It warmed your heart, especially when you befriended Tommy and Ellie, getting to hear them talk about Joel. Seeing the love they feel, even if they give him a hard time sometimes. You didn't see how people felt Joel was cruel or heartless, even with the stories you heard. Times were rough, and people did what they had to for survival. 

You were always too chicken to make a move, and you figured he wouldn't be interested anyway. Surely him calling you those names and being sweet with you was just his Southern gentlemanly nature, right? You were nice to him, he was nice to you. 

So tonight, when Jimmy, the local heartthrob in town, asked you on a date, you told him you'd think about it and let him know. Yeah, you claimed you weren't sure how you felt about relationships after all the world had become. Truth was, you wanted a last chance with Joel before throwing in the towel and settling for Jimmy.

Sure, Jimmy was handsome. Blonde hair, blue eyes, rugged, yet boyish. Several of the women in town had crushes on him, and he had had several of the women in town. You weren't clueless to the rumors about his playboy behavior. But it had been a while and well, you weren't getting any younger. It might be nice to have a partner, even if he did only want a short little fling. 

So throwing back a few drinks, you decided you needed the liquid courage to finally make a move at Joel. One last effort to get his attention. You still didn't want to say anything to him, lest it ruin your current friendship that had grown so strong, but you could certainly use your body to entice a little. Drinking just enough to be brave, yet not so drunk that you were completely out of it, you gave an impression you were much drunker than you were, and needed Joel to help you out. Jimmy had almost been the one to walk you home, to your disappointment, before Joel stepped in, seeming slightly irritated about Jimmy's offer.

Yet after practically waving your ass in his face, showing him your panties (which you were sure looked wet), being inches from his crotch at knee height, and hanging on him all the way home, to now sleeping in his house and his bed, you were quite sure he didn't feel the same. Obviously his gestures were pure gentlemanly charm if he didn't bite after tonight's show.

So you tried to sleep, still a little drunk, but getting drunker off his scent. You tried to ignore the ache between your legs but the thought of him in this bed, groaning as his hand pumped his member to completion, made you throb. Soaked and antsy, you finally gave in and stuck your hand under the waistband of your panties. You let your imagination run wild, picturing him taking you in this bed, bringing you to bliss more than once. You could practically hear him groaning and panting, the sound seeping from your subconscious to the bedroom.

Tomorrow you would likely tell Jimmy yes. But tonight, you would try your best to get Joel out of your system, one stroke of your fingers at a time. But as you finished, coming with a whisper of Joel's name under your breath, you could still hear the groans and pants from Joel. Climbing out of bed, you moved to the door, pressing your ear against it. You could just barely hear the sounds of him panting and groaning, intermittent with the fapping of skin on skin. Delightedly surprised, you listened harder, feeling your pussy drool at the thought. How desperately you wanted to go out into the living room and climb on top of him. But he might not want that… he probably just couldn't sleep. Probably nothing to do with the scene you put on earlier. So instead, you slinked back to his bed, opting for round two.

At some point, the two of you fell asleep, panting and writhing with the self-induced pleasure, and the sound of each other through the door.

_____

The next morning, you awoke, walking down the hall to see Joel in his pajama bottoms and no shirt, making coffee. Your eyes scanned his broad shoulders and back, naked and tan. Bringing you back to last night's events, you felt your breath catching in your chest. 

“M-morning” you stuttered out, nervously.

Joel jumped, having not heard you. He turned, greeting you with a good morning. A faint blush crept across his cheeks and he quickly turned his head to pour a cup of coffee, offering you some as well. Thanking him, the two of you sipped in silence, both stealing glances at the other and thinking of the night before. Both of you felt like you had a dirty little secret the other didn't know. 

“Thanks again for taking care of me last night,” you added. In more ways than one, you thought.

“Of course, darlin’. Couldn't have you walkin’ home all alone or getting sick in the middle of the night. You're always welcome here,” he smiled.

“Well, I guess I better head to my house now,” you sighed. “See you later at patrol?”

“Course. Take care, sugar.” He brushed his hand over your arm. That's new… you thought. But still, probably friendly, unfortunately.

____

Hours later, you show up to patrol, noticing Joel hasn't arrived yet. Still a few minutes early, you look at the map, thinking over the route. You felt a tap on your shoulder, and turned around to see Jimmy. 

“Hey, Jimmy,” you greeted, feeling slightly awkward. You assumed he probably wanted (and deserved) an answer. You rubbed your arm nervously, staring at the ground, wondering what to tell him. He was handsome, you thought, and you weren't getting anywhere with Joel. 

“Did you, uh” Jimmy scratched behind his ear, “give any more thought to that date?”

Geesh. Not a lot of thinking time here…

“I did,” you replied. “I think… My answer is yes. I'll go out with you.” You felt a pang of regret in your stomach, but you wanted a connection, and you just weren't getting that from Joel, despite what you wanted to think from last night.

Jimmy grinned. “Really?” He picked up your hand, holding it in his. “That's great. I know you have patrol today, but maybe Friday? I'll meet you at your house at 6?” 

“Sure,” you gave a small fake smile. “Sounds great.” He still held your hand, warm and soft and nothing like the rugged, large, callused hands of hard-working Joel. Although Joel has never held your hand, the times he's touched your arms, or held you up on your walk from the bar, he left a trail of goosebumps and butterflies in his wake, despite being warm to the touch.

Jimmy went to kiss your hand, just as Joel walked up. “What’s goin’ on here, huh?” He asked, seeming almost… angry, looking from Jimmy, to your connected hands, over to your face. “Joel,” Jimmy dropped your hand, giving Joel a curt nod.

“Jimmy..” Joel replied, teeth clenched. 

“I'll see you Friday,” Jimmy smiled at you, touching your shoulder before walking away.

“What did that little asshole want?” Joel growled.

“Geez Joel, chill out. What's your problem? I'm not allowed to talk to people?” You crossed your arms.

“I toldja last night. I don't trust that kid. Too busy sleepin’ around with the whole town. What's he talkin’ to you for?” Joel furrowed his brow, looking over at Jimmy across the room, now talking to some of the other patrolmen.

“Gosh Joel.. seriously what is wrong with you? First of all, he's hardly a kid. He's at least in his thirties. Second of all, everyone he's been with, I'm sure has been consensual, otherwise Tommy would have kicked him out of the town. And lastly, but probably more important. What do you mean “what is he talking to you for?” You mocked in a deep voice. “Like I'm the only option he has left? Like I'm not deserving of a man talking to me? Not that it’s any of your business, friend, but for your information, Jimmy is taking me on a date on Friday. So fuck off, Joel.” You started to stomp away angrily, grabbing your pack off the desk.

“The fuck he is,” Joel muttered under his breath, so quiet you didn't hear and grabbing his pack as well.

_____

Five hours. Five hours of riding in complete silence, checking out abandoned buildings in complete silence, and taking breaks in complete silence. Even your first patrol wasn't this quiet, and you couldn't help but feel like he was somehow angry at you.

As irritated as you were with him, not talking to him somehow felt worse. This wasn't like him. Is this the grumpy side everyone talks about? Is this Joel, the asshole you have yet to meet?

Feeling confused, your eyes started to cloud, slightly teary with anger and sadness, yet also a bit of dread at going out with Jimmy. You blinked your eyes, sorting through the abandoned drug store you and Joel were in.

Finding some condoms on a shelf, you threw them in your pack. “What're you doin’?” Joel asked. “Those can't be sold, didn't you pay attention to Tommy? They're rarely effective this old.”

“Yes I paid attention, Joel. I know they can't be sold. They're for me. I figured it's better than nothing,” you replied bitterly. “I have a date in a couple days, I want to be prepared,” you scowled. Joel’s jaw clenched, but he didn't say anything, instead turning to look the other direction of the aisle.

Crouched down to search the bottom shelf for other items, Joel was still turned away from you, keeping lookout on the other end of the aisle. 

You didn't even hear the stalker leap around the corner from the shadows and pounce on you. It opened its mouth, fungal strands spreading from its mouth towards your face. Pure fear pulsed through your veins.

“Joel!!!!!” You cried out, using all your strength to try and push the infected off of your body, but it was too strong. 

You screamed and kicked, struggling to break free, when Joel fired his shotgun, shooting the enemy in the head and immediately running over to you. Throwing the infected off of your body as if it was weightless, Joel scooped you into his arms. His lips moved but you heard nothing. Your ears rang, high pitched squeals from adrenaline, fear, shock, and the bang of the shotgun.

Joel pawed over your body, roughly inspecting you for bites and wounds in a frenzy. When he didn't find any, he held you in his arms again. “It's okay baby, it's okay. You're alright sweetheart. Come back to me, it's okay. You're okay.” Your hearing must have returned. He rocked you, tears welling from your eyes and his. “You're okay. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry.” He kissed your ear and the side of your head, still rocking you in a hug, sitting on the floor, inches from the now-dead infected. The two of you needed to get out of here, but neither of you could move yet.

Finally you spoke. “Why are you sorry Joel?” You asked with a sniffle. You wrapped your arm around his back, the other hand finding the back of his head, gripping his curls gently.

“I'm sorry for how I've been actin’ all day. I'm sorry I didn't see that stalker before he attacked. I'm sorry for being so possessive earlier. I'm sorry,” he held you tighter.

You pulled back to look into his eyes. “Joel, you couldn't have heard or seen that stalker. That's what they do best. You saved me and that's all that matters. As for earlier, you were being an asshole, and it did really hurt my feelings. All this time people have said you're such a jerk, and I didn't see it,” you pulled away from his grip, “but today I did.” You looked at your lap. “Don't I deserve to go on a date? Don't I deserve to have someone love me?” You picked at the hem of your pants, avoiding his eye contact.

“Oh, darlin', I'm so sorry. I never meant for you to feel that way. I just - you deserve something real, not a hookup like that guy wants. I know his type. He'll sleep with you and toss you aside. You deserve to be treated like a lady.”

You snorted. “Yeah, Joel. That's how things are nowadays, too. Gentleman just waiting to sweep me off my feet. Shit, you literally just saved me from near-death, something that happens all the time today, and yet you're saying I deserve love? To find romance? Yeah, right.”

Joel didn't say anything. He just looked into your eyes, lips pursed and moving to the side in thought. His eyes drifted to your lips and back up to your sight.

You continued. “I don't even like Jimmy,” you said quietly. “I like someone else, but I just got tired of waiting and wanted some kind of connection. Even if it's just a night in bed.” At the last part of your sentence, Joel grimaced, almost in pain. And then he thought.

“Wait,” he sat back a little, scanning your face. “Who do you like?” 

You gulped. Why not a little more adrenaline? “Well, it was you, until you started acting like an asshole. But I realized you probably didn't feel the same way a while ago. Especially after I practically threw myself at you last night.”

“Threw yourself at me last night? What are you talkin’ about? You were drunk,” Joel answered.

“I wasn't that drunk, Joel. My movements were pretty planned. The placement of my touches on your body. My ass angled up in your direction. I wanted you,” you added, pointedly.

Joel looked like he was solving a complicated math problem. “So you… last night when you… I heard you, in bed, pleasurin’ yourself. Were you… thinking about me?”

You looked up at him in shock and panic. “You heard me?” You asked in a frantic whisper.

“Yeah, I uh… I did. I got up to get a towel and heard your uh… sounds” he cleared his throat.

“I guess I should tell you then that I heard you too,” you said with a smirk.

Joel swallowed, hard. “Y-ya heard me?”

“Yep” you replied, popping your lips on the p sound.

Joel had nothing to lose at this point. “I was thinking about you,” he proclaimed. “Thinkin’ bout that wet spot on your panties when you flashed your ass in the air. Wishin’ I was buried inside you.” He ran his hand across your thigh.

Your breathing picked up. “I was thinking about you too. Wishing you'd bust through that door and take me in your bed, running my nails down your back as we came together…” you mimicked the motion with your fingers down his jacket-clad back.

“Fuck,” he hissed, eyes closing. You glanced down at the noticeable bulge in his jeans. “I like you too, I just never thought you felt the same. Y’never seemed to pick up on any of my sweet talkin’ or my names for ya.”

“I just figured you were being nice,” you replied, glancing back into his eyes.

“You should know by now, I'm only nice to you,” he growled. “I'm sorry I ruined that today,” he glanced at your mouth, licking his lips. “Was just jealous. Want you all for myself,” he stroked your thigh again.

You sighed at the feeling, pulling him by his collar to kiss him deeply. The kiss was frantic and rough, both of you trying to get as much of each other as possible, a year of build-up boiling at the surface. Teeth clashed and tongues danced and you pulled each other closer, grasping at clothes and skin. 

The two of you broke the kiss, needing a gasp of air. You started to take off your shirt when Joel stopped you. “Whoa, darlin'. I want you just as bad, but not here,” he gestured to the old building. “It's dangerous, not to mention gross in here. I wasn't kidding when I said you deserve romance,” he stood, pulling you to your feet. “We're about a 20 minute ride from base, let's head home. Make your fantasy of fuckin’ in my bed come true,” he winked, giving a smack to your ass. 

_____

The 20 minute ride felt never-ending as you both stole glances at each other, your panties still wet with arousal, and him still sporting the tent in his pants, which was hard to miss. 

Finally making it back to the stables, you both quickly undressed the horses and put gear away, about to head out of the barn when Jimmy and his partner rode up. “Hey, babe,” he called to you. It sounded wrong from his mouth. Joel tensed at your side.

Dismounting his horse, Jimmy strolled over to you. “Hey Jimmy, I was thinking. I don't think I want to go on that date after all. I'm sorry, I just don't feel the same way.”

“What?” Jimmy asked in disbelief.

“I know, I'm sorry if I hurt you. I- I like someone else. I just didn't think they felt the same way,” you replied sheepishly.

“Fuck you,” he spat.

“What?” You were in disbelief.

“Fuck you, bitch. One of the few women in this town who won't fuckin’ put out. I was even gonna take you on some shitty date before I got you into bed, and now you make a fool of me? Nah, I don't think so,” he stalked towards you angrily. 

You stepped back, worried what he might do, but Joel stepped in first, nailing a punch at Jimmy's nose. “Don't you dare talk to her like that,” Joel yelled.

Tommy came running in, hearing the commotion. After hearing what happened, it was decided that Jimmy wouldn't be welcome in this town any longer.

Satisfied, you grabbed Joel's hand. “Why don't I show you who I really belong to?” You looked up at him, biting your lip.

“Lead the way, baby.” He pushed you forward, smacking your ass.

The two of you stumbled into his house, kissing with little regard for objects. Luckily, Ellie was still at a friend's house. The door slammed closed and you kissed furiously, undressing as you walked. Finally you reached his bedroom and fell onto the bed, where he made all your fantasies of the night prior come true. The two of you enjoyed the taste of each other's mouths, kissing and licking, while he pounded into you, leaving you breathless and screaming his name as you both came.

“That was even better than I imagined,” you sighed, rolling over onto his chest.

“That's my girl,” he cooed, kissing your head and rubbing your back.

“Mine,” he whispered.

[officialclangen]

Hi!! i was looking through the masterpost and couldn't find anything for it, so i wanted to ask- is there any guide to how cats would be described in the allegiances page in-game? ex. a rosette cat being described as "oddly-spotted" etc. i wanna use similar descriptors for cats, but the page only accounts for alive cats inside the clan, so i was wondering if theres any list of what pelt traits indicate what description is used?

Well, there was no resource for this, but let's make one now! I peeked into the files to grab the descriptors for you :]

Below the readmore, this is very long as I included everything that goes into it! Hopefully it helps <3

☆ Fable ☆

Colour Descriptors

"pale"— White

Only called "pale" if the cat is not singlecolour, twocolour, tortoiseshell, or calico. In these cases, it is called "white"

"pale gray"— Palegrey

"gray"— Grey

"dark gray"— Darkgrey

"pale ginger"— Paleginger

"dark ginger"— Darkginger, Sienna

"light brown"— Lightbrown, Lilac

"golden brown"— Golden-brown

"dark brown"— Darkbrown, Chocolate

"black"— Ghost

Colours that are listed the same as they are coded— Silver, Golden, Ginger, Brown, Black

Pattern Descriptors

"[colour] tabby"— Tabby, Marbled, Mackerel, Classic, Agouti, Sokoke

"speckled [colour]"— Speckled

"unusually dappled [colour]"— Bengal

"unusually spotted [colour]"— Rosette

"[colour] ticked"— Ticked

"[colour] smoke"— Smoke

"dorsal-striped [colour]"— Singlestripe

"masked [colour] tabby"— Masked

Tortoiseshell Descriptors

"[colour]"— [Base colour]/[Patch colour]

Base colour refers to the main colour, while patch colour refers to the colour of the cats patches. They are always written with the slash between them Examples: brown/ginger, pale gray/black

"[colour] tortie"— A tortoiseshell with either no white patch, or a white patch that is either classed as little white or mid white.

"[colour] calico"— A tortoiseshell with a white patch that is either classed as high white or mostly white.

"[colour] mottled"— A tortoiseshell whose base colour and patch colours are both in the brown, black, or white category

They do not need to both be in the same category, just one of those three; a lilac and ghost tortoiseshell will be listed as mottled, for example, but a lilac and ginger tortoiseshell will not

"[descriptor] tabby"— If a tortoiseshell has the pelt type Tabby, Ticked, Mackerel, Classic, Sokoke, Agouti, Bengal, Rosette, or Speckled, "tabby" is added after the descriptor.

Example: A Lilac and Ginger tortoiseshell tabby with the Rosette pattern and no white patches would be listed as a "light brown/ginger tortie tabby"

White Patch Descriptors

"[colour] and white"— A non-tortoiseshell with a white patch that is either classed as little white, mid white, or high white.

Can also be a tortoiseshell with a white patch that is either classed as little white or mid white

"white and [colour]"— A non-tortoiseshell with a white patch that is classed as mostly white.

"white"— A cat with the Fullwhite patch, regardless of what colour they are underneath. Overwrites their main colour

This is different to a singlecolour white cat as they have a different pelt type underneath the patch. Fullwhite cats that are tortoiseshell underneath are listed as calico on their profile page, but not the allegiances

"[colour] point"— A cat with one of the point markings

If a cat is a point under the ginger category, they are listed as a flame point

Gender Descriptors

"she-cat"— Female, Trans Female

"tom"— Male, Trans Male

"cat"— All other identities

Extra Descriptors

"vitiligo"— A cat with vitiligo

Missing body parts have special listings, as follows;

"no tail"— NoTail "half a tail"— HalfTail "three legs"— NoPaw "a missing ear"— NoLeftEar, NoRightEar "no ears"— NoEar

Vitiligo and missing body parts are joined together as "vitiligo, [scar], [scar] and [scar]"

"scarred [colour]"— A cat with three or more scars

"long-furred [colour]"— A cat with long fur

Putting it Together

For a non-tortoiseshell with no white patches:

a [extra] [colour] [pattern/tortoiseshell] [white] [gender] with [extra]

You would remove any non-used sections. Examples below;

a long-furred dorsal-striped pale gray tom with vitiligo and three legs

a dark ginger/light brown tortie tabby she-cat

a scarred white and unusually spotted black cat

a long-furred scarred light brown/black mottled point she-cat with no tail, three legs and a missing ear

[thezombieprostitute]

Tech Tuesday: Curtis Everett

Summary: Your ex shows back up in your life.

A/N: Reader is female. No physical descriptors used.

Warnings: Ex-boyfriend angst, Hospital setting, Past abuse. Please let me know if I missed any!

Previous

Tech Tuesday Masterlist

You should've known better than to check Chase's file. Curiosity about your ex never leads to anything good. It's not that you were surprised there was no emergency contact information, no. Even when you were dating Chase had no real friends or family. It's part of what made you stick with him for so long; you felt bad for him. That same feeling started creeping into your thoughts as you realized he still didn't have anyone.

One of the reasons you became a nurse was because you wanted to help people. Sometimes a person is just down on their luck, having a really bad day, and needs a little support, to be treated like a human. But then there are people like Chase. People that prey on your kindness and attach themselves like a leech.

Not only had he drained you, he hurt you so badly you struggled to take care of others. If you'd met Curtis first, you know it wouldn't have taken so long to meet up in person. Curtis had been nothing but respectful but you still kept him at arm's length because you were scared. It made you hate Chase, but hate yourself even more for letting him hurt you so much.

And seeing Chase unconscious, on a ventilator, with no one to help him out, it's tugging on your heartstrings. You know you shouldn't feel for him. Hell, he's not even your responsibility. Let the other nurses look after him, get him connected with community resources or something to make a damn friend. You don't have to do anything with him. No matter how much you pity him.

It's almost time to clock out and you're even more exhausted than usual. You don't know if you'll be able to make it to the coffee shop to meet with Curtis but you want to keep your promises. He's a good person and doesn't deserve to be stood up or have you cancel at the last minute.

Heart: We're still on for the cafe?

Snow: As long as you're up for it. You've had a rough night.

Heart: And it looks like you were gaming all night.

Snow: Nah, accidentally stayed logged in while I went to sleep.

Heart: Okay.

Snow: Is it okay if I treat you at the cafe today?

Heart: Why?

Snow: You had a really rough shift and I want to help you, a friend.

He knows how you feel about owing people but he's yet to ever hold a debt over you. It's always you insisting that you owe, never him calling in favors. Never guilting you about things he's gotten you.

He's not Chase, you remind yourself.

Heart: Okay. Thank you.

Curtis breathes a sigh of relief at your last message. With how long it took you to respond he was worried he'd overstepped. But not only did you reply, you agreed! This is a big moment for him.

And considering he's in his car, already waiting for you at the cafe, he's also glad you didn't cancel on him. He wouldn't have blamed you, of course. He knows how sensitive you are about Chase. He really does just want to help you deal with the stress of having that asshole show up in your life again.

For now, though, he's going to set a timer and get some sleep. He's going to be running on fumes today, but you're worth it.

You park your car just as Curtis is walking into the cafe. You take a moment to appreciate how tall and thick he is. He hides it pretty well when he's trying to not be intimidating but the man is built. Especially for an IT guy. Maybe you should ask him him for workout tips.

When you walk into the cafe Curtis turns towards the door and smiles at you. You're almost too tired to fight back the shy giggle you feel. Instead you just smile and join him in line.

"So, what do you recommend?" he asks, looking over the menu.

"I normally get something without a lot of caffeine because I'm on my way home to sleep," you reply. "Something sugary for that quick boost for the last leg of the journey to bed."

"Sensible," he nods. His lower lip just out just enough to let you see his piercing more clearly and notice how plump and kissable his lips are.

Damnit. Get a hold of yourself, woman! The sleepiness was causing some of your filters to disappear and you didn't want to say the wrong thing and embarrass yourself.

"I'm kinda feeling like getting something warm and chocolatey sweet," you say instead. "Help fight the cold of the morning."

"Whatever you want, you get."

"And if I want the entire menu?" you joke.

"Considering how long it would take them to make up all the drinks, and for you to drink them, I day go for it. That'll give us more time to chat." He smirks at you and that urge to giggle comes back. You swear his eyes are brighter than you remember.

"Well I don't want to fall asleep on you, nor do I want to take that many trips to the bathroom, so I'll just go for a decaf mocha." You chuckle nervously. Your guard is way down and he's being so nice.

"Anything to eat?"

Taking a look at the pastry selection you point to your favorite. "Gotta go with the cranberry orange muffin."

"Really?" he raises an eyebrow.

"And what's wrong with cranberry orange?" you counter.

His smile widens, "nothing. That's why it's one of my favorites."

The conversation flows smoothly between the two of you. Almost as easily as when you're gaming together. He's a lot more animated a talker than you expected.

"You know, I'm starting to think you've been lying to me, Snow." Your smirk is the only thing keeping Curtis from panicking. "You keep telling me you're a real grumpy person but I'm finding you to be damn delightful company."

He throws his head back and laughs so hard he doubles over for a second.

"Don't scare me like that," he pleads between laughs, making you giggle. "And I promise you, if my co-workers, my brother, were here, they wouldn't recognize me."

"Hmmm. I'll take your word for it. For now," you jokingly threaten.

The longer you talk the less stressed you feel. He helps you completely forget about the hospital, about Chase. Part of you knows you'll have to go back to it again tomorrow but, for now, it's just you and Curtis, talking strategies for taking down Thurgon the Shadow Calamity and having fun.

Next

Tech Tuesday Masterlist

Tagging @alicedopey; @delicatebarness; @ellethespaceunicorn; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory; @late-to-the-party-81; @lokislady82; @peaches1958; @peyton-warren @ronearoundblindly; @stellar-solar-flare; @thiquefunlover63