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pretty-red-garnet · 6 months

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Pumpkins and Candy

Daryl Dixon x fem! Reader • Commonwealth • Fluff

Happy Halloween!

It was Halloween in the Commonwealth. Your eyes danced between all the different venders handing out treats, each one sweeter than the last. The day was warm, the sun cascading over the large street festival. People crowded the streets, kids in costumes followed by their parents.

You never imagined you'd be celebrating Halloween after the end of the world.

You moved your gaze to instead look at Daryl, sweetly playing and talking with RJ. You begin to smile without even meaning to. The sight was unbelievably adorable, you'd even say domestic. Daryl smiling and tossing an apple on a string for little RJ to catch.

Daryl with the kids was always something you'd watched with great adoration. It seemed kids were just drawn to him, and he never minded. He was so good with them. In fact, it was watching Daryl with little Jude that made you realize you were in love with the man.

It was after Rick died, after you'd known him for about a year. Daryl was gone more often than not then, but he always made sure to be there for his niece and nephew. Always hugging and holding them tight first thing when he arrived back to Alexandria for trading.

Judith was young, and jumped into his arms so fast he almost fell back. He smiled so brightly, so genuinely. Your heart fell to your stomach so fast it made you sick. You were down bad, and it wasn't going away any time soon.

And now that you and him were neighbors in the same shitty building, you were closer than ever. Having dinner together most nights when he was too tired to cook, watching the kids when he was busy, spending most of your free time together. You were both pretty much attached at the hip. You'd even call him your best friend. He was the one person you knew you could count on for anything.

"You are so smitten," Carol says, breaking you out of your stupor with a startle. You roll your eyes and giggle a little, although it sounds more awkward and tense than you intended.

"Am not." Her elbow meets your ribs and she grins at you.

"Smitten as a kitten." You purse your lips at her to stop your smirk, although it breaks through.

"You're ridiculous," you say, crossing your arms and turning away from her slightly to return your eyes to Daryl. "Aren't you supposed to be handing out cookies or something? Or do you get paid to bother me?"

Carol laughs and shakes her head. She watches as you— not so discretely— gawk at Daryl. She lets out a deep sigh.

"Why don't you just tell him?" She asks.

"Tell him what?" You retort, playing dumb and not meeting her gaze.

"That you're in love with him!"

"Shhh!" Your eyes glance around almost comically, making sure no one hears the woman. "I am not!"

"If you weren't, you wouldn't care if anyone heard." She rises an eyebrow, making you scowl and scoff at her. Carol was the type of person that can always read others. She was always watching, she knew how everyone thought. It was pretty scary.

"I didn't want Daryl to hear!"

"Didn't want me to hear what?" Speak of the devil and he shall appear. Daryl stands beside you, watching you with a curious expression. Your mouth opens, then closes. You struggle to come out with a response, mind totally blank.

"Uh," you mumble. "Nothing." Daryl furrows his brows, regarding you with a look somewhere between concerned and straight up confused.

"I guess the secret is out, Y/N," Carol says, melodramatically with a shrug. "You should just tell him."

Your face blanches, your mouth continues to gasp like a fish. Daryl looks even more confused now, looking between you and Carol.

"That you're cooking Daryl's favorite meal tonight!" Carol says, excitedly. You let out a breath. While now you have to make dinner instead of relaxing at home like you'd planned, at least it was a save. Somewhat.

"You don't gotta do that," Daryl says, looking at you with that adorably concerned expression he always has when someone tries doing anything for him. His brow pinched and teeth biting the inside of his cheek.

"She wants to, Daryl," Carol says, placing her hands on her hips. You look from Daryl to Carol, feeling strange and helpless that Carol was speaking on your behalf with you right there. It was a little nice though, since the near-revelation of your romantic feelings for Daryl was still making your mind swim.

"It was supposed to be a surprise," you finally stumble out, awkwardly and with a stutter. "Sorry to spoil it."

"Don't gotta be sorry, I shouldn't have listened in," he says with a shrug and a little half smile that made your heart pound. "We'll go to yours tonight then?"

"Actually!" Carol buts in again. "I'll take Judith and RJ trick or treating. It could be just you two tonight." Carol's smile is a weird combination of scary and Betty Crocker. She's setting up a date.

"You sure?" Daryl asks, only to be met with Carol's enthusiastic nod. "Alright, sure. I better get back to the kids." Daryl steps away and once he's out of sight, you immediately wack Carol on the shoulder.

"What?!" Carol yelps. "You should be thanking me."

"Thanking you?" You ask, incredulously. "That was so embarrassing."

"I got you a date, Y/N. Yes, thank me."

Hours later, and dinner is done. Your apartment is warm and humid from the stove, but the delicious smell of seared meat makes the heat bearable. Your stir fry of squirrel meat and rice sit on the counter, awaiting Daryl's visit. You aren't quite sure if the stir fry was Daryl's favorite meal, but he did mention he liked it best of your cooking.

He's a little late. He was supposed to come by yours right after the Halloween masquerade party, but he still hasn't shown. You sit at your table, picking at your fingernails and tapping your foot. Your eyes keep glancing over at your clock on the wall and you sigh at every passing minute.

You know your destress is a little dramatic. You usually wouldn't be this anxious, but Carol's label of a 'date' rattling around in your brain made tonight feel different. Besides, Daryl is a busy man.

He worked all day, he could be tired. Maybe he forgot? Although it did seem out of character for Daryl to just not show up, he wasn't the type to stand people up.

Your worry is quickly cut short by three quick knocks at the door. You smile and quickly make your way to the door, swinging it open.

"Hey," you greet, moving aside for him to enter.

"Hey," he answers, pointing at the little bucket of candy you have beside your door propped up by two pumpkins. There's a little 'take one' sign that you hand painted accompanying it. "I know I ain't a kid, can I have one anyway?"

"Sure, obey the sign," you say, teasingly smiling at him. He scoffs a little, digging his hand in the bowl and pulling out two candies. You gasp, placing a hand on your chest and looking at Daryl with a dramatic expression on your face. "How could you?"

A smirk takes over Daryl's face before he covers it with another scoff, shaking his head. He pushes you aside to enter your warm apartment, immediately pulling at the neck of his long sleeved shirt.

"Ones for you, dumbass," Daryl says before he smacks your shoulder with a candy. You take it immediately to unwrap it and pop it into your mouth. It was your favorite candy that the little shop in the middle of town makes, and it warms your heart that Daryl remembered which is your favorite.

"Come on, dinners ready." Daryl follows you into the kitchen.

"Already?" He asks, grabbing his plate that you already made.

"You're late, Dixon." Daryl grimaces a little, a quiet groan leaving his lips.

"Sorry, shit went down at the party." You smile and wave your hand in a dismissing manner.

"I'm just teasing you." You and Daryl sit down at your small, round kitchen table. You both eat quietly, Daryl scarfing down his meal like a man starved. Luckily, most are out on the town celebrating Halloween, so the building is quieter than usual. Celebrating. That truly is surreal.

"What're you thinking 'bout?" Daryl asks, having seen the thoughtful look on your face.

"I just never thought I'd ever see Halloween again I guess." You shrug and smile lightly. "I used to love it when I was a kid. Was my favorite."

"Never celebrated it," Daryl mumbles, almost embarrassed. Your eyebrows fly up in surprise.

"No? Not even trick or treating?"

"Nah, no one gave candy. Lotta assholes in my neighborhood," Daryl answers, piling the last bit of rice and meat on his fork. You don't answer and Daryl looks up, shrugging when he sees your saddened expression. "S'fine. Can eat all of Jude and RJ's candy now."

"You've at least carved pumpkins, right?" Daryl looks down, not wanting to sadden you even further with his answer you assume.

You knew Daryl didn't have the best childhood, that his dad was a dick. But you looked back so fondly at Halloween, and it upsets you that Daryl didn't. It made your chest hurt that he didn't have happy memories of dressing up, or getting candy and rushing home to see the goods.

You look down to your lap for a moment, before getting an idea. You shoot up out of your chair, ignoring Daryl's inquiring gaze. You rush out of your front door and stoop to the ground, grabbing the candy bucket up from the pumpkins and dropping it to the ground. You hoist up the two—rather large— pumpkins before lugging them to the kitchen table, making sure the kick the door shut first.

Daryl is now awkwardly standing at your table, already having placed your dishes in the sink. He still has that cute, confused look on his face, but when he sees the pumpkins, it dawns on him and his lips quirk up in a smile. You smile back, a huge and bright grin that makes Daryl's face light up even more.

You're about to grab the knives before another thought hits you, and you jog out of the kitchen to the front door once again. You scoop up the candy bucket, flipping off the light outside your door and bringing that too to the kitchen.

"Ain't that for the kids?" Daryl asks, jutting his chin towards the candy. He leans against the counter with a teasing twinkle in his eye as he watches you set everything up.

"Kids are brats anyway, and I paid for it so I can do whatever I want." Daryl laughs at that, just a huff of air escaping his chest. Basically cracking up for Daryl.

Not five minutes later, both of you are sitting at the table forearm deep in pumpkin guts. The table rattles and shakes with the vigorous scraping of the pumpkin, an attempt to thin the inside of the thick walls.

Daryl's tongue is sticking out of his mouth in concentration, and you resort by not looking at him because if you do, you're sure you'll pass out from the flip flopping of your stomach. He keeps glancing at you and your pumpkin, his eyes narrow and focused, to confirm he's doing the right thing.

Once both pumpkins are empty and clean, you get a baking sheet ready and begin to separate the pumpkin guts from the seeds. You place them all evenly and sprinkle a good amount of salt on them. All the while, Daryl watches.

"You like baked pumpkin seeds?"

"Never had 'em," Daryl responses with a shrug. You pop them in the oven and grab two knives, handing one to Daryl.

"Now the fun part."

It doesn't take long for both pumpkins to be carved up, even with the occasional pauses for bites of candy. Daryl is rougher with his knife than you, sticking the knife in and dragging the blade harshly. He does this with great intensity and focus, however, leaning back and moving the pumpkin to look at it from all angles.

You, on the other hand, are much lighter handed. Precisely moving your knife around the orange vegetable to make it perfect. Your hands trained and careful from years of carving.

You and Daryl place your carving tools down around the same time. You turn your pumpkin around to show it off, a big grin covering your face. Daryl smiles lightly looking at your jack o lantern, a large toothy grin with big eyes. It looks almost perfect, directly in the middle of the pumpkin with clean cuts. Daryl suddenly looks embarrassed.

"Mine ain't good," he says lowly, scratching a nonexistent itch at the back of his scalp.

"I'm sure it's perfect! Turn it around," you assure, persuading him to show you his carved pumpkin. He glances at you for a moment, biting his lip before he concedes and turns his pumpkin around.

Daryl's jack o lantern isn't as cleanly done. His doesn't look happy like yours, lips placed in a snarl that is a little crooked on one side. The eyes are off center and one is a little bigger than the other. Despite the quirks, it's perfect in your eyes. Almost as adorable as Daryl's bashful expression.

"It's so cute!" You exclaim, and Daryl shrugs, looking down at his hands tangling together. "I think it's perfect."

"Whatever you say," Daryl says, a huff of air escapes his lips. He finally looks up from his hands and sees your face, smirking when he does. You frown.

"What?" You ask, self consciously. Daryl shakes his head, smiling even larger at your expression.

"You got a little somethin'," Daryl says, motioning with his finger at his own face. You touch your face briefly, trying to feel what he was motioning to. Before you could get whatever it was off your face, Daryl's fingers replace yours.

His fingers, calloused by years of hard labor, are surprisingly gentle at getting the mess of your cheek. He wipes off the sticky residue, showing you the stringy pumpkin guts before chucking it at the table. But even after, his fingers slowly and hesitantly return to your cheek, softly caressing the flushed skin.

It's like he was drawn to you and he can't help it. Two magnets pulled together against either of your wills. You're positive you can't pull away, even if you wanted to. Both stuck in this position, with Daryl slouched in his chair to lean towards you, and you ridged and stick staring at his face.

His face, which you've carefully studied plenty of times, had never seemed so soft. The rugged scar down the center of his eye and cheek at great contrast to his loving expression. He's nibbling at the inside of his cheek, and his eyes cast nervously from your eyes to his hand, which seems to be moving on its own accord.

Before long, you're kissing him. You don't really know who kissed who, just that one second Daryl was staring at you with those pretty blue eyes of his, and the next your lips were on his.

The kitchen table digs into your ribs because of the angle, both you and Daryl leaning forward in your chairs to get to each other. You don't mind, the discomfort barely even registering in your brain. All you can think of is Daryl, and his hand still resting on your cheek and how his lips are chapped, but somehow still soft. How you've been thinking about this for so long, and you can't believe that Daryl is actually kissing you right now.

Unable to take the uncomfortable angle any longer, you stand just slightly without removing your lips from Daryl's. You shuffle closer to him, leaning down and raising your knee to rest on the chair between Daryl's legs. Daryl leans back to accommodate you, and his hand drops from your cheek to grab your waist, pulling your body even closer to his. Your hands meet his shoulders to steady yourself, and you kiss him harder.

Daryl's fingers tremble, but they slowly slide under your shirt. Your quiet groan is muffled by Daryl's lips, but he heard— or felt— anyway, telling from the smile that curves his lips. You only part for hurried pants of air, before he chases your mouth again. It's a game of push and pull that neither of you want to ever end. It might've never ended, only if you never put those pumpkin seeds in the oven.

The loud, shrill noise from the oven beeping is a great difference from the quiet passion that was just taking place. You and Daryl startle away from each other. Your hands are still on his shoulders and his fingers still squeeze at your hips, but you're both looking towards the interrupting oven.

You slowly turn your gaze back to Daryl. He's still looking at the oven, with a anxious look on his flushed face. His hair is messy from your wandering fingers, and his eyebrows are low from what you could only assume is embarrassment. You smile and tap his cheek, and Daryl turns to look at you with uneasy eyes.

"Ready for those pumpkin seeds?" You ask, smoothing down his hair. His face relaxes at the sweet gesture, like he thought you'd be upset or something for kissing. Daryl can be silly sometimes.

He nods and returns your smile, and you can't help but place one more hesitant and quick peck to his mouth. He chases you when you pull away, and you giggle. You allow yourself to card your fingers through his wavy hair one last time before you pull away from him completely.

You pull out your roasted pumpkin seeds and lay the sheet down on the cooling rack. You admire the perfectly done seeds and look back at Daryl to share the feeling. His ears and cheeks are still red, and he has a small bashful grin on his face. Your lips quirk up on their own accord.

Maybe Daryl didn't have great memories of Halloween to look back on, but you hope you gave him at least one he won't forget.

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livingemkayde · 8 months

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ch vi. bruises

joel miller x f!reader x unrequited!tommy miller (no outbreak AU)

chapter six of chaser

warnings: 18+ minors please dni. ooof okay where to start, smut unprotected p in v, mentions of bruising from sex? fighting like actual real life fist fighting, rough but sweet sex, grinding, lowkey some cockwarming?? kinda unwanted kissing, tommy being annoying and somewhat overbearing, and unwanted touching, but not sexual. caroline. just, caroline. because she deserves her own warning for this one. no use of y/n.

summary: everything comes to a head at tommy's birthday party.

a/n: this is genuinely the longest part/chapter thing i've ever written so enjoy. tommy is really annoying in this one, im still deciding if he's going to have a redemption arc. sorry this took so long. as always, i love you all so much. MY TUMBLR LITERALLY SHIT ITS PANTS WHEN I TRIED TO EDIT THE TAGLIST SO IM SORRY IF YOU GUYS GOT TAGGED LIKE 400 TIMES.

if you would like to read more of mine: masterlist!

“What’s goin’ on?” Joel says, almost a whisper. You’re still not sure if he’s talking to you or Tommy. You can't take your eyes off Tommy’s gaze. From the looks of it, Joel’s question makes Tommy more angry and way more confused. “Joel,” you say, trying to look for any indication in Tommy’s face that he’s not going to go bat shit crazy. “‘S fine. We’re okay.” But Joel doesn’t listen. Because he’s Joel Miller and maybe you can’t see it right now, but you can hear the concern dripping off his tone—an indication that he won’t ever leave. Not now. So he stalks towards you both and you try to shake your head no, and he doesn’t listen.

You can almost remember it like it was yesterday.

A few weeks back, the first time you invited Tommy in for a drink after dinner. Sarah was asleep back at the house, Joel was doing — god knows what. The sun was set, the mosquitoes were probably out, and there was a quiet, even maybe too quiet silence when Tommy pulled up to your house.

He had asked what the rest of your plans were for the night.

You had said nothing much, not knowing it was an invitation — he stayed till 2 a.m. that night.

But it was okay. Because he made you laugh and you enjoyed his company. He was interesting. Tommy told you about how he never wanted to go into contracting in the first place. About his broken bones, his all time biggest regrets, how he was smitten with his old high school flame turned mean cheerleader until graduation.

It was the first time you ever realized he was — well — his own person in the sense. Not just Joel’s younger brother. But Tommy. Tommy Miller.

Maybe in another life Tommy might’ve even been good for you. A perfect pair — a match. He wasn’t mean and brooding and he certainly didn’t have 12 years on you.

And he made you smile. And he was genuinely—genuinely interested in your life. Your post grad prospects, college, books, and even how you played soccer just like Sarah when you were younger.

But when he leaned in that night, closer to you than ever before. You froze. Like genuinely frozen, and you couldn’t even dare to look down to his slowly approaching lips, let alone how his arms caged you in.

“First kiss?” you remember him asking.

You had just stuttered out nonsense, not wanting to breathe too hard and run the risk of pushing your lips flush with his.

“I — um —” you nervously laughed. You couldn’t even think—not in the way you should—not when the first person that comes to mind when Tommy says, kiss is his brother.

He had leaned in closer then—more tentative. Like you were a scared deer in headlights or a frightened kitten and he was inching forward, wanting to move closer.

But you didn’t really do — anything.

And he had pulled back a bit, gave you a teasing look and a ruffle on the head and continued with the conversation.

In all honesty you were scared that he might've been inching forward to kiss you. The small fear settling through a slightly erratic heartbeat and nervous laughs.

You were scared then, but can’t really remember the last time you’ve felt this kind of fear.

Hurt, discomfort, shock, maybe.

And although it was being quickly replaced with anger, you don’t remember this feeling — this kind of fear. Not even the kind you get from watching a scary movie — where you can feel the adrenaline coursing through your veins and then dissipating when the screen goes dark, and the lights turn back on and all you have to worry about is if the scary nun from the big screen will appear in your dreams.

You can remember all the last times you’ve gotten mad, sure. Mainly at the Miller brothers.

But never fear — well, not until right now.

Because whoever that Tommy was is definitely not the same guy staring back at you right now, with a bruised fist, an angry look swirled with hurt marked permanently on his face and one emotion that you can definitely place behind his eyes — jealousy.

Some hours earlier.

You spread colorful tablecloth over the mismatched tables in Joel’s backyard. The string lights are being hung up, Joel stands on a ladder towards your right, the sound of a hammer echoing through the small backyard.

You pick your phone out of your back pocket, checking the time. You also find it in you to check Tommy’s texts again, but no other messages have been sent since last night. You look down at your phone — at the messages — and sit against one of the tables.

Yesterday:

You: can we talk in person?

Tommy Miller: I’ll see you tomorrow at the party?

You hadn’t seen the text until this morning, when Joel and you found it in yourselves to get out of bed, have a shower, and start setting up for the party. So when you saw it, you would be lying if you said your heart didn’t skip a beat.

You’re a bit nervous at the prospect. You did not want to talk to him at his party—honestly just trying to text him so that the air would be cleared for the party.

But his words echo in your mind.

“Just think ‘bout it before you say no.”

You let out a cursed sigh.

Tommy had to know. Right?

If he knew the dreaded ‘no’ was already braced on your lips he had to know. That this thing between you and Tommy would never work out. That you’re way better as friends. That it would ruin everything — the dynamics of it all — that you were smitten with his brother and you guys had just slept together for the second time without Tommy’s knowledge and that—

“Alright?”

Joel stands in front of you, dipping his head to see a scowl marked on your face. You quickly — maybe even too quickly — forget about the messages, hell, forget about Tommy.

Because Joel looks handsome. He’s always handsome, you’ve thought since the moment you met him at the bar. There’s something intoxicating about him, his arms, the curve of his neck. His brooding nature does him justice — a uniqueness about him that makes you want to uncover more, learn more, see more.

You remember last night—very vividly through small ebbs and flows of sleep. The moonlight seeped into your skin as you both rolled around in gray sheets.

It makes your cheeks heat a bit at the thought.

You remember everything. Every little detail. You don’t think you’ll ever forget.

You tuck your phone back into your pocket.

“Yeah, sorry. ‘S just…” you trail off, he nods his head in understanding, coming closer to you.

He braces his hands on either side of your body, caging you in. Your faces study each other’s mere inches apart.

“Tablecloth givin’ you trouble?” Joel teases in a soft whisper, looking down at your lips, then back to your eyes.

“Funny,” you say with a grin and run your tongue over your lips.

“You need help, baby, all you gotta do is ask.” Joel’s small smile plays on his lips for a fleeting second. You miss it as soon as it’s gone.

“Duly noted. But I’m not the one who’s been hanging up string lights for the past hour.”

He pats your ass a bit, teasing you and pushing out a playful sigh.

“Perfection takes time.”

Joel’s beginning to dip his head to kiss you, but you find it in you to bite back.

“And yet the left side’s still lower than the right,” you whisper, pulling your head back slightly. He turns quickly to look at the fence, but gives you a harder slap on your ass when he realizes the lights are, in fact, straight.

Joel chuckles, pushing off from the table, you turn back around to continue fixing the cloths, and look back at him over your shoulder.

He’s looking back at you too.

“You’re killin’ me,” he says, and you smile to yourself when you turn back around.

You look around the backyard and check your phone for the millionth time since the party started. You can hear Sarah running around, screaming a bit while jumping into the pool. But your brows furrow when you find that Tommy still hasn’t texted you.

You spot a tuft of red hair swinging through your vision and spin to find Janet Baker squeezing through the crowd.

“Janet!” you say, approaching her quickly. You’re happy to see her—Tommy didn’t invite many people you’re familiar with.

“Hey, Doll. Thanks for the invite!” she says, pulling you into a quick hug, but when she sees the look on your face, her mouth drops into a frown. “Sweetie, you okay?”

“Yeah, sorry. I—Tommy didn’t…I don’t really know anyone here,” you reply while sheepishly looking around the small, bustling backyard. It’s the kind of feeling you try your best to avoid. Like everyone is in on some secret joke that you have no clue about. Or everyone knows each other and you can’t even put faces to names because you don’t know any names—like right now.

“‘S fine—I’m happy to see you made it,” you let out a defeated chuckle.

“‘F course, baby. Charlotte really wanted to see Sarah,” she nods towards the girls in the pool, Charlotte’s red hair looking strikingly similar to the woman standing in front of you. Janet seems to be on her second drink of the afternoon, you saw her tipping back a solo cup out of the corner of your eye earlier.

“What are you drinking?” you ask her, nodding at her cup.

“Someone brought a fancy lookin’ wine I popped open,” she says, giving you a sly smile. “Why don’t we get you a drink? You’ll like this,” she says, you don’t have much time to react, she’s already pulling you towards the drink station.

You both settle into a comfortable silence, looking around the backyard while Janet pours your drink.

“So,” she says, giving you a wink.

“So…” you echo, sending a nervous laugh her way.

“Who’s that girl,” she nods towards Caroline while passing you a cup, you take a big sip, Janet fills it back up to the top without a second glance.

“Caroline,” you say looking at her and Joel. They’re talking to some other people, a small group of them congregating by the barbecue.

“Caroline…” Janet tests out on her tongue, willing you to continue.

“Caroline—Joel’s,” you can’t help but chuckle. “date. I guess.”

“That bother you?” she says, finishing the bottle of wine while the two of you walk back towards the edge of the pool so she can watch Charlotte and Sarah.

“Nope,” you say, and it’s not a lie. Sure, it might be a little weird to see another woman clinging to his arm after yesterday. But you know now. And that’s all that matters.

“Joel can—” you laugh again, “—Joel can do what he likes.”

Janet stops walking suddenly. You tear your gaze away from Joel and look at her with a confused furrowed brow.

“Sweetie…” she says with eyes that look way too knowing for your comfort or peace of mind.

“Janet…?” you say, though her gaze just intensifies.

“You mean to tell me it happened since I last saw you?”

Your eyes widen, a shocked look crosses your face and you quickly try to replace it with a bad mask of confusion.

“W-what? I—”

“Don’t lie to me, doll,” she warns, and she looks like she really means it.

“Janet…” you say in a not as effective and halfhearted warning tone back.

“Don’t you dare,” she wags her finger—a final warning.

What has gotten into you and why can’t you find it in yourself to lie to this woman?

“Don’t te—” she gasps, “Janet, I mean it. Do not tell anyone.”

She shuts her half open mouth and makes the my lips are sealed motion across her face. You laugh while stealing a glance at Joel.

“I told you,” she whispers to you in a hush, joining your eyeline towards Joel.

You stay silent for a moment, just taking everything and everyone in—but at the same time just looking at Joel. when you finally break the silence you’re a bit shocked at your question. You’ve never talked about Joel like this with someone who actually knows him. Everything has always been a secret—like you were supposed to be ashamed or something. You never were.

“How did you know?” you ask, hushed. You’re not sure she’ll even hear you.

“Would love to say it was intuition, sweetie—but—it was him. It was written all over his face.”

You stayed with Janet for the better portion of the hour, all through silent peaks at your phone to see if Tommy had texted you. When it was getting to the point where people were getting curious, you’ve just about had your limit.

You approach Joel quickly, you don’t miss Caroline’s stunned face but you really can’t be bothered with—that—right now.

“Joel?” you ask, pulling at his arm a bit, he excuses himself from the group and follows you towards the backyard's edge.

“Where the hell is your brother?” you whisper.

“He’s not here?” he asks, the same hushed tone also pushing through his voice at your question.

“No! I called him, but he’s not responding,” you pipe back while pulling out your phone. Though the lack of notifications from Tommy—just as before—tells you enough.

You both look at each other for a fleeting second. But the same worried look is probably etched on both your faces — fuck.

“This fuckin’ guy,” Joel mutters under his breath while pulling out his own phone and then putting it up to his ear.

You pace around the small area you and Joel are in, observing the unfamiliar faces.

“Nothin’,” Joel grovels, taking a peak over the fence towards the street to see if Tommy's truck has pulled up. “I’ll try ‘im again — just — you should mingle,” he says, still looking down at his phone.

“‘S fine. I don’t really know anyone here anyways,” you say absentmindedly, looking through your phone for Tommy’s contact and putting your phone up to your ear.

You hear yelling and shouting from the entrance to the backyard. You slowly lift your head, reluctant to tear your eyes away from frantic texts.

You spot him, in all his glory. Tommy Miller. Two hours late to his own birthday party—though he looks like he couldn’t care less, hugging old friends and new ones. He spots your eyes in the crowd and you can’t even be bothered to smile, a frown is almost permanently placed on your face—Late to your own birthday party?

He nods his head toward the house, a silent invitation to talk when he’s done greeting the guests. You nod back and turn to Joel, Tommy turns to everyone else.

“He’s here,” you say, pulling Joel out of his own phone, he does a double take towards the entrance and huffs out a groan.

“Goddamn idiot,” Joel says, running his palm over his eyebrow.

“I’m gonna go—” you say, nodding towards the house, towards Tommy.

“Yeah. Alright,” he replies, though he looks a bit concerned and unfocused, looking towards Tommy, then back to you, “You need me, ‘m there.”

“‘M not telling him about us on his birthday and It’s Tommy, Joel.”

Tommy—harmless.

Though Joel’s look sends a sweat to your palms for some reason. You don’t know why he’s worried.

It’s Tommy. It’s fine.

Right?

You hope as much as you make your way through the crowd. You beeline for the house and slip past the sliding doors into the kitchen where cups and bags of chips lay open and equally sprawled.

You can hear the door slide open and shut again behind you as you try and salvage the mess.

“Baby,” Tommy says, rounding the corner and coming close to you, “‘M sorry. The concrete guy was supposed to drop off the shipment tomorrow but he came today and needed a signature—”

“Tommy, it’s okay,” you almost have to will yourself to say. You also have to remember it’s his birthday.

He looks down.

“‘S okay. It’s your birthday. Happy birthday,” you reassure with a small smile.

“Looks great out there,” he says, fiddling with his phone in his hand.

“Thanks.”

You’re suddenly a bit nervous. You hadn’t really thought about everything that had happened when Tommy being late to his own birthday party was blanketing all the drama. But he’s here now, and you have no idea what to say. Maybe it would be better to not say anything at all—not address the fact that he asked you out, or you and Joel. But that guilty gnawing feeling eats you alive the longer you stand in silence.

“Joel helped you?”

“Yeah. I went shopping yesterday and dropped off the stuff here then we set it up this morning,” you say, nodding towards the backyard and then your car parked out front.

“You went shopping on your own?” he almost sounds offended.

“I wanted to go on my own.”

Tommy doesn't look convinced.

“Really, T. ‘S fine,” you brush off, leaning back against the kitchen counter and crossing your arms. He stares at you from the other side of the kitchen.

“Caroline here?” he asks, a hesitant look on his face as he switches from looking at the ground to your face—almost like he’s looking for a reaction.

“She’s out there somewhere,” you nod, keeping a neutral face masked with a small smile. “You should mingle. Just wanted to make sure everything was alright.”

But he doesn’t move, he just keeps fiddling with the case on his phone again, looking down to the floor—his feet.

“I— you said you wanted to talk in person.”

Shit.

You both look at each other, waiting. A game of cat and mouse.

“It can wait, T. Enjoy your party,” you say, gesturing to the crowd outside.

“Is it about—is it about what happened Friday?”

“Tommy,” you say, almost warningly. This situation is shitty enough as is. You really don’t want to spoil everything—even if there’s nothing left to spoil.

He doesn’t say anything. His thumb fiddling with his phone is the only sound coming from inside the kitchen. He looks at you, waiting for you to continue. Almost unbearable. You crack way quicker than you’d hope to last.

If he wants it like this, at his own birthday party, then so be it.

“Fine. I just—I wanted to…” you scramble for words but they jumble in your mind.

“I’m—” you fall short again. “About what you said. What you asked me. I don’t think that it’s…something I want. I’m—sorry.”

“You don’t think it’s something you want? Or you know that—”

“Tommy,” you say, giving him an awkward stifled laugh. Like he’s being childish with his response. Because he is. “I don’t—I’m sorry.”

He turns away from you suddenly, towards the window above the sink and just stares at it for a long time. You can see his chest puffing. When he finally turns back around, it’s different. It’s the Tommy you know.

“‘S okay,” He says.

Maybe he’ll get over it quickly—you hope.

“Are you okay? I’m—I mean I hope that this doesn’t change anything since I’m still gonna be around—” you lift your arm up to run a ragged hand across your forehead and through your hair, you don’t even notice that your shirt riding up, “— I just don’t want it to like—”

“What is that?”

Your eyes snap to Tommy’s, confused. You think he might be looking out the window again but his eyes trail to you, but lower. Like he’s looking at your hips—because he is. You’re still confused for a second, before examining your shirt, looking for stains or anything out of the ordinary. But you don’t find anything, your top spotless.

“What? I don’t—”

“No—” he takes a couple quick steps forward, into your space, you try to find his eyes—yours blown out with confusion and shock but his are trained and laser focused to your waistline.

“What’s—” he tries to pull up your shirt, you shove him back out of reflex. “You’re hurt, what happened t’you?”

He almost pins down your hands to see your skin under your shirt, dipping his head to look at your waist and hips and you suddenly know. You know there are hand shaped bruises littered across the skin of your waist, turning it deep purple. Handprints that match Joel’s exactly—almost like they’re burned into you. You saw it this morning. It’s why you didn’t bother to put on a swimsuit and decided to keep a top on instead.

What’s even worse is you know Tommy saw it too.

“Tommy!” you’re yelling now, fighting his grip.

You slip up, unable to get a good hold on his wrist like he now has on yours and he pushes the shirt up to reveal the bruises.

“What the hell is that?”

“Fucking—get off!” he backs away with your second shove, a different kind of look on his face. “Jesus,” you huff out, yanking your shirt back down.

You both stand there. A pregnant silence between you. You can almost hear the gears turning, he stares blankly. Putting it all together. Like maybe you’re not hurt, but you wanted it—wanted it from another man. Somewhere in the back of his mind he might keep wishing someone hurt you so he didn’t have to feel so betrayed. So when he asks, it’s like he doesn’t want to admit that it’s true—the quiet possibility of someone else in the picture.

“Who,” he says slowly, pointing down to your waist, “did that?”

“Tommy—” you say, but footsteps cut you off, you both turn your head to the entrance of the kitchen as Joel rounds the corner. He looks out of breath and his eyes flicker from Tommy and his finger pointing down at your waist then back to you.

“We alright in here?” Joel stands, hesitant, his fingers play with the bottom hem of his shirt in an anxious way. Like he doesn't know what he’s just walked in on—you’re not entirely sure you know the answer to that either. You aren’t sure if he’s talking to you or Tommy so you stay silent, waiting for the man in front of you to respond.

“Yup,” Tommy replies, too angry to be believable.

Joel looks at you but he doesn’t say anything. Not out loud.

No. You try to say with your eyes. We are definitely not alright in here.

“Joel,” you say, trying to look for any indication in Tommy’s face that he’s not going to go bat shit crazy. “‘S fine. We’re okay.”

But Joel doesn’t listen. Because he’s Joel Miller and maybe you can’t see it right now, but you can hear the concern dripping off his tone—an indication that he won’t ever leave. Not now. So he stalks towards you both and you try to shake your head no, and he doesn’t listen.

He stands beside you, putting a flat sprawled palm on Tommy’s chest and silently tries to push him backward. But Tommy breaks first, pushing Joel’s hand off him, staggering back while looking at you and Joel.

And maybe he gets it then, you think. Because Tommy lets out a deep chuckle—like you’ve got clown makeup on. Like he’s never seen anything more funny. He’s a lot of things but he is not fucking stupid. So he looks past Joel to your eyes. To your face, almost covered—ridden—in guilt and he can see everything.

“Really?” Tommy says, not sparing Joel a glance.

“You put your fuckin’ hands on her?” Tommy says, almost at a whisper which makes it all the more intimidating. You can see Joel’s back puff, his anger rising. But you also know Joel would never hurt his brother. Not on purpose.

But you’re scared. You’re really fucking scared in this moment because Tommy is entirely too worked up and you know whatever excuse Joel is going to say won’t help.

“Easy,” Joel says, his voice cutting through the tense silence.

You’re sweating. The hot summer of July in Austin getting to you. They stare at each other for a long time. Like at the kitchen table, like when you all first met. But this time, Tommy breaks, and his eyes flicker to yours, he takes a tiny step to the side so he can see you better.

“Is this why? Is this why you’re fuckin’—jesus, fuck. ‘S this why he went to get you a tire?” you stand, you can’t really say anything, your stunned figure doesn’t move.

“He hurt you,” Tommy breathes out, his voice almost breaking if he wasn’t so angry. You shake your head.

You both know that the bruises aren’t from hurt. That they’re far from it.

“He didn’t,” you reply.

“No, no, baby. He’s—you’re—” Tommy almost looks like he can’t believe it, shaking his head, switching between you and Joel. The look you give him shuts him up, and makes him back away, until Joel unclenches his fists and relaxes his shoulder a fraction.

“I didn’t really want to tell you like this, I was—”

“Fucking my brother?” he bites back, interrupting you.

That makes you a bit mad. You’re not in love with his attitude, nor his tone. It’s not like he has any right. It’s not like either of them do.

Joel moves to speak but you do it first.

“Don’t give me that,” you say, almost laughing, though the situation is not funny, not in the slightest. “We’re not dating, Tommy. We never were.”

Caroline strides in at that, looking at the scene unfolding in the kitchen. She stops short of the three of you, her mouth slightly agape. You roll your eyes, fucking perfect. Let’s just bring the party in here instead. You’ll give it to the woman. She has impeccable timing.

“Needed some napkins…” she trails off, holding the empty napkin stand in her right hand up so everyone can see. “I—I can come back.”

“Did you know?” Tommy turns to her, gesturing to you and Joel.

“Tommy,” Joel says from in front of you, a warning. Tommy ignores him.

“Did you know?” he asks again, Caroline stares back shocked. But she does consider it, rolls the idea around in her head before speaking.

“Them two?” Tommy nods. “Her?”

Okay. You really don’t love that tone. You silently chastise yourself for thinking she was nice at the bar when your first instinct was that she was a bitch—because she is. You were waiting for her snarky undertones or spoiled takes to show. You knew it was coming, you just didn’t know when.

“No, ‘f couse not.” She’s almost laughing, like it could never be possible. It hits you harder than you’ll ever admit. “She’s — you’re…young,” she says, looking at you.

Tommy gestures to you and Joel like he’s saying, well believe it, because it’s true.

Joel moves faster than you can comprehend. He’s got a tight grip on Tommy’s arm. He probably doesn’t even have to say anything, Tommy knows what’s happening. But Joel warns him anyway—again.

“Quit,” he growls. You’d guess this might be the point where Tommy usually backs down. But this situation is far from usual.

“Or what?” Tommy bites back. When Joel doesn’t respond he continues. “You gonna mark me up? Leave me all black and blue?”

Tommy doesn’t stop there, you try to move past Joel but he stops you, turns his head to you slightly, a hardened look in his eye.

“Oh, I forgot you’d probably like that, huh?”

Joel remains frozen for a couple fleeting seconds before whipping around and pushing Tommy into the back counter. You’re rooted to your place, you don’t even care that Caroline is still in the corner, holding the fucking napkin holder in the air.

“What’d you say?” Joel barks in Tommy’s face.

“Look at her fuckin’ stomach, dude!” Tommy throws the words in his face, pushing him back slightly and making a vague gesture in your direction, it causes your feet to move towards the brothers before you can think.

Joel backs off then, sneaking a tiny glance at you out of the corner of his eye, like he really is thinking about the marks he left on your waist. He had seen them this morning, ran his fingers over them too, and saw how the notches matched the curves of his fingers perfectly. But you kissed him, and told him it was okay. That it was more than okay. Maybe even whispered that you liked it between muffled groans. So when a glint of guilt flashes in his eyes it makes your heart break more than it already has.

“She said no,” Joel says, looking back at Tommy. A tense silence follows—like you’re not sure if Joel is going to continue or Tommy is going to bite back.

“Get back to your party,” Joel growls after a while. You bite your lip.

Tommy looks at Joel with unwavering eyes. His glance turns towards the window where he can see the bustling crowd—can almost hear the laughter. Then he looks down to his hand, outstretches it, undoes his gnarly fist, and when it curls back up again, you finally bite.

“Tommy!” you say, moving closer. But it’s too late. Joel’s figure knocks to the side and his hand instinctively grabs his face, his nose, his eye. Maybe the worst part about it all is that Joel doesn’t even look remotely surprised, or that he wants to fight back—he just stays there, a little hunched over when you yelp in shock and Tommy groans, shaking out a now bruised fist.

“Fuck,” you almost yell, your body doesn’t know what to do between bending down to see Joel’s face and looking at Tommy—at his face—because you don’t recognize him.

Joel almost huffs out a laugh, and to shut him up, to get him to bite his tongue, you speak again.

“Okay. We’re done here,” you say, pushing Joel towards the entrance of the house, towards your car.

And Caroline is there, pushing Tommy towards the couches and for the first time, you’re grateful for her.

The ride back to your house is silent after a short and quick bicker about who can drive. You think Joel might want to sit in the driver's seat so you can’t see the quickly forming bruises on the left side of his face but you make a decent argument, enough to settle him in the passengers—looking out the window.

You send Janet a quick text, asking if she can watch Sarah for a few hours. Brother emergency. Janet replies back and says the girls haven’t gotten out of the pool since you left. It makes you smile a bit, despite it all.

When you park in your driveway, you hop out quickly, Joel following closely behind. He waits there, right behind you, when you pull out your house keys, and waits when you unlock the deadbolt and waits when you push through the door.

“Make yourself at home,” you say, nodding towards the couches and dropping your keys in the bowl.

You disappear into the kitchen and brace your arms on the counter, your head hanging between your shoulders. You let out a deep, ragged breath and try to control your heartbeat.

“Fuck,” you mumble, shaking out your wrists, grabbing two advil from the bottle on your counter, a glass of water, and peas from freezer.

Joel’s sitting on the loveseat, looking down at his hands. You don’t say anything. He doesn’t either. He just takes the water and pills from your hands and swallows it silently. You extend the peas to him, he thinks about it for a while and when you shake them again, huffing, saying—just fucking take them. He finally obliges.

You get a good look at his cheek when he turns to set the water down on the table and you have to stop yourself from gasping.

“Joel,” you murmur, reaching for him, bending down, he stops you, grabs your wrist, then grabs your hand. But he’s gentle. Not like Tommy. Joel’s gentle.

“‘S fine,” he says, and winces when the peas touch his face. “‘M fine.”

You settle in between his legs, looking down at him. He’s got one hand on his face, holding the peas, and the other, wrapped around the back of your thigh. He doesn’t even want to look up at you. It breaks your heart.

“‘M sorry,” you say quietly, his hand on your thigh trails upward. He plays with the hem of your shirt and lifts it enough to take a peek at the purple that lies there.

He doesn’t say anything, just sits there, running a gentle, ghost-like touch across the bruises.

“He — saw it. I don’t…” you look down to your stomach. You can see the shape of his fingertips so clearly. It’s no wonder Tommy reacted how he did. “It was an accident.”

He doesn’t nod. Doesn’t shake his head. He tosses the peas onto the table and pushes the cotton of your shirt up further, to where he can see all of it—all the black and blue there.

“Are you mad?” you whisper, hesitantly, as he stares at his own hands, his own branding.

“‘M sorry,” he mumbles.

“Don’t be,” you say, begging, “Please.”

“He did that cause—,” you breathe out, taking his chin in your pointer finger and thumb and getting your first good look at his cheek, “—it’s-’s my fault, I should’ve—”

“C’mon. Don’t do that,” he says, cutting you off, nipping your apology in the bud, “I should be the one who’s sorry, this is — I hurt you.”

You shake your head.

“You know that’s not—you know that I—” you stifle a short chuckle.

“That you what?”

You let out a couple hot breaths, looking down at him, the purple around his eye slowly taking shape.

“That I liked it.”

Joel bends forward then, and you gasp. The dull scratch of his beard is the only thing keeping your eyes open. He trails his hot breath across your stomach, and leaves gentle kisses on your sides, on your bruises.

“Joel,” you mumble, and you hate how your voice sounds so breathy, maybe even desperate. You tangle your hands in his hair, grasping at the nape of his neck he pulls you down, closer, so you’re slotted in his lap, straddling him. Joel pulls back and looks at your face, brushes the fallen hair from your eyes.

“I meant what I said,” you start, he furrows his brow, “Still—mean it.”

From the look in his eyes he knows what you’re talking about. The words you slipped into his ear last night.

‘S you, Joel — it’s-’s always been you.

“But if this is—if Tommy—” you cut yourself off, correcting your words, “If I messed it up—”

“Sweetheart,” he says. Your heart pulls, you almost put your hand on his cheek, but you see the rising skin and settle for his shoulder. “‘M not goin’ anywhere.”

“Are you sure?”

He pulls you down further, so you’re flush against him. He studies your eyes and rubs at your waist, your hips. It sends a little fire down between your thighs.

“‘M here—‘M…I’m right here,” he mumbles, and shakes his head. Like he’s telling you no to any silent thoughts of doubt that might be floating around your head.

And then he pulls your head down to kiss you.

It’s needy, and hot and everything you want at this moment. He’s everywhere and you can feel his growing arousal between your legs. You both needed this—you think. After everything, after—fucking—Caroline and Janet Baker and Tommy Miller. You both needed each other so bad that when you grind down onto him he lets out a little desperate groan into your mouth that spurs you on.

Joel slips his hand under your shirt and finds the hardened peak there. He pinches it and rolls it between his fingers, it sends your hips forward and suddenly he’s sitting up, and shucking your shirt off.

He grabs your hips and moves you against him, your most vulnerable spots grinding against each other. Giving you both blown out eyes and puffy lips and panting breath.

“Sh–it,” you gasp when your shorts catch on your clit perfectly.

“Pretty,” he says, grasping at your tits, at anything he can find while you grind against his length. “fuckin’—pretty like this.”

You claw at his belt and before you know it, he’s lifting you up so you’re on your knees and he’s pulling his pants past his hips. You get the memo and take your shorts off, tossing them behind you. When you sink back down onto his lap, you can feel his cock slip between your wet lips down there.

“Fuck, Joel,” you say, gliding along his cock, soaking it. You can feel all of him now—grinding along his hardness—the girth of him fitting perfectly between your swollen lips.

“Angel,” Joel pants out, through sloppy kisses. You look at him. He’s got a desperate look on his face. Like he couldn’t wait just like you. Not even to get upstairs to your bedroom or to get all his clothes off. Like he’s been wanting this all day. Just like you.

You move up and reach down, feeling the wet mess you’ve both made down between your legs. You find his cock, hard and wanting, and position it at your entrance. The head sinks past your walls, enveloping it somewhere deeper and you both groan at the feeling.

You sink down on him slowly, you’re by no means physically ready to take him. But you can’t wait any longer. He kisses you, and down to your neck, making it easier to ease yourself down onto him, and when you finally reach the end, and you’re seated fully in his lap, you both gasp.

Your walls clench around him, eliciting a quiet groan from Joel somewhere near your neck. Your eyes roll back in your head, your forehead drops onto his shoulder. You both just sit there, waiting for the other to make a move.

It’s kind of like a game.

See how long you can both relish in each other’s warmth — the first person who moves loses.

Your walls tighten again and he lets out another groan, “Jesus,” he mumbles, nipping at your neck. You’re slowly adjusting to him, relaxing around him. It makes you shudder.

You realize he’s not really touching you. He’s got his hands on your thighs, but they’re just resting there. Not squeezing or gripping your hips like you know he so desperately wants. Maybe he’s scared, you think. From everything that’s happened today. From the consequences his touch barred.

But you didn’t care about the consequences. You liked his touch, needed his touch, just as much as he needed something to hold him back down to earth, anchor him to you—in you. And afterall, you just want him to feel good. Feel better.

“Touch me,” you gasp out, reaching down to his hands.

“Am touchin’ you,” he forces out, panting near your ear. His thumb absentmindedly pushes down on the skin of your thigh a fraction harder and then eases up, like he’s saying this is the best I can do.

“No, Joel,” you moan, rock your hips a little, moving first, moving frantically and suddenly, “touch me,” you say into his neck, reaching down to usher his hands to your hips, your waist, you.

Joel gets it then, the silent permission. The it’s okay, and grips you harder, but not as hard as you know he would like. It’s good enough for you because he moves your hips, rocking you up and down onto his length—having enough of the senseless grinding.

“Fuckin’ good—” Joel groans, your hands fly to his shoulders, his hair. “You feel good.”

Your legs grow tired, he can tell. You try your best, but you’re sweaty and tired and fucked out, and when he hits a spot deeper inside you that makes you moan out, louder than before, and you almost collapse onto him. He ruts into you a little. Meeting you halfway. Fucking you deeper—maybe even a bit faster.

Your legs ache and you feel a sheen of sweat wash over both of you. And Joel’s eye is fucked up, his cheek too. Tommy is sitting back at the house—or god knows where—with a possible broken hand, Janet baker is watching Sarah instead of you or Joel, Caroline is still back at the house, and everything is a fucking mess, but it’s so right. He feels so right. He’s — he’s right.

You’re close then, the coarse hair on him inching you toward your climax. He knows, he can feel it from the inside. You don’t even have to say it this time, your question for his permission. He can see it already braced on your lips but he shuts you up with a kiss, a sloppy one, where he sticks his tongue into your mouth and your walls tighten around him again.

“Yes,” he says with a moan into your mouth, “yes, yes—ah.”

“Fuck,” you say tightening around him, becoming breathless and boneless, but Joel holds you up. He always does.

He grips you tighter, like how you know he wanted to, and you relish in the feeling. His thrusts become desperate and you brace yourself on the back of the couch so he can rut up deeper, chasing after his own orgasm. You can’t really breathe. Not when he’s everywhere.

“Shit,” he says, rocking into you.

Joel cums hard, holding onto you, wrapping you up in his arms as he groans somewhere near your temple. You let it spread through you, the mess of it all. He keeps you locked in his arms, even when you think he might pull away.

He finally pulls you off him, when he says it becomes too much and you sit on his lap, playing with his curls. When you both settle from your panting you can’t help but ask.

“What are we gonna do?” you say quietly to him.

“I dunno,” he grabs your hand and gives it a quick kiss. The bruise on his face is turning an ugly shade of purple. And the peas have gone warm, creating a small puddle on the coffee table. And your phone keeps buzzing from the entryway.

“We’ll figure it out,” he says, running a hand on your thigh.

taglist! comment or message me if you want to be added. kisses!

@going-to-californiaxx @gintheginger @daddy-din @earthtogrogu @rooney-verse @ratoonstown @skysmiller @pedritosdarling @lovely-ateez @pluzo @spongebobspooploop @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @tsunamistorm123 @awhoreforalotofshows @disassociation-daydreams @violinchick @rhoorl

@yoongjennie88 @untamedheart81 @noisynightmarepoetry @joelsversion @vanillen @brujitafantomatico @cartoon-garbage04 @jpbplvr @whattownheadshake @beccerjune @pedrotonin @sen-mirjahaal @awesomebunnyqueen @bluetattoos

@siimiasoi @fandomscollide @lizzie-cakes @paleidiot @sunnywithachanceofjavi @koshkaj-blog @sunnysaphira @bbyanarchist @casa-boiardi @anavatazes @joeldjarin @l0vem3n @lmariephoto37 @turtles-all-the-way-d0wn @withasideofmeg @dinwifey @brinabees @sofiparallel @akah565 @defnotashifter @missgurrl @anoverwhelmingdin @rainbowcosmicchaos @pedropascalissofine @purplemechanics @suzmagine @hellaradd @josephine1837 @lawh0re @medic332 @lisaneedsbraces @angelmather1 @kirsteng42 @poodlebae @lunxramour

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demonslayedher · 5 months

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Just thinking about how Chachamaru is a male calico, at least according the Taisho Secret right before chapter 195 that calls him manly. It really doesn't surprise me that he's male, because so many references to calicos I've seen in manga, mascots, and temple architecture specify that the featured calico is male.

This is because they are rare, and therefore considered lucky.

The figure that gets thrown around the internet is that supposedly only 1 in every 3000 calicos is male. (I'll bet the people who did the often quoted study at U. of Minn. College of Vet Med would love to tell you how it's more complicated than that.) This has long made male calicos popular not only in Japan, but in other countries as well. The thing is, though, the male calico might not always be so lucky.

To be very brief about why calicos (and some other multicolored cats) are almost always female, this is because, put very simply, one X chromosome gives us the black splotches, and one X chromosome gives us the orange splotches. That might leave you wondering where the white patches come from, and this is the part where I say that genetics is never simple and you should have fun reading about it. The important takeaway here is that in order to show this color pattern, a cat needs two X chromosomes, one from its mother and one from its father.

Typically, a male cat has an X chromosome (from its female mother, who only has two X chromosomes) and a Y chromosome (from its father, who had both an X and a Y), but because the calico coating can only occur with two X chromosomes, this male cat somehow got an X, a Y, and... hmm, another X somewhere.

So not a typical XY male, not a typical XX calico... this sterile XXY male calico has an extra chromosome, and mutations often are not ideal for the health of the animal with the extra chromosome. This particular condition is Klinefelter’s Syndrome, which can lead to a male calico having cognitive and behavior issues, weaker bones, increased risk of diabetes due to higher body fat, and perhaps a shorter lifespan.

Now, none of the fictitious lucky cats I've seen have ever been portrayed as anything less than smart and pleasant, though a lot of the maneki-neko are pretty round. For everything Chachamaru is tasked with, I have to assume he's above-average when it comes to intelligence, reasonably healthy enough to handle long-distance travel, and for a cat, he's extremely, extremely cooperative. For the record, the same Taisho Secret (as well as Yushiro's statement in Chapter 194) makes it clear that for most of canon Chachamaru was a regular cat, for he was not made into a demon until right before the final showdown with Muzan. Even with her hands full making the medicine for Muzan, she still put a lot of effort into changing Chachamaru so that Yushiro wouldn't be lonely. It's ironic that Chachamaru winds up immortal, rather than doomed to a potentially shorter lifespan due to his mark...ings. In the first place, was Tamayo perhaps moved with pity for a sickly kitten and nursed him to the health he's in now?

Or did she always keep her eye out for a male calico, wanting to put some faith in them being good luck?

Also, what sticks out to me in this Taisho Secret is that Chachamaru, not having a language in which he could communicate with Tamayo, had no choice in becoming a demon. Tamayo felt sorry about that. The word bubble over manly little Chachamaru says, with bravado, "Fine by me, if that's what the woman I'm smitten with wishes." If Chachamaru truly is that smitten with her, that perhaps accounts for what an unusually cooperative cat he is. But it also reminds me of a fan theory that I saw once (and found worthy of weight) which said that perhaps Tamayo's blood technique has an effect like makes others smitten with her, and Yushiro might had been under its influence, however strongly or subtly. If such a thing were the case, it might or might not had been something Tamayo was conscious of. If she was conscious of having some effect like that, she probably felt awful about it but found it a necessary precaution to keep any demon she made under control. If she wasn't conscious of such a thing, that means she might had subconsciously developed it out of loneliness, and had been trying to keep company at her side.

#kny fandom theories and meta #kny nerdery #chachamaru #tamayo

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hanluex · 7 months

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♡ OUR PURRFECT SON — JASON TODD

bf!jason x fem!reader | wc : 0.4k words | content : possible grammar and spelling mistakes, lowercase intended, established relationship, domestic fluff, mentions of animals, use of petnames

“i may love jason, but i think i love you more, simba.”

you muttered under your breath, smiling at the tiny kitten you had rescued.

on your way home, you came across the little baby, instantly activating your motherly mode, as you saw him shiver in the cold.

at that moment, you decided to take him home, putting the kitten in a box so you could easily carry him during your commute.

just as you kept mumbling sweet nothings to who you think is the love of your life, the real love of your life made his way towards you, having spotted you on the train just as he got on after his work.

“well, hi there, sexy” jason greeted, startling you with his sudden presence. “fancy running into you here.”

you chuckled, shaking your head. “we take the same train home, jason,” you stated as if it were an obvious answer.

jason opened his mouth to counter-argue, but his gaze fell upon the box you held, brows furrowed slightly. “what’s in the box, love?” he asked, curious.

“it’s a baby!” you showed him the kitten as he sat next to you, too excited to notice the way he was looking at you.

he loved seeing you smile. he didn’t know what it was, but just seeing you smile made him happier, if that was even possible.

jason todd was truly, madly, and deeply smitten by you.

he shook himself out of his daze, making eye contact with you. “who are you taking him for?” he inquired.

you froze in your seat. “oh, uh, that.” you trailed off, not knowing what to say.

“babe?” jason raised his brows, looking confused. “y/n?”

“you are the father, jason. you should be more excited to see your son!”

“you are bringing him home?! babe, our apartment doesn’t allow pets!”

you let out a defeated sigh, realizing your boyfriend was right. “but simba isn’t a pet. he’s our baby.” you pouted, hoping you could get jason on your side.

“dude, what?! you named him already?!”

“he’s our son, babe. come on!”

“yeah, sure.” he sarcastically nodded. “i’m sure you’d be able to prove that in an argument if our landlord ever found out, right?”

“jason todd.” you put on your best pleading face, knowing very well that there was no way you’d leave your baby on the cold streets. “please.”

jason took a deep breath, trying to analyze the situation as he glanced between you and his newly adopted son. and well, there was only one thing left to do as he looked into your pouty lips and determined eyes.

“well, i guess what the landlord doesn’t know won’t hurt them, yeah?”

taglist : @maverick-wingman (to be added, please send a dm or ask!)

#[📝] works #jason todd x reader #jason todd fluff #titans jason #jason todd imagines #titans imagines #titans red hood #red hood imagines #red hood scenarios #red hood x reader #red hood drabbles #titans drabbles #jason todd scenarios #jason todd #titans tv show #titans scenarios #red hood

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imagine-a-life-like-this · 8 months

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Always Him : Chapter 42

Word Count : 1.1k

Warnings : swearing, pregnancy, mentions of an argument, Hongjoong

Mae and Y/n hid just out of sight while Kayla waited for Seonghwa to arrive. The three of them had jus spent the day decorating the dorm for the big reveal. Memories of their relationship was hung up everywhere, in between the Star Wars themed baby stuff they found. Everything was so perfectly Kayla and Seonghwa.

Mae reached over and took Y/n’s hand in hers. “You know it’s okay to not be okay, right?” She told her softly. “I know I shit on Hongjoong every chance I get, but you really loved him. There must have been some good no one else saw.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore. There isn’t a shred of the good guy I loved left in him.” A knock at the door interrupted their small moment. Y/n began recording and Mae got ready to take pictures, but she kept looking over to Y/n, hating the brave face she was putting on for everyone. Why wouldn’t she just cry and tell everyone she was hurting? Why won’t she tell them what Hongjoong said?

“What’s all this?” Seonghwa asked as he looked around the dorm. A smile was on his face as he walked down memory lane while looking at the pictures strung up around the dorm. Kayla was nervous but she knew she needed to tell him.

“I’m pregnant.” She blurted out before she could stop herself. Seonghwa stopped walking around to turn and face her, a look of shock on his face. “I know we wanted to wait until after we were married, but.” He cut her off with a kiss. A kiss that took her breath away and reminded her of all the reasons why she fell in love with him in the first place.

“I love you Kayla. And I can’t wait to have a family with you.” She initiated the kiss this time, pulling him in by the collar of his shirt. Y/n and Mae came out of hiding with confetti crackers, scaring the couple out of the kiss.

“Where is my spray bottle?” Kayla asked.

“Jokes on you! I hid it before Hwa came over.” Mae replied before sticking her tongue out.

“I still have my hands!” As Kayla went to go after Mae, Seonghwa wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into his chest, and pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“They’re just celebrating good news, kitten.” He whispered in her ear. “We’ll celebrate later when it’s just us, yeah?” Kayla agreed by giving him another kiss.

“No wonder she’s pregnant. You two just can’t keep your hands to yourself.” Y/n joked.

“Have you seen him?”

“Have you seen her?” They answered at the same time. Y/n was so happy to see her soulmate in love with someone who loves her just as much. Someone Y/n knows will never hurt her. It’s clear to see by the look in his eyes when he looks at her that he’s absolutely smitten with her, as he should be. “Also Mae, unless you are also pregnant, you might want to tell Wooyoung that you’re not.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“He told the group chat the other day that you’re pregnant because you keep buying baby stuff.” Seonghwa chuckled as he put the pieces together. Of course she could be spoiling his and Kayla’s baby, that’s just who she was as a person. She was going to be the best aunt. Her and Y/n.

“That fucking dumbass.”

“Hey, he said he would propose if you were.”

“Cute dumbass.”

“You can’t tell me you wouldn’t say yes if he proposed to you.” Kayla said. Everyone knows how in love Wooyoung and Mae are with each other. How in love they’ve been with each other long before they were dating.

“Doesn’t mean he’s not a dumbass.” Mae countered. Everyone agreed. They all adored Wooyoung, but he really did act first think second, if he thought at all. But that’s what they love about him. It’s his charm.

“Mae are you home?” Everyone went silent as the familiar voice spoke from the other side of the door. He knocked again. “I heard voices. Please. I need your help.” He sounded desperate. He was desperate. Everyone turned towards Y/n who’s eyes were welling up with tears. She refuses to tell anyone what he said that day at the house, but by the look on her face in this moment, the three knew it had to be bad.

“Let’s sneak you out the window.” Kayla spoke softly, removing herself from Seonghwa’s arms. She nodded and allowed Kayla to lead her towards Mae’s bedroom window.

“Mae please. I need to fix things with Y/n. As a friend. I can’t lose her.” Y/n paused for a second, turning to look at Mae.

“I’ll make him beg.” Mae joked with a soft smile. Y/n nodded. She never wanted to lose Hongjoong altogether. Besides Kayla and Mae, he was her best friend. He was the person she could turn to at any given time and he was always there.

“Come on.” Kayla helped Y/n through the window, and when she was gone, that’s when they opened the door for Hongjoong.

“Oh. Am I interrupting something?” He took a quick glance around the dorm, quickly putting the pieces together. “Congratulations Kayla and Seonghwa.” They nodded. “Mae you should probably tell Wooyoung.”

“I know.” She interrupted him. “Just tell me what you want.”

“Was Y/n here? I smell her perfume.” Mae’s resolve slowly melted at that. She could see the heartbroken look on his face, could see how much he misses her.

“No.” But she would always protect her wifey. Wifey trio first, always.

The whole walk back to the apartment she shares with Jongho she thought of Hongjoong. How hot and cold he’s been lately. How he pushes her away and pulls her back in. Yells at her but then talks to her so softly. Says the meanest things just to tell her the sweetest things.

She starts to wonder if dating Yeosang was the best choice or if she should have waited for Hongjoong. But how was she supposed to know that’s what she was supposed to do when he ended things? Yeosang was there to put together the broken pieces Hongjoong left. Yet her mind and her heart keeps going back to Hongjoong.

He’s not the man she fell in love with, he’s so different than that man. And yet she can’t stop thinking about him. She tries not to, tries to remember the Hongjoong that yelled at her, that caused her rose tinted glasses to fall. But then he comes back, picks them up off the ground, and gently puts them back on her face.

“I hate you Kim Hongjoong.” She grumbled to herself. “Let me let go. Let me fall for Yeosang.”

back to masterlist

@mxnsxngie @maeleelee @lethallyprotected @choisoorin @berryblog @anyamaris @nebulousbookshelf @junebug032 @jaydebow @halesandy @okkkcausewhet @dandycharmer @aestheticsluut @the-anarchist-public @kpoprhia @hanschimpmunk @itsmeeekai @grayscorner @weird-bookworm @minhoino @ibedreaminghighupinthesky @kpop-in-new-albion @felixmainacc @yunstarz @writersun @thatfavouritesong @hegdus @alyszaen @smally97 @chanscase143 @lookitsjess @punkhazardlaw @huachengsbestie01

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nalgenewhore · 7 months

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so sick of myself

elide x lorcan, modern au/estbalished relationship + they r still smitten kittens + jealousy/fight, word count: 2514

The atmosphere inside the car is suffocating.

He could say something to cut the tension, he should say something to put her out of her misery, but he won’t.

Elide’s squeezing her hands over and over, and he can feel the weight of her stare on him the way he felt it the whole drive home. He won’t look at her. He can’t right now.

Lorcan slowly pulls his keys out of the ignition. Then, he just looks out his windshield at nothing.

“Lor…”

“What?”

Elide closes her mouth, almost deflating.

He can barely stand this. To sit beside her right now makes his skin crawl, and his mind keeps wrapping around their last fight, the blowup they had after Aelin accidentally disclosed what really happened to Elide during that one shift. That ended with her telling him to get the fuck away from her and not call her till she was ready.

And he knows he deserved that, deserved the days spent in self-inflicted agony.

What he’s doing right now isn’t revenge. Lorcan wants to tell her it isn’t to hurt her, but he can’t bring himself to even look at her. He doesn’t really trust himself to speak either. There’s a nagging feeling that he could say something really fucked up, that would cut into her bones, and he can’t do that, hurt her on purpose.

So, he stays silent.

Elide stares at his profile.

She finds her tongue again by unsticking it from the roof of her mouth. “Should I go home?”

“-fuck you sayin?” His voice is flat and still manages to cut her. He still hasn’t looked at her, not once since they left the party.

“Do you want me to go home? I’ll call a cab.”

Lorcan sighs through his nose, his full lips pressed thin. “Stop.” He rubs his eyes. “Obliviously fuckin not, why’re you askin dumbass shit?”

She sinks back into the passenger seat. “It’s a valid question.”

“And what you think the answer was gonna be?” He mumbles, toneless. His hand falls from his face.

“You won’t even look at me.”

“‘lide, I want you with me, always. I just…” he shakes his head, “can’t really look at you right now, bro.”

Elide fiddles with the hem of her skirt. Now, her eyes have dropped to her lap, and she finds she can’t look at him either. “I really wasn’t-“

He cuts her off with a little huff. “Nah, you know I don’t wanna hear it.”

Silence stretches between them; it’s so heavy as it bores onto her shoulders, and she strains under its weight.

“What do you want me to do?”

From somewhere, either on his person or in his car, Lorcan procures a thick blunt and wedges it between his lips. “Take my bed an’ get some sleep.” He thinks about telling her that he wants to fuck the anger out, or at least wants her mouth on him, but she’ll let him. At that point, he’d be using her and that doesn’t sit well with him. “I’ll come when I’m good.”

The words clog in her throat, too many wanting to escape all at once like it wasn’t a big deal, you misread the situation, stay with me even if you’re not good, get angry - yell at me, use me, do whatever you want. “You won’t come with me now?”

“Nah, I just, like,” he says, “rather not do that.”

She swallows.

Lorcan gets out of his side, like the absence of her response ratchets the tension just that much more to where he can’t stand her proximity. The car shakes when he slams the door shut, and Elide flinches even though he always closes his door that way. She carefully dries her eyes with the sleeve of her cardigan.

When he opens her door, she tries to make it seem like she isn’t crying, but he still sees the traces of it. “Lee, c’mon, Imma get you some clothes and-”

“No, I’m fine,” she lies, shaking her head with a wet, phlegmy laugh. “It’s fine.” Elide stands up and sidles past him. “Um, don’t worry about it, I’ll get settled and everything.”

He looks at her solemnly before letting her go. As he settles against his beater, bringing a lighter to his blunt, she forces herself to walk into his house without looking back.

✵✵✵✵✵

Tonight, his bed feels cold and stiff. The whole house does.

She’s choking on the wrongness of it all.

And, deeply, she’s confused.

Because Elide doesn’t know what to do when he’s mad at her. He never really shows that. It’s never gotten to the point where he explicitly does not want to be around her.

She feels untethered, like she’s floating in a great big sea.

She thought she could psych herself into thinking it was just like any other night. That he’d come to her when he finished smoking.

But she already heard him come inside two hours ago. The walls shook (she imagined) when he let himself in. His presence, never mind it was past a shut door and down the hall, sucked all her oxygen up.

So, Elide rolls onto her side, and she can’t shake the feeling that she doesn’t belong here without him, staring at his spot.

Her phone lies on the mattress by his pillow, and she snatches it closer, blinking at the bright screen.

Once she works up the nerve to text him, she doesn’t hesitate to press send, then quickly toss her phone down.

EL: Are you still awake?

There’s a buzz half a minute later (she counted the seconds).

LS: why u still up

EL: You’re not here, I can’t sleep

Her breathing slows like her lungs are being squeezed by the hand of his avoidance. Elide watches the little read notification pop up but no further acknowledgement. It weirdly crushes her, makes her sink into the mattress.

There was a small relief when he told her he didn’t want her going home. By now, that spark of warmth has faded. She might beg him to join her.

LS: try ill come in later

EL: I don’t want to wait. Be “not good” with me.

LS: alr told u i can’t

LS: do u need sum

EL: You

LS: b serious lee if u dnt need sum lemme b

EL: Then I guess nothing.

She turns onto her back as pits of tears grow and well in her throat.

Elide feels like a kicked puppy, so needy and wanting for his attention. She’s never felt like this before. She hates knowing it’s her own doing.

EL: I love you.

EL: I want you to sleep with me even if you’re not good.

EL: We don’t have to talk.

She waits for his reply, knows that he’s still up from the muffled sound of the television.

When it doesn’t come, a childish kind of anger bursts in her stomach.

“Fucking asshole,” she speaks aloud to herself when the read receipt pops up.

Elide curls back into a ball and banishes her phone to his side.

She hears her phone vibrate a few minutes later, and she’s quick to grab it, the bright screen making her squint.

It takes a couple blinks for her to be able to read the messages.

LS: yo u kno the doors thin

LS: was brushing my teeth

LS: if ur talking abt me say it to my face

Her stomach drops like a stone but her pulse jumps with anger.

EL: Thought you didn’t want to talk.

LS: that was before i heard u

LS: come here bro

He does this thing when he’s annoyed where he’ll call her ‘bro’ to create emotional distance between them.

EL: Why?

In the hallway, she hears him groaning in annoyance.

LS: get out here

LS: obvi u wanna talk

EL: And if I don’t?

LS: r u fr

LS: then dont im not forcing u

LS: r u trying to piss me off??

Elide doesn’t answer. A minute passes, and his footsteps fade into the living room.

✵✵✵✵✵

The couch is too small for him even when he’s on his side. He turns onto his back, guilt eating him up for ignoring her messages before.

LS: sweet dreams

LS: baby

LS: i love you

He waits for her to see them, his chest twisted until she answers. The bubble in his gut stays inflated the longer he waits, and Lorcan knows soon enough that she’s probably asleep, or at the very least, she’s leaving him alone like he wanted. Yet, that feeling of being ignored that he hates so deeply remains.

When he gets up, he can’t say whether he’s going to her out of his desires or hers. Lorcan scrubs his eyes as he walks to his room, floorboards creaking beneath his feet.

He can tell she isn’t asleep the moment he steps inside his room.

Lorcan crosses the room and sees her phone laying down on the nightstand. He picks it up, just to see if she saw his text, only to sigh as he puts it back. She hasn’t.

“Gimme some room, ‘lide,” he says softly, tapping her back.

She moves without a word.

As he lies down, he’s cautious of her unbidden hair.

It’s familiar, the slide of his arm around her waist, the way it feels to pull her back into him.

Lorcan can feel the tension in her body like she wants more but fears his denial.

Which will never come, because it hurts too much to deny her.

She eases when he presses his mouth to her bare shoulder. “Baby, turn over.”

Elide slowly turns to face him. Even in the dark, he can see how her eyes worriedly search him.

They lay in that timid silence for a while. He traces each notch of her spine with his knuckles, coaxing her closer.

It feels like salt on an open wound, lemon juice dripping over split knuckles.

She nuzzles her face into his neck, and something about that graze of her lips over his skin unleashes them.

“I always thought you’d be the jealous type.”

Lorcan holds her tighter, his arms locked across her back. “‘m sorry. Not tryna be a dick.”

“I know.”

“Did I make you cry?” His thumb is on her cheek as if to check for wet rawness. It’s still hard to look at her.

“Not really.” Elide slides her hand around his, turning her chin to kiss the base of his palm. She pulls back to look at him. “I know you’re not good, but I still want you here. It’s selfish-”

“Nah, s’not, never selfish.” Lorcan sighs deeply, feels guilty. He slides his fingers down her neck. He finds it easier to focus on the gooseflesh that erupts in the wake of his touch. “Can’t even stay mad when all I wanna do is be ‘round you.”

She squeezes her eyes shut, trying to sort through her words. “I never know what to do when you’re mad. You just shut me out.”

“I know.” He hates being angry around her. Anger makes him unbearable, he thinks. It always has. “I- don’t wanna be mean to you or say some fucked up shit. You never make me, like, for real mad. I just didn’t know how to act around you.”

Elide twists her fingers in his shirt. “I wasn’t- nothing happened. It was a misunderstanding.”

His jaw clenches. “s’not bout that.” He should be calm, he should tell her he believes her (since he does). Yet he’s not done being pissed at her, he wants her to take some of his anger even if that isn’t nice or fair. “Lee, you didn’t say shit to her.”

“I didn’t even realise she was saying something in that way, I could barely hear her.”

“Like I get that, but it’s still some girl in your space and touching on you, and you just lettin her be there? How’s that supposed to look to me?”

“That’s why I was pushing her back, she grabbed my hand and, like, held it on her. I didn’t want that.”

Lorcan chews on his lip. He’s not sure he has the heart to really go in on this conversation.

“I wasn’t going to kiss her, Lor.”

“I… yeah.”

Elide lets out a breathy, anxious laugh. “Like, I wouldn’t ever do that to you, you get that, right?”

“I feel you.” He brushes his mouth over her forehead. “Just looked bad.”

Silence, unresolved, settles over them like a storm cloud waiting to break.

Lorcan slides his hands beneath her (his) t-shirt as he weighs his next words. “What fucked me up is that you- I had to tell her you got someone. Felt like… you didn’t want her knowing that?”

Elide shakes her head. “I don’t want anyone who isn’t you. Everyone that matters knows that.”

He closes his mouth and lets the quiet of nothing creep back in for a second.

“Uh-huh.”

“Why are you worried? Have I done something to make you this worried?”

He can’t answer her immediately.

“I’m so in love with you,” he eventually says. “s’not anything you done or whatever, I’m scared bout how easily you could hurt me.”

It makes her heart sink a bit. “I wouldn’t ever want to.”

“I know. I know that, Lee.” Lorcan breathes in deeply and finds it a little easier to speak. “You got me thinkin bout my future and, like, real shit. ‘m not used to that.”

Elide’s almost scared to ask. “Am I in your future?”

He gives her a look that’s slightly irritated like she should know better than to ask that. “You are it.”

The declaration, as soft as it’s spoken, makes her surge forward and kiss him. A second later, Elide realises it’s probably not what he wants right now. She backs away; Lorcan’s hand slopes around her nape and holds her to him. He kisses her back slowly like he wants to savour her.

She leans into his body, letting her lips part when he licks over the seam of her mouth. Elide wants to feel him fully, to fuse them together so she never has to feel so untethered again, though she knows that’s probably not the most healthy thing to think. “I love you,” she whispers. “I’ve never loved anyone like I love you.” Her hand wraps in his t-shirt. “I want you forever.”

“You got me forever,” he promises.

Elide swears it back to him. He nods – he believes her. Just like that, the tension in her chest unhooks, and she can breathe, she can feel her heart pumping again, her mind calms.

He’s not in the mood to push past the kisses that act like a lifeline between them. So, Lorcan settles against her, and the draped weight of him over her becomes this shroud of exhaustion - she’s so tired suddenly with her eyes begging to be shut.

She thinks, briefly, fleetingly, the moment that his breaths even out, that lying against one another is what they’re meant to do.

✵✵✵✵✵

an: another installation of my new mini series thing! next i hope to either finish their first meeting OR first kiss we shall see <3 here is part one

tags: @sassyhobbits @empress-ofbloodshed @celestialams @the-regal-warrior @shyvioletcat @icecream52 @elentiyawhitethorn @goddess-aelin @julemmaes @sunshinebingo

#elorcan #elide x lorcan #elide lochan #lorcan salvaterre #nalgenewhore #isa writes

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landoom · 9 months

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F1 Fanfics rec list : cat!drivers

That's when something wild calls you home (5217 words) by TheWiseOne12 Relationships: Lewis Hamilton/Lando Norris/Sebastian Vettel, Lewis Hamilton/Sebastian Vettel Summary: Seb was in the middle of working at his desk when he heard a slamming noise. At first, he thought that it was his husband coming home but he quickly realised that the noise hadn’t been loud enough to be the door. For a split second, he thought about ignoring but then he worried that something had fallen off a shelf so he got up from his desk chair and headed out of his office and into the lounge. And he was very surprised to see a tabby cat sitting in the living room, in front of the apartment door on the entry mat. Because he and Lewis didn’t own a cat.

Atticus Caticus (4875 words) by finalframe Relationships: Charles Leclerc/Sebastian Vettel Summary: As Sebastian Vettel awoke one morning from a dreamless sleep, he found himself transformed in his bed into a cat. (Or, how Sebastian learned how to hold his tongue around circuit cats: the hard way.)

5+1 cat fic (5612 words) by Sporthb1 Relationships: Daniel Ricciardo/Max Verstappen Summary: 5 times the fans just thought Dan loved his cat alot and one time they realised it was Max all along (or max can shapeshift and just wants cuddles)

That’s the catitude! (6436 words) by Sporthb1 Relationships: Daniel Ricciardo/Max Verstappen, Lewis Hamilton/Sebastian Vettel, Pierre Gasly/Charles Leclerc Summary: 5+1 ish of how the drivers found out that Max could shapeshift into the cutest cat for snuggles reasons. this is a prequel that should be read second for it to make sense which is weird but oh well.

No kitten- I’m smitten (2643 words) by Sporthb1 Relationships: Daniel Ricciardo/Max Verstappen Summary: After Max's cat form becomes public knowledge he quickly realises that he can use it to cuase chaos. 5+1 of Max and co (mostly Dan actually) using cat form to mess with the press

The Adventures of Lando Meowrris and Clawlos Sainz (2215 words) by hibivrooms Relationships: Lando Norris/Carlos Sainz Jr Summary: It is a beautiful day in Lucerne, Switzerland, and Carlos Sainz can't find his husband anywhere.

purring in my lap ('cause he loves me) (5071 words) by nyoomfruits Characters: Lando Norris, Oscar Piastri Summary: The cat thing ends up getting sort of explained in Bahrain, when Lando walks into his driver room and finds a small orange cat sitting on his couch. Oscar’s cat, presumably. And he kind of looks like Oscar, too. Slender, lean, and with a slightly grumpy, unimpressed expression on his face. It makes Lando laugh a little. Like owner, like pet, clearly. “Should I just call you Oscat, then,” Lando jokes, giving the cat a little head scratch. The cat, Oscat, stops rubbing at Lando’s hand and just stares at him instead. Lando would almost say he was looking at him disapprovingly, but it is a cat, so he’s probably just imagining things.

So hold my hand, I'll walk with you my dear (7281 words) by TheWiseOne12 Relationships: Max Fewtrell/Lando Norris Summary:

But, on the other hand, there were some shapeshifters that you found out about their animal form and it just clicked perfectly. And that was Lando for Max.

[5 times Lando caused chaos in cat form and 1 time he caused chaos in human form]

The cat in the big red ferrari (1164 words) by Mymanisagayman Relationships: Charles Leclerc/Carlos Sainz Jr Summary: A story where Carlos tries his best hiding his little secret, which appears to be harder than ever at some moments. (Australia 2023 but i didnt include the Ferrari quali drama for various reasons. Didnt want it to be angst)

you've got to be kitten me (9182 words) by Quagswagging Relationships: Daniel Ricciardo/Max Verstappen, Pierre Gasly & Max Verstappen, Charles Leclerc & Max Verstappen, Mick Schumacher & Max Verstappen, Lewis Hamilton/Sebastian Vettel, Pierre Gasly/Charles Leclerc, Michael Italiano & Daniel Ricciardo Summary: Max uses his cat form to get the affection he doesn't dare to ask for when he's in human form. Along the way, he not only gets cuddled a lot, but he also gets a lot closer to Daniel, who has taken a liking to the stray cat he calls Captain McCloud.

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geonwooz · 7 months

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♡ OUR PURRFECT SON — KIM GUNWOO

bf!gunwoo x fem!reader | wc : 0.4k words | content : possible grammar and spelling mistakes, lowercase intended, established relationship, domestic fluff, mentions of animals, use of petnames

“i love gunwoo, but i think i love you more, simba.”

you muttered under your breath, smiling at the tiny kitten you had rescued.

on your way home, you came across the little baby, instantly activating your motherly mode, as you saw him shiver in the cold.

at that moment, you decided to take him home, putting the kitten in a box so you could easily carry him during your commute.

“good evening, jagiya,” gunwoo greeted, startling you with his sudden presence. “how was work today?”

you smiled at your boyfriend. “same old work stuff. how was training?” you asked, interested in what he did.

gunwoo opened his mouth to reply, but his gaze fell upon the box you held, his brows furrowed slightly. “jagi, what’s in the box?” he asked, curious.

“it’s a baby!” you showed him the kitten as he sat next to you, knowing very well that he was an animal lover.

and just like you had suspected, gunwoo was all smiles as he cooed over the kitten, absolutely smitten by the animal he had just met.

“who are you taking him for?” he inquired, patting the kitten oh-so-gently.

you froze in your seat. “oh, uh, that.” you trailed off, not knowing what to say.

“jagiya?” gunwoo raised his brows, looking confused. “y/n?”

“you are the father, gunwoo! you should be more excited to see your son!”

“you are bringing him home? y/n, our apartment doesn’t allow pets!”

you let out a defeated sigh, realizing your boyfriend was right. “but simba isn’t a pet. he’s our baby.” you pouted, hoping you could get gunwoo on your side.

“you named him already?”

“he’s our son, babe. come on!”

“okay.” he sighed. “i guess you’d be able to prove that in an argument if our landlord ever found out, right?”

“kim gunwoo.” you put on your best pleading face, knowing very well that there was no way you’d leave your baby on the cold streets. “please.”

gunwoo took a deep breath, trying to analyze the situation as he glanced between you and his newly adopted son. and well, there was only one thing left to do as he looked into your determined eyes.

“well, i guess what the landlord doesn’t know won’t hurt them, yeah?”

TAGLIST :: @missscarlettangel (TO BE ADDED, PLEASE COMMENT, SEND AN ASK OR DM!)

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alohajun · 7 months

Text

♡ OUR PURRFECT SON — CHOI HANSOL / VERNON

bf!vernon x fem!reader | wc : 0.4k words | content : possible grammar and spelling mistakes, lowercase intended, established relationship, domestic fluff, mentions of animals, use of petnames, non-idol au

“i love hansol, but i think i love you more, simba.”

you muttered under your breath, smiling at the tiny kitten you had rescued.

on your way home, you came across the little baby, instantly activating your motherly mode, as you saw him shiver in the cold.

at that moment, you decided to take him home, putting the kitten in a box so you could easily carry him during your commute.

“well, hi there,” vernon greeted, startling you with his sudden presence. “fancy running into you here.”

you chuckled, shaking your head. “we take the same train home, hansol,” you stated as if it were an obvious answer.

vernon opened his mouth to counter-argue, but his gaze fell upon the box you held, brows furrowed slightly. “what’s in the box, love?” he asked, curious.

“it’s a baby!” you showed him the kitten as he sat next to you, knowing very well he was a cat lover.

and just like you had suspected, vernon was all smiles as he cooed over the kitten, absolutely smitten by the animal he had just met.

“who are you taking him for?” he inquired.

you froze in your seat, not knowing what to say. “oh, uh, that.” you trailed off.

“babe?” vernon raised his brows, looking confused. “y/n?”

“you are the father, hansol. you should be more excited to see your son!”

“you are bringing him home?! babe, our apartment doesn’t allow pets!”

you let out a defeated sigh, realizing your boyfriend was right. “but simba isn’t a pet. he’s our baby.” you pouted, hoping you could get vernon on your side.

“you named him already?!”

“he’s our son, babe. come on!”

“okay.” he shrugged. “i guess you’d be able to prove that in an argument if our landlord ever found out, right?”

“choi hansol.” you put on your best pleading face, knowing very well that there was no way you’d leave your baby on the cold streets. “please.”

vernon took a deep breath, trying to analyze the situation as he glanced between you and his newly adopted son. and well, there was only one thing left to do as he looked into your determined eyes.

“well, i guess what the landlord doesn’t know won’t hurt them, yeah?”

taglist — @kflixnet @mirxzii @woooooooosh8 @bobariki (to be added, please send an ask or dm!)

MASTERLISTS | TAGLIST FORM

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karebear923 · 28 days

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Pit Babe episode 6 was my fave so far!

At first I was like “why do people like North and Sonic so much? You don’t see them a lot” but now I get it

I know they’re fighting Dean in this scene but look at how Sonic’s holding North! 🥺 they really are a matching set, you can’t separate them.

And I don’t usually get second couple syndrome but Alan and Jeff are really stealing my heart!! 🥰 I’m loving them!! And Alan going straight for “should I call you darling?” and both of their faces after that!! 🙈 Like my guy you could’ve said anything else but of course you’re gonna say that?? Smitten kittens!!!

And Charlie and Babe making it official and immediately thinking about having kids 😂 one second you think you’re just watching a regular show and the next they remind you it’s the world’s first omegaverse show! 😅 They were really cute this episode tho ☺️ and hot 🥵 that scene in the lockers was 🔥🔥

This was kinda hot, ngl 😗 part of me feels torn cause Nut is gorgeous and such a good actor that every time I see his sad face I wanna sympathize. That ending scene where he’s going through his memories and crying in the car really had me feeling for Güey 🥺

BUT WAIT A MINUTE!!!!

I forgot Güey has powers too!!! He can manipulate people by touching them right?? Affect their moods like Jasper form Twilight?? That’s his power?? So he’s been manipulating Babe all along?? And he was trying to do it in this scene too!! See, this is why I have to remind myself not to sympathize with him, cause he is doing wrong by Babe and he’s not really treating him right as one should to someone they love!!!

Alexa, play Obsesión by Aventura again!! 😤

#torn between feeling sorry for Güey and scolding him for going about things the wrong way #I didn’t include the ‘‘big’’ scenes from this episode cause I already reblogged them #I remember saying I wanted to binge this to get through it quickly #but I’m enjoying it more than I thought #so I’m taking my time with it #pit babe the series #my post

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luckydragon10 · 1 month

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Bad Bet question!

This Chay who I absolutely adore. Can you tell us how he came to be? How early in the process of making the fic did you know you were gonna flip his character around completely and go to this.

I love Chay with agency and a purpose. He is not letting life pass him by, this guy makes the world to what he wants it to be.

Anything you can share I would love to know!

*** SPOILERS for Bad Bet under the cut ***

Before I made Chay a feral menace with a love for butterfly knives, my first interest and intent was around him being an idol. Chay having most of his hinges loose and being a generally very angry little murder kitten came along over time with a little more character exploration/brainstorming.

My motivation behind giving Chay a promotion to idol-hood was that I wanted to even out the playing field between him and Kim, to the point of reversing it a little bit and giving Chay an edge over Kim. I wanted Kim to already know and admire Chay, while reducing Chay's fan-adoration. I had the thought that it would change their dynamic in some really fun and interesting ways. And once I started thinking about that, I couldn't let it go.

Also, @laughsalot3412 put in an early request for Smitten!Kim, and how could I possibly say no to that? I live for Smitten!Kim. I think he should be smitten all the time, and preferably be really upset about being smitten. So much the better if Kim is smitten with Chay's music first, since I think Kim would just Like That, developing feelings about the music he hears.

#nemi answers #bad bet #kinnporsche #my fic #fanfic

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a-dirty-secret · 6 months

Text

Johnny's Girl - Part 13

Smut, but also, fluff! I enjoyed this chapter.

tw: dub/non-con, hematolagnia, dacryphilia, blood, violence, stalking, rough sex

For the next two weeks you didn't see Johnny at all. You were instead being taken care of by Sissy, which didn't turn out to be so bad. She'd ramble on about various things while you ate your dinner or cleaned the mark Johnny had made. You just smiled and nodded along, thankful for the company, most of the time.

"You're just lovely." Sissy said, smiling at you as you ate. "I can see why Johnny likes you, sweet thing."

"Likes me? I think you've got the wrong Johnny..."

"Oh no, he likes you honey. A lot, I'd reckon, or you'd already be supper! You oughta see how red he gets when we tease him. He says it's just 'cause he's angry, but I know he's blushin'!" She said, giggling.

You stop eating and stare at her in horror. "Supper? You're kidding... Right? You don't actually... Eat people?"

"Oh, Johnny hasn't told you that yet?"

Sissy left when you started throwing up. You hadn't been thankful for her company that night.

Your thoughts are interrupted by the door opening, revealing Sissy. You sigh in disappointment, you hated to admit it, but you missed Johnny. You weren't sure why he wasn't coming to see you, but you assumed it was as punishment.

"Hey there sugar, I got some dinner for ya'." She says, handing you a bowl of stew and some water.

"Thanks, but I'm not hungry."

"It's beef." She says with a giggle. "Now eat up, Johnny won't be happy if I let you starve to death."

"Do you... Know why he hasn't come to see me? It's been awhile." You say, eating your food.

"Johnny ain't exactly one to share his feelins', honey. Don't worry, he'll come around. He needs to stop bein' so gosh darn stubborn. I keep tellin' him it'd be nice to have another woman helpin' around the house when Nancy ain't here, but he just says his momma wouldn't have it and shuts me down. I tell 'im she ain't here most the time anyways, but he don't listen." She sighs, looking at you sympathetically.

"Can you tell me about him?" You should stop while you're ahead, but he was all you could think about.

"Well ain't you just a smitten kitten! Let me think.... Ah! Speakin' of kittens, Johnny's real sweet to the stray cats that come around. One of 'em got caught in a trap and he tore Nubbins a new one, tellin' him he needs to pay more attention to where he puts 'um." She says, laughing.

"That's adorable." You say, smiling to yourself. "I bet he acts like he doesn't like them, doesn't he?"

Sissy laughs, "Uh huh, he sure does. He ain't foolin' nobody though." She sighs and grabs your now empty dishes. "Alright sugar, I'll be back to check on you later." She says, leaving you to your thoughts.

*** Johnny sat at the dining room table staring at his food, trying to keep you off of his mind. Your mother must be fucking insane, because that's the only way somebody could EVER love somebody like you! He hadn't been able to get the words out of his head. He replayed them on purpose when he got the urge to go see you, which was often.

He didn't know at what point he fooled himself into believing you could care for him, but it was past time for him to come back to reality. He had to distance himself from you so that when the time came it would be easier to kill you. He could just have somebody in the family do it, but he couldn't bear the thought of not being the last person to touch you. The last person to see life in your eyes...

Your mother must be fucking insane, because that's the only way somebody could EVER love somebody like you! He repeated the words again, willing himself to hate you. God, how he wished he could just hate you. He was so pathetic.

He's jerked out of his thoughts when he hears the phone ring. "Go get the phone, boy. I'm bettin' it's your mama wantin' to have a word with you." Drayton said, a sly grin on his face.

Johnny scowled, getting up to answer the phone. "Hello."

"My dear Johnny, it's good to hear your voice. How is everything at the house?"

Johnny caught the slight edge in his mama's voice as he responded, "Everything is fine here mama."

"Is that so? Drayton told me you've had some girl hangin' around the house for over a month?" She said, making no attempt to hide her displeasure.

"I'm just... Having a little fun. She'll be gone soon, it's nothin' serious."

"Now don't you give me any damn excuses, Johnny. Playin' with your food is one thing, but your little snack is past her expiration date. She already tried to escape once. When I get back, she better be gone. Do you understand me?"

"Yes ma'am."

*** The door opens and you watch as Johnny walks in. You couldn't help but be happy to see him, but your happiness is short lived. In the blink of an eye he's in front of you, holding his knife to your throat. "Johnny.."

"Shut the fuck up!" He yells, and you can hear the nerves in his voice.

"Why are you doing this?" You ask fervently.

"We both knew this had to happen eventually." His voice is thick with emotion that he's unable to hide. He stares at you and tries to picture you as somebody else, anybody else, cursing under his breath when his hand starts to shake.

Your eyes fill with tears as you stare into the dark eyes of the man holding your life in his hands. The man that turned your life upside down and caused you so much pain and suffering had somehow earned a spot in your heart. "Johnny I..." You pause, unsure of what to say. "I missed you".

"Don't pretend you care about me now, it's not gonna help." He says, doing everything in his power to keep his emotions under control.

"I do care about you!" You say, and he presses the knife deeper.

"Don't fucking lie to me! Somebody would have to be insane to love somebody like me, remember?" He shouts, his eyes filling with tears.

"Then I must be insane, because I love you, Johnny!" In that moment you knew it was true, you loved him, and it no longer felt wrong.

"Goddamn it!" He yells, dropping his knife to the ground and bringing his lips to yours. He kisses you slow and hard, letting the tears stream down his face, unable to hold them back any longer.

He pulls back, resting his forehead against yours. "You don't mean that. You can't." His words are shaky and he squeezes his eyes closed, embarrassed you're seeing him this way. "I'm never gonna change."

"I don't want you to change. I want to love the darkest parts of you." You say, wiping his tears and returning your lips to his. What starts off as a gentle kiss soon becomes rough and desperate. Your tongues collide as you press your bodies together as tightly as you can manage, desperate to be closer to one another.

Your hands fumble with his belt as he swiftly removes your clothes, and in no time at all he's lifting you up, positioning himself at your entrance. You remove his shirt and he slides into your wet pussy slowly, sliding a hand between your bodies and groping your chest. His other hand finds the back of your neck, deepening the kiss as he slowly pumps into you.

"I'm sorry. For everything." He says, breathless from the kiss.

"Oh, Johnny. I forgive you."

His lips meet yours again and he picks up his pace, fucking you passionately. You love the way he stretches you out, reaching all the right places. Your moans mingle together as you both get closer to your climax.

"Cum inside of me, Johnny!" You yell as your pussy squeezes around his cock. He obliges, groaning as he fills you up.

He leaves gentle kisses on your lips and up your jawline, then nibbles gently on your ear. "I love you too." He whispers, burying his face in your neck, no intentions of letting you go any time soon.

#johnny sawyer #johnny slaughter #johnny tcm #johnny slaughter x you #tcsm #texas chainsaw game #johnny slaughter smut #tcm game

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cannebady · 2 years

Text

Modern steddyhands where Ed and Izzy have been together for ages. It's been tough, the past several years, as they've grown apart and come back together. It had gotten bad and they'd almost considered cutting their losses but Ed can't imagine his life having any purpose at all without Izzy and Izzy's world has spun on Ed's axis since they were nothing more than dirtbag twentysomethings trying to make a place for themselves in the world. They chose to hold on tighter and things are getting better, albeit slowly.

They take walks sometimes, when Izzy's mind won't quiet and Ed can't focus on anything for more than ten minutes, and on this particular walk they hear a pathetic, pissed off noise come from a parking lot. There, just under the single lamp, is the smallest, scraggliest, maddest kitten they've ever seen. There's a larger cat backing away slowly as this little nightmare spits and hisses and growls her way to a power position.

Ed wants to get closer, of course he does, and Izzy obliges, ostensibly because he's trying to be less dismissive of Ed's flights of fancy, but also because he has a lifelong soft spot for cats he's never given voice to.

The little thing is spitting mad, and despite the fact that she's small enough to fit in one of Ed's big hands, she does her level best to rip him to shreds, succeeds in scratching him to high hell defending herself and Izzy is smitten. He still won't admit it, but he's already feeling fiercely protective of the kitten and seeing Ed cooing at the tiny thing opens something else up in Izzy's chest that might've been closed for a long, long time.

The good thing about being with someone for practically your entire life is that words aren't always necessary for a conversation. With a long shared gaze they agree to adopt the miserable little thing. They need something new to focus on and this hissy little void needs somewhere safe to be. Before they know it they're picking up pet supplies and walking home with Annie ("We can call her Queen Anne's Revenge," Ed had said, Izzy rolled his eyes, "That's a stupid name for a cat Ed," he responds but it's fond. Ed gives one of his megawatt smiles that makes Izzy's heart skip even after nearly thirty years, "Well alright then, we'll call her Annie for short") , who isn't nearly as appreciative as she should be about the whole getting rescued thing.

It's a rocky start to say the least. Despite Ed's constant research on feral kittens, the fancy fuck-off food that costs the same as their grocery budget, warm beds that are nicer than what Izzy had growing up, and fresh water from an honest-to-fuck fountain, the little shit will barely allow Ed a single pet without kicking up an almighty fuss. Izzy tries too, once or twice, but the result is the same and he understands the lashing out when someone tries to get close, so he takes Annie's violent dismissal for what it is.

Oddly, she tends to wriggle into their bed at night and doesn't mind that closeness then, but as soin as they've gotten ready for their day she's wants nothing to do with them.

From his perspective they can just have a mean cat that doesn't want attention, but Izzy can tell its grating at his partner; Ed's always been like that, tall and strong, and fearless to the untrained eye, but so vulnerable and soft as soon as you scratched the surface. All he's ever wanted was to make Ed happy, keep him content, so he does some of his own research and finds a vet that has a knack for feral cases.

The place is called The Revenge, which Izzy doesn't get at all, but Ed is delighted by based on Annie's full name. When the walk in, they're greeted by the human embodiment of a ray of sunshine, Stede Bonnet. Izzy had spoken with him briefly on the phone, but nothing could've prepared him for the reality of this place. He's wearing peachy pink scrubs with little cat noses and whiskers patterned on them, his hair is a perfect gold threaded through with grey, and when he smiles Izzy's chest feels warm.

Dr. Bonnet, Stede as he insists they call him, brings them to a lounge area and asks them to introduce him to Annie. Ed sighs and steels himself to get his left hand torn up again when Stede stops him, asks "May I?", and with a dual nod from Izzy and Ed reaches right into the carrier and pulls out, not five whole pounds of raw hissing power, but a soft, purring, lump of black fur that can't get this guy close enough to her.

They're in shock. Stede speaks sweetly to Annie while she walks all over him, eats treats from his hand, and plays with the toys he offers her. She even goes as far as to fall asleep in his lap while he pets her head and fusses with her ears.

Izzy's concerned for a moment that Ed will feel badly that she took to a stranger better than to him, but one look has something else rising in him. Ed's hand is clasped around his tight, but he's looking at Stede and Annie like they lit the world up and he wants to show Izzy. They make eye contact and have another silent conversation.

Izzy looks back to Stede and, yeah, the guys quite pretty, and the sight of him with the kitten calls up a not entirely unfamiliar feeling in Izzy. He could see it.

It's been years since they brought anyone else in, hell it's been at least fifteen; not since they were too young and reckless and horny to confine themselves to tradition of any kind. But if this makes Ed happy, and there's potential, he could be open to it. Watching Stede's lovely hands, fuck they look soft, stroke Annie's fur confirms it. He could be very open to it.

Shortly after, Stede asks them to sit on the floor in the play area. Izzy's about to say he isn't sure if Ed's knee will play along, when Stede catches Ed's knee brace for himself and, like a flash, runs out of the room and returns with a wedge pillow for Ed's leg. Ed looks fucking charmed and Izzy feels a stab of something like kinship. He's also been known to be a caretaker.

Once they're all sitting down, Annie still won't make her way over to Ed and Izzy, and Izzy can see Ed's face fall a little more each time. Stede, observant as he is, says he has an idea and hands both Ed and Izzy blankets to put over their laps. Izzy's about to say something sarcastic about it looking like a tea party, when he sees Annie walk right into Ed's lap once the blanket is down.

Ed smiles ear to ear and tries valiantly not to squirm with excitement. He brings his hand up to give her head a scratch, which goes well up ubt she sniffs, opens her eyes, and strikes at his wrist.

Ed's patient, but Stede's face lights up.

"I think I understand," Stede says, to which both Ed and Izzy snap their heads to him.

"Yeah?" Ed says hopefully.

"It'd appear that miss Annie has an aversion to leather." Stede says, looking pointedly at Ed's entire outfit and Izzy's vest and glove. Right, she'd not hesitated to sit on Ed's lap when the blanket had been there, she'll sleep in the bed at night when it's all soft cotton but as soon as they're dressed, which is an awful lot of leather for them both, she'd prefer they fuck off.

"Do you know why?", Ed asked finally, to which Stede gave a small smile.

"These things tend to be educated guesses at best, but she seems to pull away when she catches the whiff, leather has a distinct smell of course. She might've had a bad experience, or might just not like it, kittens are fussy little things under the best of circumstances." Stede finishes. The rambling is cute. Fuck.

Ed removes his jacket and brings Annie to his chest and, it isn't immediate relaxation, but she doesn't use her talons so that's a win. Ed looks like he could levitate from happiness and Stede's smile, Izzy's sure, is actually bringing up the temperature in the room for how warm it is.

Izzy reaches over and successfully gives Annie a chin scritch with his non-gloved hand and she purrs and if he weren't who he is, fundamentally, he might've cried.

"Well, look at that," Stede says, and his voice is just as warm, "So, maybe a little switch in the wardrobe and you'll be right on your way. Shame, though, it is rather fetching on you both."

They all freeze, even Annie. Ed looks at Stede, then at Izzy. Izzy looks at Stede, then back at Ed. Annie mewls because no one is looking at her.

Stede looks like he's about to blush out of his skin and fuck, fuck, fuck it's cute. Ed clearly thinks so too, because he's smiling that rakish grin that did Izzy in all those years ago and Izzy finds that he's throwing his own smirk at Stede.

"Oh, that was unprofessional. And forward. So sorry, I'll just-," and he moves to stand. Izzy's hand is around his arm, stronger and thicker than he would've imagined (fuck), and he makes a split second decision.

"I think we may benefit from your continued expertise. Could we try for something more private?" Izzy drawls, low and rough. He may not have Ed's outrageous good looks, but he's no slouch himself and he knows how to pitch his voice for greatest effect.

Ed's breath catches and that gives him the confidence to be a bit forward himself, a bit reckless. He flicks his eyes to Ed, runs his tongue lightly over his bottom lip, and casts his eyes up at Stede from beneath his eyelashes.

Stede looks transfixed and Izzy preens a bit because it looks like he's still got it.

"Y-," Stede clears his throat and takes a breath, "Yes, Israel, I think I'd like that. Edward?"

Stede's clearly overwhelmed but his instincts are good.

Ed runs his tongue over his teeth and leans back, letting the muscles in his bare arm stand out, which Stede clocks immediately. A classic Ed move, Izzy's still affected all these years later.

"Yeah, mate. I think you're just what we need." Ed rumbles and then they're all smiling a bit.

Annie let's out a loud meow, as if to remind them that they're here for her, and Izzy let's himself laugh a bit.

It's ridiculous. His life is ridiculous, but it somehow keeps getting better.

#steddy hands #Steddyhands #stede x ed x izzy #edward teach #izzy hands #stede bonnet #Ofmd modern au #our flag means death fic #our flag means death #my fic #blackbeard

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