#like it's always '......well...............'

[saltpepperbeard]

so are y’all like me and fixate on the fact that stede has two pillows/an open space available every time you see a shot of his bed or are you normal

[loveandthings11]

Optimistic and sober Kendall, focused and confident Roman, connected and open Shiv, I love them together so much 🥹

[dreamermonica]

“how much do you love me?”

in which you question the extent of their love out of the blue.

—includes itoshi sae, itoshi rin, michael kaiser, mikage reo, nagi seishiro, isagi yoichi, bachira meguru, barou shouei

—gender neutral reader, isagi is the only normal one AGAIN, trigger warning for kais*r himself, established relationships, fluff, crack, nagi’s got a bit too real for a sec, some swearing, yeah this is reminiscent of my most popular post on genshinblr what abt it😤

SAE surprisingly ponders your question. years of your random questions getting ignored has its effects, and it is definitely the reason you're now staring at him like a madman, ready to catch his response in an instant. oh my, you think your heart isn't ready for this. what could your lovely and handsome boyfriend say that'll effectively swoop you off your fee—

“as much as one would love a rock, i guess.”

you whine as you throw your head back in frustration, sliding off the couch dramatically, earning him a scoff. “so mean! and unromantic too! pick a disability, not multiple!”

“well, you're as dumb as a rock. can't have too much in this world, unfortunately.”

a pout makes its way to your features, before suddenly switching into a suspicious frown when you see a small smile creeping on his face.

wait...you're as dumb as a rock?

“oh...?” your face immediately looks up at him. “and how much do you love this stupid rock exactly...?”

seeing that you finally caught on his antics, a heart-fluttering chuckle escapes his lips, his eyes shut in amusement as your heart beat quickens at the melodious sound.

“a lot—as in more than anything in this world.”

RIN ignores you. acts like you never spoke in the first place. why? hah, his pride's too high for him to even properly answer that. even if he said something that's relatively joking or teasing, it'd be lying in a way, right? so what purpose would it solve in answering your question? exactly. none. so you get no response, whatsoever.

“rin-chan, answer my question, please?”

radio silence.

“rrrrrrrrrin. rinnnnnn. riiiiiiiiiiin. RIN!”

he still continues on walking, gaze still ahead whilst you struggle to waddle along with his wide strides, opting to grab his arms as to not get left behind.

“itoshi rin! just how much do you love m—”

he places his gloved hand flat against your face, shutting you up as he moves you away from his line of sight. his teal stare still bored and unbothered.

“any louder and you'll attract attention. i don't want paparazzi stuck to us for the rest of the day.”

you narrow your eyes at him as he practically drags you along, legs unable to keep up with his pace. “i don't see how that refrains you from answering my question, though.”

“i won't answer a question you already know the answer to, so shut up.”

you blink twice, swearing you just saw his cheeks go a bit red for a quick second. were you seeing things...?

KAISER, the mischief, always has to edge you on for a bit before giving you what you want. (🤨📸) it's how he functions as a partner—never failing to be an infuriating piece of shit who gets on your nerves whenever he gets a chance. what makes you think now would be an exception?

“hmm...” he hums with that annoying curl of his lips once more, feigning thoughtfulness. “what do you think?”

“more than you love yourself?” you guess expectantly.

but with how he gasps dramatically at you, all your expectations of the narcissistic king drop like dead flies. your expression must’ve also dropped without you noticing, because now, your asshole of a boyfriend is cackling at you. you mercifully resist the urge to hit his annoyingly pretty face as you pout and face away from him with a huff.

“what’s with that glare? i didn’t mean it, you know.” yet he continues to snicker like a child.

“what did i even expect from you…" you sigh, visibly deflating in disappointment as you stand up to leave. “i’m an idiot.”

“yep, you are for even believing i’d—” wrapping his arms around your frame, he pulls you onto his lap with yet another shit-eating grin of his. “—let you go like that. now gimme a kiss, chuu—”

pushing away his exaggerated puckered lips from your face, still glaring at him. “what do you say first, my liebe?”

he chuckles, half of his face flat against your palm that’s pushing him away. “i’m very sorry. i love you more than anything. well, except my side chicks—” your glare turns into a scowl. “—just kidding! i love you, baby. so much that i’d give up anything in this world just to see you smile.”

removing your hand from his face, you finally let him attack you with his kisses.

REO smugly raises his black card. well, it would’ve been a lot more cool and impressive if he didn’t practically jump out of the couch in his pajamas and full-on sprinted to his bedroom to fetch it. was he waiting for this question for a long time now?

“…what’s that have to do with—”

“i love you, as much as the amount within this baby right here. if not, then more!” he slaps the who-knows-how-much card onto the coffee table, gazing at you with excitement not much unlike a puppy waiting for the coos and praises of its owner after fetching them a stick.

adorable. so goddamn cute. ahhhhh. you want to rip your hair out.

“how long were you waiting for this moment…?” why does this scene seem so familiar?

"a long time. i saw this while reading one of the romance novels you had, and i just had to do it.” he smiles sheepishly at you. “was my excitement a dead giveaway or…?”

that explains the feeling of deja vu, then. you remember getting giddy over that specific scene. mindlessly, you snort at the fact that this man has more achievements than anyone you’ve ever known yet he’s still trying to impress you. jesus. he’s so…

you lean over to him, grasping his hand in your own. “you know, you look so kissable right now.”

he perks up immediately. “heh—then, don’t mind me if i do.”

NAGI hums, animatedly tapping away at his game, not sparing you a glance. “would it be bad if i said that question’s a hassle?”

“…? why do you think so?”

“well…you’re only asking that because you want me to say something that’ll uh…make you blush or something right?” he starts, voice remaining bored as ever. “but if i don’t manage to, you’ll be dissatisfied or even use it as leverage to get mad at me to get my attention.”

you frown. “what are you—”

“i don’t mean it in a bad way.” he finally looks at you, a bold ‘victory!’ visible on his phone screen. “it’s not that i’m not willing to indulge you—it’s just that i don’t really know how to be romantic, and i also don’t wanna make you sad so…”

you blink when he performs a beckoning motion with his fingers, silently requesting for you to come near him.

complying with a raised brow, your confusion is immediately replaced by shock, and maybe a tad bit of warmth as the tall boy’s arm wrap themselves around your form, pulling you down with him with a small ‘oof’.

“n—nagi!?” you squirm.

“i love you a lot, [name].” he nuzzles his face onto your hair, his next words a bit muffled as they left his lips. “so don’t get mad at me, please?”

how in the world are you going to get mad at this goddamn sloth when he’s acting like this??

ISAGI blinks. scanning your face for a moment for any uncertainty or insecurity that might’ve influenced your posed question. but when he finds none, redness takes control of his entire face like a infectious parasite.

“why do you want to know?” his voice is meek, most likely caught off guard by such a direct question.

“just curious.” you reply, smiling at the way he seems so wrapped up in your finger despite it being so loose. “you don’t have to answer though. it’s quite an open question—vague and has a lot of possible answers.”

he stares down at his palm, carefully planning out his next choice of words for your inquiry. he really wants to provide an answer, something that shows he’s completely confident in your relationship. but…

how much he loves you? how is he even going to start?

“i’m not really sure how to put it but,” he starts, determination on his expression as he turns to look at you. “i’m certain i love you a lot. not sure just how much exactly but…”

“if it could go by anything, i think about you so much that my first instinct in the morning is to grab my phone and text you a good morning,” he adds on while rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “i-i don’t know. was that a good way of putting it? there’s also the fact that i always unconsciously brew two coffees even when we don’t live together, and oh! there’s also that time i—”

too caught up in his mind to recount the times his love had overshadowed his rationality and normalcy, he fails to see the lovestruck gaze given by a certain someone, completely and utterly in love with the man chatting away that you could probably see hearts in those [e/c] irises.

just wait till you start on sharing your side of the relationship.

BACHIRA grins impishly as he takes out a ruler, pulling down an imaginary board from thin air whilst putting on some nerdy glasses from nowhere. he points the tip of the ruler on an equation, your face now deadpan.

what is he doing…?

“the formula for measuring my love for [name]! note; very easy!”

you snort at his antics, before deciding to play along as you nod for him to continue.

with his ever-present grin, he taps the board with his ruler, adjusting his glasses as if to catch your attention like a typical teacher. “now, [name], can you try to answer this equation for me? these glasses are kinda blurry.”

n-no teaching or guides at all? uhm, okay.

you suck in a breath, gazing at the imaginative board with an unperturbed focus.

[name]’s infinite beauty x [name]’s infinite kindess x [name]’s infinite funniness equals N…what are these variables?

this shouldn’t even be a working equation but if you’re playing with how bachira’s mind works, then…“infinite?”

“yes!" he swoops in lowly and sweeps you off your feet, a yelp escaping your lips as he lifts you up bridal style. “looks like i have to add [name]’s infinite smartness into the equation too, what do you say?”

“whatever you want. but i think i need to mention that infinity isn’t actually a number so i think you’ll have to make a different formula—”

“jokes on you, i won’t let the laws of math deter me from figuring out the estimate of my infinite love!”

BAROU sneers. making quite an ugly face that forces you to be wary if he’s about to spit in your face or not.

“hah, when and where did you hear that i, the king, loved you, a mere peasant??”

raising a brow at him, you quickly throw a glance at the bouquet of flowers delicately placed onto a polishes and refined vase, the glint of its glassy appearance reminding you who it undoubtedly came from, and whom it was given to.

“at the front of that bakery you like, around 3pm on a sunday a few weeks ago, after i gave you flowers, you replied to my confession by saying—” you’re promptly cut off as an oven mitt is unceremoniously thrown at your face.

“what the hell?” he says breathlessly, letting out an unbelieving scoff as he crosses his arms. like a tsundere. “why do you even remember all that? creep.”

“well, you see, it was the first time king barou had bared his feelings towards me. an extremely rare moment, even though we’re basically dating right now.”

his eye twitches. “WHO THE HELL SAID WE WERE DATING?!”

“eh?” your sarcasm is immediately gone. “you said you loved me back, so i thought that—”

“is that why you’re always in my goddamn house unannounced??” he cuts you off, again.

“it’s kinda late to retract my view of our status now though. your sisters really like me as your lover for some reason.”

he responds with a groan, muttering something about how his soccer is now doomed by some outsider. silly king. he doesn’t even notice that he could always kick you out, yet simply chooses not to.

no i didn’t add a part where they’d explicitly have to theoretically choose between you or soccer because lets be fr they’d all choose to kick a ball forever over some head

its 3am rn (no beta we die like men) so if theres a few typos or pronoun and grammatical errors that ive missed, please do tell me!

[niiine]

𝐈𝐍 𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐀𝐋

Character(s). Xiao, Scaramouche, Kazuha x Reader (Separate, ofc). Mentions of Venti, Heizou, and Aether.

Synopsis. In which they keep on denying for having feelings towards you but then becomes hella possessive and gatekeeping experts when someone shows interest.

Modern AU!

Fluff

Tsundere! Scara and Xiao, as usual, and Shy Kazu bebi.

NOT PROOFREAD, please don’t expect.

Image Source: https://pin.it/2Rcqeh4

Xiao

He’s just tolerating you.

Or so he says. But Aether always finds it amusing how you can pester Xiao from time to time and get out of it with just a sigh from the golden eyed lad.

Like today, for example.

- As an introvert, powernap at the university’s roof top is like a holy grail for Xiao. He treasures it so much that the moment the bell signifies lunch, he’ll dash out of the room in a heartbeat. His friends know better than to disturb him else they receive some icy words. But somehow, much to Venti’s amusement, Xiao let you crash his solace and talk his ears out on days that you feel like doing so. Pretty privileges. Venti thought, before gushing it out with their friend group.

Heizou tried to make him confess that he is head over heels for you. He just finds it so funny how Xiao keeps denying his very obvious crush on you. Come on, he’s pretty sure that he’s not the only one who notice how Xiao’s sharp eyes keeps drifting back to you every time.

“You don’t look at me like how you look at her!”

“No. It’s just that it hurts my eyes when I see you.”

It’s the talk of the group for like a week. How they would see Xiao being such a gentleman when you’re in the room, his patience longer than they’ve ever seen, and more.

“Just admit it lover boy. You simp for (name)” Scaramouche pointed out. A sinister thought playing in his mind.

-  “I told you, I don’t. She’s just much tolerable than the rest of our classmates” The questioned man rolled his eyes, not entertaining the idea because even if he does, he’s a hundred and ten percent sure that you’re not in love with him. “Well, if that’s true, I guess you wouldn’t mind if I go after her?” the indigo haired man piped, only to be met by daggers sent through Xiao’s eyes. Eerie silence filled the room until Scara raised his hands in the air, satisfied smirk decorating his lips, “I’m kidding.” (Much like what he had done in this one.)

“Thought so.”

Scaramouche

This man is so obvious it hurts.

And also, he’s extra mean to you. He wants your attention babe, believe me.

“Hah! I can do that better. You suck.”, “What? Speechless because you’re so in love with me?”

No, it’s the other way around and HE KNOWS IT.

But like, you don’t believe his attitude towards you because his actions say otherwise.

- “You’re an idiot. Acting so high and mighty while being pathetically weak.” And then he proceeds to help you pick up the books that have fallen from your grasp and took the remaining ones on your arms to carry it himself.

- “Heh. You think he’s gonna like you back by helping him out? No way you’re uglyyy” “I don’t like him idiot. I have to do this, so he’ll pay me nice and good” you rolled your eyes and he sighs in relief.

He’s actually pretty close to you since you’re friends since middle school.

Venti and Heizou will call the two of you an old married couple because of the continues bickering. Of which Scara will return with disgusted look because no, He can’t have it get to him because he will lose you if he does.

But his friends know otherwise. They notice how careful the man when it comes to you, how observant he is when you’re involved, etc. And besides, Venti just feels it.

And Venti turns out right (again) when their group passed by two students who are obviously gushing over you and one of them spot Scara.

- “Just confess to (name)! You wouldn’t know until you try.” One of them says, and Scara’s ears perked up at the sound of your name. “But aren’t they like with that scary dude?” cue Venti and Heizou snickering in the background. This resulted to the two met gazes with them. Their knees tremble at the sight of your bestfriend. He’s usually playful eyes now dark and looming, and it’s directed at them.

“Yes,” he started menacing look present in his lovely, porcelain face. “they’re taken by the scary dude.”

The two ended up running and Venti and Heizou needs to be stopped by Aether for them to stop laughing.

“Hey scary dude. I thought you didn’t like her?” Vent teased, and Aether just sighed.

“Shut up”

Kaedehara Kazuha

This man is a gentleman you wouldn’t notice anything if you’re not as observant as Heizou.

He smiles so gentle with anyone, he talks with utmost respect, this guy right here is the epitome of prim and proper.

“But he’s always giddy when he’s talking to them” Heizou pointed out to Venti one day, to which the latter ended up agreeing to. Because now that he mentions it, Kazuha really seems so excited talking to you.

His eyes literally sparkles when you’re in the room, and his smiles are wider and brighter than usual when talking to you.

And in addition to that, Kaedehara Kazuha always go out of his way for you.

- “Kazuha?” The man turns to you, a tender smile immediately making its way to decorate his face, “Yes, (name)?”. “I made a (a dish with gourd in it). Would you like some?” And oh, the man will munch on it like it’s his most favorite thing on the whole Teyvat, only it’s not. He hates bitter gourd. But to make you happy? Give it all to him and he’ll eat it with the sweetest smile.

The lad also does everything in his capability to be near you. You need something from the cafeteria? He needs to buy something as well. You suck at this one subject? He’ll offer to teach you. You accidentally have no partner in light stretching for P.E? He, too!

But it seems like this fact hits Venti and Heizou earlier than him, as they can also see clear signs that Kazuha is not aware of his own feelings.

That’s why they took it to their own hands. They must help their friend in need you know! So, they did the most obvious thing one should do,

They asked him.

- “Zuhaa,” Venti piped in as Heizou placed his arms around Kazuha’s shoulder. “We’re wondering, do you perhaps fancy (name)?”. They received a soft chuckle from the lad. A very composed answer left his lips. “(Name) is certainly beautiful and wonderful individual,” he smiles and cleared his throat. Bashful and shy from his words, “But I am afraid I have to say no to you question.” The other two expected this. ALL they’re friends are like this, Kazuha is not the first one, so they know what to do. “Ohh That’s great!” Venti exclaimed, as if excited at the new found information before turning to Heizou, “You can pursue them then!”

Kazuha’s heart almost stopped at his friends’ words, so Heizou like you? Of course, he does. You’re beautiful and kind and gentle, and more. It’s only natural to like you. But he wants you! And words left his lips before he can keep it shut.

“No, they’re mine!”

Awe, the usually composed and collected Kazuha now red and ashamed of what he has done. The back of his hand failing miserably at trying to hide the red hue that painted his face down to his neck.

The other two looked at the outburst of their friend before erupting into laughter.

“Not if you don’t confess soon enough” Heizou said in between laughs and Kazuha sent him a sharp look. Face still beet red.

“Don’t do that again” he warned the other two, now caught up on their antics.

[starleska]

@inverselyanalog discovered this fantastic post from Clown’s Tumblr two years ago which contains apparent prank call conversations between You and some of the Welcome Home cast!! 👀 i cut and amplified the talk Wally has with you - now you know what he sounds like 😉 just so you know, Clown has stated this is non-canonical, but we do know they kept Wally’s delightfully strange laugh!!

Transcript:

Wally: ‘Hello? ...Hello? ...Hello?

Ha ha ha ha ha! I'm only kidding. I know you're there. Did you like my joke? I think you are going to say...'Yes!'. Ha ha ha ha, ha ha ha ha! It's...hard, to hear you think through this...'funny phone'. Very fuzzy. A little like me. Speaking of...

Do you know who I am?

*Gasps* Oh no! Well, that's not neighbourly at all. We've never met before. Don't worry, though. You and I haven't spoken, but I've seen you...whenever you've looked into my eyes. What did you see, when you did? Ha ha ha, ha ha ha ha ha ha! I hope you saw a friend. But I'm not sure you saw a name...

Sit still.

Let's start over.

Ring. Ring. Ring. Click!

Hi. I'm Wally. I'm so happy to finally meet you. I think you're the absolute most.

Uh oh. I have to go now. Everyone is probably thinking about their strange phone call. What fun to talk about! Don't worry though, neighbour. It will be a little joke between you and me. They're not ready to meet you yet. Remember, until you hear me again, keep your smile merry, and always know that I love you very much.

Goodbye!'

[fuckyeahdindjarin]

Seams

Joel Miller x F!Reader

{ Main Masterlist }

Rating: M

Summary: Joel has a problem. Having settled into some semblance of a 'normal' life in Jackson that no longer involves running for his life and living off scraps, his clothes are getting a little… tight. Self-conscious, he deals with it the way he does most things - he ignores it.

That is until one day, the zipper on his jeans finally gives up after one too many desperate tugs, leaving him stuck. With neither Tommy nor Ellie anywhere to be found to get him out of the tight spot, Joel begrudgingly heads to the clothing store he’s seen in town for help - and a new pair of jeans.

There, he meets you.

Warnings: Spicy thoughts, sexual tension, sexual innuendos, body insecurity, some language, Joel being unkind to himself, shy!reader, reader has a nickname related to her job, soft!Joel, no use of Y/N

Word count: 6k

Notes: I haven't written anything this fast for a hot minute. It's both exciting and terrifying, especially as Joel is so new to the fandom. So this is a one-shot as it stands, but I'll be lying if I say I haven't thought about where this story can go. Please be gentle with me, Joel is easily the most intimidating Pedro boy I've written for so far. I hope this doesn't disappoint 🥺

‘TommmMMMMMYYYY!’

His voice echoes in the empty street, gruff with irritation. He can feel eyes on him - he always does, wherever he goes in this damn place - covert stares from behind curtains, peeking out of windows from the neighbouring houses.

The polished wood thumps hollowly under his fist. Head bowed in surrender, his forehead makes contact with the surface of the door with a dull thud.

‘Fuck,’ he mutters under his breath.

Trudging back to the house that’s been allocated to him - he still struggles to think of it as his - he slams the door shut behind him so hard that the sound rings in his ears. Well, more in his left than his right.

Tossing the keys onto a chest of drawers in the hallway, he yells in a last-ditch attempt, ‘Ellieeee!’

The house is silent.

The one time he needs either of them, neither can be found anywhere. Even Maria has made herself scarce - not that he’d ask her for help for this.

This being these stupid fucking jeans. 

His trusty jeans that he’s worn for years, other than on laundry days, which were few and far in between. They’ve literally seen him through thick and thin - the knees are so worn he can almost see the web of white thread beneath the denim.

Tess had gotten him these jeans. Stole them, if he remembers correctly. Once upon a time, he needed a belt to hold them up, or they’d hang down to his ass crack. By the time Ellie came into the picture, they fit well enough to render the belt redundant. He could still easily fit things into his pockets though, like a map or a switchblade.

But now - 

Now he’s stuck, and he can’t get them off.

If he’s being honest with himself, the jeans haven’t fit for months. The jobs in Jackson don’t come anywhere close to the backbreaking work in the QZ or being on the road with Ellie. The food is plentiful even during the harsh winter, and as much as he looks down his ideological nose at it, Maria deserves credit for the thriving commune.

He had a late start this morning. Ellie had already vacated the house by the time he came to. He was on autopilot, distracted by his thoughts about the porch steps that have rotted and need to be replaced. 

He was making plans in his head to nip down to the workshop to get the wooden planks when he started getting dressed. Stepping into the legs of the jeans, he pulled them up, hopping to stretch them over his thighs. Out of habit, he sucked in his belly to button them up, the waistband seemingly even tighter than usual. 

He relegated that to the back of his mind, the same way he’s ignored the fact that the jeans have been uncomfortably tight for months - to the point of hindering his movement when he lays bricks, or cuts off his breathing when he sits down. But he’s gotten used to it, like he does everything else. He’s Joel Miller with the stiff upper lip, after all.

The zipper was next. As usual, he met resistance about halfway up. Baring his teeth, he gripped the tongue of the zipper and yanked upwards. 

Except this time, it didn’t budge. Grumbling, he pulled harder, feeling the burn in his biceps -

It happened so quickly that he wasn’t even aware until he was wheeling backwards from the force, his arm flying up in an arc - and a metallic clink behind him registered faintly in his good ear. 

Disoriented, he glanced down at the zipper. The slider had come clean off.

‘Fuck,’ he swore and turned to the full-length mirror on the wall to inspect the damage. Running an experimental finger along the seam, it was clear that the zipper had somehow snagged on the denim. It was stuck. Dead stuck.

Turning the house inside out, he couldn’t find a single pair of scissors, and there isn’t enough space to fit a knife in without slicing himself open, at which point he left on his ultimately fruitless search for reinforcement.

Joel scrubs a tired hand down his face. He’s never been a vain guy - Tommy is that sibling. But he’s never needed to stress about his looks either, with contracting keeping him in shape before the outbreak, and the fight for survival after - until now.

Grabbing his jacket, he shrugs it on, hyper-conscious of whether it’s a tighter squeeze than usual (fortunately not) - and heads into town.

Main Street Outfitters, the only clothing store in Jackson, sits in the middle of the high street, sandwiched between the pub on one side and the welder’s on the other. For the most part, residents come in to trade in old clothes for new ones, but there’s also a nicer selection for the occasional party that one can barter for.

You’re in the workshop at the back, the afternoon sun filling the room through the skylight. 

With your skill in thread and needle, you were the obvious candidate for the job when you arrived in Jackson. Over the years, it has become your sanctuary. The walls are lined with wooden shelves, where neat - though mismatched - boxes of buttons, trimmings, thread and trinkets slot perfectly into place.

You spend the days checking over incoming clothes after they come back from the laundry, making sure they are in reasonable condition and mending those that are not. The shop also charges for adjustments and repairs, and the tasks easily fill your working hours.

It’s a Tuesday, and it’s usually quiet this time of the afternoon. If you’re lucky, you can be undisturbed until you clock off at five - which is why you’re surprised when you hear the tinkle of the doorbell.

The footfall is heavy, it sounds like a strong work boot. You hold your breath and your fingers hover mid-air as the door shuts with a slam. You hear the customer clear his throat - definitely a man - as you wait in vain for the front of house to greet him.

But of course Lucy has sneaked out again. She’s a sweet girl, but manning the counter has always been too dull for her.

‘Hello?’

The voice is deep and gravelly, and despite your reluctance, it doesn’t sit well with your work ethic to keep a customer waiting. Sticking the needle into a pin cushion, you noiselessly rise from your seat and make your way to the front of the shop.

Your first glimpse of him is his back. Standing in front of a rack of jeans, the grays in his hair catch the light streaming through the shop front windows. You study him for a minute, curious eyes running over the width of broad shoulders under a beat-up, khaki jacket. Lower, his jeans are… well-worn, to put it kindly. And from sight, a sitting a bit tight on his hips -

You must have shifted your feet without you noticing. At the minutest creak of wood, the man whips around, one hand reaching behind him in search of the butt of a loaded gun or the hilt of a knife. It’s your good fortune that you see neither on him. The intensity of his gaze is just as effective as a blade on your neck to pin you to your spot.

There’s no question that he’s a newcomer. You’ve seen the same kind of intensity in everyone who’s braved what’s out there to get here.

But even if that didn’t give him away, you already know who he is. He’s Tommy’s brother. Joel, if you remember correctly. Maria approached you for some clothes a few months back when he arrived with his kid for the second time. They’ve been the talk of town since - not that you listen. In fact, you try not to, but you can’t help it if someone talks loudly enough at the next table in the canteen to interrupt your lunchtime reading.

‘Sorry,’ he mumbles as the tension in his body recedes. ‘You’re very quiet.’

You duck your head. ‘Sorry.’

‘You work here?’

Wringing your fingers nervously, you nod and take two timid steps towards him, hoping he doesn’t hear the tremour in your voice. ‘How can I help?’

You’ve heard things about Joel Miller. The words most frequently whispered as he ambles by in town include ruthless, cold-blooded and steer clear.

You can’t exactly reconcile the man in front of you with those particular words right now.

There’s nothing that speaks to ruthlessness in the way he averts his eyes and shuffles his feet, the blunt tip of his shoes catching the wooden floor. You also find it hard to believe that a truly cold-blooded person would willingly cross the country and all its horrors in search of his brother, or take a teenager under his wing.

You might not think much of yourself, but you know that your judgement of character has kept you alive so far. And your instinct isn’t telling you to steer clear of this man - quite the opposite, in fact.

But that’s neither here nor there.

He rubs the back of his neck, uncomfortable with your scrutiny. ‘Just lookin’ for some new jeans.’

‘Alright,’ you reply, taking the remaining five steps to the other end of the jeans rack, a safe distance away from him. ‘What’s your size?’

To your surprise, he huffs a sardonic laugh. ‘At least one up from whatever I have on right now.’

Sucking in a breath, you gesture vaguely at him. ‘Um, do you mind if I take a look at uh - you? So I can guess what size will fit you?’

You’re used to being the most awkward person in the room wherever you go, but this man is  giving you a pretty good run for your money right now. While you divert your gaze as he unbuttons the front of his jacket, he fixes his somewhere over your shoulder to the right, grinding his teeth, as if he wishes he was anywhere but here.

Dragging your eyes back to him, you take stock of your customer as he sweeps the lapels of the jacket to the side. Underneath, the green flannel cuts off at the top of the jeans, and you see the soft pouch of his abdomen beneath the fabric. While the shirt is well-fitted, the jeans are obviously too small. The waistband bites into his sides, you can see the subtle overhang of his love handles. Even by the way he’s standing you can tell he’s uncomfortable, packed in way too tight in the denim.

And then… you really shouldn’t, but stare at the front of the jeans. Now, you know for a fact that the fit will be just as snug there even if he goes a size up…

‘Sorry, not much to look at,’ he grunts, breaking the silence.

Taken aback by the self-derision in his voice, the words leave your mouth before they register, sharper than you mean them to be. ‘Don’t say that.’

He blinks at you. ‘What?’

You gape at him. Does he really not see? His tall, solid frame? The strong columns of his thighs? Is this man blind on top of being frustratingly attractive -?

But of course you can never say that. Instead, you pull out three different pairs of jeans in quick succession and all but throw them at him, heat prickling the tips of your ears as the disbelief that you spoke to a customer like that sinks in.

‘The dressing room is there,’ you squeak, pointing at the far corner. ‘I’ll be at the back if you need any help -’

You turn on your heels, in a hurry to get back to your workshop, but you only get halfway through the spin. It takes you three seconds to realise why - his calloused palm is on your wrist, holding you in place.

‘Actually, I do need help - I broke the zipper, and I’m stuck in these damn jeans.’

You ignore the clench of your stomach at the way he spits out the word damn. You’re not big on swearing, but the cuss word sounds good rolling off his tongue in his Southern twang.

To your horror, a giggle bubbles up your throat before you can slap a palm over your mouth.

‘I’m so, so sorry,’ you apologise profusely, heat flooding your cheeks. 

You stare in consternation when those broad shoulders of his quake, a half-smile on his lips as they part in a scratchy chuckle. ‘Trust me, I’m glad I found you first. My brother or my kid would have given me a much harder time. Probably would’ve pissed their pants laughin’.’

Despite yourself, you smile back with a weak attempt at a joke. ‘I mean, I’ll try not to -’

He smirks, the corners of his eyes crinkling. ‘That’s all I can ask for.’

You lead the way to the back of the shop and Joel follows three polite steps behind, pausing by the doorway. Running practised eyes over the space, the contractor in him appreciates the well-built skylight and the sturdy furniture in the room, pieces that were clearly built to last. He places the jeans you picked out for him on the big work table, made of strong timber and aged with time. 

He picked up a change in your demeanour the moment you crossed the threshold into the workshop. There’s a quiet confidence in your measured steps, the way you move speaking volumes - this is clearly your place, and you’re so much more comfortable in your skin here.

You point at the spot marked by a round, cosy rug directly beneath the skylight. ‘Could you stand there for me?’

Doing as he’s told, he startles when you march straight up to him, sliding your palms under the shoulders of his jacket to push it off. Your front brushes his chest briefly when you reach around to catch it, but not brief enough for him to ignore the soft swell of your breasts pressed up against him.

Joel is all too aware of his pulse going from zero to a hundred at the fleeting touch, the collar of his shirt suddenly a bit too tight. For fuck’s sake, Miller. It’s been an embarrassingly long time since his head has gone anywhere near there, but of course it has to happen at the most inconvenient moment.

At least you don’t seem to notice, draping his jacket over the back of a chair before retrieving a pair of tailor’s scissors from one meticulously organised drawer.

Just when he thinks he’s gotten a handle on himself, you hit him with a non-sequitur. ‘Are you wearing underwear?’

Only when Joel splutters wordlessly does the full weight of the question seem to hit you. You stutter, ‘Oh god, I didn’t - I mean - I only asked because if push comes to shove, and I have to cut through the jeans, I don’t want to ruin any underwear you’re wearing -’

You trail off, and it’s his turn to stammer, scratching an invisible itch on his elbow as he struggles to remember what he usually does with his hands.

‘No, no, I get it. I’m ahem -,’ he pauses with a cough. ‘I’m not actually wearin’ any underwear right now. Not out of habit, it’s just that I’ve been barely squeezin’ into the stupid jeans even without it.’

His honest answer seems to put you at ease, and you purse your lips. ‘Sounds uncomfortable.’

He shrugs. ‘Have been for months.’

‘I’m sorry.’

He arches an eyebrow. ‘What for?’

‘That you’ve been uncomfortable. That’s one thing clothes shouldn’t be.’

Not quite knowing how to answer you, he watches you grab a velvet cushioned footstool from under the work table and place it squarely at his feet. Then, without further preamble, you sink onto your knees in front of him, knocking the air clean out of his lungs.

As he stares down at the crown of your head, your nose at the level of his waistband, he muses that he hasn’t seen this view for a long time, a very long time. His fingers twitch at his sides, and he closes his eyes, fighting the base instinct to cup the back of your head in his palm and to pull you close -

He breathes out hard through his nostrils and clenches his jaw, casting his gaze heavenwards through the skylight as he actually prays for the first time in years.

Don’t you fucking dare get hard, Miller.

You chew on the inside of your mouth as you consider what’s before you. It’s tricky. The jeans are unbuttoned and zipped up most of the way, but the denim has been caught tight in the metallic teeth, and the handle of the zipper yanked clean off.

Cocking your head to one side, you think out loud. ‘I think we should at least try and unsnag the zipper before cutting. But we’re going to need some lubrication, and we’ll need to give it a really good, firm tug -’

The man chokes on nothing above you, and you frown up at him in a question.

Clearing his throat loudly, he asks through gritted teeth, ‘Do we have to?’

‘I mean, I can just cut open the jeans, but then you’ll definitely have to trade in something extra to cover the costs of the repairs -’

He interrupts, ‘That. Let’s do that.’

‘Alright, your call,’ you say with a nod. ‘Can you hold up your shirt?’

You try not to gawk when he draws up the tails of his flannel, revealing his soft stomach underneath. The mid-rise jeans cut off beneath his belly button, and you eye the trail that sneaks full and dark under the waistband. He’s obviously sucking his tummy in, and you catch yourself wishing he doesn’t feel like he has to.

You bite your bottom lip. ‘Do you think you can fit a couple of fingers into the waistband so I can slide the scissors in? They’re sharp, I don’t want to cut you.’

You watch as he tries, first his index finger, then his middle, but he can barely squeeze in beyond the nail, which turns completely colourless from the pressure. He sighs in surrender. ‘Mfraid you’ll have to, sweetheart.’

You have to close your eyes for a moment, your head swimming. You’re not sure whether it’s from the sweetheart, or the fact that he wants you to stick your hand down the front of his pants. 

Well, not exactly that he wants you to. And not your hand. But still.

You squeak. ‘Do I have to?’

He pins you a sarcastic arch of his eyebrows. ‘Well, if you’re sure that you won’t cut my dick off -’

You flush at his blunt words, falling back onto your haunches. ‘Great, now you’ve got me worried -’

Palms in apology, he shrugs. ‘Sorry -’

‘No, no, you’re right. I don’t want to accidentally castrate you,’ you sigh. ‘Are you - um - well adjusted in there?’

‘I’d go down the right side of the zipper,’ he answers diplomatically.

Taking a deep breath, you ask, ‘Ready?’

‘Whenever you are, sweetheart.’

The first contact is the brush of your knuckles against his stomach, the skin warm and soft on the back of your fingers. You don’t dare look up, but you can feel his eyes on you as you burrow your index finger under the waistband. It’s a squeeze, but you manage to wriggle in nail side down, creating a small gap, but not enough to get the scissors in without nicking him.

Talking more to yourself, you mumble, ‘Better safe than sorry. Let me just get one more finger in -’

Joel chokes so hard that you almost jump back in fright, frowning at him as he catches his breath. ‘Are you okay? Do you need some water?’

His voice tight, he shakes his head. ‘No, I’m fine.’

You wait a beat to make sure he doesn’t go into another coughing fit. When the coast is clear, you gesture at his jeans. ‘Can I just -’ 

‘Get one more finger in?’ he finishes your sentence in his raspy baritone. 

You finally hear it when he says it like that. And oh god, your ears burn as you stare up at him, lips parted, torn between outrage and a very disorienting arousal. ‘You - you -’

A wicked smirk tugs unexpectedly at the corner of his mouth. ‘I already tried, sweetheart. My fingers are too big to fit inside.’

The touch of playful condescension in his tone has your jaw going slack, and your brain practically short-circuits at the thoughts of where else they are too big to fit inside of -

So as it turns out, you’re brave, or just downright stupid, when you’re turned on. Next thing you know, you hear yourself telling him off. ‘I could just leave you in those jeans you know.’

Joel smiles wider, and retorts, ‘I don’t think you would.’

‘Just because I’m shy doesn’t mean I don’t have a mean streak,’ you shoot back.

He seems pleased to have lured you out of your shell, grinning down at you. ‘Believe me, I’m shakin’ in my boots, sweetheart.’

It’s really unfair that he looks this good from where you are on your knees. His eyes are hooded, curls flecked with grays sweeping his forehead. Even though the apocalypse has left its marks on him in wrinkles, frown lines, and smudged bags under his eyes, it has clearly not taken away from that proud nose or plush lips -

Steadying yourself with a deep inhale, you shake yourself out of it. With an in, it’s slightly easier to push in your middle finger into the waistband to widen the gap. Happy with the quarter inch of space, you hold up the scissors. ‘I’m ready to cut if you are.’

He nods his acquiesce. ‘Do your worst.’

Opening up the scissors and carefully fitting the blade beneath the denim, you carefully begin snipping away. They are sharp, but the fabric is tough and you’re conscious of the very tight fit, so you take it slow.

You pause when you’re a couple of inches in, when Joel lets out a groan of relief. Absent-mindedly, you run a soothing thumb over the angry, red indents the waistband dug into the soft pouch of his tummy, sending a shudder through him. 

‘Sorry,’ you squeak, snatching back your hand as if he burns you. 

Too preoccupied with the relief of being able to breathe, Joel shakes his head. ‘Don’t be. Just keep going. Please.’ 

Why is that one word - six letters - making your breath hitch?

Gripping the top of the now open fly and pinning it against his body so you don’t accidentally see anything you’re not meant to see - whether you want to deliberately is a completely different matter - you hunker down and keep cutting along the zipper. 

Each snip gets easier as the jeans release their death grip on him. The right side of the fly falls away as you cut, the denim peeling back slowly to expose the skin underneath. Your eyes drift to the curve of the pubic bone that’s now completely in view, and it’s taking everything you have to not lean over and run the broad of your tongue along it -

How long has it been since you’ve been with a man? When was the last time you had someone stand before you, pants unzipped and hanging open -

With tremendous fortitude, you tear your eyes away to check on him, ‘All good?’

The grunt of respite that he lets out is almost guttural, going straight between your legs. ‘Feels so fuckin’ good to breathe.’

‘Before I keep going, do you want to - uh - rearrange yourself?’

You expect him to turn around, or at least give you a second to turn around to give him some privacy, but he’s obviously been too deprived of oxygen to think straight. One big palm snakes down his front, right in your face, and he cups himself through the denim.

You stop breathing, eyes wide as he adjusts himself. 

Holy fuck.

When he’s done, he gives you a thumbs up. ‘All good.’

This is it. You’re not making it out of this alive.

You can barely get the words out, your throat suddenly drier than sandpaper. ‘Can you, um, hold up the other side of the fly?’

When he does, you stare at his hand next to yours. How is it so big? The veins are prominent on the back, leading down to thick fingers, the nails neatly trimmed and clean - but you bet there’s residue gunpowder underneath.

There’s still a slither of skin peeking through the V of the fly as the scissors slice through the denim, following his happy trail. The lower you go, the thicker and darker the curls, and goddamnit - what is wrong with you - all you can think about is burying your nose right in there, nudging through the hair, lower and lower and lower still -

A sharp pain on your left finger makes you yelp, the scissors falling from your other hand to the floor with a loud clang. A small bead of blood wells up on the tip where the sharp blade nicked it, and in a panic, you let go of his jeans.

‘Shit,’ Joel curses and covers himself up quickly, his brow furrowed in concern. ‘You okay?’

You flush, nodding in embarrassment while you get on your feet. ‘I - my hand just slipped. It’s nothing, the smallest cut, I’m fine -’

Well, to be fair, you were fine - until he grabs your left wrist, brings your hand up to his face and sucks your bleeding fingertip into his mouth. 

As if it’s the logical thing to do.

Your knees buckle, and you collapse into his front, but he doesn’t even budge, as if you weigh nothing. Taking a deep breath - wood smoke, simple soap and man fill your lungs. Peering up at him through your lashes, you spot the silver flanking the hinge of his jaw, leading down to a peculiar bare patch on the left side of his beard.

He watches you back as he releases your finger with a wet pop. Tracing his bottom lip with his tongue, he pronounces, ‘Just a small cut. You’ll live.’

Will you though? Because it feels like you’re on the verge of expiring from breathlessness. 

He glances down at his front, which he’s still holding up. ‘I guess I can get out of these now.’

It takes you three seconds to catch up before you stumble backwards. ‘Yes, of course. Sorry.’

‘Thank you for freeing me,’ he says with a lopsided smile.

You duck your head, unable to meet his gaze all of a sudden - hypocrite, you had no problem perving on him a minute ago - and nod at the jeans on the table. ‘Why don’t you try those on?’

He clears his throat. ‘I, uh, should probably put on some underwear first.’

You barely manage to hold back from smacking yourself on the forehead. ‘Of course. We do have some in stock. Boxers or briefs?’

He looks amused. ‘What do you think, sweetheart?’

You hesitate, but you force yourself to be brave and venture a guess. ‘Boxers.’

He winks, and you grin back.

Joel hovers uncertainly in front of the mirror in the fitting room, having exhausted all the angles he can see twice, and wonders if he’s been dithering for too long. He’s not even sure what he’s looking at anymore, so he bites the bullet and draws back the curtain.

‘How do they feel?’ you ask.

He was counting on some hint from you, but you give nothing away. So he shrugs, hands on hips. ‘I honestly can’t tell you.’

‘May I?’

At his nod, you step into his space, and he watches as you hook your fingers into the belt loops on either side of the jeans and pull them up, as if gauging the size. He holds his breath as your hair grazes the front of his chest.

‘They’re a bit loose, to be honest,’ you tell him.

He scoffs self-decrepatingly. ‘Probably not for long at the rate I’m going.’

You take a step back and level him with a glare. ‘Stop it.’

He frowns, hackles rising. ‘What?’

‘Stop putting yourself down.’

That he didn’t expect. He protests, ‘I’m not putting myself down -’

‘Yes, yes, you are,’ you interrupt him with a boldness that has his eyebrows reaching for his hairline. With fire in your eyes, you go toe to toe with him, poking him in the chest with a firm finger. ‘You’re alive, you’re safe here, and you’re fit as hell. If you’re going to make fun of yourself for putting on a bit of healthy weight, you can go ahead and get out of my shop.’

Warmth blooms in his chest as Joel stares down at you, breathing heavily after your little speech but showing no intention of backing down. You don’t know him, but for some reason, you’re fighting his corner.

That shouldn’t feel as good as it does.

Pursing his lips, he towers over you as he teases, ‘You think I’m fit as hell, sweetheart?’

With a roll of your eyes, you walk backwards to the shelves, rummaging through the sizes before returning with a pair of dark wash jeans. You quip, ‘Don’t fish for compliments, it’s unbecoming.’

You snap the curtain shut in his face with a flick of your wrist before he can answer, and he chuckles to himself as pulls on the jeans you picked out for him.

When he pushes open the curtain again, Joel doesn’t miss the way you pause as you stare.

The waistband sits on his hips without cutting into his stomach, and he’s pleased that he can comfortably slide his hands into the pockets. The denim wraps firmly, but not tightly, against his backside, holding his thighs comfortably and falling straight down to the ankles. The wash is dark and flattering, smarter than his old ones.

When the silence has stretched on long enough, Joel shifts on his feet and asks, ‘Well?’

You turn the question back at him. ‘What do you think?’

He shrugs. ‘They’re alright, I guess.’

With a tilt of your head, you prompt, ‘You can say it, you know.’

‘Say what?’

‘You can say that you look good.’

Joel huffs, shaking his head and catching his reflection in the mirror as he does. At your look of insistence, he reluctantly parrots back, ‘Alright. I look good. Happy, sweetheart?’

Then you smile, really smile, and he feels himself soften - his eyes, his face, his mouth, his fucking old, rickety knees -

Suddenly, the bell over the door rings and a woman bustles in. ‘I’m so sorry, Pin! I know I’ve been gone a long time, but I got your favourite tea to make it up to you -’

She stops abruptly when she spots him. ‘Hey! You’re Joel Miller, aren’t you?’

Before he can answer, she crosses the shop in a bundle of energy, sticking her hand out. ‘I’m Lucy, I’m a friend of Tommy and Maria’s. It’s so nice to finally meet you.’

He lets her shake his hand, then she continues without skipping a beat. ‘How are you settling in? You got that house in the street near the stables right? It’s great, it’s quiet but not too far from everything -’

Since she doesn’t seem interested in his participation in this conversation, he doesn’t. But he notices, with regret, the way you start to retreat, the shyness making a return in the shadow of her clearly more outgoing friend - like a bad habit.

He’s suddenly aware of a lull, and that Lucy is looking at him expectantly, like she’s just asked a question that he didn’t hear.

‘Yeah sure,’ he replies dismissively, stopping you with a hand on your wrist just as you try to slink away unnoticed. ‘Hey, wait a second -’

To Lucy’s credit, she picks up on the snub and the energy between the two of you at the same time. Instead of taking offence, she gives you a knowing look and points towards the back diplomatically. ‘You know what Pin, I just bumped into Maria and she asked me something about our fabric inventory, so I better go check it out. I’ll see you around, Joel.’

With a wink in your direction, Lucy makes herself scarce, leaving the tea on the counter for you.

Joel’s quiet for a beat when you’re left alone again. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to run off your friend, but I just wanted to uh - thank you. For all this.’ He pauses, then adds, ‘Like she said, I’m Joel. Probably should’ve introduced myself before I asked you to cut me out of my jeans.’

You quip, ‘There’s always next time.’

He chuckles, and asks, ‘Did your friend just call you - Pin?’

‘It’s just a silly nickname,’ you explain. ‘As in pins and needles, for obvious reasons.’

Then you give him your real name and your hand, his palm warm and calloused against yours as he shakes it firmly. When he lets you go, you notice the watch on his wrist, the veins of broken glass on the face catching the light. 

Nodding at it, you ask, ‘Do you need that fixed? There’s a repair guy down the road who can fix anything.’

Confused for a moment about what you’re referring to, Joel pauses before realisation dawns on him. His answer is suddenly polite, a stark contrast to the light-hearted conversation just now. ‘No, I - I like it this way. But thanks.’

You don’t miss the emotional weight behind his words, and the air thickens with unspoken meaning, but you know better than to ask. 

‘I understand,’ you say simply.

Everyone has something like the watch is to him. God knows you do. A moment of quiet understanding passes between you, one that needs no words.

Breaking the silence, he says, ‘So, you mentioned I’ll need to trade in something else for these jeans -’

You dismiss that notion with a wave of your hand. ‘Oh no, it’s ok. I got it.’

‘You don’t have to -’

You shut him down. ‘It’s not a big deal, it will take me two minutes to replace the zipper.’

He hesitates. ‘And the boxers -’

Passing him his jacket, you insist, ‘Seriously, Joel, don’t worry about it.’

His fingers brush yours when he takes it from you and shrugs it on. You try not to look too conspicuously when the bottom of his shirt draws up, flashing a bit of tummy, but it’s gone too quickly. With a nod, he concedes reluctantly, ‘You really shouldn’t, but thank you. I owe you one.’

You roll your eyes with no real exasperation as you walk him towards the exit. ‘I know you haven’t been here for long - that’s just how things work around these parts. We do things for each other, you don’t owe me anything.’ Pulling the door open, you give him one last grin. ‘Welcome to Jackson, Joel.’

‘Thanks, Pin,’ he says as he crosses the threshold. He pauses on the porch and looks around the high street slowly, as if he’s taking it in for the first time. He then turns to you with a parting wink that is charged with easy confidence. ‘I think I’ll like it here.’

You linger by the door, leaning against the frame as he jogs down the front steps with a swagger, watching in appreciation at the way his new jeans frame his backside. You smile when he slides his hands into his pockets as he walks away, the afternoon breeze ruffling his curls and the sun warming his broad shoulders.

You think you’ll like him here as well.

Notes: As I was writing this, I couldn't help thinking that it reminded me of Grays 🙈 What can I say? I want to give middle-aged men in need of self-love all the reassurance that they need. I hope you enjoyed Pin and Joel's meet-cute, I'm honestly so nervous about this fic I had to stop myself from compulsively over-editing.

Thank you so much for reading! Comments and reblogs are appreciated as always 🥰

P.S. Apparently, there is a Main Street Outfitter in the game, so I ran with it.

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

[loveinhawkins]

Eddie quietly falling more and more in love with Steve with every car ride—every time it’s raining, and he watches as Steve does a stupid little run with an umbrella to the front porch so Robin won’t mess up her hair before a marching band concert.

Falling in love with the constancy of it, with every little routine Steve does. It takes a few weeks of listening for Eddie to figure out that when Steve first half-sings, “Good mornin’,” as everyone clambers into the car that he’s imitating the song from Singin’ in the Rain.

Falling in love with how Steve always, always either has the radio on or a tape playing something that he can sing along to, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. How the car’s always this chaotic space but always, always brimming with love and joy—Steve snapping his fingers every few minutes, like, “Oh, Rob, this is our song! You know, when the—yeah, the shift when—no, not that one, the other time that—” (Eddie discovers with fond amusement that many, many songs share the title of ‘Robin and Steve’s song.’)

Steve singing along to the chorus of Mr. Blue Sky whenever Dustin’s called shotgun in the front, and Eddie soon realises, his heart fit to burst, that it’s because Steve must associate the song with Dustin; that he does the same thing with everyone he gives rides to, like it comes so naturally to him, his love for each person intertwined with each song, like he’s making the melody anew every time.

Eddie, tipsy from ‘Graduation Champagne’ courtesy of Nancy, asks Steve once if he has a song tied to him.

“Ah,” Steve says, smiling and bright-eyed in his role as the designated driver, “you have a whole damn catalogue, Eddie.”

And… oh.

Well, Eddie reasons, heart skipping a beat, he doesn’t need to know all of them at once, then. He doesn’t mind waiting, letting each one unfold, like unwrapping an expensive chocolate.

One night the two of them are driving back to Hawkins alone, having spent the day at a mall shopping for Robin’s birthday. They really didn’t need to spend the whole day, had already got her presents within the first couple of hours, but they dawdled, messed around, tried on increasingly ridiculous hats and sunglasses to make the other laugh.

And Steve fiddles with the radio until he finds an obscure station that just plays songs from musicals. And yeah, he sings along, but his voice is a little restrained, almost like he’s shy. Eddie looks at him with a soft smile, suddenly knows he’s seeing something precious, something Steve perhaps reserves for car rides alone. That Steve is letting him into a private moment.

“You have a real pretty voice, man,” he murmurs, quiet enough that they could pretend it goes unheard under the noise of the car driving along.

But as Steve looks ahead, he smiles, and his ears turn red.

He goes for it for the rest of the ride, voice back to its normal volume. He plays it up, trying to make Eddie laugh while they’re waiting for traffic lights to change. Catches his eye and damn near trills, “I feel fizzy and funny and fine, and so pretty, Miss America can just resign.”

And of course, Eddie laughs. Feels his stomach swoop. He knows what this feeling is. Oh, he knows.

As the West Side Story tribute ends, Steve’s voice drops back to his normal register. Turns gentle and sincere as he glances at his wing mirror and sings, almost to himself, “For I’m loved by a pretty wonderful boy.”

Yes, Eddie thinks, you are, you are, you are.

[qcomicsy]

The Office but it's the Batfamily.

Bernard (To the camera): I think Bruce hates me.

---

Bruce (to the camera): I am very glad Tim, found himself dating someone. I don't think there's someone who would ever be enough to any of my children.

Bruce: But he is happy. So I am happy as well.

---

Bernard, invited over to dinner: That's. . . Um, A very nice mansion you have here sir. Really big. Big enough to hide an secret passage to clones but–

Tim, gesturing to him to shut the fuck up: HAHAHAHA ISN'T HE FUNNY?! (whispering) ᴮᵉʳⁿᵃʳᵈ ᴵ ˢʷᵉᵃʳ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵒᵈ.

Bernard: WhichI'mnotimplyingyoudoanyway. But– IT'S NICE. Really nice. Thanks for uh inviting. . . Me.

Bruce, glaring: Hn.

---

Bruce (to the camera): Dick told me to make a "chit-chat". Be sure that our guest felt welcomed.

---

Bruce (to Bernard): Did you gave it a thought about your internship yet? When I started medical school I had a great interest on how Gotham's Hospital deals with post mortem patients.

Bernard:

---

Bruce (to the camera): I tried to find a common ground to make conversation. We both had similar majors, even though I've drop out

Bruce: I'm glad it was enough for a good starter.

---

Bernard (to the camera horrified): He wants me dead.

---

Dick (to the camera): HOW WOULD I KNOW HE WOULD PULL UP THE SERIAL KILLER TALK??–

---

Steph (to the camera): There's something really uncanny in seen it happen to another person.

Steph: And also really fucking funny too.

---

Kory (to the camera): The first time I got there I'm pretty sure was the time he made a contingency plan for me.

Kory: Which is cute. He thinking it would work but– Yeah.

---

Barbara (to the camera): Me and Dick? Oh he stopped talking to me for several weeks.

Barbara: When he did, he said "You are making a mistake".

Barbara:

Barbara: Don't you hate when he is right?

---

Kon (to the camera): I wasn't aloud to enter the house– I when I dated Cass, so–

Kon: Not that stopped me. But it still hurts.

---

Cass (to the camera), shrugging: I liked his piercings.

---

Bernard: . . . I didn't– Yet. No sir. I'm just, huh. . . Going with the flow?

Bruce: That's unfortunate. It's really important to always have a plan.

Bernard (gulps): You think?

Bruce: Yes. You never know what might happens next.

---

Damian (to the camera): It was the best dinner I've ever attended in this house.

---

Tim (to the camera): *Loud sight* I don't know what I was expecting.

---

Jason (to the camera): Are we really just going to pass on how his boyfriend looks like a knock off Scooby-doo member?

Jason: Like he is rocking a StarStruck haircut– And we just?– Okay.

---

Dick (to the camera): I mean it's not like Bruce is doing on purpose right?

---

Bruce, grinning to the camera: Hn.

---

Duke (to the camera): Oh he's absolutely doing on purpose.

[forever-rogue]

Ooh what about Joel giving reader a kiss on the cheek now and then and calling her sweetheart and darling because he knows it makes her blush

Basically Joel torturing reader by shamelessly flirting with her until she finally caves and kissed him and he’s like “took ya long enough”

AN | Please!! This is so soft and fluffy 🥰 

Pairing | Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings | Language

Word Count | 2.2k

Masterlist | Joel, Main

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Hey trouble,” you felt his hands on your hips as he gently moved you out of the way before you saw him. You hadn’t even heard him coming up, but he was good like that - stealthy and lethal when he needed to be. 

“Joel,” your entire face turned so warm you were almost sure you could have fried an egg on it. He looked over at you as though he knew exactly what was going through mind whenever he came around. Honestly he probably did and that made it all the worse, “what’re you doing here?”

“Nothin’ much,” he took a seat at the bar next to him. You felt stupid for even asking - you were at the bar, what else would he be doing here? You wish the ground would open and swallow you whole, “thinkin’ about having a beer. What about you?”

“Same,” you’d been nursing the same beer you’d first ordered when you walked into the bar. You shrugged meekly, “long week.”

“I’d say every week is a long week,” he offered up and you couldn’t help the snort of amusement that escaped your lips. His own beer was passed over and he took it, clinking it against your own, “cheers.”

“Cheers,” you whispered softly, taking a small sip. You didn’t even really like the beer, but it was a social thing to do. Although with Joel currently sitting next to you and leaning into you, it was hard to focus on anything but him. The two of  you sat in silence for some time, nothing needing to be said by either of you. 

You’d always liked Joel, always found yourself gravitating to the older man, but just how much you liked him was still dizzying and overwhelming at times. But you’d never say anything - you were pretty sure you’d rather die. You didn’t really have much to offer, which is always what kept you from saying anything. Instead, you like just being his friend, which was just fine with you.

“I have to leave tomorrow,” he said suddenly, angling his body closer to yours. Your heart dropped at the idea of not being able to see him, but you tried not to let it show on your face. He chuckled softly and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, “don’t get all sad on me yet - I haven’t even finished what I was saying.”

“I wasn’t…sad,” you lied although there was no reason to, “sorry - go on.”

“I have to leave tomorrow for a few days to get some supplies,” he explained, “and I was wondering if you wanted to come with me?”

And then your face broke into a huge smile that you weren’t able to hide, beaming and lovely. Joel returned your smile as you tried to not let your imagination run away too wild, “you want me to come? You’re sure?”

“I am,” he nodded, “what do you think? It’s nothing much, just a lot of driving and maybe a night or two of camping.”

“I’d love to,” you agreed with hesitation; you’d probably have done anything and everything he asked of you. He perked up at your response and raised an eyebrow, almost as if he was making sure he’d heard you correctly, “when are we leaving?”

“In the morning, bright and early,” you groaned lightly and that just made him laugh a little harder, “is that going to be a problem, sweetheart?”

“I hate bright and early,” you groaned dramatically, “but I guess I’ll do it for you, Miller. Remember, I’m doing you the favor here.”

“Of course,” he nodded seriously, “and I’ll never be able to repay you. Forever in your debt.”

“Okay now you’re just being dramatic,” you rolled your eyes but there was nothing but affection behind your gesture, “well, I look forward to an adventure. Bright and early.”

“Bright and early.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You might have been panicking. Okay, you were definitely panicking. But why? You wished your mind explained that bit. You’d known Joel for several years, and had managed to be around him without any issue but the idea of spending so much time alone together and potentially small spaces just made things that much worse. You just hoped that you wouldn’t somehow manage to spill your little deep rooted secret. 

“Good morning!” Joel pulled up to your place bright and early just as promised, waving as you met him at the door. You wondered for a moment what he put in his coffee, but decided not to question it too much. He came up and took your bag as you followed him and mumbled your own version of a good morning. You climbed into the truck and made yourself comfortable and he cranked up the heat for your benefit, “ready to go?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” he grinned at you but paused for a moment before shifting the vehicle into drive. He reached under the seat and pulled out a blank, draping it over your lap. Your heart swelled at the gesture and you almost couldn’t contain yourself, “thank you, Joel. That’s really sweet of you.”

“I can be nice sometimes,” he winked and oh. That made the butterflies flutter in your tummy, “off we go.”

You spied the second cup of coffee sitting in the cupholder and you knew immediately that it would be made just the way you liked it. He was thoughtful like that - in so many ways. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The two of you spent most of the morning and early afternoon, passing the time with conversation about anything and everything that crossed your minds. It was all so easy with him, everything always felt so right and natural. You liked that he made you laugh and you liked making him laugh too. When he’d first arrived he almost never smiled, but he was doing it a lot more these days. And it was a lovely sight to behold. 

You rested for a few hours, to stretch your legs and get some fresh air. You could feel him studying you intently, but decided not to question him. Maybe you just had something on your face, or your hair was funky…or something. 

"There's a small town nearby," hed suggested, "we'll stop there for the night. Unless you'd rather rough it and make camp?"

"Can't trust just anyone these days," you shrugged, "but I'm willing to chance it instead of camping out in the wilderness."

"Good point," he agreed without much emotion. If you'd taken him up on his offer, you might have gotten to share a tent with him. Ugh. Maybe you'd made the wrong decision, "I'm sure we can find a room somewhere there."

A room. Singular. Alright, perhaps things would be okay after all.

"We'll figure it out," you agreed as you looked at the lights in the distance. He reached over and brushed his knuckles over your cheek. Your skin felt like it was on fire from even the simplest of his touches and it made you smile despite your best efforts.

The rest of the ride passed by in silence, a comfortable one at that, and before you knew it you were parking inside the small town and looking around in amazement. You knew more towns like Jackson existed but it was still amazing when you got to see them. It was like a little bit of normalcy back into your lives.

"Come on," Joel tugged on your arm as he started to lead towards the small diner, "let's get inside."

You followed his lead, trailing slightly behind him as he slid into one of the booths. You looked around and couldn't keep the smile off your face, "this place is cute."

"Hmm," he hummed in agreement, "you think about what you want to eat and I'm going to ask about where we can stay for the night."

"Okay," you watched as he slid out of the booth, enjoying the view but not before he gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze. 

You looked at the menu and you weren't sure how much time had passed before he sat back in the booth. Only when you looked up, it wasn't Joel sitting there.

Instead, it was a young man who was smiling brightly but managed to send an unpleasant shiver down your spine.

"Haven't seen you around before," he smirked and immediately there was a shift in the air and you did not like it at all, "I think I would have remembered such a pretty little thing."

"I…I'm not from here," you shrugged him off, "just passing through-"

"Well, I'm sure you'd like some company right?" He completely cut you off, "wouldn't want you to get lost or anything."

"I have someone," you searched the place, desperately willing Joel to just pop up, "if you don't mind."

“I’m sure no one will mind if you come with me for a little bit,” everything about this man had your blood boiling, “I can show you a good time, and you can show me a good time in return. Whaddaya say, sweet thing?”

Neither of you got the chance to say anything else before you heard the sound of a gun cocking and the cool metal was pressed to his temple. Your eyes widened in shock as you looked at a livid, furious Joel, “don’t say another word. Get out of this booth, apologize, and walk away.”

“Listen old man-”

“Now!” he shouted, causing you to jump slightly, “I won’t hesitate to blow your brains out, kid.”

“Fine,” he gingerly moved but Joel kept the gun pointed at him. You could see that the guy was genuinely nervous; you couldn’t blame him, Joel was scary when this side of him came out, “I’m sorry.”

You said nothing but gave him a subtle nod as he almost ran out. Joel kept his eye on him, before sitting down across from you again, “are you okay? Did he do anything or touch you?”

“No,” you swallowed thickly, a few tears rolling down your cheeks. Joel reached over and brushed them away, “he didn’t do anything. You got here just in time.”

“Good,” he let out a sigh of relief, “oh, my little trouble.”

“Thank you,” no one ever made you feel as safe as Joel did, “I don’t think that guy will try anything again. I think you made an impression on him.”

“Well, can’t go around and not make an impression,” he huffed bitterly, “you’re sure you’re okay?”

“Positive,” you promised, “thanks to you.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Joel had found a small little room in one of the hotels and your mouth almost dropped open when you realized it was only one bed. You set your bag down and looked before laughing nervously. It was an easy tell of yours that Joel had picked up a long time ago. 

“Umm, there’s…” you trailed off and pointed at the bed, “only one.”

“I can sleep on floor, sweetheart,” he promised without skipping a beat, “its not a big deal.”

“Joel, no, don’t,” you sat at the edge of the bed and patted the space next to you, “your back is going to kill you and I can’t deal with all of your belly aching. We can share.”

“You sure?” he asked softly as you looked up at him nodded, “I won’t try anything.”

“I know,” you smiled in relief, “if there’s a man I trust, it’s you. So.”

“So.”

"Can I ask you something?" You asked so quietly that he almost didn't hear it. He sat down next to you and nodded, "why do you look at me like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like…I dunno," you whispered, "like the way you do."

"The way I do," he repeated softly, "which is?"

"Joel, you're so - you know what I mean," you turned to him and found that he was looking at you and very close, "oh. Like that."

“Mhmm,” he reached over and cupped your jaw with his large, warm hand, “just like that. You know what I’m about to do, don’t you?”

“Maybe?” oh yeah. You were almost positive you knew what was coming but a small part of you was still doubting that this was all real and not some wild fever dream. 

And then he kissed you, just like you had imagined he would. It was soft and sweet, barely anything that would be considered mind blowing but it was just perfect. When he pulled back, you sighed softly and he pressed his forehead against yours. 

After a few moments you stole a few kisses, both of you smiling shyly at each other. 

“Do you understand now?” he closed his eyes and you laughed softly. 

“You like me?” you asked and he just grinned. 

“Mhmm,” he kissed you again, “took you long enough to catch up.”

“What if I hadn’t?”

“I would have waited,” he promised, “you’re worth waiting for.”

“Joel,” you looked at him with the embodiment of heart eyes, “do me a favor?”

“Anything.”

“Kiss me more,” and he had no problem with that request at all, “please.”

[poquiii]

 Headcanons  König x reader  /  Ghost x reader  

 They are like fathers. 

König

● König grew up in an incomplete family, but he still knows what it is to love.

● But he will never get used to how tiny children are.

● The first time he sees your baby, he can't pick them up. He was so afraid of hurting them.

● König walked around your bed for a long time, looking at the little lump in your hands.

● You insisted that he take them in his hands and he sat awkwardly on the edge of the bed, watching you put them in his huge, rough and scarred hands.

● Since then, he has made it his goal to be the best dad ever, to make you and your children proud of him.

● He will learn to cook well. He will tell the baby's breakfast so he doesn't have to do it for you.

● If you have a daughter, he won't be afraid to look silly when your daughter wants to paint his nails with pink nail polish.

● He will also learn how to braid her hair.

● He doesn't think it's anything shameful to play dolls with her and make Troop 141 drink tea with her and her teddy bear. (He doesn't fit at her little table, so he sits on the floor, bent in half.)

● He will always treat her like a princess and fend off her suitors.

● He won't have to try particularly hard, all he has to do is stand next to her when he picks her up from school and everyone will go around them.

● If you have a son, Koenig will do everything he wanted from his father when he wasn't around when he was growing up.

● He will teach him how to play soccer, fight, and handle a knife (which you don't approve of, by the way. But he'll just put his head down and mumble awkwardly about self-defense. However, if you don't take pity, he'll back off and teach your son to defend himself with his fists instead)

● He will gladly buy them a dog and train them as the best defense for his child.

● He will carry them on his shoulders and toss them in the air, enjoying the children's laughter.

● He does not want his children to know what he is doing. He avoids these conversations at family dinner in every way possible, asking you and your children more about their day.

● He likes to take his family on picnics and trips to the amusement park.

● He will in all seriousness cry over Disney cartoons when a child asks to watch it with him. (”Coco” broke him.)

● He will always try.

● And he is ready to protect all of you from any danger at the cost of his own life.

Ghost.

● He didn't want this baby.

● That phrase he threw out in a panic made your heart freeze in your chest and your hands clutch at your stomach.

● He immediately started making excuses: "I'm sorry, I didn't mean- Fuck! I didn't-"

● He'll spend a long time trying to explain to you that he's just afraid.

● He's afraid of being a bad father.

● He's barely learned to show his love for you and he's afraid of hurting you, of hurting you.

● Even more so, he was afraid for a defenseless little creature.

● His child. It took him a long time to come to terms with the thought.

● But when he held the little bundle in his hands and your child's little hands reached out to him, something clicked in his chest.

● He would kill for them.

● He would die for them.

● He will do anything for them. Just like he did for you.

● He'll learn how to change diapers, swaddle the baby, make applesauce, and move around even more quietly than before so he doesn't wake them or you. 

● After all, he knows how tired you are.

● He didn't wear a balaclava at home. He understood that the child was afraid of it.

● For a while he thought he was naked with his face open. But first you started kissing his cheeks every time you ran into him in the hallway of your house, and then the baby started touching his face with his little fingers and smiling.

● And for the first time, he felt comfortable without Ghost. It was just Simon Riley.

● If you have a daughter, he won't be a soft dad. On the contrary. He'll teach her to fight better than any boy. He'll do anything to keep his beautiful, beautiful girl safe.

● And yes, he's the kind of father who demonstratively cleans his gun in front of his daughter's boyfriend when he walks her out on her first date.

● If you have a son, Ghost will treat him like a little warrior. "You have to protect mommy while I'm gone."

● Your son will be a copy of his father in both appearance and personality. He'll even steal Ghost masks from your closet and sneak them on to show he's as tough as Daddy.

● Ghost never objects. and always strokes his son's head affectionately.

● In fact, he's afraid his son will find out the truth about his father and hate him. 

● The ghost doesn't want to be what he used to be. He wants to be the best version of himself for his family.

● And every time you smile at him affectionately while he does your children's homework, you kiss him affectionately on the forehead, he knows he's doing the right thing.

● He will never yell at his children, never hit them or punish them harshly.

● He wants the best for them and knows he can't protect them from everything, so he tries to teach them everything he knows. To prepare them for hardships and make them strong both physically and mentally.

[jewish-kulindadromeus]

All Dinosaurs Are Jewish

A comedic essay by a Jewish Paleontologist who nearly went the Rabbi route

In Judaism and Jewish culture, the word for life, chai, has a value of eighteen in Jewish numerology. As such, this essay has 18 points. However, I am sure I could think of more, if pressed.

Well we can start with the easy one - people don't actually know what either of us actually are. What people typically think of when they hear or say EITHER "dinosaur" or "jewish person" is usually far, far off from the reality for either group! We are both deeply misunderstood among most people.

People think we aren't still here, either of us - they think all dinosaurs are extinct, when birds are still around - and many people think, or at least act, like all Jewish people are dead - or irrelevant to the modern world, whichever. And yet, both Jews and Dinosaurs are keep kickin'!

Not only are both of us still here, but we're thriving! Despite suffering through hardship after hardship, both Dinosaurs *and* Jews are still here. We have chutzpah.

People keep ascribing us managerial skills we have never demonstrated having??? Whether it's saying "Dinosaurs ruled the world during the Mesozoic" or "Jews control the media" or "Birds are just governmental drones", people think we're controlling things when all any of us are doing is just vibing

We love music! Whether it's the toot toots of the Lambeosaurines, the casual harmonization of the niggun, the lovely songs of Passerines, or the delightful energy at a tisch, music is a thread that unites Dinosaurs and Jewish folk across millennia

Similarly, from the dozens of display structures we've found in extinct dinosaurs as well as modern birds, in addition to dancing and performances in living birds, and the pagentry of Jewish ritual life and ritual objects - all the way back to the clothing worn by the Kohenim during the First Temple period - one thing Dinosaurs and Jews *definitely* have in common is a DEDICATION to STYLE, unparalleled for both - we are fabulous, and that alone proves we are one and the same

We are truly cosmpolitan - not a lot of groups can claim as far flung of membership as dinosaurs/birds (not a lot of animals live in Antarctica today... but birds sure do like it) and Jewish folk (there have been enough Jews in Antarctica for a minyan!)

I mentioned earlier that we aren't really perceived as we actually are - in that vein, we are both extremely diverse and varied groups that have taken many forms and aesthetics over the years! I mean, just look at the juxtaposition between, say, a Titanosaur and a Hummingbird, and then a Bukharan Jew and a Beta Israel! Still part of a cohesive whole, but one diverse and heterogeneous in a wonderful way!

People keep focusing on a single major tragic event in our past - the End-Cretaceous extinction, and the Shoah - as if we don't both have a rich and vibrant history before and after those events that is wroth focusing on, discussing, and celebrating!

We also both have a fairly famous member of each of our groups that isn't exactly indicative of what we're like as a whole and also people are way more obsessed with that individual species/person than they are with actual living dinosaurs/Jews (Tyrannosaurus rex and Jesus)

A lot of folk act like our old members - the Israelites/Biblical Jews and Nonavian Dinosaurs - are very distinct fro our living members - modern Jews and Birds - when... no, we're just continuations and the natural evolutions of the past...

Similarly, the general consensus is that we were both "replaced" - dinosaurs by mammals, and Judaism by Xtianity. This is very false - both Jews and Dinosaurs are still here, thanks, and actually Dinosaurs are doing better than ever, and better than mammals

Both of us are mistakenly called "lizards" (whether people or terrible) despite neither of us being anywhere close to lizards

People are obsessed with us in a conspiracy-minded way?? We're always the subjects of weird conspiracy theories for no other reason than this public fascination with our existence??? For Jews the list is infinite, but there's a surprising amount for dinosaurs too (the whole "birds aren't real" thing, for a start...)

Our modern members are being attacked in truly alarming quantities - birds are killed in droves by outdoor cats, and antisemitic hate crimes keep rising dramatically in the United States and elsewhere - and yet no one cares outside of specific circles??? Wtf???

Despite being truly ancient groups by many standards - surviving animal clades and continuous human cultures - we are both fortunate to have complete and detailed knowledge of our histories over this vast expanse of time, one via the written record of the Jewish people preserved expertly over time, and the other via the detailed fossil record for dinosaurs extending from the Mesozoic into the Cenozoic and today. We both preserve our history - as carefully as we can!

Disney's Dinosaur, one of the better dinosaur films made post-1980, is literally the story of Moses and the Israelites wandering the desert. Frankly, dinosaurs wander the desert so much in documentaries and film, the comparisons to wilderness wandering and exile write themselves

The "dinosaur" community (at large, fans of dinosaurs, scientists, people in entertainment involving dinos) and the Jewish community have so much overlap it's embarrassing. We're drawn to each other. Jeff Goldbum. Jon Favreau. Stephen Jay Gould. Tilly Edinger. Ross from Friends. The list goes on.

The similarities are too uncanny. Dinosaurs are the Jews of animals, or Jews are the Dinosaurs of People, or both, or the same, or all dinosaurs practice Judaism in their hearts, or something. Take your pick. Whatever framework you want to use, there's no way around it - all Dinosaurs are Jewish!

L'CHAIM!

[vvysteria]

my therapist: how are you feeling in the wake of your (autism spectrum disorder) diagnosis?

me: well it makes sense doesn’t it? i was the one who requested testing. like on some level i kind of figured.

my therapist: yes, i’m personally glad we pursued it because it helps me better understand parts of your behavior and how to accommodate you. but how do you feel about it? you said before that you were in heavy denial about the possibility when you were younger.

me: well yeah, i had a preconceived idea of what autism was that i know now wasn’t true. but at the time it was distressing and i didn’t want to think about it too hard.

my therapist: how was it different then? what was your idea of autism then?

me: it was, you know, severe developmental delay. i never thought i had developed abnormally at all, so to try and match up the severity i associated with autism and the way i viewed myself, i just couldn’t.

my therapist: but you did.

me: sorry?

my therapist: you did develop abnormally. both socially and academically.

me: socially yes, but i had no problems with academics. i always especially excelled at reading comprehension, more so than anyone else in my grade. i started lagging in high school but i think that was a lot of burnout and depression and ptsd, probably. i was incredibly smart. hell, i spoke in full sentences earlier than most of my peers.

my therapist: violette, that’s still abnormal development.

me: …huh?

my therapist: developing abnormally fast is still developing abnormally.

me:

me: oh.

[notrattus]

hello you 💕 I’m new to your blog so I hope my request is okay, would you mind writing a few hcs about leon being protective over the reader? like what he’d do to protect them and how protective he is in general? 👉🏻👈🏻 thank you 💕

hello lovely!! welcome to my blog and thank you for your request, i hope you like this little drabble of a protective leon <3

leon kennedy x gn!reader, not proofread

✂︎- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

I'm glad it’s unanimous that Leon is certainly the protective type. While some of it may stem from paranoia the majority is based in love and care, something that he slowly learnt how to properly express when he met you.

Initially he was somewhat closed off from small notions of care, ‘the little things’ never crossed his mind as larger, more pressing issues often took up his thoughts.

He had always been protective but not in a loving way, rather a literal way that aligned with the requirements of his job. But when you entered the picture he unknowingly began to cater some of that effort towards you specifically.

Concerns about the safety and well-being of others became concerns about you individually and he caught himself wondering about you on more than one occasion, wanting to check up on you on days that you seemed down or when he could just feel that something was amiss.

And when you began dating he allowed himself to fully step into the necessity, or rather duty that he felt he had to protect you and your well-being.

A lot of the little things Leon does from then on is therefore a result of this protective nature. If you’re in a busy and crowded area his hand finds yours quickly and he tucks you in against his side to keep you anchored to him, even without you having to reach for him.

Similarly he always walks on the outside of the pavement, keeping you safe on the inside while he walks along the road edge.

This means you’re swapping hands often if you cross the street. You know why he does it but you still think it’s silly, even more so since he tries to act like he’s doing it for some other reason.

“Baby, we need to swap hands.” “Oh, uh sure, honey. But why?” “…My other hand misses you.”

He’s very touchy like that, and needs a hand on you at all times to feel content. Whether it’s holding yours or resting on your waist or shoulder, Leon will always have that grounding touch. Unless you ever ask him to relent.

If you’re in an uncomfortable social situation he always makes sure that you know he is there to help you out of it, but only if you want him to, like a backup plan if you decide you want to go home.

He would never attempt to control any decision of yours and supports you through every new endeavour you take on, always on the sidelines should you ever need him.

He is very aware of your surroundings in that way, scanning rooms to make sure that there’s no one who will cause a problem, and if there is that he can get you out of there if necessary.

And it’s a wonderful feeling, to know that he’s always there if you need him. If you’re overwhelmed after a long day, if an interaction with someone turned sour, or if you’re just tired and in need of some comfort, you can always count on Leon.

Leon is very in tune to your emotions as well. He calls it a talent.

He knows that when your words get quiet and your sentences terse that you’re feeling down and will ensure that no one makes you feel any worse. And if the sadness stemmed from the actions of a certain person, they will pay for making his partner sad. (He can be something of a Karen when scolding people.)

If someone shoots you down when you’re feeling overexcited about a certain thing he will be sure to lift your mood right back up because there is nothing he loves more than seeing you happy and enthusiastic about the things you enjoy. And yes he will let you talk his ear off about your interests even if he doesn’t know a damn thing about them.

Some might call it extra, but you’re his person, his love, so he can’t help but be protective. He wants you all to himself while also wanting the best for you in every way.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - ✰

leon masterlist

shout out to @etaerealgirl for the “my other hand misses you” i love your mind <3

[writingstoraes]

part two of charles leclerc/fem!verstappen!reader pls your first one was so good!!!

red vs red 🚥

pairing: charles leclerc/fem!verstappen!reader

type: instagram imagine/social media au

notes: thank u for loving the first, anon! hope u like this one 🤍 and thank u for requesting heheh, also formatting may look weird in ios devices idk this app wont let me fix the errors in bold letters 😭

summary: no peaceful race when there's banter between your boyfriend and your own brother, might as well just join the ruckus they cause!

reading the first part isn't necessary, just provides context! but if you want, read part 1 here!

ynverstappen

liked by lilymhe, charles_leclerc, pierregasly, and 870,445 others

ynverstappen happy race week, everybody! glad to be back in the paddock supporting my favorite driver ever ❤ goodluck, my baby love charles_leclerc! will be waiting for you after quali with lots of kisses and hugs :)

ps. spending quali in ferrari because i am on redbull duty tomorrow 🙏

charles_leclerc Always happy you're by my side, amoúr. Je táime 😘

maxverstappen Will never get used to this 🤮

ynverstappen we've literally been together for 3 years

maxverstappen And by favorite driver ever, you mean me, right?

charles_leclerc Are you the one in the picture? Then no 🙂

scuderiaferrari Red is your color, Y/N! ❤️

redbullracing Absolutely not, we do not think so!

scuderiaferrari Respectfully, no one asked you.

lestappen16 Love how even the team admins are in their own playful feud 😭

pierreluvr someone give y/n a break from dealing with charles and max lmaooowjwjsjsj

maxverstappen Why are you making it sound like supporting me at redbull is a responsibility and not something you want to do? 😔

charles_leclerc Because it's not.

ynverstappen jesus i just want one peaceful race is it so hard to ask for

ynverstappen

liked by maxverstappen, arthurleclerc, isahernaez, and 780,223 others

ynverstappen watching today's race from the redbull garage! wishing my dearest brother the best today, please stop believing the rumors he spreads re: me hating red bull. he is overdramatic. anyway, here's a selfie of max and i at quali yesterday! 🤍

tagged: maxverstappen

charles_leclerc You're not in our garage? Okay that makes me sad then 💔

ynverstappen will still root for you, don't worry 😁

maxverstappen Not under my watch you're not

maxverstappen My own sister wearing a ferrari jacket beside her brother who races for red bull. The betrayal is just so.

charles_leclerc Deserved.

f1fann NOT CHARLES SAYING DESERVED?@?@*@*

redbullracing We love having you here, Y/N 🖤

scuderiaferrari 😒

ynverstappen

liked by pierregasly, redbullracing, scuderiaferrari, and 450,221 others

ynverstappen my boys have done it again! congratulations on the podium, men who continuously pester me at every race weekend ❤️

tagged: maxverstappen & charles_leclerc

charles_leclerc My biggest fan ❤️ Je tàime, baby!

maxverstappen That's literally my sister

charles_leclerc She's literally my girlfriend

maxverstappen #1 supporter! Love you to bits, sister 😄

ferraredbull LESTAPPEN WINS ONCE AGAIN

vers166 y/n should get an award for dealing w charles and max everyday

ynverstappen amen sister 🙏

landonorris Leave them and support me at McLaren!

charles_leclerc ??

maxverstappen No.

----------

tagging: @slytherheign

notes: ig imagines take sooo long 😭 lmk what u guys think!

[me-and-your-husband]

Bully!ellie !!!!! omg i neeeeeeed

i am obsessed omg

warnings: smut, mean!ellie, fingering (r receiving), fem reader, dirty talk, kinda public sex idk, shitty writing, not proofread, mirror sex

she wouldn't be the typical bully, not ellie. she wouldn't be super popular. she'd never hurt you. she wasn't known as a bully at all. only to you.

it would 100% be one of those instances where "she's only being mean to you because she likes you" like they tell little girls in the third grade (except it's not normalizing abusive relationships let's be real). however, you wouldn't even think that she had any semblance of care in her heart for you.

when she saw you around campus, she'd always make some snide comment loud enough for you to hear to dina or jesse. they'd always tell her to stop being mean, but she couldn't get enough of that look on your face, the look of "what did i ever do to you?".

she'd accidentally shoulder-check you in the hall, sometimes accidentally shoving your books out of your hands. she'd make snide remarks to you in the halls.

you ask for clarification from one of your professors on something menial. she'd laugh, "no shit."

you'd walk into a party wearing something you wouldn't normally wear, something a little more revealing. she'd laugh again. "you're wearing that?" and she'd give you a massive side eye. dina would shove her and just go "tf?"

she'd turn away, trying to mask the blush that crawled up her neck and to her cheeks, trying to mask the way she was sweating a little and her breath was uneven because you were showing more skin than usual and she felt like she was going to go insane if you looked at her like that one more time.

you'd be studying in the library, listening to music with headphones, when she walks up behind you, lifts the ear, and lets it snap back down against your head. she'd walk away chuckling, throwing a smirk at you over het shoulder.

truth is, ellie didn't know how to get your attention any other way, and she needed it. it killed her inside to know she was hurting you, but she just wanted to see your pretty face acknowledge her.

at night, while the moon's blanket was wrapping you in sleep, she'd be ranting to dina or jesse about how much she wanted you to like her back. she was hopeless. they'd always respond with "well, she's never going to be into you if you keep treating her like that."

she'd just huff and roll over in her bed to face the wall. she knew dina and jesse were right. she treated you like that because she knew she'd crumble if she couldn't interact with you anymore, but she couldn't bring herself to show you that vulnerable part of herself. as far as she knew, you weren't even into girls. she was afraid of rejection. not just any rejection, though. she was afraid of being rejected by you.

one, dreary friday night, dina dragged her to some party in the basement of some local. it was a smaller gathering, maybe two dozen people. when she walked in, the smell of weed and alcohol hit her immediately, pulling her through the door and slamming it shut behind her. the music and laughter immediately sucked her in.

she made rounds with dina, grabbing a drink and saying hi to the few people she knew. she had to physically stop her jaw from dropping when she saw you, holding a blunt, legs thrown over some random girl's lap.

dina slammed into her back when she stopped, spilling her drink all over the side of ellie's white t-shirt. "fuck, dina," she said, looking at the damage.

"just go to the bathroom and-" dina paused when she saw what had stolen ellie's attention. "oh, shiiiiit," she breathed out a laugh. "well, that's settled then. anyways, just go scrub it out. it'll be fine."

dina left ellie to go find her other friends. ellie's eyes burned holes in your face as you tugged the smoke in, blowing it out and then blushing at something the girl sitting in front of you had said. she was clearly flirting with you.

your eyes caught ellie's, your brows furrowing a little at the expression on her face. she broke eye contact, shaking her head before finding the bathroom.

she sighed as her fingertips pushed open the door, reaching for the lock after shutting it behind her. she cursed when she realized the lock was broken.

she gripped the edge of the counter as she stared into her reflection. she looked miserable, brows knit together and a scowl on her face. she huffed as she slid her shirt off, leaving her in just a bra. she located the stain and began to scrub furiously with wet tissue, to no avail.

her head snapped towards the door when she heard it click open, readying to cuss whoever it was out. she didn't expect you, slack jawed, to be standing with your back to the door.

"shit! sorry, oh my god," you said as you turned to leave, face and neck turning red.

"wait!" ellie said before she could think. she cleared her throat, "it's fine. it's not a big deal."

you turned back to face her, eyes drifting to her hands holding the shirt over the sink, trying not to look at her body (god, it was hard).

you pointed at her shirt timidly, "want some help?" you said, shuffling your feet, eyes still apologetic.

she looked back and forth between you and the shirt for a few seconds. "by all means," she said, tossing you the shirt and leaning back against the counter, crossing her arms over her chest.

you moved to the sink, grabbing some tissue and wetting the shirt itself where the stain sat. you opted for gentle, deep scrubs instead of ellie's frantic, aggressive scrubbing. your fingers drew the stain out impressively.

"wow. not too bad, pretty girl," she said, grabbing her shirt from your hands.

"pretty girl?" you breathed. "since when?"

she just laughed it off. her fingers felt the fabric where the stain had been, still slightly damp. she noticed that your eyes were raking over her exposed skin, smoothing over her toned stomach and arms, pupils blown.

"like what you see?" she said, smirking. you bit your lip and looked away, flushing even more. she grinned, "tell me, pretty girl."

you avoided her eyes, "...yeah. fine, yes."

she hummed, taking a step closer to you. she held her shirt up in front of you. "should i even bother putting this back on, then?"

you looked up at her, noticing just how close she was. you could feel her warm breath on your lips, making you dizzy. it was so wrong, feeling like this for the girl who had made your life hell for so long. but you couldn't ignore the warm, sticky feeling growing between your thighs.

she backed you up further, so you were caged between her arms against the door. her eyes flickered between yours and your lips, leaning in, ever so slowly. you closed your eyes when she kissed you, whining into it. it was soft, delicate.

she cupped your face as her tongue licked into your mouth. your hips bucked up on instinct, telling her you wanted more. you pressed her against you before she pulled away.

"you want me, baby?" she said. you nodded fervently. "good, cause i want you."

her hands squeezed your hips, turning you around and pulling your back flush to her front. her fingers grabbed the hem of your shirt and pulled it off. "can i?" she said, hands ghosting over the cups of your bra.

"yes, ellie. please."

she pulled the cups down so your breasts spilled out. her mouth found your neck as she gently playing with your hardening nipples, you moaning at the sensitivity.

she continued sucking marks into your neck, soothing them with her tongue afterwards. her hands slowly crept down to the waistband of your pants, sliding them down to your knees.

she grabbed your hips once again and positioned you right in front of the bathroom mirror, all so you both could see everything she did to you.

"i want you to watch me, baby," she whispered into your ear, eyes meeting yours in the mirror.

you moaned when her hands ghosted over your clit through your damp panties.

"stop teasing," you said.

she hummed, "you're right. i've been waiting long enough."

she pushed your panties to the side, fingers sliding through your cunt and collecting your slick. "so wet for me already."

you moaned as her middle finger pressed into your drenched hole, slowly working deeper inside of you. she moaned at the feeling of you squeezing it.

"feels so good," you said, throwing your head back against her shoulder. her other hand came to your jaw, forcing you to watch her actions in the mirror.

"eyes on me, baby."

her finger worked deeper, the sounds of your slick filling the air obscene.

"need more," you whined, half-lidded eyes meeting hers in the mirror.

she hummed as she dipped her ring finger in next to her middle finger. you gasped at the small stretch, cunt clenching around her fingers deliciously.

a smirk sat permanently on her pretty lips as she worked in and out of you, your juices dripping down her wrist.

"such a slut," she whispered in your ear. "can feel you squeezing my fingers baby. want another one?"

"yes! yes, please ellie!"

"alright, pretty girl," she said, adding her index into your puffy hole. you began to feel the knot forming tighten, sending a rush of heat through your entire abdomen.

"fuck! ellie, gonna cum. gonna— ohhh," you moaned. her mouth covered yours to swallow your moans.

as you came down, ellie nuzzled her face into your neck, gently pulling her fingers out. you met her eyes in the mirror and watched her as she brought her fingers up to her lips, sucking on your sweet juices. she moaned around her digits, savouring the taste.

your pussy clenched even more at the sight.

she moaned, "taste so good, baby. now, let's get out of here so i can really taste you, yeah?"

let's pretend i don't hate this

permanent taglist: @winters-fairy @idkwhattonamethisblogs

ellie taglist: @chrry1ovr @milly-louise @dankpunks @starhrtz @pedrobaby @urlocalgingersnap

[theirknight]

Nasty Kisses

You thought it would be funny to try and mess with the werewolves. All goes south when one gets upset and a fight ensues. Luckily, your darling girlfriend shows up.

Pairing: Wednesday x fem! reader Warning: Blood, fights, cussing (as always), making out, suggestive/spicy stuff Rating: Spice Requested:No Proof Read: No Word Count: 2.2K

To say you were reckless would be an understatement. You were wild and unhinged like a rabid dog. You could never sit still for to long and could never keep your mouth shut. If it weren't for Wednesday, you'd probably be dead by now. Rather it be by doing something stupid and killing yourself on accident, or getting the shit beat out of you by someone to the point of death. You were constantly picking fights and getting into arguments. Having Principal Weems as a mother figure pays you well since she can't expel you. She loves you way to much. Maybe it's just genetics that make you so feral. It honestly intrigued Wednesday how you could get your ass beat again, and again, and again, and again, and you would still get back up a few seconds later as if you aren't covered in dirt and bruises. How you two got together will forever be a mystery. Your wild antics did however slow down. You weren't picking as much fights and you were learning to keep your mouth shut. Hell, you even asked good questions in class and kept quiet. Just because you slowed down, doesn't mean you didn't stop.

You were sitting with Enid and the other werewolves in the quad, listening to them ramble about wolf things. Enid was a good friend of yours, so you felt safe being around her. You were friends with at least one person in every group. Friends with Ajax, friends with Enid, Friends with Yoko, and friends with Bianca so it made you able to sit at any table at anytime without anyone complaining.

Enid turned her head to the side, once she saw Wednesday walk into the quad. You turned your attention towards her and felt your heart skip a beat. You locked eyes with the familiar ravenette and she just stared, no emotion written on her face as Enid approached her.You waved happily but nothing was returned. Not even a nod. She drifted her gaze from yours, to Enid's. Your brows furrowed and you called out to her, "Wednesday!" She looked at you and you waved again. More aggressively and forceful this time. She just stared then looked at Enid as she started to talk. This bitch serious? Was the first and only thought. She won't give you attention? Fine, you'll just force it out of her. You removed your vest..jacket- thing. You didn't know clothing names you just called it whatever it seemed best to fit on that day. You slid it off your shoulders and sat it on the bench next to you. You looked at one of the werewolves, seemingly sixteen. "How old are you?" You questioned. The werewolf looked at you and raised a brow, "Why?"

"Because you look like a child. A newborn baby." The wolf blinked, "At least I don't look old."

"Yeah, but then again, you do look more like an old person with all the hair and fur you wolves have." The werewolves went silent and stared at you. You could feel their glare from all around and it only made you want to egg them on more.

"I strike a nerve, dog?" You leaned on the table.

One werewolf slammed their hands on the table and stood up, snarling, "Don't call us that again." He warned. You turned to look at him, "Or what? Gonna chew up my shoes and piss on my floor? That's not how a good puppy behaves now is it?" You hummed. All of the sudden, a hand swung into your jaw, knocking you out of your seat. You quickly recovered and got into your typical fighting stance, looking at the werewolf that had attacked you. You grinned as she ran at you, throwing a punch. You ducked under it and hit her in the ribs, making her stumble. One werewolf came from behind you and wrapped his arm around your throat then body slammed you into the ground. You wheezed and tried to recover but a punch ran down on your face. You grunted as your head got forced to the side. The impact making you spit out blood. Blow after blow the werewolf delivered. You grabbed his fist and slammed your foot up. Hitting him directly in his balls. He howled out in pain and with your other foot, you kicked him in the chest, knocking him away. You quickly stood up only to get knocked down again then forced up. A werewolf was holding your arms as another delivered a punch into your gut. A few werewolves were trying to pull away and calm them down, but wasn't working well. You ripped your arm free and elbowed the one holding you in the face, and then punched the other in the nose.

This continued for a while, Wednesday watching with a disappointed look from the sidelines. Once she saw you were starting to get tired, was it she stepped in. She stood up from her seat and walked towards you. The werewolves that spotted her stumbled back. Ones that were fighting getting yanked by other werewolves once they saw Wednesday. All that was left was you and one other. You had his shirt in your hands, delivering nasty and painful blows to his face. You wondered why everyone had stopped and looked back, letting your guard down.

Your eyes locked with Wednesday's and you gave a cheeky grin. You opened your mouth to say something, when all of the sudden, claws slammed against your cheek, knocking you down. You held your stinging flesh and stared at the werewolf who was staring at Wednesday. He looked at you then backed up and ran. You moved your hand from your cheek to see blood was coated on your palm. You looked to Wednesday again and smiled despite the pain, "Hi, Wednesday." you stood up. She didn't answer and instead just grabbed your arm and yanked you away. Ignoring your protests of pain. You lost. Bad. You didn't stand a chance against the werewolves once they started jumping you. You put up a damn good fight though. As Wednesday dragged you along, you became used to the pain in your arm. You passed the infirmary and realized she was dragging you to her dorm.

"Oooo, draggin' me to your dorm?" You smiled.

Wednesday didn't even glance back, "Yes. But not for what you're thinking."

"What do you think I'm thinking?"

"That we are going to go to my dorm and make love with each other."

"You know you wanna" You pressed.

She sighed through her nose, "With you bleeding out and bruised?"

"Yeah-"

"No."

You sighed and stood there as she opened the door. You walked in and held your cheek again, feeling the blood had dried but the skin was still sensitive.

"Sit. Undress." She commanded, pointing towards her chair.

"I thought you said we aren't making out?"

"We aren't. That is what the bed is for. Now, sit." She pointed again. You huffed and walked over to her chair, undressing as you went. By the time you had sat down, you were in just your outfit pants. You examined yourself and the many other scars on your body. Bruises and cuts from past fights and recent ones. Your face took majority of the damage however. How you still had all your teeth was a mystery. You didn't even realize Wednesday had left then came back. She lowered herself onto her knees, between your legs and you opened your mouth to say something snarky,

"If you don't want me to be the next one to punch you, I suggest you don't say a word about my position." She spoke, calmly. Not looking up from her hands as she pulled a cloth out of the first aid. She positioned herself into a far more comfortable position, then started wiping the blood off of a few dripping cuts on your body. You relaxed and let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. Looking down at her then at her hands, you realize she is trying to be sneaky with what she is doing. She failed however. Drastically.

"If you wanted to touch my abs, you could've asked."

Her hands faltered for a second then she moved one hand down your body and to your knee. Her other hand took place on your side making you grin. That grin however quickly fell from your face when she pressed her thumb into a cut, nail barely slipping into the flesh. You tried jumping up and away but her hands kept you in place as she stared up at you, "If I wanted to touch, I would've made it clear. Did that make you think I wanted to touch your abdominal muscles?"

You quickly shook your head 'no' and she moved her hand from the cut. She raised her hand to her mouth and stuck out her tongue, licking your blood off. She looked at your cheek, and grabbed a different cloth then rose up, leaning close to start wiping away at the blood.

"I would've thought you liked seeing me covered in blood."

"Who said I didn't?" She didn't pause her movements nor glance at you. She just kept continuing to clean the wound. Once she was able to get the dried blood off of your face, she could see it a lot clearer now. It wasn't deep enough to need stitches, thankfully, but would take quite a long time to fully heal. She leaned down and grabbed a few bandages, "Don't move."

"Yes, mommy." You replied

Wednesday paused, brown eyes piercing yours.

"Don't call me that."

"Thought you liked it?" You smirked. If you keep it up, being beaten by the werewolves would've been a better outcome. Wednesday's nostrils flared slightly, a sign of annoyance. She started to bandage your opened wounds, ignoring your comment. You placed your hands on her shoulders and traced your thumb over her clothes. She moved up to the wound on your cheek and began bandaging it. You slid a hand down her arm and gripped her hand, pulling it away.

"The wound needs to heal. Don't start being a brat now."

You licked your lips and trailed your other hand down to her waist, pulling her closer then onto your lap. She stared you down, examining your features. A forming black eye, a bruised jaw, a bruised cheek and a torn cheek.

"No time for your shenanigans. Let me get this fixed." You ignored her and she took that as a sign to continue. She pulled her hand away from yours and went back to bandaging your torn flesh. Your hand fell onto her thigh, sliding up to her inner thigh, squeezing the soft flesh underneath the stockings. She glanced into your eyes then back to the bandaging, "That isn't going to get you anywhere."

You slid your hand from her waist, slowly up her body, you trailed your finger over her chest then to the back of her neck. You tugged her forwards, lips touching lips. Quicker than you expected, she reciprocated the kiss, dropping the bandages, placing a hand on your cheek as the other took place on your shoulder. You squeezed her thigh, making her let out a small, closed-mouth gasp. She slid her hand down to your throat, squeezing hard enough to make you gasp for air. She slid her tongue into your mouth and relaxed her grip. Tongue against tongue quickly became a battle for dominance. Her hand on your throat, other sliding to your hair. Your hands on her thigh as yours slid down then under her shirt. You fingers squeezed her waist then trailed to her ribcage. She furrowed her brows then tightened her grip in your locks, tugging your head back, away from her plump lips making you whine.

Her lips quickly found place on your neck, kissing on your jugular, soft licks but hard bites planted everywhere. Suddenly filled with an urge to mark her too, You tried to move your head up to which she didn't take lightly. She bit down hard on your trapezius, canines piercing your skin making you squirm and grip onto her, "Do. not. move." You gulped and leaned back into the chair. A hand slid down to your waist as her kisses got lower to your collarbone. Her fingers slid over your pants, tugging at the button and zipper. Obviously, you allowed. Once undone, her hand started slipping into your pants.

Then.

The door opened and Enid walked in. Wednesday quickly removed herself from you, climbing off. You looked down quick and attempted to button your pants.

"I was just gonna check and make sure you both were okay, I'm guessing, by the looks of it, you were way better than okay, right, Y/N?" Enid smirked.

You cleared your throat and rubbing your neck, "Yeah-"

"Out, Enid." Wednesday crossed her arms. Eyes glaring at the werewolf. Enid nodded, "Sorry for cockblocking." She waved and shut the door.

You looked at Wednesday and dropped your hands between your lap, "Sooo-"

"So, what?" Wednesday looked at you. She kept her arms crossed over her chest and took a few steps closer to you. She bent down, cupped your cheeks, and pressed her plump, swollen lips to yours. You hummed and placed your hands on her arms, leaning up into the kiss. She broke away and stared, "Bed."

You grinned, "I thought the bed was for love making?"

"It is."

She backed away and you stood up, making your way to the bed.

God, you loved that woman.