#this won’t affect him at all so hold your horses

[scuderia-hamilton]

So, you’re lying AND trying to cancel someone for not wrongly boycotting Starbucks?

So, since you’re obviously ignorant on this issue, Starbucks sued people for copyright infringement, that’s it, it has nothing to do what Palestine. They would’ve sued for any statement, because their logo was being used without permission.

i was expecting an ask like this, so here we go.

firstly, i genuinely have no idea why some of Lando’s fans have this incessant urge to defend everything he ever does. it’s getting weird at this point. you are not getting paid to defend this 24 years old grown ass white millionaire on the internet. his or your life won’t be better for it.

secondly, i am not trying to cancel him at all, just pointed out that what he did was ignorant. you can be a fan of someone and still criticize them or hold them accountable when they do something wrong. these two things can and should coexist. trying to make him see that what he did wasn’t right does not mean he’s being canceled. the same way people pointed out his questionable comments regarding the Horner situation, asking him to do better and he viewed that as him being canceled online. considering this i’m not surprised his fans think the same way.

thirdly, it has everything do with Palestine. you’re right that’s how the boycott against Starbucks started, but the company also made a statement condemning the union’s pro-palestinian post and the BDS movement backed the union. the company also said that they have no stance on the situation and being neutral is being complicit. it is not a primary company to boycott and there are more important ones, but it should be boycotted nonetheless. here are some links you should check out, although i doubt you will.

i also think that it’s super telling that people are more willing to abandon their morals and defend a man that doesn’t even know they exist, than condemn and boycott a company that may or may not support genocide. absolutely wild.

hope you’ll have the day you deserve. xx

[undiscovered-horizon]

(tw for mentions of nudity)

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[After days of travelling, fighting and sleeping on rocks, a rest at a tavern is well-earned. Not feeling up to taste the nightlife with your friends, Halsin and you retire early. The evening turns into something heartfelt and domestic as you wash his hair and hum a song he's grown all too familiar with.]

The hot water against your skin is pleasant enough to elicit a chuckle of euphoria from you. It seems like a lifetime ago that you last had a warm bath. In some way, it was.

People downstairs are making good use of their money, time and energy - that you're sure of. Their music and laughter resound brightly but it's muffled by the walls and floors of the tavern, making it sound like the party is not mere meters below you but entire worlds away; almost like a memory of a banquet you're desperately trying to recall.

Despite not being used to the comforts of the city, Halsin was quick to accept your offer of shared bath. Perhaps it was the sharing part, more than the bath, that had convinced him. In any event, his broad back is resting against your chest, although judging by the minimal weight put on your body, you know he's holding back in fear of hurting you. Maybe one day you'll manage to get your point across that you would love to be smothered by the weight of his body.

As your thoughts wander further and further, you don't notice the soft melody escaping your lips. But Halsin does and the enigma of the tune he's grown to associate with you only makes him crack under the burning curiosity:

"You often hum this song to yourself. What is it?"

Only then do you finally hear your own voice. Have you really made a habit out of this? Suddenly flustered, your cheeks begin to burn. You've done nothing wrong and yet you feel embarrassed like a juvenile petty thief.

"It's something the washwomen back home used to sing while working," you explain awkwardly. In an attempt to steer away from the conversation, you reach for the cup next to the washtub. You did, after all, promise to wash his hair. "The river carried their voices, making the song audible pretty much everywhere."

"Would you mind singing it for me?" he asks, hesitance vibrant in his voice. Halsin must have noticed your sudden timidness and didn't want to push on but some part of him longed to hear the song so deeply ingrained in your mind.

You clear your throat. The lyrics first leave your mouth in a shaky voice, unsure whether your singing is pleasant enough for Halsin to want to actually hear it, but soon you let the comfort of the well-known melody take over your hesitant mind.

In my garden grows a rose Little Mania, go water my horse I can’t, I won’t, I’m afraid of the horse I fear the horse because I’m young

Halsin lets out a quiet sigh of relief as you pour the warm water over his hair. He smells of pine needles, sweat and mud but it's a good smell - it's the smell of someone who survived. And considering the strange course your life has taken these past few months, staying alive is the best thing that can happen.

In my garden grows rosemary Tell me, Mania, who’s the one that charmed you? Johnny’s eyes, Johnny’s eyes For they fell in love with my heart so much

The druid feels... odd. Not in the bad sense, of course. Perhaps "unfamiliar" would be a better descriptor. He's not used to having someone care for him in such an intimate, selfless way. After suffering so many losses in his life, Halsin doesn't quite know how to comfortably enjoy a triumph of sorts. Underneath the superficial pleasure and indulgement, lies a bottomless ocean of anxiety. Part of him expects this love to be short-lived like most affections in his long life.

His senses are overtaken by the dizzying aroma of lavender and rosemary as you carefully brush the oils through his hair.

In my garden grows a berry Tell me, little Mania, were you young? I was as young as a berry in the woods Like a berry in the woods, my love

Halsin doesn't often let himself dream and fantasise. It's better to expect nothing than to allow unrealistic scenarios to break his heart. However tonight, in the twilight of the chamber and with your soft breaths brushing against his neck, he lets his thoughts explore:

Years from now, if both of you manage to survive the upcoming series of misadventures, would this bathing be part of a routine? Dare he picture - after having put your children to sleep, would you regularly brush your fingers through his hair? Would you allow him to do the same for you? Just when he thought his heart could not swell more, the fantasy of a domestic life by your side made him ache. Something so sweet, something he's inhumanly desperate for, appears both out of reach and as the cure for his soul.

A thrilling shiver overtakes his body as he feels your nails gently scratch his scalp.

In my garden grows a lilly Tell me, little Mania, will you be mine? How do I know and tell you? How do I know if my mother will give me away?

Hot water is poured over his hair again. It feels just as good as it did before, if not better. The tension in his muscles dissipates, along with the soreness of day-long hikes over mountains and fields.

Then, Halsin feels your arms wrap around his midsection, your bare chest flush against his back. The hug is tight enough for him to be overly aware of the way your torso moves as you breathe calmly. Soft exhales brush against the warm skin of his shoulder. Perhaps it sounds a little cheesy, but to the druid, your smaller frame fits his bigger one perfectly.

Is this what being loved feels like?

"I know you're a man of virtue and honesty, my love," you murmur against his shoulder, "but can we lie a little and pretend we're still soiled and stay in here for a moment longer?"

His body shakes slightly as a chuckle rumbles in his chest. It still feels hardly believable that someone of your sort to seek his companionship. If he ever rejects your affections, he will have to be under a powerful curse.

"It brings my heart much joy to know you hold me in such high regard," he answers. One of his hands reaches for your palm, cradling it with almost fearful carefulness. Then, in an equally tender manner, Halsin places a chaste peck on the inside of your wrist. "Albeit, I am also faithful to nature."

You giggle when Halsin captures your lips in a passionate kiss. He's quick to turn around, water spilling out of the washtub, and trap you underneath him.

__

Gale's version right here!!

[pearlessance]

Forgive Me, Father - Idle Threats [viii]

Series Summary — Joel has watch duty with Jackson’s twenty-year old, smart-mouthed brat and gets more than he bargained for.

Chapter Summary — Joel hears your confession and breaks all ten commandments in the house of the holy.

Pairing — Joel Miller/Reader

Warnings — Explicit sexual content MDNI, brat taming, age gap, mean!Joel, religious imagery and symbolism, catholic guilt, reader has added backstory to progress the plot, mention of sexual assault, murder, canon typical violence, renouncing of god, desecration of a church, blood, brief daddy kink

SERIES MASTERLIST

[cross posted to AO3]

The following days are easier than any other you’ve had since leaving Jackson. It takes two days, but Joel hears your laugh again and feels himself release a heavy weight at the sound. Once, when the two of you are switching watch shifts, you sleepily mutter his name. And he goes to you like he always will—and you whisper an almost incoherent confession of your affection. “I love you, too,” you say, and he tries not to think about the way it makes him feel like a boy your age, hearing those words for the first time. 

You move slower, and it’s not because of the extra weight strapped to your horses. Joel doesn’t say it, but he knows it’s because you’re afraid of returning to Jackson. Afraid of things going back to the way they were before this run.

In truth, Joel worries about it too. Worries about finding a new routine, worries about Maria and Tommy and Ellie, worries about what they’ll say. It won’t make him change his mind, he knows. Nothing would ever make him regret this selfish decision to keep you. But sometimes, in a too-long moment of silence, anxiety builds in his chest when he thinks of it. 

But you still have several days before you return, and Joel intends to soak up this sweet, delicate time with you while he still can.

A little over halfway back to Jackson, you stop before the sun sets and make camp in an old, abandoned church. The very same one advertised on the billboard Joel had seen on the way to Casper.

Some of the pews are turned over while others have been broken apart and likely set ablaze in the pile of ashes in the center of the floor. There are no infected, but there’s a stone statue of Mary that looms ominously in the corner, covered in dust and cracked along its painted surface.

Joel feels uncomfortable here. Feels watched, judged. His skin crawls and he thinks about pushing on until you find some other place to rest.

The altar table has been left untouched, decorated with a yellowed, satin ribbon draped along its center. The bible lying on top is flipped open to a passage Joel knows well.

Corinthians 10:13 

No temptation has seized you except what is common to man: but God is faithful, who will not suffer you to be tempted above that which you can bear. But when you are tempted, he will also provide a way out so that you can endure it.

It’s bookmarked not with a scrap of paper but with a silver necklace tucked in its spine. A dainty thing with a cross dangling from the end of it. Joel picks it up, watches it sway between his calloused fingers. 

And when he turns to face you, you’re standing in the middle of the center aisle and the setting sunlight casts a shadow across your face, making you look like some angelic being sent to him by God himself. “Did you ever come to one of these before the world ended?”

Joel nods, takes the necklace in his hands and finds his way back to you. “Quite a bit when I was a kid,” he answers. “My mom was pretty religious. We went to every Sunday service and sometimes the ones on Wednesdays, too. Even sent Tommy and I to the church's after-school program for young kids.”

He holds the necklace out to show you, and a shiver runs down his spine when you trace the cross in his palm, your touch electrifying. It’s just the smallest brush of your index finger, but it makes the air get caught in his lungs. “Pretty,” you say wistfully. “Do you believe in God?”

Joel jerks his chin in a silent demand and you obey wordlessly, turning away from him. He unclasps the necklace as you hold your hair out of the way. “I did,” he answers slowly, wrapping the silver chain carefully around your throat. “And then I didn’t.”

“And now?” 

He secures it and runs his knuckles down the nape of your neck. No would be the closest thing to the truth, but it’s not quite it. Joel thinks about lying to save himself the shame but rejects the thought as soon as it comes. “I believe in you,” he says quietly.

Somehow this confession feels heavier than his declaration of love. Perhaps it’s because this is the thing he’s struggled with, this strange worship of Judas. You’ve come to him in pieces, a shell of a girl, a betrayer—and yet it’s your altar he crawls to. It’s you who holds the keys to heaven, who controls both his grace and his damnation.

Joel leans forward and presses his lips to your skin, leaving goosebumps in his wake. He can feel your breath falter, and so he does it again. This time a kiss to your shoulder, right above the collar of your sweater. 

His hands have a mind of their own as they find your waist. Joel knows this is wrong, knows how sinful it is, and yet he knows the only way to endure the taste of the forbidden fruit is to bite into it, to devour it, to consume it for as long as he’s able. He has spent so much of his life fighting, resisting, repenting—but maybe it’s time God asks for his forgiveness.

Your skin is smooth beneath his calloused palms. He slides them beneath your shirt, over your hips, up your torso. He pulls at the soft garment, and you lift your arms for him to make it easier as he pulls it off and discards it in the nearest pew.

And then his hands are on you again—this time tracing the edge of your jeans, pinky finger dipping slowly beneath the band around your waist, teasing. You’re panting now, chest rising and falling in quick succession. You say his name a little like a prayer and it brings a smile to his face. 

“Shh,” he says. “Patience is a virtue, little girl.” But he wants you, perhaps even more than you want to be touched, so his left hand finds the button of your jeans and undoes it. 

He moves slowly, and you stand completely still as Joel peels the too-tight jeans down your legs. You kick your boots off, and soon you’re standing in the middle of this crumbling church in nothing but a pair of baby pink panties and a white lace bralette, looking every bit the divine goddess he doesn’t deserve. 

When you turn to face him, there’s a playful glint in your eye. “Let me try it,” you say. “One question, though. Is it forgive me, father? Or is it forgive me, Daddy?”

Two things happen inside him at once. 

First, the crudeness of your words baffles him so completely that he laughs. Full-on laughs for the first time in twenty years. The vulgarity of it in a place of worship is somehow both amusing and horrifying. 

Second, all the blood in his head rushes south. Because the word daddy in your mouth is the most erotic thing he’s ever heard, the dirtiest thing he’s ever heard, and Joel knows right away that he will never have the strength to process why such a thing makes him so goddamn hard. Doesn’t even attempt it. 

He simply enjoys it instead. Allows it to drown him, consume him wholly. Accepts what is and what isn’t. Accepts that he is the most deplorable man that’s ever existed and it’s why he’ll never deserve you but it’s also why it’ll never matter. Because now…you belong to the most deplorable man. 

The devil and his pretty, perfect Judas.

And then you lower yourself to your knees in front of him and Joel struggles to keep his weary heart from bursting from his chest. 

His attempts at composure are blown to pieces when you press your hands together and look up at him through your lashes. With all humor bled from the moment, overtaken by a sudden hunger, you say, “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned,” and something evil stirs inside him.

Something more than sinful. Something ungodly. Something blasphemous. 

That cross is draped beautifully between your breasts, cleavage elevated by the angle of your arms.

Joel reaches out with both hands and runs them through your hair affectionately. “You look so pretty on your knees,” he says. “You got somethin’ to confess?”

You nod and a smirk graces your face. “I’ve been having wicked thoughts,” you say, voice taking on an innocent and girlish tone. “And…I’ve been giving into temptation, Father.”

“S’that right?” Joel licks his lips. His cock throbs in his jeans, desperate for your touch in a way it’s never been before.

He watches, transfixed, as you take your bottom lip between your teeth, taking your hands from the position of prayer and instead running them up his strong thighs. You slide them beneath his flannel, soft hands cool against his heated skin. “I’ve been letting a man touch me.” You’re whispering, but he feels each syllable down to his bones. “An older man,” you continue, pulling at his belt. 

Joel finds you mesmerizing. Thinks you’ve ruined him. Completely, utterly decimated the man he used to be. “Touch you how?”

You don’t take your eyes off his as his belt clinks against the button of his jeans. “I’ve let him inside me, Father,” you say, pulling down his zipper at a torturous pace. “I’ve let him in my mouth, in my heart, in between my thighs.” 

He never thought it possible, but his need for you grows teeth, morphs into some vicious, ravenous thing. Joel brushes his fingers through your hair, pulling lightly at the roots. “And what do you think you should do as repentance, sweetheart?”

Joel’s reminded of a siren’s song when you answer, “I think I should show a little extra devotion. Don’t you?” You pull his cock from his jeans, and the simple touch of your hand has him nearly shaking in anticipation. You break character for only long enough to giggle softly, wipe the back of your hand over your glossy lips, and say, “My mouth is watering.”

He smooths your hair back away from your face, admiring the way you look on your knees for him, just as desperate as he is. “Go’head, baby,” he says.

You don’t waste any time. You’re slow in your pursuit; tongue tracing the vein on the underside of his cock. Savoring, worshiping, devoting yourself to him and him only. You swirl your tongue around the head, licking up drops of precum.

When you finally take him into your mouth, you don’t stop until you’ve swallowed him whole, choking on it, nose pressed to the tuft of hair below his navel. It’s the most glorious thing Joel’s ever seen in all his life. And then you moan, and he can feel the vibrations of it down to his toes. 

You pull your head back far enough, and your mouth leaves him completely, connected by nothing but strands of saliva. Your lips are already bruised and swollen, but they pull into the prettiest, proudest smile he’s ever seen, and Joel’s weak in the knees. 

“Filthy little girl,” he says affectionately, hands still running through the silky strands of your hair. “Y’like that? Hm? You like that mouth filled up, don’t you?”

“Mmhm.” There’s so much love, so much worship in your eyes that he feels his chest pull tight. You take his cock in your mouth again, tongue sliding along the underside of it, cheeks hollowed out to take him in deeper.

Joel feels your devotion with each soft lick, each swallow at the back of your throat, each ragged, choked breath. He knows he won’t last long. Your mouth is too hot, too wet, too sweet. And when you pick up the pace, bobbing your head, fingernails leaving indentations in the exposed skin of his thighs, pressure builds at the base of his spine like a fucking noose. “There you go,” he encourages. “Doin’ so fuckin’ good, baby. Shit —just like that.”

Your cheeks are flushed, and Joel’s once gentle hands pull tight in your hair, guiding your mouth down onto him. It only makes those delicious moans around his cock that much sweeter. Your thighs are clamped tightly together, and he barrels towards euphoria as he thinks about just how wet he knows you are, his dirty little girl.

“Fuck, baby—fuck. Hold on, hold on.” He pulls your head back, cock slick and glossy, covered in your spit. He’s going to finish just like this if he’s not careful. “Gonna be over too soon if you keep that up.”

“Please, Joel,” you say. “I want to taste it. It’s all I want. Let me make you feel good.”

Joel thinks Michaelangelo never would’ve sculpted David, had his existence overlapped with yours. Because in all the time of the universe, a sight has never lived as beautiful as the one of you begging on your knees before him.

What kind of man would he be if he refused? Joel wants to give you everything you could ever ask for. Wants to give you the world at whatever cost to his soul.

So, he doesn’t stop you when you wrap your bruised lips around his cock again. You feel like heaven, or as close to it as he’ll ever be allowed.

He comes at the back of your throat with a groan and trembling hands in your hair. Hands that are all too aware that they hold something holy, something divine. “ Goddamn —fuck. Mm, yeah. There you go, baby. There you go.”

His cock throbs in your mouth, and you don’t stop sucking until he’s completely spent. And when you do finally lean back and stick out your tongue, he’s nearly hard again at the obscene way his come drips down your lips, down your chin. 

Then you swallow, and Joel grins and rests his palm gently on your cheek. He uses the rough pad of his thumb to push the last few drops back into your mouth, and you suck it down greedily. “Gotta take it all, little girl. Make me proud, hm?”

And as soon as you’re satisfied, Joel’s pulling you back to your feet and pressing his mouth to yours in a ravenous kiss. He can taste remnants of himself on you, and it’s the most comforting sensation he’s ever experienced. It’s proof of your union, evidence of your devotion. A physical, tangible way to convince him he’s not alone in his sacrilege.

Joel lifts you off your feet, and your legs instinctively wrap around his waist. He carries you to the altar table, lays you down, and pushes your knees apart. Normally, he likes to take his time with you. Likes to savor the way you taste, the way you feel. But he’s so hungry for you and you only that he cannot— cannot wait another fucking second.

But then you say his name and his every intention freezes. “You don’t have to,” you say, and it confuses him. You attempt an explanation. “I don’t want you to feel like you always have to make me finish, too. I just…I didn’t do it expecting anything in return. I want you to know that.”

You sound so sincere, so… benevolent. A far cry from the bratty little girl he first met. He presses a kiss to your temple and says quietly, “I’d never let my little girl go without. Not the kinda man I am, baby.”

He might be too old to go rounds with you, but he knows how to make you feel good. He’s real good at it, in fact.

Joel leans over and presses a chaste kiss to your clit, right over your panties. He delights in the way it makes you shiver, but it’s nothing compared to the sounds you make when he pulls the fabric to the side and slides his tongue through your wet warmth. 

He presses your legs back, opens you further, and laps at your pussy like a man starved for you because he is. You taste like redemption, like home.

Your hands weave into his hair, tugging lightly, and Joel moans when you press his face against your pussy like he just can’t get close enough. He takes your clit in his mouth and sucks hard, tongue rolling over it softly. 

“Fuck, that feels so good, Joel— God —”

A groan escapes him, lips vibrating with the sound of it. His cock begins to harden again, hanging heavy between his legs. He’s insatiable for you; returned to the needy, desperate stage of his masculinity he once thought he’d grown out of.

Joel quickens the movement of his tongue and slips a finger inside of you. Your back arches off the altar table and your hips grind against his face, smearing your slick down his chin, over his lips.

He hooks his finger inside of you and strokes the spot that makes you writhe. You look so beautiful he thinks you must be some divine being. It’s the only thing that makes sense in his head. 

Your legs begin to tremble around his shoulders and that’s when he decides to pull away. Because he wants you to cum for him, wants to be the reason you shiver and shake—but he wants to feel it. 

In one smooth movement, he pulls you to the edge of the altar table and sinks his cock into you deep.

“Oh my God,” you whimper. “Fuck, fuck, Joel, I’m gonna—!”

“Wait,” he says, stilling the instinctual rocking of his hips. You’re so tight, so smooth and wet as your pussy flutters around his cock. He pushes into you to the hilt but doesn’t move, doesn’t give you the satisfaction. He moves his hands to your lower belly, applying just a little bit of pressure. He can feel himself inside you, can feel just how full of him you are. “Want you to cum with me, little girl,” he says. “Can you do that for me? Hm?”

Slowly, experimentally, he shifts his hips the smallest bit, thrusting into you and laughing maliciously at the way you squeeze your eyes shut and whine for more. “I can—can try,” you stammer. “But it feels so —”

“Shh, I know baby,” he says, thrusting into you again, a little harder this time. It feels euphoric, indulging himself in you in a place of worship. He can feel faith in the air like magic, faith in you, in himself, in the love you share.

He moves again, fucking you slow and deep. If it weren’t for the way you make him feel, he thinks he might last a little longer. But the taste of ambrosia lingers on his tongue and he can see the pulsing of your clit and feel the tension in your muscles created from holding yourself back from the edge of pleasure.

Pride swells in his chest. His perfect girl, doing everything he asks, doing anything to please him. It makes him feel holy, like maybe the only godly presence in the room is him.

This is what you’ve done to him. You’ve taken this shell of a man and turned him seraphic, turned him sacred through your worship. Emotion builds in his throat when he thinks of it, when he realizes just how lucky he is to exist in this same universe as you, in the same lifetime. 

He kisses you deep and fucks you even deeper.

“Joel,” you pant, fingernails digging into the side of the altar table. The aged satin cloth has been wrinkled beneath your weight, hanging slightly askew off the edge. “Please, please, I can’t—!”

Warmth pools low in his belly. You sound so pretty when you beg. He presses one hand harder against your abdomen and uses the other to circle your clit. He can feel his cock move beneath his palm with each thrust and the sensation is the filthiest thing he’s ever experienced.

The pressure builds and builds and builds, and then finally —

“Go ‘head, baby. Cum for me,” he says, thrusting a little faster, rhythm faltering as rapture fills him like sunlight. Your legs tremble around his hips and your moans echo in the church as you find faith, too.

“I love you,” you say, and it feels like redemption. Like the opening of heaven’s gates. 

Like forgiveness.

You come down slowly, and Joel’s completely spent with almost no energy left. Yet still he helps you dress, pulls your sweater back on, and buttons up those too-tight jeans.

You eat together, rationing what little food you have left to try and stretch these precious days out a little longer. You admit around a bite of hard bread that you’re exhausted from the day’s ride and he is, too. And so you work together to stack the pews in front of the church’s double doors, sealing yourself inside but more importantly keeping anything outside from getting in.

There’s a window at the back of the church in a room Joel knows was once used for confessional. He leaves it cracked just enough to hear the horses outside if a commotion is caused. And then he holds you in his arms and sleeps. 

It’s the best sleep Joel’s gotten in twenty-five years, the sound of your voice echoing even in his dreams. 

But halfway through the night, the sound of whinnying and rambunctious laughter can be heard, jarring you both awake. 

You’re out of his arms and at the back of the church before Joel’s finished blinking his eyes open. 

He stands to his feet, heart racing behind his ribcage. 

Men’s voices, but far away. Several of them. 

He watches you move quickly through the church to the window at the front, watches you carefully peak through the dirty glass pane. 

Joel saddles up behind you and has never been more thankful that you skipped the warmth of a fire. Because fifteen yards away, there’s a group of men passing through. Some on horses, others walking casually beside them. They’re not subtle about their presence. 

Maybe they don’t think anyone’s around. And on any normal day, they would be right. Except this day, Joel’s here. You’re here.

He picks up his rifle from the makeshift bed the two of you created hours ago. 

You don’t move. You stay focused, transfixed as if you’re trying to see the minute details of their faces from this far away. You wipe the glass with the ivory sleeve of your sweater and it comes away grimy, covered in dust.

Joel knows there’s something you’re not telling him. Can feel the tension, electric and tight in the air, skin crawling with it. Your eyes are narrowed, focused on the sound of rambunctious laughter coming from the small group of men. 

And then your spine straightens and all concern bleeds from your face, replaced in an instant with rage. Red, murderous rage. Joel thinks he’s only seen that sort of frenzy in his own reflection. Now it stares back at him, mirrored and bloodthirsty. “What is it?”

You don’t answer. The scrape of your knife against its sheath at your thigh strikes a terror in him he hasn’t felt in years. His stomach turns uncomfortably because Joel knows, he knows something isn’t right. Something is going to go wrong. He can feel it in his marrow. 

“Stop,” he says. “Talk to me.”

It’s like his words don’t even register. You say nothing as you pull at the pews stacked in front of the doors. They scrape noisily against the hardwood floor, and Joel tries to find something to stop you, to get through to you—but that knife is still clutched in your blanched fist and he knows in your rage you’ll swing at him all the same.

“There are eight of them and two of us,” he tries to reason. “We have no ammunition, no bullets, no arrows. We have to let them—”

“Go?” You turn your frenzied eyes on him. “What’s now eight used to be twenty,” you say. “I won’t let them get away this time.”

“Then we plan for it,” he says, holding out a hand and taking a tentative step toward you. It doesn’t matter to him what your reasoning may be. Joel knows that sort of wrath, knows he’ll never change your mind. And he knows following you down this path of slaughter is bound to bloody his hands further, to taint his soul this time beyond repair. 

But he made a promise to you. Nothing in this world will you ever face alone. 

The problem is that Joel knows neither of you will make it out alive. Not in this. You got lucky back in Casper, and he’s got the knowledge and experience with age to know you won’t get lucky twice.

He can’t let you do this. 

“They won’t get far, okay? Not in an area like this. We go home— tomorrow. We ride to Jackson and we’ll get there in a day if we don't stop. And then we’ll come back for them, alright? We’ll stock up and track them down. I swear to you—”

“You don’t know,” you say, voice shaking. “You don’t know what they did—!”

“So tell me. Tell me everything. Give me the knife.” He reaches for it slowly, carefully. You eye him like he might grow claws and an extra head if you look away for an instant.

You don’t trust him, Joel realizes. Not at this moment, not with this. “Joel,” you say in warning. “Don’t.”

He wonders what’s led you here. Wonders about who’s distrusting hands you once placed your justice in. 

The answer comes to him the moment the question crosses his mind. 

“I’m not like her,” he says. “Look at me, baby girl. Look at me .”

You do. And though that frenzied look lingers in your eyes, something in you softens and he’s grateful for it.

“I’m not Maria. You understand me? When I make you a promise, I mean it. I will kill them. All of them. But we have to be smart about this. We have to do it right. Yeah?” He reaches out again. “Give me the knife.”

You angle it higher, just out of his reach. For a second Joel thinks all progress has been lost because he moved too quickly, too carelessly. But then you say, “Swear it to me. Swear on her life that you won't make me let them go.”

On her life. 

Not her death, but her life. A promise of certainty. An unbreakable oath. Because if he fails, if he shatters this trust, Sarah’s life means nothing.

Joel’s lungs ache. Everything hurts and his skin feels like it’s on fire because no one has ever seen him like this. No one has known exactly what to say, exactly which bruises to press. 

He nods slowly. “Okay,” he relents. “I swear on her life that we will find them.”

Carefully, you hand him the blade, and as if giving it away had flipped a switch, you deflate.

Joel slides your knife into the side of his boot when you turn away from him and go back to the window. 

He stands beside you, a looming presence at your back. Even though he wants answers, he doesn’t want to pry them out of you. And your silence allows him the space for his mind to wander into unspeakable places. Joel has seen firsthand the depraved, vile things that mankind spirals into beneath the weight of survival. 

For a time, even he had sunk so incredibly low. 

And because he’s seen so much, his brain is filled with gut-wrenching images, theoretical scenes of torture, corruption, and perversion. Each one is more brutal than the last. And in them all, you’re the center of it. 

You watch the group of men through the window until the blue illumination of their flashlights disappears from view. And the moment they do, you’re slipping through the window in the back of the church. 

Joel follows you, a million questions on the tip of his tongue. But he stays silent and does nothing but help you gather debris fallen from the trees in the wooded area behind the church. 

Once, he picks up a curved stick, and as if you’d seen it from the back of your head, you say, “No. Not that one. If they’re too curved, the arrows won’t shoot straight.”

 The two of you gather timber for over an hour. And when his hands are just as full as yours, you return to the church. Joel returns your knife and you attempt to teach him how to shave the stick correctly and to whittle the point of it into a weapon. 

He’s not even half as fast as you are. For every arrow he creates, you produce three. It’s a slow, tedious process, but eventually, you begin to speak. 

“It happened on the last run I did for Maria,” you say, eyes focused on the knife and wood in your hands. “I fell asleep one night. It’d been days since I’d given myself a chance to rest and it had finally caught up to me. I’d barricaded myself in a house and might as well have been dead to the world. Two of them found me. Didn’t wake me, didn’t try to kill me or anything. They just took my bow and my pack. My pack that was mostly empty, had nothing in it but a twelve gauge with two bullets, some cans of food, water, and those stale fucking barbecue chips.”

You shake your head dismally. 

“Should’ve fuckin left it. But I…I was afraid. If I came back to Jackson without the one thing she asked for, what use was I? What kept me there?”

It pains him to hear you say it. He wants to tell you you’re wrong, that despite what Maria has made you believe, your worth is not tied to what you can do for her. But he doesn’t. Joel just lets you talk. 

“I tracked them to a warehouse a few miles outside of Boise. Watched them for a while, memorized all the entrances, the windows. Even memorized their faces. They had two people on watch in rotating shifts. I didn’t want to kill them, considering they didn’t try to kill me. But I wanted my pack, and so I waited until four of them were talking during a shift change and slipped inside through the back.”

Your eyes darken, and Joel fears what you may say next.

“Didn’t go as planned. One of them saw me. Outed me immediately, of course. And I thought they’d kill me. Shoot me or something. But that didn’t go as planned, either. The leader was called Gabriel.”

Your hands around the arrow still and your eyes grow misty. You’re reliving it, as clearly as if it were happening now.

“He, uhm…held me down. Suggested the rest of them take turns with me.” 

Joel feels something inside him shift. Feels a decision being made, feels murder begin to drip down his fingertips like water.

“They’d already had my shotgun and took the pistol I had tucked in the back of my jeans the second they ripped them off. I thought…I thought it was the end for me. Because even if I survived it, even if I made it through all twenty of them…I might as well have been dead anyway.”

He understands now, Joel realizes. Understands why you were so infuriated about a run for a pregnancy craving when the price was this. His mouth runs dry.

Your words echo in the dark church. “Had my knife tucked up the sleeve of my jacket, though.” A small smile graces your face as you turn the blade over in your fingers admiringly. “Was able to stop Gabriel before he got any further. They were…stupid. Arrogant. Came at me one by one because why would you need more than that to fight a little girl with nothing but a knife ?”

Now there are only eight of them. The main perpetrator perished, his blood stained so deeply into your jacket that when you’d returned to Jackson they’d had to burn it. No salvaging anything from your destruction. 

Nothing but this vengeance, this promise to yourself to right those who wronged you.  He forced you to break it for your own safety. And though a surge of regret and sorrow trickles into his psyche, he knows there’s still an unbroken vow remaining. 

The promise Joel made to you. 

“Some of them ran. I tried to track them but after a few days, I just…I needed sleep. I wanted to go home.” You go black to fletching your arrow, whittling the end into a sharp point. “I’ll find them one day. Then it’ll be me taking turns with them .”

You don’t say much else for the next two hours. And he doesn’t, either. He helps you sharpen the timber into arrows and when you yawn three times in less than five minutes, he gives you his flannel and lets you lay your head in his lap. 

Joel smooths the tangles in your hair as you sleep. And when you begin to softly snore, he carefully shifts your head onto your sleeping bag and tucks the strap of his rifle beneath your arm.

When he slips out of the window in the back of the church, he latches it shut.  He decides against taking a horse, worried it’d create too much commotion. 

But he does take your serrated sawback knife, telling himself it’s poetic justice. 

They’re only two miles away, stashed in a rundown grocery store that’s been picked over one too many times. Two men sit outside the door. Old habits die hard, Joel thinks. 

One has his head tilted back against the stone wall, sleeping with an ease he doesn’t deserve.

Joel takes out the other one first. And he does it quicker than he’d like. He creeps up behind him silently, wraps one hand around his throat, and uses the other to cover his mouth. The snap of his spine reverberates through Joel’s hands, tingling from his palms down to his elbows. 

The other wakes with the commotion but doesn’t even have the chance to scream before your knife is lodged in his neck so deep the sharp point sticks out of the other end. 

Inside, the other six all rest as well. Joel wonders how they can do so peacefully, knowing they’ve given an innocent little girl fuel for her nightmares. A girl who’s lost enough, who’s sacrificed enough, more than anyone should—only to lose a piece of herself at their greedy hands.

He makes quick work of them. Even delights in the way life leaves their eyes. One by one, Joel uses your knife to slit each and every one of their throats. 

By the time he’s finished, his hands are caked in blood, splatters staining the sleeves of his heavy, canvas coat, and all that’s left of the men who hurt you are eight corpses.

You’re still sleeping when he slips back through the window of the church. It’s a little ironic, he thinks, to return here to this holy place with an angel inside, all while covered in the stink of death.

Joel sits beside you, back pressed against a pew. His hands rest on his knees, blood still drying beneath his fingernails. He watches you sleep and thinks his damnation is worth it if this brings you a sense of safety. 

Though he tries not to, Joel thinks an awful lot about Sarah. Thinks about how he failed her, how just a little more brutality could have saved her.

He’s spent years regretting that night, regretting holding on to the shred of humanity he had left when he should have been holding onto her. He makes a promise not to repeat the same bad habits. Makes a promise he’ll never let his naive desire for respite get in the way of his need to protect you, to keep you safe. He’s breaking the habit, the same as he did with Ellie, because Joel doesn’t think he'll ever survive a loss of such magnitude again.

It doesn’t matter what he has to become to keep you safe. Doesn’t matter the cost to his soul.

Your face looks peaceful but your fists are coiled tight beneath your head. As if even in your sleep you’re fighting something, always on the defense. He wonders if it’s a trait you inherited before or after those men, before or after your sister's death, before or after the accusatory way the inhabitants of Jackson look at you.

Joel feels something heavy rise up in him. Something akin to sorrow or grief. This deep, pensive heartache because it’s just not fair. You’re so young, so innocent, dealing with the same demons he still fights and sometimes loses to at age fifty-two. 

He doesn’t want this for you. Doesn’t want you to become volatile, murderous, monstrous in the ways he has. Joel spent so much time pushing you away and he thinks maybe it’s because there’s so much of his anger mirrored in you. That staring it in the face felt too harrowing, too raw. 

The longer he thinks about it the more pieces slot together in his brain. Your cruel words hurled at anyone who sets you on edge. Your inability to follow any direction that isn’t forced. The self-isolation, the distrust in even those you love most. That animalistic fight in you, flight and freeze be damned. The need to protect others before yourself—Joel, Ellie, Miley, even Maria.

You don’t deserve to live like this. Don't deserve eternal damnation or to experience the wrath of God for the monstrous things you result to when you feel all else is lost. Violence is the only thing that has never turned its back on you.

Joel’s melancholy manifests, a single tear sliding down his cheek. You’re just a little girl and it's not fucking fair. 

He doesn’t want this for you. He wants you to live a full, happy, peaceful life. Not one spent out here chasing ghosts, trying to find your worth in providing for others. He wants you to be protected, to know you’re loved even when you lash out, wants you to know that he understands. Joel wants to be that for you. Wants to be the unwavering support you deserve, wants to be the thing that pulls you back from that ledge you’re dancing upon. Joel wants to be for you what he needed in the darkest part of his rage.

But to do that, you’re going to have to relinquish a little more of that control you hold so tightly.

When you wake, it’s gradual. You don’t startle or flinch at the blood on his hands. But your eyes linger there on the red stain for some time before you ask, “All of them?”

Joel nods once. “All of them.” 

And then you’re crawling into his lap, straddling him, pressing your mouth to his, thanking him in the only way you know how. Your tongue tastes like sleep and ambrosia and sunlight, but when Joel cradles your face in his hands he leaves blood in the wake of his fingertips. The bright red is a stark contrast against the smoothness of your skin, the violence an antithesis to your innocence.

He slides his bloody hands into your hair when your hips begin to move. His cock hardens quickly as his body catches up with your intent, always needy and eager, always just waiting to join you in more than just soul.

While he unbuttons his jeans and slides his zipper down to pull his erection out, your mouth never leaves his. Even when you shove those too-tight jeans down your thighs just enough to make room for him. When you lift up on your knees and sink down onto his cock in one familiarized movement he can feel the vibration of your moan against his tongue, can feel the breath of air from your gasp as he settles in deep.

The stretch is blissfully painful, stinging in all the right ways. You rock your hips slowly at first, adjusting to the sheer size of him, adjusting to his all-encompassing warmth. Your fingers dig into his thick shoulders, desperate to keep your balance.

And then you lift just enough to come slamming back down, the friction setting his skin ablaze. Again, again, again —it’s hurried and needy and depraved. Your hips move fervently over his, seeking out what you know only he can provide.

Your eyes are squeezed shut when you pull your sweet mouth away from his. Joel watches you lean back and place your hands on his thighs for support, back arching, and somehow he finds himself even deeper inside you. You’re moaning and his breath is coming fast and he thinks you look more than just angelic from this angle. He watches you ride his cock and wonders if you were fucking made to do this. 

Cheeks flushed, lips parted, his name on your lips. Is this what Eve saw in the waxy reflection of the forbidden fruit? Is this what she saw when she knowingly abandoned paradise? 

Joel thinks it can’t get much better than this. Thinks the only thing that’s ever come close is the feeling of blood on his hands in the name of those he loves, in the name of you.

He wraps his hand around your throat, staining you even further red, and says, “I’d do anything for you. Anything .” 

He thinks about the Ten Commandments, about how he can cross off every single one of them with just this act alone. 

You shall have no other Gods before me. 

No divine being has made him feel like this. No divinity has ever reached up through his ribs and squeezed a fist around his heart. Not like you have. 

You shall make no idols. 

He thinks about the way you look in his canvas coat. Joel has found his own form of peace through you, has found forgiveness beneath your tongue. 

You shall not take the name of the Lord your God in vain. 

Your pace quickens. The obscene, wet sounds coming from the place you’re joined echo in the walls of the church. “Oh my God, Joel, I’m—I’m close.”

He knows you are. Can feel it in the way your pussy squeezes him like a vise, in the way your rhythm becomes sloppy and desperate.

Keep the Sabbath day holy. 

Joel doesn’t know what day it is. But he knows he wishes he could stay here in this home you’ve made together within the bones of an old religion, wishes he could stay inside you. He doesn’t know if there’s anything more unholy than this insatiable desire.

Honor your father and mother.

He thinks about that day in the dining hall when embarrassment climbed Maria’s cheeks as you screamed in her face. Joel thinks she deserved it more than he realized that day. He thinks about the way you spoke to him in that watchtower, thinks about the way he’d had to drag you there by your hair, all while listening to every disrespectful thing that came out of your mouth and how a few short weeks later you got down on your knees and called him daddy. 

You shall not murder. 

He takes the hand wrapped around your throat and flattens it against your sternum. The blood is drying but still marks your skin in the shape of his fingerprints.

You shall not commit adultery.

Joel knows he’s supposed to be with a lovely, soft-spoken, age-appropriate woman but knows, too, that death would be kinder than the loss of you. 

You shall not steal. 

He was angry at first, about the strawberry scone. Mike’s wife is a kind woman who spends her time baking for the community. But Ellie likely never would’ve had the opportunity to try it had you not nicked the pastry. If it was always going to lead the two of you here, together, Joel would have stolen every last scone on God’s green earth. 

You shall not bear false witness against your neighbor. 

Lying seems a small price to pay for you, for your safety. He remembers telling Greg and Bonnie that you were running late the night you left him in the watchtower alone. He wanted to keep you safe then even without noticing that’s what he was doing. Safe from ridicule, from judgment. 

You shall not covet. 

He recalls seeing Abel’s hands on you, seeing his lips against your hair in a chaste kiss. Joel had wanted to kill him then, for touching what was his. He knows by taking you for his own, he’s taking you away from someone like Abel. Someone with a little more moral in their heart, a little less blood on their hands. But he doesn’t care because you’re his now and always. 

Joel lifts his hips in tandem with yours, meeting each stroke, thrusting his cock even deeper inside you. Your legs begin to shake around his and Joel thinks damnation isn’t so bad. “Anything,” he repeats. “Lie, cheat, steal.” His hand on your chest slides up again, wrapping tight around your throat. “I’d kill for you, little girl.”

Your pussy flutters around him and your spine bends in the most beautiful arch he’s ever seen. It solidifies his belief in one very important thing, the last nail in the coffin that cements the two of you together eternally.

This filthy, sinful devotion is cosmic. Celestial. Unearthly. So much more than a bible and cross. 

It’s worth it. It’s worth everything. 

“You like that? Hm?” Your rhythm falters but his remains steady. “Like that I’d spill blood for you, s’that it? That’s what got you all wet, sweetheart?” Your moans turn saccharine— sacrilegious. “Pretty pussy’s so fuckin’ tight, baby. Such a messy thing. I’d kill anyone for my little girl. Anyone .”

“Joel, I—!” 

He knows, he knows. Because he is, too. “Yeah, thaaaat’s it,” he says, drawing out each syllable. Your hands squeeze hard around his thighs and your muscles draw tight. “There you go, baby. Cum for me. That’s it. Sweet fuckin’ girl. Gonna fill you up. That what you want?”

You rasp out his name and the words yes, please, please, and it sounds like a fucking prayer. It’s a hypnotic litany. It makes him feel cherished, adored. And the sound of it spoken in worship in the house of God sends him over the edge. 

Even though your legs tremble around his, you ride his cock relentlessly. Joel’s vision goes white and his hand on your hip squeezes tight enough to bruise. You feel so good, so warm and wet. You lift your hips and slam them back down until the oversensitivity becomes more than he can bear. His hand abandons the home it’s made around your throat and finds the small of your back instead, stilling you completely.

You lean forward, collapsing with your hands pressed against his chest. Joel wraps his arms around your middle and cradles you in his lap, all too aware of the divinity he holds in his hands. He presses a kiss to your temple and listens to your heavy breaths.

Some time passes. He’s not sure how long the two of you sit there with Joel still wedged deep inside you, basking in the afterglow. The sun rises outside and the songbirds of the morning begin to sing. 

Eventually, you lift your head and whisper, “Thank you.”

“For what?” Joel doesn’t understand. He’s stolen something he was undeserving of, only to be loved back. If anyone should be thankful, it should be him. 

It feels like a punch to the gut when you say, “For seeing me.”

Because he now knows no one else ever has. No one has ever seen your defiance as anything but a nuisance, has never seen you as more than a troublemaker, as a bad omen.  

But Joel does see you. He sees right through all that savage fight to the little girl beneath, that soft, childish innocence you keep under heavy guard. He thinks he’s been able to see through it since the first moment he laid eyes on you.

It’s her he wants to protect.

Joel takes your chin in his hand and makes you a commandment of his own. “I will always see you.”

[part seven] [part nine]

taglist; @heartbrokenlilbitch-nef @elliesr1fle @pascaltesfaye

let me know if you want to be added! thank you to everyone for all the insane support on this <3

[masterist]

[hiddenzev]

Second Confession: Part 2

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter Summary: She finally confesses her feelings to Joel

Chapter Warnings - Angst, One-sided love, Unrequited Love, Idiots in Love, (let me know if i missed anything)

WC: 4.2k

series masterlist , AO3

A/N: Damn guys, I didn't expect a lot of people to like this story. Thank you for all the likes and comments!! Anyway, please excuse my poor writing :(( I'm trying my best. There might be a few mistakes I've missed. I really wanted to make it so angsty but i'm lacking it sadly. Hope you guys enjoy this next part tho. :)

The rising sun is up painting the sky with beautiful rosy hue this morning. Compared to the beautiful morning, you didn’t get to have a good sleep. You were tossing and turning in your bed overthinking about today. It’s your first patrol with Joel and there’s some many thoughts running through your head playing out how it may go. You make your way, noticing that Joel must have left his house already as you pass by his house.

As you reach the ranch, you notice that Joel is checking the horse while Tommy is by his side saying something to him. Maria is standing further away with another horse which you believe to be in your care for patrols.

Maria notices you and calls you out. Both men turn to look at your form coming closer. Joel takes a quick glance at you before returning his attention back to his horse. You exchange greetings with Maria before walking over to the men.

“Morning!” You greet them.

“Morning. How are you feeling?” Tommy asks you.

“Not bad.” you lied. You’re used to doing patrols but this time it’s different because of a certain man.

“I’ve told this guy to look out for you out there, not that I think you’re not capable of taking care of yourself,” Tommy rambles on beside Joel.

“That’s fine. I get it Tommy,” You gave him a small smile.

“We’re just looking out for you because you’re our friend and this guy has a certain reputation of him y’know.” Tommy says without any care that his brother is next to him listening to what he says.

You nod and cautiously glance at Joel who has his back on you. You pick up your courage to talk to him.

“Hi Joel.” trying to hide the slight tremble in your voice to sound normal.

Joel turns slowly before stepping closer to you. Your eyes are on him the entire time. It’s insane how you are lost in his honey brown eyes that you are seeing up close for the first time since you’ve known him. You can’t help but hold your breath when he bend down slightly to look you in the eyes.

“You better not slow me down. Don’t think that just because you’re good friends with Tommy and Ellie, I will go easy on you,” he pause, “because I won’t.”

You stare at him for a few seconds before you speak, “Didn’t tell you to go easy on me.” You said in a calm voice. You are not that affected by what he said because you knew his grumpy ass is annoyed with you joining him for patrols.

His eyes widen slightly with a certain glint in his eyes. You find it cute seeing him flustered. Not wanting to break into a smile, you turn to go to your horse by Maria.

“You ready to go?” Maria asks you.

“Yup all good,” you say while inspecting your horse.

“What did you say to him? He seems pissed off,” Maria eyes Joel “Can’t stop looking over here.”

You shrug your shoulders while stroking the horse’s neck.

“You know how he is,” you smile affectionately at the horse.

“You’re sure you gonna be ok with him out there?”

“Yes I’m sure, Maria. You know me.” You reassure her.

They know that you mostly keep to yourself and mind your own business most of the time. You’re more of an observer than anything else. You try not to be socially awkward but you can’t help it sometimes. However, you don’t take any shit from anyone. You will stand up for yourself if anyone disrespect you or your loved ones. You’re not a pushover, you can be stubborn sometimes and you know exactly what you want.

Both you and Joel mount the horses and make your way to the gates with Joel leading the way. You exchange a few words with Tommy and Maria before getting out of there.

It was silent the whole time with Joel in the woods. The man didn’t even make a sound, not even a sigh. Instead, the sounds you can hear are the soft rustling of leaves when the calm morning breeze hits them, the faint chirps of the birds, the crunch of leaves and twigs below you and more of the subtle, soothing sounds of the nature.

You try to focus on checking your surroundings but your gaze will always land on Joel’s broad back in front of you. You openly observe him from behind, looking at every one of his curls that you wish you could touch. You wish to caress his head slowly, taking your time to really feel him on your fingertips. Oh you so badly wish to press your body against his back, wrap your arms around his torso and take in his scent. You can only wonder how it would feel.

You close your eyes for a few seconds to will yourself to not think about him this way.p right now. The silence from him kills you. You try to break the silence by striking a conversation.

“The weather’s good this morning, don’t you think?”

No response from him, prompting you to keep talking.

“Don’t you feel guilty appreciating something simple like the weather during a world like this?”

He is still staying silent.

“Do you love music?”

This time, he turn his head slowly to look at you with a hard glare before opening his mouth.

“Do you ever stop talking?” He said it sarcastically.

“Geez, I only asked 3 questions man.” You muttered under your breath looking away from him.

“What?” His eyes you narrowly after seeing you mumbling to yourself.

You look at him again with a forced smile.

“Nothing. I’ll keep quiet.”

He turn his body around, giving his horse a gentle nudge to quicken its pace.

The rest of the patrol with Joel is just him telling you off a couple times when he catches you not being alert enough. You can’t complain because it’s your fault for not focusing on the task, getting distracted in your own thoughts of your partner right there.

You don’t actually mind his attitude out here because him calling out your mistakes only means that he cares about your safety. Even if it’s just a teeny tiny bit. Compared to his approach on other things, he teaches you some tips in a gentler way.

Patrol duty isn’t your favourite because you hate the risk of being out here but there isn’t any choice when there is only a limited amount of manpower for this dangerous duty. You have worked with a couple of people over the years for patrol and weirdly you feel the safest with Joel and it’s only your first day with him.

The patrol shift ends the same way as it started. Masked with the heavy air of stillness with Joel Miller. You’re assuming that he’s using this patrol to probably feel you out to see your skills and make sure you’re strong enough to be his partner. You on the other hand, were busy checking him out with any opportunity that you can. It’s embarrassing at this point.

After the shift handover with the next patrollers, the horses are return to the ranch to be taken care of. Joel went off first after giving you a slight nod. You stay awhile back to be with the horses. You strangely feel proud seeing that he acknowledges you this time. Him giving you not even the bare minimum of manners and you’re out here having your heart flutters over it. Damn. He really have you wrapped around his little finger and he doesn’t even know it.

You heard footsteps behind you as you look emptily at the horses feeding themselves.

“Hey!” Ellie exclaim.

“Hey,” you say with a tired smile on your face.

“Where’s Joel?”

“You just missed him. He left a couple minutes ago,”

“How’s your first patrol with him?” A sly smile on her face that you didn’t catch as you look away from her.

“Unexpectedly, not bad,”

“See! I told you that you can stand his ‘grumpy old man’ attitude!” She smile knowingly.

“What evidence do you have to say that?” Your eyebrows knitted in confusion.

“Intuition,” she winks at you.

“Yeah, right.” You rolled your eyes and slowly make your way out of the ranch. Ellie follows behind you closely before getting next to you. She keeps looking at you with a mischievous grin on her face. You put your arms over her shoulders pulling her in and jokingly put her in a headlock. She giggles loudly and that make you laugh as well.

You have been on a couple of patrols with Joel after that. He is not as tense as the first patrol and have been more open than before. Well, slightly but that is still something. Like you have expected, he’s someone who is just misunderstood. You like that you get to see different sides of him through the patrols.

As time goes on, you try to figure out the right time to tell him your feelings that are only getting stronger. There were some opportunities when there were only the two of you alone that you still couldn’t take.

To be honest, you plan to give him a little gift. Before the outbreak, you love to collect random little stuffs that you find cute or interesting. You still do that after the outbreak while you are out finding supplies.

There is this one guitar pick in your collection that has a design that you find cute but corny at the same time and you want to give it to him. You’re sure he’s not going to be amused with it but you do want to see his reaction to seeing it.

You did hear from Ellie one time that Joel likes to do some wood carvings and that recently he’s starting to do wood carvings of chess pieces. Ellie doesn’t know what chess is. She only know that it is a board game from what Joel had said and she is looking forward to learn it after he finish working on it.

With that information, you secretly start to practice carving chess pieces from wood that you can find or attain from someone in the community. You have finished one perfect piece of a horse. The horse piece is the most difficult one to do as it has more complicated details unlike the rest of the pieces. You hope that at least this would open his heart a little bit more for you.All you need to do is to get a chance to be alone with him and just go for it.

You’re in the tipsy bison, alone, conflicted with how you’re going to go about this. You feel a hand on your shoulder and you turn to look over it to see Tommy smiling softly at you. He slides into the chair opposite you with his drink.

“Hey, everything alright?”

“Of course, why wouldn’t they?” You tried to give a convincing smile.

“How long have we known each other, huh? I know when there’s something bothering you. You know you can tell me anything right?”

You look down on your hands, don’t know whether to confide in him about Joel.

“Is it Joel?”

You raise your head looking at him with wide eyes, shocked by what he said. Too stunned to speak, you just look at him with your mouth slightly parted.

“I’ve been noticing some things and let me hold your hand telling you this,” he reaches out to hold one of your hands, “it’s kinda obvious,”

“Really?” You ask him softly.

“It is to me since we’re close and I’m actually a little hurt that you didn’t tell me. I thought I’m your closest friend here,” he jokingly put his hand over his heart.

“I didn’t tell anyone especially not you since you’re his brother. I don’t know how you would feel about that y’know. Just thought it was just a silly little crush that would go away after a short period of time but here I am,” you tell the truth.

“How long?”

“Ever since he’s been here,” you softly said, avoiding looking at him, shy about your year long crush on his brother.

“Damn, should have told me. I could help you out a lil bit,”

“How? I think you would have made it worse.” you chuckle at him.

He laughed out loud. You're glad that Tommy doesn't find any problem with your crush on his big brother.

"Are you gonna tell him? cause damn girl, a year is crazyyyyy" He sips on his drink.

"That's the problem, Tommy. I don't know how to and you know him better than I do. He ain't gonna be nice about it,"

"True. He's stubborn and is an asshole most of the time but he do have a good heart somewhere inside him. I know that. I'll help you and maybe after all this time, you're the one that could crack him."

Since then, Tommy has been creating chances for you to be alone with Joel. Getting the both of you alone at the end of breakfast, putting the both of you in other duties together, excusing himself when there’s only the three of you in the bar, etc. Tommy doing all of this only makes it so obvious to the both of you on his intention and it makes it more awkward to be around Joel.

During the time when you are stuck with him, you did try to break the ice more but he’s still the same cold and distant Joel. Not wanting to stay with you much longer, he would try to get away as fast as possible avoiding as much interaction with you.

Ellie caught you and Tommy talking one time at your back porch. You were telling Tommy to not interfere anymore because it’s getting awkward with Joel and Tommy were insisting on inviting everyone for dinner at his house at the end of the week. Both of you were so caught up in the conversation that you didn’t realise Ellie came looking for you.

“Come on, it’s just a dinner. We’ve had some dinner nights at my house before,” Tommy persuading you.

“Yeah but now you’re going to have something up your sleeves to push me and Joel together or something. I don’t know. It’s awkward man!”

“What’s so awkward?” Ellie’s voice startled you and Tommy. She came out from the side of the house and slowly made her way to stand between where you and Tommy were sitting.

Tommy and you just looked at each other, don’t know what to say to Ellie.

“If it’s about you and Joel, I already knew that.” she shrugged her shoulders sitting on your porch’s steps.

Still on edge, you and Tommy did not say anything.

“I have eyes, I see how you look at him. In fact, you ALWAYS look at him,” she chuckled looking at your shocked expression.

“Okay, that’s enough,” you told her to stop talking, feeling shy that your friends have been suspecting your feelings for Joel all this time.

“You look at him like he’s the most beautiful person in this world,” she imitated a vomiting motion after saying that.

“Ellie!” you hid your face with both of your hands while Tommy and Ellie laughed at you.

“With your big mouth, I can’t believe you never said anything to me about it,” you continued after their laugh subsided.

“I wasn’t exactly sure and I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” you give her a small comforting smile. “So are you gonna tell him?”

“Most likely,”

“What do you think he’s gonna say?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think he’s gonna like it. No matter what the outcome is, what really matters is he knows that at least there’s one more person in this world that actually cares about him.” you sigh heavily.

The three of you said your goodbyes that night after Tommy and Ellie gave you some encouragement about the whole situation.

Dinner at Tommy’s is like the calm before the storm. Joel is seated between you and Ellie. Maria who is sitting across you is talking with Tommy about their plans to decorate their extra room for their baby. You’re excited for them. You feel a little envious as you don’t think you will ever find a love like that in this apocalypse. You have always dreamed of starting a family. Right now, it is just a faraway dream that you could never hope to come to reality.

Your legs keep shaking nervously under the table. You’re always nervous around Joel but sitting beside him for this long is just making it worse. Additionally, you have the gift that you prepared for him in the side pocket of your cargo pants. After adding a letter to the two little gifts, you wrapped it up in a small nice paper packaging that you can find. Ever since then, you carried it around with you, don’t know when you will find the right time.

Picking at your food mindlessly, you feel a big strong hand on your right thigh. You immediately stop shaking and look down to your thigh. It’s none other than the man himself. You shift your gaze to him seeing that he’s already looking at you. He leans in a slightly and whispers,

“Stop it.” he immediately removes his hand and continues to eat his food right after telling you off.

Speechless, you force food down your throat as if it will get rid of his lingering touch on your thigh. You’re more aware of your legs now and you try your best to not shake your legs subconsciously. Although a part of you wishes to do it so that you can feel his hand on your thigh again.

You didn’t talk much for the rest of the dinner, distracted by what had happened. Tommy tries to make eye contact with you a couple times to signal something to you. You avoid looking at him so that he takes the hint to stop whatever kind of ideas in his head right now.

Dinner ended in a peaceful way thankfully. There were some dinners before that ended with some arguments usually between Joel and Ellie or Tommy and Joel. On those dinners, you just look on and try not to interfere at all unless it gets too far.

Ellie has already went off to find her friends for movie night. Tommy and Maria are slowly cleaning things up while you and Joel try to help them a little bit. They insist that they don't need any help from you guys and thank the both of you for coming to dinner.

That's how you ended up in this situation where you and Joel are walking back home together. As usual, there wasn't much talking. The conversation died after you talked about how great dinner was and he agreed. You didn't walk long before both of you reach the front of his house first.

"G'nite." he clears his throat before saying softly under his breath. Not waiting for your reply, he turns to walk to his front door.

"Sorry about earlier." you quickly said. You meant that you were sorry about shaking your legs that it bothered him.

He stops walking halfway to his front door and turns to you.

"It's fine. Didn't mean to touch you. It was bothering me. Sorry." his eyes were on you for a few seconds at first before darting anywhere else other than you. He walks away to his front door. You don't know overcame you. Maybe you're just riding the good energy from tonight, you take a few steps closer to him and calls him.

"Umm, Joel," you call him.

He stops before putting his house key in. He turns back around not saying anything. He’s waiting for you to continue what you have to say. You walk to the front of his steps nervously.

“I want to tell you something.” You look up eyeing his movements. He sighs before making his way down the steps to stand in front of you. You awkwardly stands there for a moment before remembering his gift. You take it out and hand it over to him.

“This is for you. Thought you might like it,” you look at him inspecting the small wrapped gift in his hands.

“What is it?” he looks at you with his brows knitted in confusion.

“Well you have to open it to find out,” you put your hands in your front pockets to hide your fists that are clenching due to the tension.

“Why? Why are you giving me this?” he looks at you with unwavering eyes. You look down at your shoes to avoid looking in his eyes that make it seem as if he could read whatever is on your mind. Your voice is stuck in your throat with the words that you want to say are on the tip of your tongue.

“What do you want from me? Do you need something in return for this?” He asks thinking that the gift is some kind of a trade deal.

“No. Nothing like that.” You shake your head looking at the gift in his hands.

“Then what?”

Your brain is running in full speed, contemplating if this is the right moment to confess to him. You’re swaying from side to side, eyes darting everywhere except the brown eyes in front of you.

“I don’t have the time for this,” he sighs heavily turning his body to walk back to the door.

“I like you,” you blurt it out quickly, panicking that you just said those words out loud to him.

“What?” he turns back to you in a flash, not believing what you had just said.

You pause for a moment to calm yourself down and gather your thoughts. You take a deep breath before speaking.

“I like you, Joel. I don’t know exactly when or how but gradually, my mind has been flooding with thoughts of you ever since you came here. I’ve known you for a year now and these feelings are not going away at all. I thought it’s time for me to let it all out before it’s too late. I don’t want to regret not telling you that I do care about you. More than you know. I know you may think this is silly and I don’t expect anything from you-“

“You’re right. Don’t expect anything from me.” He interrupts you with a harden look in his eyes now.

“I don’t know what you’re thinking but let me clarify it again for you,” he closes the gap between the two of you and look straight into your eyes. You can’t help but to tilt your head up more, not able to tear your eyes away from him.

“There’s nothing between us. It never will be anything other than you being Tommy’s friend or Ellie’s friend to me. I’m just tolerating you for their sake. Without them, you’re just another person in Jackson that I don’t give a fuck about.” you lower your gaze to his chest. You predicted that he is going to be worked up about this but hearing that he actually doesn’t care about you kinda hurt your feelings a little.

“Wake up, darling. We’re in the apocalypse and you’re out here telling me about your little crush on me. This is stupid. I thought you’re better than this. I already have a lot on my plate to be dealing with this bullshit.” he sighs, raising his head to look at the dark sky.

All kinds of emotions are running through you. You knew this would happen. You knew that he will criticise you for it but you still did it. You thought that you could take it but your sensitive little heart betrayed you. Why are you sad for even disappointing him?

“Take this back.” He shoves your gift to your front, waiting for you to take it from him.

Your hands still in your pockets, you stayed still. You feel so embarrassed that you cannot move your body.

“Fine. Whatever.” he drops the gift right in front of your feet and walk to his door.

You hear keys jingling before the door opens and not long after that the door slam shut. You’re frozen in your place still staring at the gift below you. The images of the past year runs through your head. The amount of time spent thinking about him, wondering if he’s okay or not, secretly listening to him playing guitar and to you making the effort to gift him something he would like. All the little things amounted to this at the end.

Suddenly, you feel the anger rise inside of you. You feel so stupid. Why of all people, it must be Joel that you have feelings for? You feel angry at yourself for feeling this way. You don’t even blame Joel because he’s right. This isn’t the time to be occupied with stupid little feelings.

With jaws clenched, you pick up the wrapped gift and throws it hard against his front door. Fuck this. You don’t care what he’s going to say. You walk off angrily with long strides back to your house. In your head, you think that at least you said your feelings for him truthfully. It’s done and dusted. Time for you to move on from him.

next part

Thank you for reading this chapter! The next update probably will be in a week or so, hopefully!

Taglist: @greenwitchfromthewoods @rebeccawinters @cuteanimalmama

[teabunnee]

YAY AN AFK WRITER 😭 i’ve been so starved. please gimme any hcs you have for lorsan or lucius (in general or x reader hehe) i love them so much

Lorsan 

Lorsan is a dork. But at least he’s your dork!

Whether that’s a good thing or not is up to you. 

Lorsan canonically loves flower crowns, as a child. As an adult, he won’t admit it but should you give him some fresh wildflowers, he melts a bit at the gesture. Maybe he’ll make you a crown, though it might be a bit messy from lack of practice. 

He does his best to woo you with his words. Many of his compliments, however are pure poetry, and he’s an expert in romantic letters to make you swoon, then he ruins it by praising himself too much. 

Don’t be fooled, he’s a romantic at heart. You can see the effort he puts in to sweep you off your feet. 

He enjoys making you blush, sneaking you kisses on the cheek when you aren’t looking. 

If you take your revenge while he’s talking, he continues talking until he registers the kiss and his voice trails off. It’s a great way to get him to stop talking for a bit. 

Dates with the dork are fun! He likes to explore new things with you, or to show you his favorite pretty date spots, he’ll take you to the prettiest, iconic date spots in the Dark Forest, like Lovers’ Wish. (“Though they don’t hold a candle to you, darling”) 

Oh, get ready for the pet names. All of them, sometimes in the same sentence. They get cheesier the more mischievous he’s feeling. 

Lorsan is your protector, should you need it! It’s sometimes difficult to remember that Lorsan is a skilled Windwhisperer and warrior in his own right, but he’s very good at making people remember. 

All of the tension goes out of him when you two are alone, he’ll nuzzle against you, boneless and tail twitching in happiness, kissing your cheek with his lips and his nose. He’s a cuddler, through and through. 

Lucius 

This man be a himbo. A relatively sophisticated and well-bred himbo, but a himbo all the same. 

Dude was straight up missing for two weeks trying to help people. He be himbo

Canonically, most of his advice involves exercise or horses. I don’t think he understands romance. At all. 

Lucius is a noble, so his ideas of romance are kind of centred around what he heard growing up. So he courts you, basically, in his own way. He gives you gifts that are simple, practical and beautiful. Bouquets of flowers, jewellery, whatever you asked for him. Service is also a big thing. He’s your literal knight in shining armour, dude will carry you across the globe princess style should you ask him to. 

he takes you to his favourite restaurants, they are simple, plain fare. Though with how loved he is by his country, the servers and owners always do their best to make it a good experience. 

He’s very sappy, make him something, no matter how stupid or silly it looks, and he wears it with pride in public, proclaiming you as the maker. He gets a bit confused should you get embarrassed. 

He likes taking you on horseback rides, he’s named every single one he’s ever ridden, and remembers their temperaments, so it will always be a pleasant experience for you. 

He won’t talk to you about his troubles, he’s had to keep it to himself so long that it’s tough for him. He’ll open up to you very slowly, after some needling. 

He’s also very hesitant about affection, he won’t initiate it unless you give your permission. He’s very gentlemanly in that regard, though it can be frustrating. 

His kisses are very gentle. He cradles your face in his hands, and gazes at you with such tenderness. His hugs are comforting and very warm, like he's protecting you from the entire world.

[emmyrosee]

Let me have this uncle brainrot-

uncle!osamu gets glasses, and it’s the worse thing to happen to Miya Hisako.

It’s nothing major, his eyes just slowly start to go awry from readings and focusings and just general age, and despite being young, he’d rather just jump on the horse with glasses now than let his sight get worse and worse with time.

He looks good with them! And they certainly do help with his vision, even if it’s a lighter prescription, it’s definitely nice to just see the world normally again.

But not everyone seems to take kindly to the new addition.

Namely that of your seven month old.

“Hey tiny,” he groans, crouching down to pick up the child, who is staring up at him. “Oh I missed you so much.” He plants a few kisses on her chubby cheeks, and is confused by her lack of affection back. Her eyes are focused on him, very intently, as if trying to look past him and into his soul, and he shivers slightly under her weirdly cold gaze.

“Sako? What’s wrong-“

Just before he can finish, Hisako absolutely screams. Her vocal chords shake, her face screws shut, and she starts flailing and kicking herself from Osamu’s grip. He’s horrified, he’s so upset, and he’s trying his hardest to not get smacked by her waving hands and kicking feet. He tries to soothe her, shush and hold her close- maybe he pinched her by accident?- but it isn’t until one tiny fist swats at Osamu’s face and knocks the glasses clean from his nose that you intervene- just as Atsumu storms in to maul whatever creature was distressing his baby.

Brown eyebrows furrow in fury as they land on the blanched Osamu, who’s heart is currently in the process of shattering.

“I’ll kill you-“

“‘Tsumu, relax,” you sigh, grabbing your child from Osamu’s arms and bending down to pick up the frames from the floor. “I was right here, he didn’t do anything.”

“With her screaming like that, he must’ve!” The blonde accused, but with the glare you send him, he shuts his mouth pretty quick.

“No, I didn’t,” Osamu hisses; he’s trying hard to not cry, but you don’t say anything about it. He’s already hurt enough at his niece’s reaction that you’d hate to draw attention to it. “Whatever. Let’s just have dinner.”

And dinner goes no better. Hisako won’t eat, she’s just staring at Osamu with all of her might, and osamu can’t bring himself to look at her. And despite Atsumu’s efforts to make small talk, you all finish your food in predominant silence.

He’s an absolute mess, he doesn’t know what he did but he wants to fix it, because a life where Miya Hisako hates him is not a life he's about to live.

With dinner done, you tell him to go sit and relax, calm himself down from his impending meltdown before dessert- it's met with one hell of a fight from the chef, but in the end he relents and settles on the couch. As he removes his glasses to apply pressure to his eyes with fingers, he hears a happy little coo just a few inches away.

Then, tiny hands paw at Osamu’s legs to be lifted up into his arms, but he hesitates. This, makes Hisako whine to be lifted, and he chews his lip before calling for Atsumu to remove the bundle of joy that’s hurting his heart. The blonde rolls his eyes, “you could pretend to want your niece-“

“Atsumu, enough,” you snarl, but it’s not enough to stop osamu from sighing as he puts on his glasses, hoping to ease the migraine in his head.

When Hisako tries to squirm away again, your brow quirks.

“Osamu,” you say softly. “Take those off.”

“Why-“

“Because I said so.”

“Yeah, you know better than to question my better half,” Atsumu scoffs, grabbing a pastry to stuff into his mouth shamelessly.

The chef grumbles before doing so, and after a few minutes of staring, she smiles and coos for her uncle’s attention.

“Osamu, your glasses!” You laugh. “It’s your glasses!”

Three heads tip cutely in confusion for your words. You roll your eyes, “she doesn’t recognize you with your glasses. You probably scared her earlier, she doesn’t recognize it’s you!”

To test your theory, Osamu puts his glasses on once more, and the infant whines and tries to burrow against atsumu, and when osamu removes the frames and taps her on the leg to look at him, Hisako eagerly reaches out for him.

“Oh thank god,” Osamu says in one quick breath, taking the child from Atsumu and into his own arms, nuzzling into her neck and smoothing down the little wisps of hair on her head and squeezing her tightly while she giggles and plays with his hair in chubby fingers.

“I think you actually just saved my brother,” Atsumu says in amazement, and you shrug with a smirk before taking a sip of your tea.

“I’m magic like that.”

[n0tamused]

Hello, I have a request for Kazuha, idk if you write for him or not so if you don’t then feel free to ignore this, it can be a drabble or headcanons. Ok so you know how Kazuha had bandages on his hands? Do you think he’d let his S/O draw on them? Because I really want to draw dinosaurs on them. And if he did let you draw on his bandages, how would that interaction go? Basically just headcanons or a drabble where the reader asks Kazuha to draw on his bandaids and draws little dinosaurs if he lets them. That’s all, thank you for your time.

A/n: Hello! Thank you for your request. I did this one really quickly, it's such a sweet idea. This is my first time writing for Kazuha, however, so I do hope it turned out well enough <3 Enjoy. (Also, quick question, but if I opened up writing commissions, would anyone be interested?)

Genre: fluff, drabble

Word count: 462

Pairings: Kazuha x GN Reader,can be read as platonic too

“Please, hold still…” your voice calls out with a huff from your nose which is met with an amused chuckle. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to move so abruptly.. I hope I didn’t ruin your lines?” - Kazuha asked with care, tender tones of his smooth voice flowing in the breeze and quenching the small flick of irritation caught on from the stubborn bandages bleeding ink all over. Kazuha held a thin end of the bandage to tighten your canvas, aiding you in your persistent wish, all while he leaned back against the wooden wall of the sleeping ship. The salt air of Inazuma was peculiar, and familiar to you both - with a small swoosh of chattering treetops from the far shore, and the licking of languid waves at the hull of the Crux. 

“It’s alright- I can still save this one. Just  extend your hand over here so I can see it a bit better. Thank you-” you continuously mumbled, still thinking about the first lines of a dinosaur that turned out too oval when the ink bled out, it looked like a balloon, and the next one looked less of a dinosaur and more of a horse - but this one, yes, this one was the one.. You could see it under the combined light of the golden lamp and the silver rays of the moon above. Kazuha could only smile and chuckle, making a great effort to stay as still as a rock. The gentle smile was full of affection as he watched you, paying you much more attention than the little doodles you were leaving across his arms. He knew of their value, and how much he would cherish them until the ink was washed away with time, but right now, you were the most important thing of all.

“If you need some of my advice, I think this one could use a longer tail?” He suggested softly, carefully lifting his other arm that was still devoid of your little talent, and pointed at the dinosaur you were occupied at the moment with. ”And, perhaps, instead of drawing detailed eyes, just draw them closed? That way, if it ends up bleeding out, it won’t fuse with the rest of the body?”

You nod, without giving further response and do as he suggested, smiling when the tip paid of a million, and Kazuha’s own smile could only spread further across his cheeks until his eyes crinkled with mirth.  With the hand he pointed with, he brushed hairs from your eyes that went astray, pinning them behind your ear with a hum.

There were several hours of night ahead, but he knew he would wish there were a couple of more, just so he could have his peace with you like this.

Ⓒ n0tamused. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

[livesincerely]

hopes are kindled (on scraps and ashes)

Or: something, something, a one shot/offshoot from the Merlin AU. Also on Ao3.

00000

Once again, the Lady Theophania lays her small, delicate hand across the breastplate of Jack’s armor, batting her lashes in a demure, courtly fashion. As he watches them David feels the polite expression he’s been wearing for the last half hour start to crack and splinter.

He slips away before anyone can notice or comment on it. He knows better than to let his disappointment get the better of him—knows intimately the futility of the feeling—but still his stomach churns, his hands balled into white-knuckled fists at his sides.

Poor, foolish, lovestruck idiot.

His feet carry him to the simple sanctuary of his quarters, though it’s something of a cold comfort. The tourney starts in earnest a few hours after mid-meal so he has an excuse to make himself scarce; there are still plenty of weapons to be sharpened, shields to be polished, horses to be dressed and harnessed.

Not that he expects his absence to be noticed, David determines, a touch bitterly. Any such… attentions will most certainly be directed elsewhere.

He can still make out the faintest roar of the growing festivities despite the thickness of the stone walls. Gritting his teeth against the urge to scream, he reaches for a pile of mending that still needs to be finished, hoping for some kind of distraction, then nearly jumps out of his skin when the door behind him creaks open.

It’s Jack—of course, it’s Jack. So distracted by the dark cloud of his thoughts, David hadn’t noticed him following.

He pastes a smile across his face. “Shouldn’t you be entertaining your guests, mi’lord?”

“Don’t,” Jack says, expression pained. “Don’t call me that.”

David raises a brow. “And since when did you start objecting to your title?”

“Since you started saying it like that.”

And suddenly David is exhausted, weary right down to the marrow of his bones, sick to death of this same old song and dance. Tired of impossibilities kindled on scraps and ashes.

“What is it you want, Jack?” he sighs.

Jack steps out of the doorway, moving further into the room, and the door swings shut behind him. David allows him to approach, holds his ground and lets him close the gap between them.

“The way you looked at me just now, at the banquet,” Jack starts in a low, serious voice. “I never want to see that look again.”

Oh. David hadn’t thought he’d noticed, preoccupied as he was. But Jack’s always been more observant than most.

“Of course,” David says, embarrassment curdling over his tongue. “It won’t happen again.”

“Dave, that’s not—“ Jack runs a hand through his hair, his mouth pressed into a hard, flat line. “That’s not what I meant.”

It’s inconvenient that David hadn’t managed to grab that mending. If he had, it would’ve given him something to do with his hands.

“Davey,” Jack starts again. “You can’t honestly think I’m interested in courting anyone but you.”

David’s heart ricochets off his ribs.

“It doesn’t matter what I think,” he says tightly, crossing his arms over his chest like a shield. “And, correct me if I’m wrong, but as I’m aware of it, it doesn’t matter what you want.”

A long pause. Jack’s footsteps echo against the flagstones as he approaches.

“Davey,” he implores gently. “We can't just give up.”

“It’s not giving up, Jackie,” David says. “It’s accepting that there’s no fight to be had! It’s understanding that we can’t— That we can’t—“

He makes himself stop, his eyes stinging against a prickle of frustrated tears.

Straining for the last vestiges of patience, he says, “Brooklyn is an important kingdom, an essential ally. Your council is all but insisting you create a formal alliance with them, and with Lady Theophania being so obvious in her affections—“

“She offered me her favor,” Jack tells him, and David thinks he might have genuinely choked on that information for a moment.

He hears himself say, “Well, I suppose that’s that—“

“She offered her favor,” Jack clarifies sharply. “I declined, seeing as I’m already spoken for.”

It takes David a moment to catch on. “You’re already… What, me?”

“Who else, Dave?” Jack says, on the verge of shouting. “Who else could possibly hold a candle to you?”

“Keep your voice down!” David hisses. “Someone’s going to hear you!”

“Because it’s some great secret?” Jack asks, sardonically. “As if it’s not written all over my face, as if it’s not painfully obvious to everyone in the Five Kingdoms exactly how I feel for you?”

“Jack,” David says, shaking his head as if that will keep the words from reaching him. “Stop it.”

“You said that you’d only gift your favor to me,” Jack continues, undeterred. “Was that offer made sincerely? Or merely in jest?”

David swallows. “If memory serves, that’s not precisely what I said—“

“Dave,” Jack interrupts, and there’s an almost angry edge to his tone. “Did you mean it?”

“Of course I meant it,” David says. “But surely you know that you can’t actually accept.”

“And why can’t I?” Jack asks, jaw stubbornly set.

“Oh, shall we go through the list?” David snaps, throwing up his hands. “Because even disregarding the alliance with Brooklyn, there’s the fact that you’re the prince, that you’ll one day be the king, and you’ll need a queen to give you heirs? Or the fact that I’m a peasant—a sorcerer—and that I even dare to breathe in your presence is grounds for execution? Or, how about the fact that you’re Prince Johnathan Francis Sullivan Kelly of Manhattan and I’m nothing, no one at all—“

It’s wrong to say that Jack appears, per se, but that’s certainly how it feels. That one moment Jack’s watching him with those depthless eyes and the next he’s suddenly in front of him, one hand curled around David’s chin, his thumb just brushing over his lips.

“Davey,” Jack says, intense and intent, and David’s caught, tangled in the snare of him, utterly helpless. “My darling. My dearest one. You are everything.”

David's eyes squeeze shut. They’re so close that when he hangs his head, their foreheads press together.

“The kingdom must come first,” David says, because one of them has to. “Manhattan, your people, must come first. You know that as well as I; affairs of the heart cannot come before duty.”

“I,” Jack says, the words full of venom, “am so sick and tired of fulfilling my gods-forsaken duty. Of sacrificing every inch of myself for the good of the kingdom.”

A shared breath.

“But you’ll do it anyway,” David murmurs, a statement of fact.

Jack takes in a shuddering inhale.

“…But I’ll do it anyway,” he quietly agrees.

His touch lingers for another moment—David thinks he’ll remember the heat of his hands, the strength of his grip, until the day he dies—before drawing away.

“I’ll fight in the tourney unadorned, then,” Jack declares, grimly resigned. “Because it’s your favor or none at all.”

It bubbles up, urgent and unstoppable. “Wait.”

David reaches up with trembling fingers and carefully unties his neckerchief from around his neck. Without giving himself a chance to think about it, he wraps the fabric around Jack’s arm, tying it off just above his elbow.

“Blue, for Manhattan,” he says, because that’s what it’ll look like to anyone else who sees it: that Jack has chosen a blue marker to represent his kingdom. It’s only the two of them that will know better.

That will know the truth.

Jack lifts David’s hand to his mouth and presses a kiss to the tips of his fingers. “For Manhattan,” he agrees solemnly.

And when he exits, he carries David’s heart away with him.

[akihabaradivision]

Nikki's Thoughts on Obihiro Division

Hisoka Tetsumasu

"Hisoka Tetsumasu, the leader of Veiled Vanguard? Yeah, I've done my homework on him. The guy’s past is like an open book if you know where to look. Black market dealings, illegal Hypnosis Mics, his old group, ENAN—pretty heavy stuff. But do I care? Not really. People have their secrets, their dirty laundry. Doesn't mean I have to get my hands dirty with it. As long as he stays out of my way and doesn't drag me into his mess, we're good. I'm more interested in the tech behind those Hypnosis Mics than the guy who peddled them. Now, that's a puzzle worth solving."

"Let's just say I keep tabs on people like Hisoka because it's smart to know the players on the board. Knowledge is power, after all. But getting emotionally invested? That's not my style. I've got bigger fish to fry, like making sure my skills stay sharp and my name stays clear of any drama. So, Hisoka can keep his horses and his ranch. I'll stick to the digital world—it's much cleaner there."

Daiki Kamiyama

"Daiki? The guy's got a hero complex the size of Tokyo Tower. Running around at night in a costume, thinking he's saving the world—one cat stuck in a tree at a time. It's kind of cute, in a 'little kid with a cape' kind of way. I guess it makes sense he and Criss would hit it off; they're both into that whole ‘adventure in the dark’ scene."

"As for his family name, Kamiyama, sure, it's got weight. Their hotels are everywhere, and that kind of money and influence can open doors that are closed to most. But I'm not about to start fangirling over some rich kid playing vigilante. If he can actually make a difference, more power to him. Until then, he's just another character in the city's nightlife. And as long as he doesn’t try to 'save' me from my late-night coding sessions, we won’t have a problem."

Jack Verrill

"And lastly, the butler. He’s a bit of an enigma. He's got this air about him that says there's more to his story. Do I think he's working for another agency? Wouldn’t surprise me. People like him, they're always playing a deeper game. But is it my business to tell Daiki about it? Ha, no way. I've got my own stuff to deal with, and unless it affects me directly, I'm staying out of it."

"The way this guy gathers intel, though, I've got to admit, it's kind of impressive. It's like he’s got eyes and ears everywhere. It's not annoying. Not really. More like… intriguing. It's not every day you meet someone who can play the game at that level. Makes me curious about what he's really after. But as long as he doesn't try to snoop into my business, we won't have any issues."

Veiled Vanguard

"These guys are just another team in the mix as far as I'm concerned. Sure, they've got their secrets—Hisoka with his shady past, Daiki playing hero, and Jack… well, who knows what he's really up to. But when it comes down to it, they're competitors like the rest of us. Will they go far in the D.R.B.? Maybe. Secrets have a way of either holding you back or pushing you forward, depending on how you use them."

"Honestly, I'm not losing any sleep over them. We all have our baggage, our hidden agendas. It's part of the game. What matters is how you play your hand when the spotlight's on you. So, let's see what Obihiro Division brings to the stage."

[commander-hanji-zoe]

Hiii! How are you? Hope you're doing good! I was wondering if you could write some fluffy Headcanons for the original Levi's squad and how would they react/treat a very very short and curvy s/o (like, 4'10''-11'' this is very self indulgent, let this womanlet have her fun I beg). Of course if you don't feel up to it feel free to ignore the ask! I thank you in advance❤️

Hello! I've been trying to work on some of my really old requests (hence my post last week) and this is another I've finished. I'm sorry if it's not really what you wanted, I'm short-ish and curvy and I struggled a bit to write this. But I hope you like some of the ideas I have. ❤️

Levi

Considering Levi’s height, he’s good to talk to if it’s something you’re feeling down about or if people are teasing you. He’s the first to jump to your defence and will always put others in their place if they are rude to you.

He feels you’re the perfect size and makes sure to tell you this.

A part of the ‘small but tough’ club and will extend his hand for you to join.

Helps you to find a horse that’s just right for you, he appreciates the horses a lot of the others ride will be too tall and too broad for you so he takes care in finding you just the right one and one that you have a bond with.

If you were dating - Cuddles are the best, you just slot together so perfectly, neither one is too tall nor too short to comfortably kiss, hold hands etc.

Oluo

Can be a little mean but it’s his way of showing affection as we already know, can it be frustrating, absolutely.

Compliments how much your curves suit you and how attractive you are. But also will make a comment along the lines of being ‘as cute as a button’.

Can be quite protective, it’s okay for him to give you nicknames, but others? Nope, Oluo is not having it – he knows that you know he means it in an affectionate way (perhaps he even has a little crush) but if others are doing it just to be mean or spiteful he won’t mince his words. As Oluo isn’t overly tactful at times, he’d probably just punch them to be honest.

Did I mention cute nicknames? Some of them can be a little cringe.

If you were dating, I could imagine him showing you off a lot like you’re one of a kind. It is a little patronising, but Oluo will listen, if you give him a bit of time and stop. Instead he’d just like holding your hand and subtle public displays of affection.

Petra

Likes going clothes shopping together and picking out items that suit you as well as her. Sometimes you manage to get clothes that you can both wear, nice long dress on you, a short little number on her… it works, somehow.

But honestly Petra doesn’t even notice your height, she just thinks you’re neat just how you are and so your height and body type don’t really come up. If they do and it’s because someone has been mean to you, Petra is very good at reassuring you, being motivational and helping you to love yourself just as you.

Absolutely knows that size isn’t everything and regardless or height or body type you can be just as deadly as the others. Tactics may be different for you, but aren’t they for everyone?

She loves hanging out in cafes with you and drinking hot chocolate with lots of cream and marshmallows, sampling different delights and generally trying to forget about ‘work’.

If you’re dating - Movie nights huddled under blankets and eating popcorn, something about you is just so cosy to her.

Eld

Is really protective over you, he doesn’t mean to be patronising but he can’t help but feel like he wants to watch over you.

You remind him a little of one of his sisters which makes it difficult for him to let go of you.

Suggests a prank where one day you where stilts to be as tall as he is.

Thinks you are perfect just the way you are and will quite confidently and happily say this to anyone.

Eld feels like you complete the group, you’re all slightly different heights and builds and to him this makes for an excellent team.

Encourages you to be the middle of team hugs!

Will lift you up high when celebrating a victory and loves to have a few drinks with you, even though you’re small he knows you can be a fierce drinking opponent.

If dating – Eld loves picking you up and having you wrap your legs round his waist. He holds onto you with ease and loves this position because it’s easy to kiss you.

Gunther

Knows that although you’re small you can be determined and still speak loudly and assertively, it’s one of the things Gunther loves about you.

If you can’t see something that’s ahead or don’t have a very good view (Modern au – like concerts, gigs etc.) Gunther would be the first to pick you up and let you sit on his shoulders.

And if you said anything about the fact you were curvy, and would this be okay he would absolutely reassure you and praise you.

Gunther is secretly (not so secretly) a really good baker so he’ll bring you lots of delicious homemade breads, cakes etc. He knows you have a sweet tooth and thinks you’re adorable for it – after all you need a lot of sugar to convert into energy for all the work you do, whether training or out in the field! He’s very happy to oblige with this.

Also makes a great partner in crime for baking with and generally getting messy in the kitchen.

If dating – Gunther is 100% the big spoon and loves it.

[assbutt-writes]

All I Want

Pairing - Gregory House/James Wilson

Word Count - 3,241

Fic below break

It had been eleven years. Eleven years had passed since House had bailed him out of jail, and James Wilson was completely screwed. To be honest, he probably should’ve known that when his heart felt like it stopped when the person who confronted House on the street called them closet cases, should’ve know it when felt sick to his stomach with what he had thought was worry when Stacy came back, should’ve know it when he nearly screamed with frustration when he heard that House and Stacy had kissed. Now that he did know it, though, he didn’t know what he was going to do.

He’d never been good at this sort of thing, having to act casual around someone who held your entire heart in the palm of their hand without knowing. He knew that, even in the one-in-a-million chance that House did like him back, there was no telling what Cuddy would do, and he didn’t know if he would be willing to take that risk, at least not for House. Getting himself fired was one thing, but getting House fired? Wilson didn’t think he would be able to live with himself if that happened. But he did know one thing. He was not going to let Stacy fuck House up again. So, here he was, walking toward her office, seething as he burst through the door.

“What the hell did you do? Were you really just that cold and lonely?” he said, and Stacy sighed.

“Of course he told you, he’s an 8-year-old boy,” she said flippantly, and fuck. Didn’t she know how much her leaving had screwed up House? He was already so fucking vulnerable, and to have her leave… God, he was scared to find out how much that would break him.

“Hey, you’re the one who kissed him!” he said forcefully, and Stacy looked up at him, searching his face.

“Why are you so worked up about this?” she said, a confused look on her face. He knew that he couldn’t tell her the real reason, so he quickly thought of anything to say.

“Because you’re married,” he said.

“Not to you,” she said dismissively, “This is none of your business.”

“The last time you left, I was the one left picking up the pieces! I saw firsthand how much that shit affected him, and I won’t- I can’t let that happen to him again,” Wilson said, frustration starting to build. He managed to hold himself back from shouting the words at her, but only barely.

“Oh, right, he cried himself to sleep every night. That so sounds like him,” Stacy said, voice dripping with sarcasm, and, God, he wanted to scream.

“He’s been pining for 5 years!” Wilson said, voice cracking as frustration started to turn into white-hot anger and he had to force his voice to remain steady.

“You’re being dramatic,” she said, and he could’ve sworn he heard a faint laugh in her voice.

“No, actually, I’m underplaying. This is me being restrained,” he said, trying to keep the boiling anger below the surface. Something seemed to click for Stacy, and she sat back with a look of realization.

“It was just one kiss,” she said, obviously trying to make her voice reassuring, but, God, that only made it worse.

“Are you being intentionally thick? This wasn’t just some one-night stand. You can’t just toy with him,” Wilson said, his anger turning more and more intense and all-consuming by the second.

“I’m not. If anything, he’s probably toying with me,” she said, voice softer and more sad than anything. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Oh,” Wilson said, his anger too thick for him to process her words. Once he realized what she said, though, he felt like he had just been punched in the gut, and his thoughts started running as fast as the horses at those races House always went to. “Oh.”

He shakily stood up and moved to the door, feeling like there were cotton balls in his brain and a haze over the entire world, everything feeling like he was watching it happen rather than actually doing it. He heard Stacy call his name, and he felt himself turn back around to face her.

“I’m sorry,” Stacy said, and for a second, Wilson froze. She couldn’t know, could she? “I never meant to hurt him. I guess I just thought that him seeing me would make things worse, so I just…”

“It’s okay,” Wilson said, feeling like his entire world was crashing down around him. He shakily left the room, feeling himself go to his office and lock the door, a million thoughts and emotions all swirling around in his head.

This was it. House and Stacy would get back together, and either things would work out and he would be forced to watch the man he loved be with someone else, or they wouldn’t, and he would have to watch as the hurt of it broke House into a million pieces, Wilson forced to watch without being able to do anything to help. He laid his head down on the desk, and started to cry.

He wasn’t sure how long he had been there when he heard the door to his balcony open. He looked up, trying to blink the tears from his eyes as he focused on the blurry figure of House, standing in the doorway, his face colored with a mixture of confusion and concern. The expression was gone as soon as it appeared, though, replaced with a carefully blank expression.

“Let me guess, you’ve just now realized that you’re hopelessly in love with me and are crying in your locked room like a 14-year-old girl?” House said sarcastically, and, God, that stung. He knew that it was just House being House and trying to lighten his mood with a joke, but the fact that he was right felt like a punch to the gut.

He forced out a watery laugh, though, playing it off as if it was just another joke. “Yeah, you wish.”

An expression of wry self-loathing crossed over House’s face, the smirk melting into a more self-deprecating one, but when Wilson moved to speak up, the expression was gone again, replaced with that damn smug smirk.

“Then why are you crying in your office with the door locked like a 14-year-old girl?” House asked, ever the prying bastard.

“Look, House, I’m fine. Why did you come here in the first place? It must’ve been important if you decided to break in through the balcony,” Wilson said, trying to change the subject.

“In my defense, I knocked at least 5 times before I decided to use the balcony,” House said indignantly. Wilson rolled his eyes, and he sighed. “Cameron, Chase, and Foreman are going to go out to dinner and they invited me, but I really, really don’t want to have to go alone. Wanna come?”

Wilson let out a little laugh at that as he nodded his head.

“Yeah, sure. What time?” Wilson said, and House sighed in relief.

“They were saying 5, and I think they were going to go to Olive Garden” House said, and Wilson smiled.

“I’ll be there,” Wilson said, feeling a soft smile appear on his face.

**********************************

By the time 5:00 came, Wilson had managed to pull himself together so he didn’t look like a complete wreck. His eyes were still red from all the crying and his head still felt like it was stuffed with cotton balls, but he didn’t feel like he would burst into tears when he saw House, so at least there was that. He heard a knock on his door, and he stood up shakily, running a hand through his hair as he walked to the door. The person knocked again, and Wilson let out a little laugh.

“One second, House,” he said, a little smile crossing his face.

“Not House,” he heard the person say, and he could feel the smile disappear as his blood ran cold when he recognized that voice. “It’s Stacy. Look, Wilson, could you please open this door? I need to talk to you.”

Heart pounding a mile a minute, Wilson opened the door, thoughts racing almost as fast as they were when he left her office. Why was she here? She couldn’t know, right? “Stacy? What’s wrong?”

She looked at him with a weak smile on her face, her eyes obviously red from crying. “I just want to let you know that I just put in my letter of resignation, so you won’t have to worry about me hurting Greg.”

“What? Hold on, back up a bit. You’re quitting?” Wilson said, confusion replacing the fear he had been feeling.

“Yeah. I don’t think that what I’m doing here is helping. I wanted Greg to hear about it from you, though. I think that if anyone here would know how to make it not hurt for him, it would be you,” she said, a sad smile on her face. “I can tell you both really care for each other.”

“So I was right. You were just toying with him. Stacy, we both know how much you leaving hurt him last time. You can’t honestly expect me to be okay with you doing it all over again,” he said, the same white-hot anger from earlier coming back full-force.

“Somehow, I don’t think it’s going to be quite so bad this time. Just… Tell him that I’m sorry, and that it’s you. He’ll know what that means,” she said, and when he didn’t respond, she nodded half-heartedly and turned to leave. He stood in the doorway, his heart pounding and face flushed with anger as he watched Stacy walk away and House turn the corner, coming toward his office.

“Wilson! Wow, based on how red your face is, you’re either really pissed off, or you just had some of the best sex of your life. Personally, I’m hoping it’s the latter. I don’t really want to deal with a pissed-off Wilson right now. You get too cranky,” House joked, and Wilson let out a little laugh.

“You ready to go?” he said, and House nodded.

They started to walk down the hallway, the flush on Wilson’s face never fading, although he was pretty sure it wasn’t from anger anymore. Once they got to the parking lot, House started walking toward his motorcycle, and when Wilson started walking toward his car, House called him over.

“Get on,” House said simply, and Wilson shook his head. He didn’t think his heart could handle having to sit pressed up against House with his arms around the older man’s waist. “Oh, don’t be an idiot. This’ll be quicker.”

Wilson sighed and got on the motorcycle, hesitantly laying his arms around House’s waist. House let out a noise of annoyance and pulled Wilson’s arms tighter, which made the flush on Wilson’s cheeks get even darker. House started the motorcycle and drove off, and the entire time they were on the road, Wilson was hyper-aware of how close he was to House, how his chest was pressed up against House’s back, how his arms were hugged tight around the other man’s waist, how his hips were pressed up against-

Wilson mentally slapped himself. That train of thought was not helping, so he tried to think of anything but that, mind starting to wander over to what Stacy had said and how he was supposed to tell House. He eventually decided that he would pull House aside after dinner and gently tell him that Stacy was leaving, and then he would hope that Stacy was right and it wouldn’t mess him up as much as it did last time.

Once they got there and House parked the motorcycle, Wilson shakily got off of it, his face bright red. He took a second to catch his breath as House got his cane, and then the two of them walked inside, meeting up with Cameron, Foreman, and Chase.

The dinner passed by extremely quickly, Wilson not meeting House’s eyes for most of it. He had to excuse himself from the table to go to the restroom to try to get his breathing under control. The combination of the news he was carrying and his crush (God, that sounded so childish) on House made him feel like he was going to be sick. He looked in the mirror and saw that his face and the tips of his ears were still slightly flushed, and he splashed some water on his face to try and cool down. He was so focused on calming down that he didn’t hear House come up behind him, only realizing that the older man was behind him when he looked in the mirror again and saw him, which made him nearly jump out of his skin.

“Jesus, House!” Wilson said, trying to calm his racing heart.

“What’s going on? You’ve been in here for a while. Everyone else’s almost ready to go,” House said, a note of concern in his voice, and Wilson could feel his heart sink. It was almost time to tell him, and he was really dreading that.

“I’m just not feeling well. I’ll be fine,” Wilson said, knowing that he most definitely would not be fine after tonight. Neither of them would be.

“You sure, Wilson? You’re looking a little red-” House started, and Wilson could feel the moment when all of the emotions he had been holding in boiled over.

“I said I’m fine, House,” Wilson snapped, and he could see House shrink back slightly. Shit. “Sorry. It’s been a long day.”

“It’s okay,” House said, an almost gentle expression coloring his face. “Come on, let’s go.”

Wilson followed him out the door, heart pounding. He knew he needed to tell House about Stacy, so when they got out of the door, he pulled House to the side, the other man looking at him confusedly. House looked like he was going to make a joke, but when he saw the expression on Wilson’s face, he started to look nervous as well.

“Wilson? What’s going on?” House asked cautiously. The younger man took a deep breath, and started to tell House about Stacy.

“It’s Stacy. She said that she didn’t think what she was doing here was helping, so she’s resigning. She said that she’s sorry and to tell you that ‘it’s me’, and that you would know what that means. I tried to talk her out of leaving, I swear,” Wilson rambled, tripping over his words. House looked down at Wilson, an expression on his face that looked like a mixture of disbelief and awe, his mouth agape in shock.

“Wait, hold on, are you sure?” House asked. “Wilson, are you absolutely sure that’s what she said?”

“Yeah. I’m sorry,” Wilson said gravely.

“No, no, not the bit about her leaving,” House said dismissively, eyes raking over Wilson’s face as if he was searching for something. “The ‘it’s you’ bit.”

“Yeah,” Wilson said, utterly confused. A million expressions crossed House’s face before it settled on one of relief and- wait, was that happiness?

“Really?” House said, and Wilson was extremely confused now. Not that he wasn’t completely relieved that House was taking the news well, but why was House fixated on that one bit?

“House? What’s going on?” Wilson asked cautiously.

“Really, this whole time, and I never noticed it,” House asked, letting out a little laugh.

“House? Are you okay? You’re not having some kind of psychotic break, right?” Wilson asked.

“And that joke I made earlier, God, James, I’m such a dumbass,” House said, and Wilson started to freak out a little bit. House never used his first name, at least not like that, looking at him like he was the most precious thing he had ever had the chance to see.

“House, please, can you tell me what’s going on? What’s wrong?” Wilson asked, fear lacing his voice as he turned to call out to Chase, Forman, and Cameron, to get House help.

“You idiot. I like you too,” House said, almost breathlessly.

Wilson froze. House had to have been having a psychotic break. That was the only explanation. Stacy leaving had hurt him way worse than he thought it would, and now he was breaking into a million pieces, just like Wilson had thought he would.

“House?” Wilson said slowly. “What are you saying?”

“Wilson, I’m a dumbass, not an idiot. I know what I said, and I mean it,” House said, before realizing what he just said and letting out a small laugh. “Okay, that didn’t come out right, but you know what I mean. I like you, James Wilson. I have for quite a while.”

“You don’t mean that. You can’t mean that. House-” Wilson started, voice cracking with emotion.

“Oh, come on, Wilson, I knew this was coming. After all, I was the one who left her, not the other way around. Her saying that it’s you, that’s her way of telling me that you like me back,” House said, cutting him off, and Wilson felt like his entire world was being turned upside down.

“Like you back?” he asked, voice small.

“Unless she was wrong, and I just screwed things up,” House said slowly, voice filled with dawning horror.

“No, no, wait, House, trust me, it’s not that. God, it’s definitely not that. It’s just that half an hour ago I thought, well, I don’t know what I thought. I guess I thought that everything was going to change, and I was going to lose you. Now I’m finding out that, not only was I wrong, you actually like me back, and it’s not because of a psychotic break, and now I don’t know what to-” Wilson rambled.

“Kiss me,” House cut him off, and Wilson looked up at him, seeing House looking flushed and unsure of himself. “Please.”

So Wilson did, and it was everything he thought it would be and more. House’s hands shakily came up to hold his head and pull him closer, and if he didn’t feel the electricity at every point their bodies touched, he would be convinced that this wasn’t real. There was no possible way that the sarcastic, witty, amazing man that he had grown to love all these years actually liked him back and was actually kissing him back.

He heard footsteps approach, and he tried to ignore them, tried to just focus on what was probably the best moment of his life, but then the person behind House was clearing their throat, and he reluctantly pulled away, only to be greeted by the sight of a very upset-looking Chase and Foreman and a very happy-looking Cameron who seemed to be holding two-

“Oh, come on, guys, please tell me you weren’t making bets on this,” Wilson asked, a note of fond exasperation in his voice.

Cameron smiled. “Then I won’t tell you. Come on, guys, we’re needed back at the hospital.”

Wilson sighed, before reluctantly moving away from House and walking to the motorcycle. House stood there dazed before seemingly snapping back to reality and following Wilson. This time, when they got on the motorcycle, Wilson wrapped his arms around House on his own, a small smile crossing his face as he laid his head on House’s back and House started up the motorcycle and started to drive to the hospital.

[lya-dustin]

Cupid kills with arrows

Chapter 5

Cw: refrences to sex

Gif by @merlinaddams

He is a gentleman; he helps her into the carriage ---a monstrous thing that feels like a pretty cell unlike the simpler wooden ones in Driftmark--- sits with her and even relaxes enough to remove his eye patch.

They could have simply taken their dragons and be there in the time it took them to leave the city.

But Silverwing had gone off on her own accord to seek her mate and had not deigned to leave Dragonstone since Aemma arrived in Kingslanding two days ago.

Aemond had not offered to take her on Vhagar and she was glad not have to share a saddle with him.

She sits still, occasionally looking out the lattice windows to fight the urge to look at the man sitting a foot away from her.

Some read or take up needlework on long carriage rides, but Aemma gets sick if she looks down for too long and she is not in the mood to talk to Aemond.

Same Aemond who pretends he is interested in the Myrish novel he is reading--- one the Faith has been wanting to burn for its depiction of hell and heaven--- even if he has not moved from his page since they changed horses at the last post.

“I have never known you to be so silent.” He speaks, a quiet observation he makes as he tries to hold her hand on the seat between them.

Looks at her hoping she might give into her better nature and be nice, but she’s not feeling nice today.

“Unless the next words you utter are an apology, I do not wish to speak to you.” She tries to get her hand away from his but decides against it at the last second.

A subtle gesture to let him know not to fuck it up.

He looks at her, she can see it from the corner of his eye, thinks about saying something witty.

“I had no intention of letting you leave that bed unfucked, ābrazȳrys.” He was a man of few words, and yet he was fond of riling people up with them.

He was never this casual in childhood, little Aemond had been born with a stick up his arse and a penchant for thinking himself superior to everyone else because he was a boy and more learned than Aegon.

“Do you kiss your mother with that mouth, dear husband?” While Aemma was fine with such crass language ---mother never stopped them from using them if they felt the occasion merited such foul word--- she did not want Aemond to think he she was left shocked at his words.

“You didn’t mind my mouth last night.” He points out with a smirk, and she scoffs.

He had been good with his wicked mouth and even more wicked tongue. They had a great start, if only it had not ended when he stopped sucking her teats as if he had never been weaned.

“I am sorry for overdrinking knowing it could affect my …performance last night.” He amends as he gets the courage to hold her hand again but doesn’t add that ‘it won’t happen again’ she needs to hear.

There was also the little fact that she had been sitting by him for the entire feast and knew he had not drunk as much as he claims he did.

And while she would be much more empathetic to his plight, they need an heir.

The next thing done after marrying is producing a child as soon as possible, particularly with a very particular set of organs.

Almost every Targaryen has produced one within ten moons of marriage and by the time her wedding dresses ---for she had two and a spare in case one was ruined--- had been done, Aemma had been told the best ways to ensure it is a boy.

She had been ordered to eat more meat, to fuck on odd nights, on all fours, facing north and on quarter moons.

She wondered what sort of unwanted advice Aemond got.

“And?” Aemma asked, turning to look at him, getting a good look at her equally young husband.

Likes him better without the eye patch, she thinks.

“And if it’s alright with you, I would like for us to take our time with this.” He is almost embarrassed about his words.

The princess was hoping, ‘we can remedy that now if you are game or tonight if you want to be proper’.

But whatever impediment he had must be related to his difficulty in making friends.

Even as a boy he had few friends, seeking her and Helaena out when he didn’t feel like being Aegon’s target especially when Jace and Luke were so eager for Aegon’s approbation.

But it could also be because he finds her undesirable.

“I will accept your apology and your terms if you answer one question for me.” She withheld her words because she needed to be assured of this.

“Go ahead.” He nods slightly and she tries not to back down in fear.

“Is the real reason behind last night my appearance?” she is deadly serious and there is no comfort in the way he is taken aback by it.

“It was the wine.” He said and she gave him a look.

“I drank more than you did, valzȳrys.”

Aemond hates how the word husband comes off sarcastically from her pretty mouth. Pretty mouth he is dying to kiss again.

Had he been able to do things unimpeded, Aemma would have been heard from the Wall to Dorne as she took the Seven in vain.

“What happened last night was not your fault, Aemee.” The one-eyed prince has no idea if he can do more than be vague about it.

Even Criston does not know, and the man is more his father than the man who impregnated his adolescent mother.

“I am not as good as a person as you are, Aemee, I would have let you get over the wall had I not found you to my liking.”

He knows there are better ways to assure his dear wife that she is beautiful, but he is not a romantic.

Helaena claims he recites poetry when he is drunk or high off the opium he smokes for the pain, but Aemond hates romance when he is sober.

It’s too sappy and flowery, and just has people look utterly ridiculous.

In fact, Aemond was glad he was marrying Aemma because he could avoid most of that.

“And you called me shallow, but I do forgive you. I only wish you could be honest with me.” Aemma knew him rather well despite the nearly seven years they spent apart.

“I will, eventually. If you can see through my lies this early, I doubt there will ever be secrets between us.” One day he can tell her what happened the night of his three and tenth nameday, but he does not want her pity just yet.

“Sounds like a good marriage to me.”

[fumikomiyasaki]

🍓➡ to feed my muse fresh chocolate-dipped strawberries (Jason x Osyron) ✋🏻➡ to give a kiss on the back of the hand (James x Carol) 💃🏻➡ to ask for a dance (Alto x April) ⬅💝 to receive a box of chocolates (Melanie x Fabio) ⬅🌹 to receive a bouquet of flowers (Kyosuke x Emma) ⬅💞 to receive a hug (Pamela x Noboru)

Sorry I went crazy stupid

Valentines prompts

The god layed resting on the same couch he usually had placed before a big view over the sky... looking over the whole dorm like this.. as he heard someone come in he just used a snip of his hand to open the door and see his boyfriend holding a plate of chocolated dipped strawberries.

“Whats the occasion, mortal? Trying to get a favour?”

“You really don’t know what day it is today?”

“Its a tuesday in Winter. One as any other.”

Jason settled the plate down with sigh...

“Man,guess that means I won’t be getting some Valentines gift from you.”

“What is this Valentines you speak of, make sense or do you wanna test my patience again?”

Jason took his phone and showed the god a description of Valentines day...

“I see... a holiday... that mortals need those things I will never understand but... I guess... I can pull up some mercy on you today... as a change.”

The brows of his boyfriend raised hearing that and with a smile he spoke up.

“Well then Osy, how about I give you your gift then personally?”

He took one of the strawberries to feed him one and although he took the first one, on his second attempt the god after eating the strawberry pulled Jason for a kiss in... much to his surprise...

“Your gift is lacking but... I given I couldn’t do one either I let it slight for today...”

For once the god actually showed somewhat a selfreflection... at least that day Jason wouldn’t face his wrath... for now at least.

She was just done with bringing some chocolate for friends as after hearing her phone buzz she exchanged messages with James, who asked her to wait in the courtyard of RSA for him... she took a book to read untill he arrived however there was the usual RSA snobs trying to chat her up and win her affections to bother her... Barry once again among them making her tired and annoyed quickly... untill they heard some odd noises... a sound of galopping?

It was surprising as she saw James arrive on what seems a white horse before her and stop... many student looking confused as he walked up to her and took her hand for a kiss which led her face to be bright red.

“You did last time read a story about a knight taking the princess with him on a horse, I thought maybe for Valentines I could help you make such stories a reality.”

Paying no mind to the other students she walked up to him and pushed a long passionate kiss on him... something that most of them were put away by given they noticed she was off the market. Barry grumbled a little before following them too as she smiled back at James...

“Now then... where are we going, my dear knight?”

“I did have a table at your favourite Restaurant and sadly after that I have to give the horse back.”

Both went up on the horse as she held his arms around him tight, holding him in a hug.

“I love you so much... and I didn’t care if you came on a horse or on your own... I am just happy you are with me. I think I will give you my gifts later... I have a normal one and... someting more personal.”

She smiled at him as he looked back at her before they went of with the horse... leaving only some annoyed male students behind.

“A-alto I can’t.... they will all look at me...”

“Hey if your brother can steal the show so can you... you look so hot when dancing really?”

“H-huh?”

At first it was just supposed to be a normal valentines celebration and Alto dragged April with her to have some fun and let loose yet all the eyes made the Demon nervous and dropping this line made her just more of a blushy mess... at least untill Alto drew her closer and gave her a smirk.

“Come on, I am with you, lets do this together and make them be stunned by our performance.”

The vouch of confidence let her to follow through with her and dance together and as Alto said, they did gain some attention for sure... April with her elegant leg movements, Alto with her energy... it really was like they both tried to steal the show from her brother.... after they where fun, Alto pulled a hand around her hips, seein Aprils fave still bright blushing...

“Told you, you look beautifull there... makes me wanna squeeze you a little.”

“H-hey wait... I am ticklish there... haha...ha...”

After teasing April a little both sat down as Alto continued to drink her juice.

“I really do feel a tad more confident since I am with you.”

“You should... you are hot, got nice legs, tons of hidden talents and are never really boring.”

“Stop it... I am not-”

“What did I say about taking compliments?”

“Fine... you won.”

He was nervous... really nervous... he tried his best with this selfmade chocolate but asking Osyron to help him make it well he was sceptical... the gold hearts and bunny shape on it still had a nice touch but he didn’t even know if Melanie even would like it that much...

He took a deep breath as he tapped on her shoulder.

“Oh Fabio, its good to see you.”

“I... Miss Mel I got y-you this...”

Red and hesitant he offered her the golden box and as she opened it she looked somewhat happy and in awe.

“They look so cute... did you make them yourself?”

“I-I did have a little help of Osyron but... I did try.”

She smiled softly at him and hugged around his waist.

“Thanks for the gift, I actually have something for you as well.”

And so she offered him berry flavoured animal shaped cookies in a bag, his ears wagged in happiness and smiled back at her... as they both ate some of it together and gushed about the flavours he noticed that he accidentally  had layed his hand on hers but as he tried to remove it she stopped him, putting her small hand on his... his face redder than the berries he ate.

He was quite surprised as on that day he opened the door to his room... just to find Emma standing there with a red flower bouquet beaming a smile at him.

“I thought given usually you bring me things to my concerts, on Valentines I pay you back with a nice bouquet, can I come in?”

“Of course.”

She placed the flowers on his table as he closed the dorm.

“You know this dorm can be dangerous... and for you to come by.”

“I am well aware, Kyo... but I wanted to bring these personally... and I did have some things planned for today that we could do together but first...”

She pulled him down by his collar and swiftly put a kiss on his lips, leaving him red and a little breathless...

“Emma...”

“Listen don’t worry about me... I will just steal you away for a while to accompany me on a valentines date and then you can get back to pleasing the dorm leader, alright? I won’t get you into trouble.”

He nodded and then handed her a paper.

“Lets meet in the afternoon, training should be over and I have time untill then, see this as my... Valentines gift for you.”

She looked at the paper recognizing it as lyrics and nodded.

“Thanks Kyo.... lets meet later then.”

After she left he placed the flowers in a pretty vase. Looking at them with a faint smile.

Tetravania was also busy with Amore wings day and writing some letters, some trying costumes... while Pamela made some treats in the kitchen... however as usual the ghost kids caused Chaos and tried to steal all the treats she finished... at least untill Noboru spotted them and shooed them away from the kitchen... in happyness Pamela took a short break on baking and walked up to him giving in him a small hug.

“Pam?!”

“You really are a saving grace sometimes... and here I thought I would never get this done.”

He looked at her and nodded.

“Then how about I try to watch the kitchen untill you are done, you could have asked me before.”

“I didn’t want to bother but... thanks sweetheart.”

Seeing her enjoy this much and put so much effort into baking he didn’t feel bad for not helping the others but instead her... untill she was done and packed all bags, she handed him a small bag as well.

“For me?”

“Of course.... I made it something special given you do help me a lot in this dorm and... see this as my thank you...”

She gave him another hug before going back in the living room, sorting the bags of chocolate... leaving him a bit dumbfounded about it.

[katb357]

Falling for Hogan’s Heroes

17. Fight: Blows to the Heart

Thanks for the RP Xav!

Andrew Carter sat near the woodstove, whittling away at a piece of wood and whistling to himself. Outside, the weather was below freezing. Inside, it wasn’t much warmer, even with the stove going full blast. But Carter was still whistling, every once in a while taking a break from his whittling to stroke his mouse Felix on the head and feed him some crumbs.

Newkirk sat at the other end of the table, his eyes as stormy as the weather. He hated the cold, and it always affected his mood. Unfortunately, Andrew was the closest target. “What are you, a bloody songbird?”

Andrew stopped whistling for a second and looked up. “Huh?”

“Yer whistlin’s drivin’ me bonkers. Quit it.” He went back to shuffling his cards.

“Oh.” Andrew slumped back in his chair and continued whittling. Soon, though, the whistling started up again. He just couldn’t help it.

To Peter it was like fingernails down a chalkboard. “Knock it off, Carter!”

Startled, Andrew jumped a little. “Er… sorry, Newkirk.” He tossed down his whittling project and pulled Felix out of his pocket. “Who’s a sweet little mousie,” he crooned over the little creature. Sweet-talk to his pet seemed like an acceptable substitute for whistling, so he continued it.

Newkirk’s mood darkened faster than the skies outside. He knew he wasn’t being fair to his best friend, but somehow that just didn’t matter right now. He rolled his eyes. “That’s another thing, you givin’ food to that rodent. Just encourages all the other rats in the barracks to come lookin’ for food. Bloody nuisance is what it is.”

“I don’t give him your food,” Carter said. His voice sounded a bit strained this time, as if his habitual cheerfulness were starting to wear thin. He didn’t look up to meet Peter’s eyes, but just kept stroking Felix’s head and staring into his eyes. “He’s just a grumpy fellow, isn’t he, Felix?”

“Keepin’ a mouse for a pet. Whoever heard of such a thing… brings all the other rats in here out. You need to get rid of it.” Newkirk had no idea why he was pushing Carter so hard, but he couldn’t stop himself.

“No!” Suddenly the cheerful facade was gone. Andrew slid Felix back into his pocket and swung an arm around the room. “I don’t see any rats! The mice are here anyway! I’ve given up enough to be here, Newkirk. My horses, my dogs, my girl! And now you want me to give up Felix? Well, I won’t!” His face was getting red and he glared at Peter. “Friends don’t ask that kind of thing from each other. I guess you aren’t the friend I thought you were.”

Newkirk stared at Andrew for a long moment, suddenly unsure what to say. Finally he glowered at him. “Fine. Sod off then.” And he stormed out of the barracks and out into the rain.

The others had stayed out of the argument, letting it run its course, mostly as they felt it was none of their business, but Kinch realized this could get serious. He looked over at Andrew, who was pale and shaking as he sat back down on his bunk. He walked over and stood by the bunk. “You okay Carter?”

Carter just nodded. He had pulled Felix out again and was holding him up against his chest, petting his back. “Fine,” he finally spit out.

Hogan stepped out, a grim look on his face. It was obvious he had heard the whole thing. “Andrew, my office. I need to talk to you.”

“Yessir,” Carter mumbled. He scurried obediently to Hogan’s office.

“There’s no excuse for the way Newkirk treated you. And I know the cold bothers him more than he lets on, but I may have an explanation for why he jumped on you so hard just now.”

“I’m listening, Sir.” Andrew’s usual lively demeanor was gone, though. He sat slump-shouldered, as if he were carrying the weight of the world. As far as he was concerned, on top of everything else he’d given up, he’d lost his best friend.

“London sent word that there was a bombing in Stepney, They don’t know if it hit Newkirk’s home or not, but it had to be close. He acted like it didn’t mean anything when I told him. I think he’s in shock.”

“Oh… well if he’d have just told me, sir.” Andrew shrugged up a shoulder. “How was I supposed to know? I can only read mouse minds, not human minds.”

“I don’t even think he knows how he feels himself. But that’s no excuse. I just thought you should know.”

“Thank you, Sir. Um… can I go now?” He slid Felix back into his pocket.

“Of course. Dismissed.”

Carter scrambled back out to the main room. He pulled on his coat and scarf and then charged out into the rain. He had a feeling he knew where he would find Newkirk. And indeed, there he was, hiding behind the delousing station. Carter sidled up next to him and put a hand on his arm. “I’m still your mate, I hope. The colonel told me about the bombing in Stepney. Just wanted to let you know, if you want to talk about it, I make a good listener.”

Not all the water dripping down Peter’s face was raindrops. “They ‘ave no way of findin’ out if Mavis is alright. Not now anyroads. Too much confusion. She’s me sister! I’m sorry for what I said in there. All I could think about was the bloody cold. An’ I just got mad at everythin’.”

Andrew nodded. He was quiet for a long moment. “Everyone thinks I’m happy-go-lucky. Sometimes… well… it’s just my way of hiding things. I guess yours is getting mad. Maybe we shouldn’t hide so much.”

Peter shrugged, then realized he was freezing. “Bloody hell, it’s cold out here!” He turned to head back to the barracks.

“Yeah, you got that right.” Andrew followed his best friend. “Hey, Peter,” he called as they approached the door.

“Wot?”

“I’m sorry I blew up at you. I don’t like gettin’ mad at my friends. Makes me angry at myself.”

“Forget about it. We’re fine now.”

Andrew nodded, his cheerful aspect returning. “Good then. Thanks, Newkirk. I’ll… uh… try not to whistle so much.”

As they stepped through the door, drawing protests at the cascade of water they brought with them, Newkirk smirked. “Go ahead and whistle. How many blokes can say they ‘ave a bloody songbird for a best mate?”

Andrew chortled at that. Then he picked up his whittling project. “Here, this is done now.” He handed it to Newkirk. “For you, pal.”

Newkirk admired the intricately carved racoon. He smiled. “Figures you’d give me a masked bandit!”

The End

[pearlywritings]

If dad why hot?

synopsis: Dilf Kaeya. That’s it.

pairing: Kaeya x fem!reader, feat your daughter

tw: fluff, a little bit suggestive at the end, established relationship, people try to hit on your husband.

word count: 1.5k+ words

author’s note: Dilf Kaeya was sitting in my head for weeks now, I just want this man to have a daughter...

Dilf Kaeya who aged like a good wine both in looks and personality. The man many didn’t believe would ever start a family, yet here he is, happily married and with a child, a sweet princess with his blue jay hair and your pretty eyes. The girl, whom adores the whole Mondstadt from the common citizens to the knights at the Favonius headquarters.

Dilf Kaeya who often takes her with him to work whenever she misses him too strongly, and lets her roam the building with the promise she won’t bother busy people much. He is so proud when Lisa tells him his daughter helped her in the library or when Jean praises her for organizing some papers in her study. He himself is always happy if she decides to stay with him, climbing into his lap and curiously watching the quill in his hand moving across the papers.

Dilf Kaeya who carries her home in his arms if she falls asleep, her head resting on his shoulder, looking like an angel. Who carefully passes her body into your arms and watches you kiss her forehead, softly smiling and murmuring how hard she must’ve worked.

Dilf Kaeya who brings you closer into his side with an arm wrapped around your waist as you two quietly close the door to her bedroom. His lips touch your temple and you giggle at the affection turning to him and kissing him properly.

Dilf Kaeya who laughs embarrassed when you remind him of a story from the times your girl was but a baby and tried to latch onto his chest in search of milk. His chest did become bigger and wider as the years passed, adding to him being freaking hot, and becoming an object of your teasing jokes of him actually being the mom. He always argues, saying he’d never be a better mommy than you, starting a playful banter with you no matter where you can be.

Dilf Kaeya who draws attention to himself even more now, looking all ravishing and sexy as a grown man, though his own flirting has decreased considerably from the moment he married and started a family with you. However, there are suitors that still try to catch his eye and some can be really… persistent.

Dilf Kaeya, who finally has his horses back in stables and can take his princess out for the rides. Sometimes you join the two, but often you let them have father-daughter bonding moments. Kaeya is thrilled to have the alone time with her, especially after almost a week of being swarmed with paperwork and neverending patrols. Her small body is pressed firmly into dad’s chest and she keeps her hands on top of his arms as the man holds the horse’s reins. He can tell she is having great fun, turning her head from side to side.

Dilf Kaeya who gets concerned when she points to the left and says she sees hilichurls surrounding someone. His first instinct is to ride away to assure her safety, but he is a knight, he ought to help people. So, he leaves the horse hidden in the bushes and asks the girl to wait for him, to which she nods in understanding, promising to not move an inch from her position. He is so lucky, the Cavalry Captain thinks, as he smooches her cheek and rushes to help whoever is in trouble.

Dilf Kaeya who gets hit on the moment the young woman is saved. The man smiles through her blubbering of ‘thank you’s and ‘you are my hero’s, not batting an eye at her attempts to flirt with him. He literally offered her a hand, the one with the wedding ring on it, to help stand up, clearly it should be enough to show he is taken.

Dilf Kaeya who again and again tells the woman he is not interested, as he turns around and tries to walk off and back to his daughter, ignoring the offers of the woman’s company who is following him all the way back to the place where he left the horse and the girl.

“Daddy, is that a woman you saved?” she asks curiously, playing with the braid you made her in the morning. Kaeya gives her a loving smile, brushing his own thicker and longer braid over his shoulder. The man loves matching with her.

“Yes, my lily, and she is leaving already. Wanna go home to mommy?”

The girl hums, brushing her fingers through the stallion’s mane, pondering his offer over.

“I want to, but can we ride for a little bit longer?”

“Of cour-”

“Oh, that’s great! She can go and have fun, while we have ours!” Kaeya almost forgot about the other human’s presence, that is until she wraps her arms around his and squeezes it to her chest.

Dilf Kaeya whose eye turns icy cold as he glances to the side, piercing the stunned woman with a glare. What? Does she really believe he’ll take her offer and decieve you? The woman who accepts his past and his imperfections, the woman to whom he willingly gave his heart and received her in return, the woman who loves him to the point of accepting his marriage proposal and having a cute little girl? And all of that just to hook with someone he barely knows? Does she think he is an idiot? No one has ever been this bold and something inside the ever patient and collected man snaps. He is annoyed now.

“Lady, I tell you once again, I am not interested. And please, be appropriate, my child is right here.”

His voice is very calm but alarmingly chilly, the touch is firm and freezing when he pries her from around him and grabs the horse’s reins, ready to leave.

"The fact my wife isn't present doesn't mean you have a chance and right to hit on me. This," he lifts his hand and shows his ring "is here not for fancy, it has purpose. Now, since I can clearly see you have no other issues, we'll excuse ourselves. Goodbye.”

Dilf Kaeya who doesn't pay much attention to the situation, only glancing at you the moment your daughter mentions the strange encounter in her description of the walk. Busy with tending to her, brushing her hair and listening to her stories curiously, you only hum and say that her daddy is a real hero and that you are very proud of him. No further questions, comments or worries.

Dilf Kaeya who kisses you deeply, silencing your sinful moans which he himself is drilling out of you with his cock. It's the dead of the night, he can allow himself to relax, holding your trembling body in his embrace. Kaeya is aware there are people who could think of him being unfaithful, but he is also aware they are dead wrong. He knows you know he is devoted to you and only you in the sense of heart, body, mind and soul, however damned they can appear to be.

Dilf Kaeya, who takes your hand in his and kisses the back of it, not halting the thrusting of his hips for a moment. Smooth lips brush over your lovely fingers in a soft murmur.

"Thank you for trusting me, love."

To which you breathlessly chuckle, giving his hand a squeeze and bringing the other to cup his check.

"You've been nothing but loyal to me, Kaeya. Of course I do trust you. I married an amazing man after all."

Amazing, huh? Hearing your speak so fondly of him and gazing at him with nothing but adoration in your eyes, he knows, it'll be okay. You always call him brilliant, smart, beautiful, lovely, handsome, sexy, witty, sometimes crazy, pouty, irresponsible, silly, in recent years you even picked up after Lisa and started to call him a dilf in a teasing manner, and honestly, your words are the only opinion he takes and considers in regards to your relationship. He knows you know he is all of the things you name him and you equally adore each part of him and he feels the same about you.

Dilf Kaeya whose fingers intertwine with yours in a comforting manner, whose lips meld with yours in a passionate dance, whose body presses incredibly close to yours in the deepest form of intimacy. There is no way he’d ever abandon what he has with you, you give him too many things to treasure, the greatest ones wrapping around your ring fingers in the form of golden bands and one more soundly sleeping in her own room.

Dilf Kaeya is the man who has always been desirable in the eyes of others. He is aware that many people find him alluring now specifically because they view him as a sexy dad. Does he care about having the appeal of being a hot parent? Not really, but it does become irritating when people get too handsy. After all, he is reserved only for his wife and daughter and for you two he does care.