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pedropascallme · 8 months

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Yes, Mr Miller

Pairing: dbf!Joel x babysitter!Reader

Summary: "You yourself wouldn’t consider Joel a friend, he was more so an acquaintance who paid you to hang around the house with his kid. A very handsome acquaintance."

Warnings: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI), age gap (reader is 20-22 age range, Joel is mid 50s), dom/sub dynamics (dom!Joel x sub!Reader), verges on exhibitionism but isn't quite, fingering, cum play, degradation, praise, Joel has an absolutely filthy fucking mouth, no outbreak, Sarah is like 9, if I missed anything please let me know!

AN: Part 2 here!!

If you had to choose one word to describe Sarah Miller, it would be “firecracker." Not only was she the most energetic child you had ever met, but there were days you genuinely couldn’t keep up with her antics; she ran circles around you, bouncing excitedly before jumping into the pool and demanding you race her—so that she could show you how easy it was for her to win.

And you loved it. Babysitting her was a brief respite from your days of research papers and early mornings. You considered it luck that your parents had moved into the Miller’s neighborhood after you left for college; it meant job security when you returned home from school.

Your father had quickly bonded with Joel after the move over their shared, niche interests; the watch brand they both wore, the tools they used for odd jobs—it was sweet, really, to see two men with little outward emotion confiding in each other. Though you'd never heard either of them say it outright, the long nights they spent in your family's garage drinking and muttering football scores to each other was enough for you to deem Joel Miller your father's best friend. You yourself wouldn’t consider Joel a friend, he was more so an acquaintance who paid you to hang around his house with his kid.

A very handsome acquaintance.

When he called you that afternoon to see if you were around, you nodded against the phone, wrapping the wire in your fingers and enthusiastically accepting the offer to babysit. An opportunity to spend time with Sarah, and the opportunity to speak to Joel—no matter how short the conversation—was not one to waste.

It wasn’t like you actively planned to seduce your father’s best friend, but in your head, it was a fun game to amuse yourself with; you had never exactly been the sexually-outgoing type, and it was exciting to play around and flirt poorly with a man as stoic and flawless as Joel Miller despite the fact that you knew he would never acknowledge, let alone cave, to your shy advances. Who cared if every interaction was fuel for your late-night activities, alone in the dark with your fingers pressed against you? Who cared if you remembered every time he looked at you, and all the ways he brushed up against you?

Nobody had to know.

Clad in a sundress that let you show off maybe a little more skin than you should as a caretaker, you meandered down the path to the Miller household from your own. You rang the bell, always hesitating to walk right in despite the fact that Joel had told you countless times in the past that you could come and go as you pleased. Joel opened the door and gave you a brief up-and-down, letting out a playful whistle.

“Just babysittin’, darlin’, didn’t have to get all gussied up.”

“It’s an old dress, Mr. Miller,” you blushed, always referring to him with the honorific, “not anything fancy.”

“Fancier than anythin’ I ever wore.”

You examined the well-loved flannel and jeans he wore, “That’s not saying much, is it?” You smiled up at him.

Chuckling, he ushered you into the house, and you leaned against the counter. You weren’t uncomfortable around Joel; he was a nice man, despite the grumpiness he exuded, and you’d known him long enough now to feel at ease in his presence—never mind the fire that ignited in you when he spoke. “Sarah’s out in the pool. You can order dinner, ’m good for it,” he grabbed his keys, “don’t know when I’ll be back.” He crossed his arms, biceps bulging through his shirt, mulling over any other details he had to share with you. “Remember where everythin' is? Food, bandaids?”

“Yes, Mr. Miller.” You spoke up. This had become the usual back-and-forth between the two of you: he would over-explain the job you’d been doing for two summers now, and you would let him.

“I’ll have cash for you when I’m back.”

“Don’t need it.” This was another game you enjoyed—pretending you didn’t expect anything out of him. Obviously, you’d watch Sarah for nothing, you loved her, but a college student living with her parents didn’t necessarily have the room to deny money being offered to her. You did it more out of courtesy than anything, with the added bonus of getting to see the roguish frown he directed at you.

Joel made a noise in disagreement before opening to back door to call for Sarah. “I’m leavin’!”

You watched as Sarah, sun-kissed and still soaked from the pool, bum rushed her father, letting him kiss her on the head and exchanging “I love yous” and “be goods” before she turned her attention toward you, grabbing your hand and leading you outside. You smiled a goodbye at Joel as you were pulled through the door to the backyard.

~~~

You didn’t remember falling asleep. Not that anyone ever really could, but you had no recollection of setting yourself up on the couch and nodding off.

You woke up to the feeling of something gently brushing at your knee. Opening your eyes and looking toward the source of the touch, your hazy brain registered Joel standing in front of you.

“Sorry ‘m so late, darlin’.” He was speaking softly, but his voice still managed to come off gruff. You savored the gravelly sound, and the way the nickname made it seem as though he was apologizing to a significant other for coming home late, rather than a babysitter he paid to be there.

“It’s alright,” you rubbed your eyes, trying to delay the post-nap grogginess you already felt seeping into your bones, “what time is it?”

“Little after two,” Joel frowned, brow knit “should’a called you.”

“It’s alright,” you reiterated, “Sarah just ran me kinda ragged.” You explained why you were passed out on his sofa. “Gets harder to keep up with her every summer—makes me feel old.” You grinned, tugging the hem of your dress down to cover the bare skin of your thigh to retain a bit of modesty.

Joel watched your movements before quickly refocusing his attention to your face. “How’d’ya think I feel ’round the two of you?”

You smiled at each other, too tired to grasp the atmosphere of the compromising situation you had found yourself in. “I should get going.” You stood, but Joel blocked your path.

“Not this late on your own, y’shouldn’t.”

“It’s a five-minute walk.” It was more like ten, but you didn’t bother with details, trying to quell Joel’s anxieties.

“I’ll drive you.”

“Mr. Miller…that’s excessive,” you argued, “I’m a grown up.”

“Like hell—don’t want you walkin’ on your own. It’s dark," he put his hands on his hips, leaning down to meet you at eye level, "what would your daddy say?"

“Don’t want you to drive me if you’ve been working all day.” You muttered, ignoring the way his phrasing and tone nearly made your knees buckle.

“That’s sweet,” he quirked a brow, “get in the truck.”

~~~

You liked Joel’s truck, it smelled like him; sweat and shampoo and sawdust, with a hint of the cologne he wore. He’d driven you around plenty, but usually it was still light out, and Sarah or your father would accompany the two of you.

You were comfortable with Joel—but that comfort went out the window when you were tired and alone, with the man that consumed many of your private thoughts, late at night. You felt somewhat self-conscious sitting next to him now, watching him fumble with the keys and white-knuckle the steering wheel.

“Seatbelt.” Joel reminded you, bringing you out of your thoughts and allowing you to rejoin him in the waking world. You buckled yourself in.

“So…” Joel seemed to be aware of the tension, “What’s your plan, when you get your degree?” He attempted small talk.

“Dunno,” you were honest, “wanna stay here.” He nodded, starting the engine and peeling out of the driveway. “Don’t really see myself joining the work force. Not yet. I’m only a junior—still got time.”

Joel laughed softly, “Give it a few years. You’ll get sick of doin’ nothin’.”

“I’m not doin’ nothin’,” you mimicked his thick drawl, “working for you, aren’t I?”

“Hardly,” Joel glanced over at you, “not payin’ you nearly enough.”

“It’s a good thing I like Sarah, then.” You joked. You enjoyed this, the repartee you were experiencing with Joel. You had known him since you were 18; fresh and unsure of yourself. Not that much had changed, personally, but it was rare that you got to experience Joel all to yourself; it was riveting, and a little nerve-wrecking, but it was nice to be the center of his attention, especially considering he had always seemed to regard you as an equal.

“You’re a good kid, sweetheart.” Joel smiled, thumping a hand on your thigh, just below the edge of your dress. This was new. He had put a guiding hand on your waist or shoulder in the past, but this placement felt more intimate. You stared at it, letting the warmth that radiated from him drain into you.

“Thank you, Mr. Miller.” You squeaked, still enjoying the weight of his hand on your thigh.

“Why don’t you call me Joel?”

“Do you want me to call you Joel?” You peeked over at him.

“Can do what you want,” he explained, “but you’re the only person that ever called me that.”

“I like it.”

“Bein’ the only person to call me that?” He rubbed his thumb over your skin, and you could feel yourself blush, the fabric of your underwear damp.

“I guess. Like how it sounds.”

“Makes me seem respectable.” He grinned, and you leaned back in the passenger seat to appreciate his side profile.

“Aren’t you?” You pushed, emboldened by his sudden physicality and wrapping a hand around his forearm, tracing your fingers across the tanned flesh. You felt like a high schooler, so unfamiliar with flirting and making awkward somatic advances instead of addressing the crush you had head-on. Still, a shot like this wasn't one you were inclined to miss.

Joel pressed the brakes at the stop sign at an intersection concealed by foliage. “Do you think I am?” He felt closer to you now, despite being the same distance in his seat as he had been for the duration of the ride. He let you continue to clumsily hold onto him, his own hand tightening the grip he had on your thigh.

“I—I think so…” You stammered, lips parted, unwavering gaze set upon him.

Joel put the car in park. He leaned in close to you, removing your hands from each other as he shifted, his hand moving to cup your cheek. “Think I can prove you wrong.”

You breathed out, eyes dragging up and down his face, providing the tiniest nod of consent—afraid that if you moved too much he’d take his hand away from you.

He kissed you then, slowly, gently; he let you set the pace with small, closed-mouth kisses. His hand slipped below your jaw and the kiss deepened slightly, leaving enough space for him to lick and nip at your bottom lip. You let out a soft moan at the feeling, the way his stubble rubbed against your lips, and he grunted, smiling. Your hands drifted up to his chest, holding tight to the fabric of his shirt and encouraging him to come closer. He slipped his tongue into your mouth, and you sighed at the feeling. You couldn’t say how long you continued on like that; his hands in your hair and yours planted on his chest, tenderly exploring each other’s mouths.

You felt your panties sticking to you, and you subconsciously began to roll your hips atop the seat you were in, suddenly frantic to find some kind of relief for your aching clit. Joel noticed, chuckling at your desperation.

“Poor thing,” he tilted your chin up to look at him, “need me to help you?” His eyes were darker than their usual shiny umber.

“Yes, Mr. Miller—please.” You pouted, eyes wide, rubbing your thighs together, still hoping to dull the throbbing between your legs.

“Fuck, darlin’,” Joel reached down to help you hike up the skirt of your dress, “such good manners, so pretty comin’ from that sweet li'l mouth.” He traced a finger over your panties, running it along the seam of your pussy. You moaned, bucking your hips gently into his finger, and he smiled, tutting. “I know, honey.”

His smile faded when he felt the drenched fabric of your underwear, eyelids drooping slightly when he let out a gruff moan. “This all for me, darlin’? Tastin’ me get you all wet?”

“Y—es,” you managed to choke out, “yes.” His smile reappeared then, clearly proud of himself and infatuated with you. He moved your panties to the side, grazing his finger over your entrance to collect some of your wet before he began to knead your clit.

You grabbed his wrist, whimpering. “Oh! Uh-huh…” Your mouth fell open and you looked up at him from under your eyelashes.

“Don’t look at me, sweetheart—watch me fuck you with my fingers.” Joel lowered his hand from your clit and plunged two fingers into your cunt. You cried out, squeezing his wrist in your hand, feeling so full from only his fingers. You watched him pump his hand, fingers thrusting in and out of you, accompanied by a squelching noise as your cunt wept for him.

“Oh, yes—yes, Mr. Miller—fuck, yes!” You shrilled the only words you could remember, finally throwing your head back in ecstasy, no longer able to abide by the rule Joel had set for you.

“Young li’l cunt,” Joel pawed at himself over his jeans, still focused on the sounds coming from your mouth and your pussy, “fuckin’ tight f’me.” He pulled his fingers out of you, bringing them to your lips and silently encouraging you to lick him clean. You did, taking them both into your mouth and licking your juices off of him. He slipped one more into your mouth, watching you struggle to handle all three, cheeks puffing out.

His hand came down to your hole once more, and this time he pushed all three fingers into you, using your saliva and wet as lubricant to ensure that they all fit securely inside, stretching you out as best he could.

“That’s it…need’a open you up, darlin’,” he watched the effort it took for you to take his fingers, spearing you on the thick digits while you moaned wantonly. “How’ya gonna take my cock if I can barely get my fingers into this pretty pussy?” You bucked your hips into his hand upon hearing his words, striving to make him proud by fucking yourself open. “Good fuckin’ girl.” He watched you bounce your hips back and forth on his hand.

“Mr. Miller it—fuck, want—want your cock.” You moaned out, wetness dripping from your cunt and onto the fabric of the passenger seat, the moisture sticking to your thighs.

Joel grunted, punching his fingers up into you and making you scream out. “Yeah? Want my cock, let me fuck you nice ’n’deep?” Your eyes rolled back, and you couldn’t be certain if you were more impacted by his movements or his words, both working in tandem to ensure you were made a mess of.

“Yes! Want your cock!” You let your fingers rub circles over your clit, trying to match Joel’s rhythm, however awkward it was due to the center console he had to lean over.

“Can’t fuck you here, sweetheart,” he didn’t stop, “what would people say if they saw a sweet little thing like you taking Mr. Miller’s cock in his truck?” He was teasing, and he pulled the straps of your dress down, letting the fabric bunch and exposing your chest to him. “They’d know what an easy fuckin’ whore you were.”

You whined, back arched, and he slapped your hand away from your clit, taking over completely. “Want them to know—want them to know I’m a whore for you.” You felt filthy, loving every second of it.

“Comin’ to my house, dressed like a slut every fuckin’ time—this what you wanted, girl? Wanted me to use you like a fuckin’ toy?” You felt his fingers make a beckoning motion, curling up inside of you and putting pressure on your g-spot. You scratched at the headrest behind you, slumping down to let Joel have complete and total access to you, letting him use you up to his satisfaction. Moans and whimpers of his name fell from your mouth as he continued his ministrations. “Yeah, you fuckin’ like that, honey—just needed to whore yourself out.”

“I—‘m gonna cum!” You felt the strain in your body increase, muscles tightening at the impending release of all the tension they held.

“Who’re'ya gonna cum for, sweetheart?” Joel pinched your clit before resuming the massage he’d been providing it.

“You, Mr. Miller, gonna c—um for you!”

“Tha’s’right. Cum for Mr. Miller, darlin’. Be a good girl and cum on my fingers.” He was demanding it; telling, not asking, you to soak his hand with your cum. You felt the gratification come to a head, and your back arched further as you cried out his name. Joel watched with wonder, jaw slack, as your cunt clenched around the three fingers he had buried inside of you. He felt himself try to rut against the fabric of his jeans, horny like a teenager after watching you cum for him with such intensity. But he had meant what he said—he couldn’t fuck you here, at this tiny intersection where anybody could wake up, come out, and see you both. As much as he would’ve liked to fuck you there, it was overruled by the want to do it properly, in a more private space.

“Good fuckin’ girl…so good f’me.” Joel slid his fingers out of you, feeling the aftershocks of your orgasm with every movement he made as you continued to squeeze around him. He sucked on his fingers, eager to taste the juices he had pulled from you. Your chest heaved and your body trembled lightly; when you looked up at him and saw him cleaning his fingers off, you found the strength to lean over and take one of the fingers into your own mouth. The two of you licked at each other around his hand, moaning and panting at the indecent display.

He dropped his hand, focusing on you entirely. If you hadn’t been tired before, you were now, and the satisfaction Joel had given you was enough to put you to sleep where you sat, while his lips brushed your neck and cheeks.

“Think I respect you more after that,” you leaned back in your seat, recalling the conversation that had led you to this, throat verging sore after the screams he had pried out of you. “Been wanting you for so long.” You sighed dreamily, looking up at him through hooded eyes and reaching over to fiddle with the collar of his shirt.

“Could’a said so,” Joel took the hand you had on his chest and kissed your palm, “would’a been happy to give you what you needed.” You rubbed at his stubble, and he kissed your hand again before letting it go. He leaned over to help you fix the straps of your dress, covering your breasts. You sat quietly before he started the car, and he continued to drive you home, placing his hand on your thigh again, holding tightly, as if now that he’d seen you in such an amorous, vulnerable way, you’d disappear. You put your hand on top of his, weaving your fingers around it.

When he parked in front of your house, the clock in the truck read 3:08—a drive that should’ve taken two minutes had taken an hour, and you were glad your parents wouldn’t be awake to question why it had taken you so long to get home. Joel looked at you, tired eyes conveying a glint of gratification when he smiled.

“Thanks for the ride.” You found your voice again, leaning towards him to analyze and appreciate his features.

“My pleasure.” He smiled, just barely, and took your chin in his hand. You stared at each other, not yet wanting to get out of the car despite the fatigue you felt all over. “Y’know,” he spoke again, still holding your face, “think I’ll need you to come over tomorrow.”

“Yeah?”

“Mm. Think you’ll be around?”

You smiled, letting yourself melt into his touch when his hand wandered over your cheek. “Yes, Mr. Miller.”

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal smut #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us smut #tlou #tlou fanfiction #tlou smut

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prickly-paprikash · 3 months

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Since the discourse has reared its ugly head once more, the simple answer is no.

Aang was not a deadbeat, unsupportive, absentee father.

He loved all three of his children and was supportive of them. When Kya came out in the comics, she mentioned straight up that Aang was nothing but supportive of her and who she was. Aang made mistakes in parenting, but he was also stuck in one of the worst situations possible for him.

For one thing, it's been stated that Airbending culture has different views when it comes to family dynamics. Never once does Aang mention his parents, and it's clear that Air Nomads did not put emphasis on the standard nuclear family organization that other nations did. From context clues alone, and many have inferred in the past that Air Nomads were communal, so it stands to reason that their parenting was communal. Monks, Nuns, Masters—all of them were most likely parents to every single child. The responsibility of raising and educating a child was shared amongst the nomads, and that there was no real difference between biological and adoptive parents. Airbenders shared nearly everything, and that meant family as well.

Imagine you're Aang, spending twelve years of life being raised by every adult in the temple. Sure, he was exposed to nuclear family dynamics when visiting other nations and befriending Bumi and Kuzon, but his exposure to their culture was most likely limited. Now, not only is he a father to three beautiful children, but he must raise them in a way foreign to him. There are no other Monks to raise his children—it's just him and Katara. I've no doubt that Sokka and Toph chipped in whenever they could to ease the burden of parenthood, but they were leaders and figures of great importance as well. Not to mention that Toph had her own daughters to take care of.

Aang is also the Avatar, the central spiritual figure amongst the four nations. His presence would always be demanded in other nations. Peace Summits. Negotiations. Ceremony. Dealing with splintered Fire Nation cells and loyalists. Aang had to lead the people of all four nations back into balance, and he was in the unique and unenviable position to heal the scars of a 100 year war due to the absence of the Avatar.

Finally, the dude is also the Very Last Airbender. Of course he'd show favoritism to Tenzin. Bumi was a non-bender and Kya was a waterbender already taking after her mother. Aang was a war hero, a political figure, a man out of time and history, the Avatar, and the Only Living Airbender. The weight of his culture and people all rested on his shoulders, and so he passed on that responsibility and hope to the only other living Airbender at the time. Aang needed to spend time with Tenzin because only through Tenzin could the practices of the Air Nomads survive.

Aang was basically having to transition from a communal family mindset to a nuclear family's; he had to balance romance, fatherhood, and being the Avatar in a Wartorn World; and he had an obligation to every Airbender in history—millions of souls and their memories, passed on from one very flawed father to his newborn son. Every part of Aang's life as a father was met with trials and tribulations, and his family still came out loving him, albeit with some resentment underneath.

No parent is perfect, and Aang could have done so much better when it came to communicating with his children.

But none of his mistakes ever meant he was an abusive, cold, distant father.

He was overworked, acclimating to a style of family not his own, and desperately reviving a century-long dead culture all by himself. The fact that every single one of his kids still loved him and cherished him only solidified the fact that Aang was a father who did his very best.

Being the child of the Avatar would always mean living in his shadow. That resentment, of Aang being needed by the world while his children sought him out, would always be there. Doubly so for Tenzin, who grew up with the Avatar as his father and continued his life-long work of breathing life back into the Air Nomads. Say what you will, but at least Bumi and Kya had the freedom to choose who they wanted to be. Tenzin, no matter what, would always grow up to be the Airbending Master because no one else could.

Aang loved his children. Aang loved his wife. And they in turn loved him. But just like every family, complications rose up and planted the seeds of bitterness and resentment. The only thing that stopped these from blossoming into actual dislike of their family was that Aang's love and respect for his children was always genuine, and that Katara stood firm in making sure their children knew they were beloved.

Aang and Katara's family would never have been ideal in the first place, but they did their best.

And their best was certainly enough.

#avatar the last airbender #aang #katara #bumi ii #kya ii #bumi #kya #tenzin #avatar meta #paprikash ramblings #sokka #toph beifong

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thegreenthepeacetheorange · 6 months

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Everlark (Catching Fire, Ch. 24-25)

katniss being angry that peeta hasn't come to help her before she realises he literally can't

peeta putting his hand up against the wall and her putting hers up to meet him. these two are so angsty romance-coded

"i just stare at his face, doing my best to hang onto my sanity"

peeta holding and rocking katniss on his lap, lifting her chin so she looks at him. husband. he loves her so much.

(as an aside, johanna and finnick basically being katniss's and peeta's older siblings is so adorable. what a cute fun brokem damaged little family)

when katniss finds out that finnick loves a "poor, mad girl back home", i can't not think of the parallels being set up between annie/finnick and peeta/katniss in the next book

ah the beach scene

"everything. that's what peeta wants me to take from him"

"i realize only one person will be damaged beyond repair if peeta dies. me"

"i do. i need you"

i'm dead at this point. how can people say katniss didn't love peeta. i got the evidence right here!

So before he can talk, I stop his lips with a kiss. I feel that thing again. The thing I only felt once before. In the cave last year, when I was trying to get Haymitch to send us food. I kissed Peeta about a thousand times during those Games and after. But there was only one kiss that made me feel something stir deep inside. Only one that made me want more. But my head wound started bleeding and he made me lie down. This time, there is nothing but us to interrupt us. And after a few attempts, Peeta gives up on talking. The sensation inside me grows warmer and spreads out from my chest, down through my body, out along my arms and legs, to the tips of my being. Instead of satisfying me, the kisses have the opposite effect, of making my need greater. I thought I was something of an expert on hunger, but this is an entirely new kind.

the idea of peeta trying to talk despite katniss kissing him and then just giving up is too much

the warmth that grows inside of her exclusively due to peeta

the line about a new kind of hunger. bars

she's so down bad for him, and i think she truly realises here, even if she doesn't let herself think about it too much.

finnick waking up and realising the way they're wrapped around eachother and being like... "um get a room? if you want?" is hilarious too

i truly wonder how far they would've gone if they hadn't been interrupted by the lightning bolt. judging by katniss saying there's nothing to stop them this time but them, i think she might've not stopped at all. and the wrapping around each other. i know they were about to cut away in the capitol feeds.

peeta again being husband and making katniss lie down and leading her to bed. "i let him lead me over to where the others are." the "i let him." this books is just a masterpiece in showing the change in their dynamics.

lol at katniss being like "fuck no" at the suggestion of having kids with gale. "for one thing, that's never been part of my plan." like how much clearer has she got to make it. contrasting this to when peeta dropped the baby bomb and she was like: it could be true by now if it wasn't for the games, right? she's so shameless

i honestly feel like crying every time katniss says she thinks of peeta's child safe in the meadows. the fact that it's just peeta's child makes me think that the unnamed, unidentified unspoken of mother, is her. like that's who she's picturing in this fantasy, in this dream.

"when i wake, i have a brief delicious feeling of happiness that is somehow connected with peeta" and she clings to it as long as she can

just something so beautiful that all this talk of love and family and peace and the future is linked with peeta and thus her own happiness. like my heart aches for her.

she can't look at peeta the next morning after their kissing the night before. i think a big part of it was because she just allowed herself to think all these thoughts involving peeta and then came back down to earth very quickly and realised that this wasn't possible for her because of the QQ

the pearl, their inside joke because of effie! the fact they remembered, the fact that they laugh together like this even with everything going on

katniss determining that peeta is her biggest enemy because their desires are the complete opposite when it comes to survival. "i promise myself i will defeat his plan." and even despite them both realising they're at odds, despite peeta not being able to look at her after, they sit together hand in hand.

the pearl and everything it comes to symbolise with these two kills me.

#everlark #peeta x katniss #katniss x peeta #katniss and peeta #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #the hunger games #catching fire #tgtpto everlark read

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acowardinmordor · 11 months

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Steddie Persuasion AU but make it modern and blur the edges, and eliminate homophobia. Steve turned down Eddie's proposal because his family put a ton of pressure on him to do so, even though he was mad in love and very very much wanted to marry him. He almost eloped, but his best friend Nancy convinced him that he couldn't throw his life away at nineteen for a guy with more arrests than opportunities. Eddie was heartbroken and furious, and took the risk he hadn't before. Ends up a rockstar. Not so famous everyone knows him, but if you're into music, if you watch the grammys, you know Eddie Munson.

Eight years later, Steve's dad has fucked up the finances and makes dumb investments (maybe crypto) and Steve ends up helping close out branches of the company and sell things off as they downsize, blah blah. His dad refuses to put his face on it, so he has it be Steve firing everyone and whatnot. Ends up meeting Dustin and some of the others who made bank on some tech thing who are coming in to buy off assets and take over parts of the Harrington holdings. Steve thinks the names are a coincidence until he sees Dustin smile, and realizes that oh shit, he's going to be in meetings with Eddie's friends, and oh shit, they don't know about the summer Eddie and Steve were together.

They'd just be so perfect for the dynamic. Eddie being all sideways insulting about Steve bc its been years and he's still so so mad at him about it that he refuses to look closer. Steve who puts on a show of being exactly what he's supposed to be, in this case, charming and untouchable and perfect, and no one sees through the mask. Bc his friends, other than Nancy, are all new since he and Eddie broke up. So they don't know how he used to smile. They think this is Steve perfectly happy in his life.

But obvs eventually Eddie actually looks and he can see how his Stevie is a husk of who he was, and he realizes that no, he was wrong for all those years. He thought he wanted the guy that broke his heart to be miserable. But now he's looking at the guy he still loves, and he can't stand to see that Steve IS miserable.

#persuasion AU #Steddie #again this is one I won't write #I just like teh vibes #no idea who Robin is in the original #but Chrissy is Louisa #Billy as the cousin maybe?#thats less important to me than the way these two would ache #and the way that letter would play out #with Steve racing to find Eddie #bc he has a chance to get him back #and he'd walk through fire for another chance

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franklespine · 6 months

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You know I think you guys might be on to something when you call Sam woman coded cause - genuinely - how do you, as writers of a show, be so misogynistic as to not include any female characters asides from damsels and hookups (specifically referring to the early seasons), and yet need so desperately to have a outlet for macho masculine patriarchy power dynamics that you have an adult male character experience misogyny?? How do you mess up that badly??

It's like, although they thought that putting female characters in the narrative other than to exist as sexy distressed lamps wouldn't appeal to the true blooded 2000s American audience. But yet it was completely necessary for there to be a bottom rung in the masculinity pyramid because - well how else can we as a society function!!

Anyway, ik reading too far into things is my special talent, and in most circumstances all of this stuff is just a joke in the show but wow they really had Dean poking fun of any of Sam's characteristics that don't fit into this Hyper True Blooded American Masculinity ideology as a butt of jokes for 15 years. The fact that he has longer hair, that he cares about his hair, that he's tidy, that he likes salads and isn't a big meat eater, that he's sympathetic, that he's a bitch. And of course these are just silly little jabs that Dean makes in sibling-like fashion but like wow 15 years. Damn.

And of course it's not only this that leads to the rather odd interpretation of a woman-coded Sam, but also the way he is treated directly by the narrative. Like, for example, being the family's possession, rather than an equal member. Dean has seen it as his job to look out for his little brother since he pulled him from the fire and the wellbeing of this infant was thrown onto his shoulders at age 4, and this has created a lot of ricocheting effects on both of them. This isn't to say that Dean doesn't love, care, respect, and value Sam, but it does mean that sometimes he treats him like a possession rather than a person. He makes a lot of crazy decisions in the show that he justifies as being for Sam's own good, even if it goes directly against Sam's wishes. After Sam leaves a note to Dean telling him he's going out for a bit to handle a case, Dean weasels his way in, not trusting him to handle it due to the mental issues Sam is facing at the time, and kills Amy, despite Sam begging him not to. Even though Dean knows Sam would never consent to an angle possessing him, he tricks him into it anyway. He does these things, and many others because he believes that he is acting in Sam's best interests, totally disregarding the fact that Sam has capacity to make judgements and handle the consequences himself, even going so far as to oppose what he directly knows or Sam tells him he wants.

Then of course there is the fact that the fear integral to his character - a loss of autonomy (bodily autonomy, but also autonomy to make his own decisions about his future, to be good, to be pure and faithful), is an explicitly feminine one. Then there is the strong subtext in his story of SA themes, I think in s4 a demon even refers to Sam as a 'whore' or that he's 'whoring it up' (with respect to Ruby), and the interesting prevalent idea of Sam questioning or going against the ideals/ideology of the masculine figure head (which would be Dean I guess) and getting punished for it. Sam suggests that maybe they take a more humanitarian approach with the cow blood drinking vampires in s2 and Dean punches him, Sam tries to get him to talk about their Dad and Dean punches him, Sam tries to get him to talk about Lisa and Ben and Dean punches him, Sam gets caught simply using his abilities and Dean punches him - twice. I think you get the picture.

Anyway. This post comes off as rather critical of Dean, which wasn't really my intention. It's more sort of a broader criticism of the rampant sexism that had its part in shaping the show - being one to come out of the early 2000s. Ideas such as this - you could really go on for hours as its fascinating how ideological frameworks are presented certain ways in media - and the way masculine and feminine social dynamics, to list only one, is presented in supernatural is definitely a can of worms.

#also dont take this too seriously LMAO its late and I am just thinking about woman coded sam #seriously - how did this happen #saw someone else talk about that scene in s7 after sam finds out dean killed amy and dean says something along the lines of #be pissed all you want but dont be a bitch about it #like wow he really called sam a bitch in the way that woman are called bitches #stop being overdramatic and having an irrationally emotional response to the horrible thing i just did to you #crazy #maybe it was the time it was made but genuinely the amount of times dean punches sam in the early seasons #just for having an opinion or wanting to talk about feelings #i was actually surprised #supernatural #spn #sam winchester #dean winchester #spn meta #i guess #again dont take this too seriously lmao #just a pondering

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snailsgoingdowntown · 8 months

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Intrigued With You

I ii iii iiii

Yandere! Pinocchio x Fem! Mechanic! Reader

Warnings: Implied toxic familial relationship, unbalanced power dynamics between the reader and Geppetto, very slight mental breakdown, slowly going into a downwards spiral, paranoia, mentioned past violence and stalking. When the full game comes out, this work may be completely different from the actual game. Please tell me if I missed any.

This blog contains/creates/interacts with dark content.

Minors/blank blogs/blogs that don’t reblog any fan art or fan fiction DNI.

Word count:3096k

Over all story summary: Your uncle’s puppet takes a bit too much of an interest in you: in which you fucked up in this chapter.

The public’s opinion of you started to go downhill since then.

It’s been a week, and while most of the citizens won’t throw rocks or stalk you, they still stare – glares that are sharper than a knife, cutting deep into your arteries. You could practically feel the blood oozing out, a puddle forming underneath you as you stood on the stage, heart threating to explode any second now. The crowd just stares, and the puppet next to you cheers. How funny. The damn puppet is offering you more support than the intended audience.

Your foot taps against the wood. Your head throbs and you hold back a scream. You’re a monkey in a circus and they’re throwing peanuts at you.

“Hello everyone. I am here today to introduce a new, and improved, Nanny Puppet, upgraded with new codes and everything.” Your smile is strained, some of the people cheering with others sitting in silence. Seems as though some are genuinely interested and perhaps even excited about the new developments.

Glancing at your uncle who rests behind the curtains to the side, he nods his head. But most of his attention was on the puppet rather than you. “And it even comes with settings you can adjust yourself at home.”

The Nanny cheers again, robotic, and staticky still. So lifeless, its entire being written on a script. But as you look over the crowd on the wooden stage, head light and heart thumping like thunder, you feel the same. From the way you are standing, to the wave of your hands and your words, is all scripted.

A script written by your uncle.

“Now, come,” you gesture to The Nanny, and it listens, turning its back towards the crowd as you stand next to it. There’s buttons and latches, and you undo them all, with a quick ‘sorry,’ uttered into its ‘ear.’ A habit you picked up from the years of working with your uncle.

And with the rise of malfunctions, part of you thinks it’s for the best. Pretend you’re sorry to them, and maybe when everything goes south, they’ll take pity on you. Paranoia doesn’t look good on you, you realize, showing the audience the off switch, the lights in its eyes dimming as it turns off. This wasn’t a new feature.

But the kill switch is.

“As you can see, the power switch is still enabled, even in these new models. So, don’t worry about that, but!” you bring out a control panel from your waistcoat pocket. It’s small enough to fit in your hand, and on the black surface lies a red button, a little glass cap covering it. To prevent any accidental touches. You grip it a little too hard.

“This right here is a kill switch. Now, I’m not going to press it,” your thumb rubs circles over the cap. You can’t find it in you to force another smile, mentally and physically drained from everything. “But the moment you press it, the puppet will immediately shut down… but it won’t turn on again, either.”

There’s some ‘ooo’s’ and ‘awe’s,’ but the silence of the rest is what puts you on edge. They’re most likely the protesters. You wouldn’t be surprised if this stage would set fire any minute now. You shudder at the thought. Another glance at your uncle – he nods, again.

But his eyes are still mostly focused on the puppet. You can’t tell if it is in interest, hope, or disappointment. Just like how you can’t tell if there’s still warmth in his eyes when he looks at you.

“How does it work?”

You blink, off guard. A woman raised her hand, curious eyes drilling into you. You prepared yourself for this, practicing in front of a mirror for hours on end. You got this. You need to. You might fall apart otherwise.

“So, essentially, it – “

“Or, how about you don’t make them at all? The puppets, I mean.” A man speaks up, hat hiding his gaze, but you feel the hatred and frustration radiating off him in waves. You prepared yourself for this too. But reality still sends you reeling back mentally, the thought of rocks being thrown, or stage set on fire. At least he pretends to be respectful, even with his group frowning at you.

Your body trembles the slightest bit.

“Oh – um… I understand where you come from. It’s… it can be difficult to see use in the puppets, but they’re mostly here for when you can’t do something or need extra help…” you can’t tell if you’re lying to him or saying the truth – it’s all part of the script. And truthfully, you agree with him.

You just keep your mouth shut on the matter.

“They’re taking our jobs, you know? Oh wait, you probably don’t – you’re well-off, producing and selling these… things.” The same man shakes his head before pushing others out of his way – he stops just shy of an inch before the stage. “You don’t have to worry about them stealing your job. For now, at least.”

He adjusts his hat, and the contempt in his eyes is so heavy you’re on the verge of drowning. You swallow. You do know, you do, but it’s not like you could do anything. You already tried, you tried, but talking doesn’t work and –

“Alright, alright, I think that’s enough for now.” Your uncle comes out, places a hand on your shoulder. It feels more restricting than comforting. “It’s been a rather long day for everyone, hasn’t it? The sun is going down, and dinner time is drawing near. Same place and time tomorrow, as it was yesterday and today.”

Unlike you, he sounds confident. Gentle, but firm, and yet, you’re starting to grow more wary of him than the protesters. You wish you could hurry and pick a side. Money or no money, everything was starting to seem more futile, meaningless. You want to live under a rock.

Live under a rock and become separated from your job. You tap your foot more aggressively, biting your lip once your back is turned to the crowd. Your hands twitch even with the control in your hands.

He doesn’t leave room for debate, guiding you on the shoulder to walk down the stage and to his little personal workshop. The police – puppets, again – prevent anyone from getting close. You weren’t here yesterday; it was just him. Did he go through the same thing? Is that why he’s so calm, so natural about it?

Or was he always like this? Disconnected from everything that did not concern his work, his dreams? His puppet, his –

“… Uncle,” you fiddle with the control in your hands. “Did anyone accompany you yesterday?” You can’t find it in you to look at him. Can’t even talk properly, no matter how hard you try to accept everything, like you should. It’s expected of you. And maybe it is because of that, that you can’t find yourself willing to do so.

“Mm. Howard did. It was a welcomed surprise.” He chuckles low in his throat, adjusting his hat as you make way home. Guilt immediately starts to boil within, your heart squeezing painfully as your throat closes in on itself. “He’s a fine young man indeed.”

“He is, isn’t? Such a nice young man…” you agree, nodding your head, ignoring the gnawing at your chest. You care about him, dreadfully so, to the point it was horribly painful. Which was why you tried to keep him out of your business.

But he was just so stubborn.

“Hm,” he takes a glance at you; eyes shifting from one side to another. You see it but don’t think much of it. But even so, you can’t ignore the lack of warmth in his gaze. “I heard he’s been visiting you more often now. Are you two perhaps…?”

“No! No, it’s not like that. It won’t ever be like that again.” You laugh, shaking your head. You fidget with the control more. You look down at your hands – scars and light burns decorate them like tattoos. No longer as ‘pretty’ as society would like to describe.

The though brings out a laugh.

“It just won’t work out.”

“How come?” He sounds interested, but not in a caring way – it was in a way that made you feel like a test subject. “You were such a great pair. He would have made an excellent son-in-law for your parents.”

You grit your teeth. “Yeah. He would have. But that’s neither here nor there; it’s in the past. And it will forever remain in the past.” Your face feels hot – anger? Shame? Annoyance and irritation jabbing at every corner of your very being, you try your best to remain stoic about the conversation. Even if you subconsciously know he’s taking a jab at you.

Even though he has no reason to.

You were sure of it now – all of the warmth that was inside your uncle was slowly becoming cold. Was he always this type of man? Cold? Disconnected from everything? But surely, there was still some left for you, right?

A faint chuckle. “I apologize – I shouldn’t have brought up the subject. I wasn’t aware that it was still a touchy subject.” His fingers dig into your shoulder before his grip loosens. He pats it twice before fully letting you go, turning his head to smile at you.

You think it was meant to be gentle. “It’s fine. It was my fault for… assuming you had other intentions by bringing it up.” It’s a lie. It wasn’t fine, and you both know that. But it should be okay, because he’s a man you consider to be your uncle, and of course uncle Geppetto always wants what’s best for you. It would crush you if he didn’t.

“Mm, that’s the spirit. Don’t let anything drag you down.” You’re at his personal workshop now, the wind picking up. It’s getting colder. The leaves are starting to fall more and more, flowers wilting as the days go by. Just like you.

“Now then, I hope you take great care of him. I have other business to attend to, but I wanted to make sure you made it back safe and sound.” Your uncle gives you exactly two pats on the back. Adjusting his glasses, he turns to look at you, smiling.

Smiling, smiling, smiling – it’s all he does. It’s what unnerves you the most. It’s what the citizens hate about him. It’s what unarms your family. It’s what feels the most inhuman about him.

“Yes, of course,” you reply, nodding your head. Your fingers start scrapping against the control gently. Foot tapping, you attempt to smile. “I would never harm… it. It is also my project, you know?”

It wasn’t.

“Mm, yes, of course. Thank you for all your hard work.” And with a tilt of his hat, he’s off – you watch his retreating back, the muscles with every movement. You just realized he could easily overpower you.

Your fingers dig harder into the control until you can feel your fingernails digging into your own flesh. You wonder if he would turn against you if you were to abandon this job field.

Two hours and forty minutes.

That’s how long you have been tampering with the legion arm – your uncle begged you to stop calling it a mechanical arm – greasing it, tightening the screws, making sure that the fingers curl just like a real hand would. And of course it did – it should, especially since nearly all your paychecks and funds go into this puppet and not your own personal life.

Two hours and forty minutes, plus two months and you’re barely about to be done with this damn thing. You finished two other ones before this, but even then, you might have to ‘fix’ them. Make sure that they’re up to your uncle’s very high standards.

“Fuck… why am I even working on this thing? This is the least of our concerns, not to mention – ow, fuck!” In your hurry to get another type of screwdriver, you pushed over a failed ‘heart’ test dummy. It lands directly on your foot, causing you to drop everything else as you hold it with your trembling hands.

They were doing that more often. “Wow, okay, great. Sure, let’s just let everything fall on you. God, I’m going crazy. I might turn into a menace before the protesters and puppets do.” Running a hand through your hair, you pace back in forth, biting your free thumb.

Every time you enter this godforsaken place, your sanity dwindles bit by bit. “Okay, let’s calm down – my foot isn’t bleeding, I think. I should… I should take a break.” Despite your words, you go back to working – picking up the old ‘heart’ and placing it back on the messy table.

Research papers messily stacked at a corner, puppet parts scattered all over, grease stains on the wood. The table wears scratch marks like medals of honor. Pausing for a moment, you walk to the far-right side of the table, picking up the papers and placing them into a clean square bin on the floor. You kick it to some random corner of the workshop.

The urge to rip them to shreds is, in a way, comforting. If those were gone, how could you continue on? They even had blueprints. Nails dig into your palms at the thoughts. Not harsh enough to draw blood, however.

“Hm, I should clean up… but what’s the point? Everything gets scattered again, uncle moves the parts to the most random of places, Howard ends up losing them… so much to do, such little time.”

Ranting to yourself, you stomp to the table again, picking up the new and ‘official’ heart for the puppet. You remember putting it elsewhere. In a drawer. Safe and sound.

And yet, it was on this stupid, stupid table –

“Are they trying to kill me?” you mumble out, on the verge of pulling out strands of your hair. “Not only that, but the fact I could have been harmed today… he knows they already threw stones at me, why make me appear in public again? Why get on the wooden stage that could easily be consumed by fire?”

Without thinking, you stride over to the puppet sitting on the red plush chair. When you’re shy a few inches from it, you take a moment to admire its beauty – the eyes were closed. Long eyelashes that cast shadows onto pale, freckled ‘skin.’ The carob brown hair still looked as soft as ever, with messy curls that remind you of his hair back when he was younger.

Back when everything was normal. Gentler times where warmth wasn’t forced into honeyed words, when you weren’t so scared of being beaten to death. When everything was fine. Happy.

It was missing the left arm – the legion arm. You cast a glance behind you, spotting the arm on the table. That’s the one he wants to put on for now. The most simple, basic one, no complicated functions, no paint, just metal. You decide to leave it.

Turning to face the puppet again, tilting your head, you really take in its appearance; it has an average body type. Maybe a bit more on the lean side, but aside from the pretty face and missing arm, it looked human. It looked normal.

And that’s what scares you.

“…,” against your better judgement, your hand reaches out. Fingertips graze against the cheeks, feeling how cold and smooth it was. It’s flawless compared to your hand. You pause to see if the puppet will move at your touch. When it doesn’t, you bring your hand up, taking a closer step to it. The hair was soft, fluffy. It didn’t feel fake like it should.

It felt real.

“… I shouldn’t be doing this. Hah. I really am going crazy.” The thread that was holding your sanity together was close to snapping. Again, against your better judgement, you act on impulse. Unbuttoning the white button-down, you feel your heart drop at how… human it looks.

But upon closer inspection, there was a thin line, forming a square across the chest. There was a little screw, the opening to inside of the chest. Huffing, you dig into your overcoat pocket, retrieving the specific screwdriver – your uncle makes you carry it like a lifeline. However, you are not sure if he thought it through – what if someone mugged you?

Your hand hesitates as you hold the screwdriver, hovering by the opening. The ‘heart’ was still in your hands. It starts to beat slowly, almost as if coming to life. “… Uncle might kill me if I mess with his favorite puppet…”

Instead of heeding your own words, you open the chest cavity, placing the screwdriver back into your pocket. You’ve seen it before; hollow, wires connecting with each other and to the sides. There’s a small open space where a human heart would be. You look at the one in your hand before nodding your head.

You were acting rebellious, in a way. And it may very well lead into your downfall, either being killed by a puppet going haywire or by your uncle’s red, blinding rage.

You hesitate before gently putting the ‘heart’ into its assigned area. Connecting the wires to it, patting it, watching as it starts to glow, beating steadily. You did not think twice about your actions. After a second, you close it, screwing it shut before walking serval steps away.

Nothing happens.

“Hah… ha-ha, what was I thinking? I went from zero to a hundred within a few minutes… I should take a few days off. Maybe even a week…” chuckling to yourself, you rub your head. You’re getting a migraine. Much be too much caffeine, that coffee would eventually kill you.

Turning around, you walk away from the puppet, heading towards the door to get some fresh air. To force some sanity back into your head before you scream your lungs out and pull out every single strand of your hair out. The longer you stay here, the worse you become.

Creak.

You stop in your tracks, blood turning cold. No. surely not – your eyes widen when you realize how stupid you are. You were dumb enough to connect the wires to the heart. But! When your uncle did that, this didn’t –

You turn your head around so fast you almost snap your neck. Your heart drops.

It opens its eyes, and the first thing it sees is you.

tag list:

@ijustreblogstuff-i-like @chiofany @quzbea @cute-angi

@nealcaffrey2129 @connorsoddsock

@rositabluemoon

#yandere x reader #lies of p #lies of p x reader #yandere lies of p #yandere lies of p x reader #lies of p pinocchio #pinocchio #pinocchio x reader #yandere pinocchio #yandere pinocchio x reader

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zvtara-was-never-canon · 3 months

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i just read your ask about how zutaras think airbenders are racist, sexist, ect. and i'm like?? aren't air nomads canonically the most accepting of the 4 nations??? i don't know how accurate the avatar universe wiki is (it's one of the most expansive wikis i've ever seen for a fandom), but it says it there.

Even if we don't take the wiki or anything except the show itself into account - nothing in the show itself indicates they were racist, sexist, etc.

But you know what nation is confirmed to be very fucking racist, and there's hints of it being a least a little sexist? The Fire Nation. The one that commited genocide towards both the air-nomads and Southern Water Tribe.

Zutarians are constantly going on and on about how their ship is more "complext and adult", yet lots of them are TERRIFIED to engage with aspects that would make it a complex, adult, very messy dynamic - aka the fact that Zuko is not only a direct descendent of the guy that started the war (Sozin), of the guy that was responsible for the raids on Katara's tribe (Azulon), and of the guy that order her best friend's capture/death (Ozai) but he also took A LONG time to realize "Holy shit, what my family is doing is terrible" and was in fact constantly putting Katara and her friends in danger, helped Azula get the upper hand in Ba Sing Se and thus kill Aang, then sent an assassin after them to finish/repeat the job later.

There's also the fact that, due to their immaturity, they think they HAVE to hate Aang just because they don't him and Katara together, and it can make them look really bad to hate on the sole survivor of a genocide while praising the prince that was trying to help his nation get rid of said last survivor.

They could deal with that by doing stuff like making modern AUs to avoid the war thing, or actually addressing the complexity of the situation, or being mature enough to say "I dislike Kataang/Aang as a character, but obviously Zuko was an objectively worse person back when he was supporting literal genocide."

Instead they decide to make the air-nomads look like "asshole victims" to reduce sympathy for them and Aang, pretend the SWT and the NWT are exactly the same to make it look like Katara felt oppressed by her own family and culture instead of being traumatized by their death, and pretend the Fire Nation is not only the "feminst nation" but also that said feminism would TOTALLY extend to the girl they were taught to see as being part of an inferior race just because there's a new guy in charge.

Zutarians tend to only acknowledge the elephant in the room when it's for the sake of a fetish or extra drama (see the non-con fics or "Slave/Concubine Katara" fics), or when they are genuinely fucking clueless/racist and think "Oh, it wasn't so bad" and say as much openly.

#anti zutara #pro kataang #pro aang

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anitalenia · 3 months

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━━ 𝒆𝒓𝒈𝒐 𝒅𝒖𝒎 𝒎𝒆 𝒅𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒊𝒔 pt. 4

━━ 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒆𝒓 𝒃𝒐𝒚𝒔 / 𝒎𝒖𝒍𝒕𝒊𝒑𝒍𝒆 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒔. the frontier boys as random tropes. ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ part one | part two | part three

┊┊✧ ⁺ 𝓹𝓪𝓲𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰 ⋆｡˚ ⋆ Pope, Will, Benny, Frank x fem!Reader

┊┊✧ ⁺ 𝓽𝓻𝓸𝓹𝓮𝓼 ⋆｡˚ ⋆ ceo!Pope x assistant!Reader, lumberjack!Will x bimbo!Reader, bartender!Benny x fem!Reader, step dad!Frank x step daughter!Reader

┊┊✧ ⁺ 𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼 ⋆｡˚ ⋆ sexual content, implied smut, graphic depictions of sexual acts, fantasized sexual content, blowjobs, depictions of fingering, pussy eating, inappropriate family dynamics you definitely shouldn’t partake in, inappropriate work relationships that you definitely shouldn’t do in real life (unless you want to purrrr💅🏻), a little long just cause I haven’t made one in a while, slight dark content in Franks section

┊┊✧ ⁺ 𝓪𝓾𝓽𝓱𝓸𝓻𝓼 𝓷𝓸𝓽𝓮 ⋆｡˚ ⋆ sorry for the wait with this series, people really loved it actually, more than I thought they would. The begging for another part finally got to me, so here you go!!!! Hope you enjoy while I work on the next one 😭

━━ SANTIAGO ‘POPE’ GARCIA ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

CEO! SANTIAGO ⊹₊˚

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 𝐘𝐨𝐮’𝐝 𝐬𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 desk in those cute little skirts and too tight dresses, always so busy and always so beautiful. He liked to stare out at you from his private office with a semi hard cock in his black slacks; a perfect view of your desk and the best view of you.

He could never get any work done of course, not properly anyway, too busy thinking about you and all the things you’d do for him if he asked. You always did what he asked, so eager to work and so eager to please. You, you with those black stiletto heels and those pink pouty lips, you, you with your sweet voice and your round hips — begging to be fucked good.

Nngh, just you.

He liked to call you into his office for no real reason other than his own selfish desires; he liked to see your hips sway when you walked and stare at your soft tits when you’d lean over — it’s what really got him through the tough days.

He loved to hear your soft giggles and see your cheeks go pink when he’d say something scandalously sly, something a ceo definitely shouldn’t say to their assistant, something a boss definitely shouldn’t say to their employee.

He’d take you on business meetings and lavish business trips, invite you to expensive business dinners and elite business parties, it was always business, business, business. He wanted more than that, wanted to take you out for real and show you how much of a gentleman he could be if you’d give him the chance.

Mainly, he wanted to show you how good he could fuck you, much better than any man could, show you how well he knew your body in ways you even didn’t, in ways no man did.

He’d have to clench his fists and hold himself back from fucking you on his very desk with his blinds open for all the horny temps to see — the ones who could never seem to leave you and your beauty alone, the ones who gawked at you in the break room, the ones whose grimy hands lingered on your arm for just a little too long…

That always pissed him off, having to see those puny fanboys of yours charade around your desk like prissy princesses and fight for your attention — it was pathetic and obnoxious. He couldn’t fire them like he wanted to though (unfortunately), too many lawsuits already being filed against him that he was too rich to really care about.

He had lawyers for that shit anyway.

Santiago, or Santi as he’s made you call him now, liked to watch you talk. He loved hearing your voice, seeing the way your lips moved and sparkled with gloss as you rambled on about some company he supposedly owned, pacing his office as he sat in his chair with his dick hard under his desk.

He’d clench his jaw and picture how those lips would look wrapped around his thick cock, your lipstick leaving stains all over him that he could admire later — maybe he’d even have you under his desk during meetings, sitting right between his legs with your lipstick smeared over your cheeks, and a sweet mix of your saliva and his cum dripping down his balls —

“Are you even listening to me?” You’d always scold him with your arms crossed over your chest when you’d notice his blank stare, pushing your tits up and giving him yet another fantasy he couldn’t get his mind off of.

He’d quickly snap out of whatever trance he was in, eyes flickering from your tits to your face, intense and twinkling — really thinking he was slick enough that you wouldn’t notice it. Then he’d let out a husky chuckle, his hand subtly palming his cock as he’d say, “Of course I am.”

You’d just roll your eyes and continue talking, oblivious to his arousal as he’d stare at your ass, your lips, your legs, his hungry eyes running up and down the length of your perfect body until he was so hard he physically couldn’t stand it.

But that was the norm for him.

For any other girl he had everything — the money, the power, the cars, the looks. He could’ve had literally any other girl he wanted yet he wanted you, yet he couldn’t have you.

You were so professional, always did your job perfectly and always did the right thing, the perfect assistant, the perfect employee, the perfect woman. Why, why, couldn’t you be one of those dumb slutty assistants who he didn’t give a damn about? The ones who didn’t bother to hide the fact that they were a slut, the ones who’d drop everything and suck his dick if he asked, even if he didn’t ask.

But no, you were you and you were so damn different from that and really, that made him want you even more. The fact that you weren’t a dumb girl but a mature woman, as flawless and elegant as rose petals and wine. He wanted you to break out of that persona, see your strong facade crack and crumble for him, for his love, for his cock.

He wanted to see that perfect red lipstick smeared over your tear stained cheeks, see that tight pussy gaping and wet and begging for him, see those lacy panties wrapped around your ankles as he’d fuck you hard and fast before a business meeting in just the way he knew you’d like, just hard enough so everyone could see the stumble in your walk and the tears in your eyes.

One day he was going to have that, one day. But for now he was just gonna have to stick with the lustful stares during crowded meetings and the not-so-innocent fantasies when you’d poke into his office.

One day he’d have you, one day… but for now he was satisfied with jerking his dick off in his office at the sweet smell of your lingering perfume. For now he was okay with imagining to throw you on his desk and fucking your brains out when you’d deliver his coffee in the mornings, his lunch in the afternoon, his dinner in the evenings… all the while staring at you from behind his computer with his dick so achingly hard he couldn’t focus on a damn thing.

All right, he wasn’t okay with it but what choice did he have? Bosses shouldn’t fuck their assistants, but damn, he couldn’t wait to break his own rule and see how easily he could make a good girl turn bad.

━━ WILL ‘IRONHEAD’ MILLER ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

LUMBERJACK! WILL ⊹₊˚

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐧𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 where you went. It was inevitable really; a pretty girl like you, wearing those pink skirts like you did, wearing those 6-inch heels like you did, wearing those tight tops like you did, in a town like this? It was really no wonder why you always got stared at.

It was just unfortunate that you were too dumb to notice that he was no better than the countless men that gawked at you, he was just better at hiding it.

You were the bosses daughter — dangerously beautiful and utterly unattainable (spoiled rotten too). You were a walking, talking Barbie in pink dresses and pretty purses; a pink, glittering ditzy princess who carelessly walked around the muddy work site in those cute heels of yours — William believed you were too beautiful to walk around in the filth.

You were the sweetest little thing he had ever met too — a butterfly in a battlefield — so giggly and cheery it drove him insane. The sound of your voice in his ears, your laugh, twinkling and sweet like sparkling water; he could only imagine how good you’d sound underneath him as he drove his cock into you nice and slow so you felt every vein, every ridge, every curve hitting that spot inside you that made you squeal.

Your father was a good man, had hired Will in a desperate time when he needed someone — something, constant. Ever since then Will had always been the best employee. He was the first hire and the only one to stay when things got tough. He put in the most hours, doing the most work, being the best lumberjack he could be for your father in repayment of his kindness. So for that reason Will had earned your father’s respect in more ways than one — for being patient, hardworking, loyal.

So sometimes Will would feel bad when he’d sneak into the bathroom after a rather short conversation with you; he’d slam the stall door closed and whip out his throbbing cock to relief some of the tension you had so dim wittingly caused.

He’d fuck his fist at the thought of you bent over the break room table he had left you at, cute mini skirt flipped up and giving him a perfect view of that pretty pussy he only prayed to see. He knew it was gorgeous, knew it’d be just as pretty as you, knew he’d be fucking addicted at the first taste.

Will was patient, level headed, a loyal worker who’d never betray your fathers trust… but he’d picture thrusting his thick fingers inside you slowly and carefully, smearing cum over your warm hole and feel your wetness drip down his palm as you begged him to go faster — a pretty pink mess all for him.

He'd imagine throwing your cute little ass against a tree and wrapping your smooth legs around his waist when he was supposed to be working, telling you to be a good girl for him as he'd grope your tits and hear your needy whimpers.

He’d hold you against him as he’d push his hard cock inside your tight little pussy once you begged him enough, listen to your gasps as he’d stretch you out in ways you’d never been stretched before. He'd be sure to cover your mouth with his calloused, work torn hands to muffle your screams, have you claw his chiseled back with those glossy pink nails of yours until he bled.

He’d make you cum around his cock as he whispered every filthy thing he could think of in your ear, hear you whine and whimper and leave bruises in the sweet spots only he got to see; your father would be down the hill confused on where the both of you had gone.

He’d squirt all over his hand and thighs once he was done, panting and hissing from the pleasure pulsing through his body. He knew you were right outside those doors too, right where he left you in the break room, sipping on an ice coffee — completely oblivious.

Will would take a long while to clean himself up after that, the guilt burrowing heavy in his tummy knowing your father’s office was right down the hall. He wouldn’t dare look in that direction, and he certainly wouldn’t be able to look your father in the eye for a good hour.

He’d walk out the bathroom as inconspicuously as possible and put his hands in his coat pockets, walk back into the break room like nothing had happened, like he didn’t want to fuck your brains out right then and there, and he’d lean against the door frame and give you the most charming, innocent smile you dotingly believed.

“Hey, darlin’.”

You’d look up from your phone startled, your tits spilling out of your pink top and the plushness of your thighs flared out on the bench. Your hair was shiny and glittery with cute hair clips on each side, your makeup done so prettily and perfectly he just wanted to ruin it. You looked so damn good Will couldn’t help but take a minute to admire you some more, his eyes running over you hotly, but too subtly for you to notice.

“Oh, hey, where did you go? You said 5 minutes…” You teasingly pouted up at him with those glossy, twinkling lips of yours like you weren’t making this hard enough as it was.

You’d giggle and smile at him — making his heart churn and dick stir. He’d be entranced by your tits jiggling as you did, covered in glittery perfume and smelling of vanilla and strawberries.

So fucking delicious.

Then you’d wrap those same lips around your pink straw and take another sip of your iced coffee.

God damn those lips of yours… Will would go in a daze at the image of you on your knees for him, your lipgloss smeared over your cheeks as you’d suck his swollen cock head into your mouth, patiently waiting for him to say you could take more. Sparkly pink lip stains marked over his dick and balls… it was his dream.

Will knew he was bigger than you too, in a lot of ways, was reminded of if every time you stood next to his hulking form in those cute heels of yours that still didn’t manage to reach him. He was a 6’0 mass of muscle and brawn, carved from brick and forged from stone and way too rough around the edges to handle a delicate thing like you — it’d be like putting a pretty flower petal in the brazen hands of a giant. He wasn’t sure he could have you and not ruin you.

But god damn he’d fucking try. He’d be so delicate and tender with you in ways he’s never been with another woman. He’d cherish every scar and blemish on your smooth skin and treat you like the princess you so clearly were. He’d kiss you from head to toe and lap at your pussy like a poor man worshipping a goddess — he’d be oh so lucky.

He was big, yes, but he promised he wouldn’t crush you. He was rough, yes, but even a pretty girl like you liked having a rough hand wrapped around her throat. You’d be a pretty pink angel wrapped in his gray cotton sheets, held between his mundane, trauma stained hands.

He was manly and burly, all flannel jackets and tree stained jeans and you were girly and feminine, all short skirts and glittering strawberry lipgloss. You two didn’t work in a conventional sense but nothing about his life or yours was conventional.

Your father was a good man and William was a good worker, the best employee, the best lumberjack. He was patient and so loyal, fully aware he was risking his livelihood by wanting you but yet he was left wanting anyway. You were too cute and bouncy and he needed you to bounce on his cock more than he needed a job.

He wanted to see you bare for him — bare in heart, mind, and soul because he knew there was more to you than meets the eye. There was more of you to discover beyond the pink masses and he wanted to be the one that discovered it, the one that you trusted enough to show it to. He wanted to see the real you bared to him in the middle of the night with the beautiful afterglow of what you two had just done shining on your skin — your most organic, happiest form.

“Ah, William, I see you’re keeping my girl company? I hope she’s not keeping you, she’s a chatterbox.” Your father laughed and smacked a hand on Will’s shoulder, suddenly popping up in the doorway like Will had conjured him with his guilt. A thud sounded from the smack and Will felt his shoulder sting, completely shaken out of his fantasy now.

He looked at your father and laughed that charming laugh — I want to fuck your daughter more than I need air to breath sir but no she’s not a problem at all.

━━ BENJAMIN ‘BENNY’ MILLER ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

BARTENDER! BENNY ⊹₊˚

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 𝐇𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐨 𝐝𝐚𝐦𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 it almost angered you. Every Saturday night the club was packed with women just hoping Benny the Bartender would look their way… it was pathetic, if you didn’t do the exact same thing.

It was routine for you, the only thing you really looked forward to in your long weeks of monotonous work and errands — Benny was new, exciting, and so fucking hot you blushed at just the mere thought of him.

He was so charming too, so good at his job by simply just existing you could see why the company had hired him. With just one dazzling smile the whole room swooned and came, even you, who so pathetically tried to act hard to get at the corner of the bar with your lonely margarita you only ever ordered — you needed to be somewhat tipsy to actually have the confidence to talk to him.

You’d wear your sexiest dresses, your cutest shoes, have your hair done pristinely and your makeup done perfectly all in hopes of Benny noticing you — you were almost ashamed that you valued his attention that much.

You’d sit by yourself, alone, at the end of the bar staring at him while he worked, staring at his face and body and just picturing him fucking you on this very bar with his snapback still on his head, his hands gripping your thighs, your hips, your tits, anywhere his greedy hands could leave their mark on.

He’d wear baseball tees and black t-shirts that clung perfectly to his abs and muscles — you even heard a rumor that he was in an underground fighting ring that gave him all those muscles and scars in the first place. The thought aroused you incredibly and you couldn’t stop from fluttering your eyes at him more than usual that night.

He seldom never wore his snapback, and while you loved seeing his full face you couldn’t deny how much you loved the nights when he left his hat at home more.

He’d have his dirty blonde hair slicked back out of his face but yet there was always that one rebelling strand that fell over his eyes when he was working… it drove you insane. And the way he’d run his fingers through his hair when he was in the middle of a busy service, the way your own hands could pull it when he was laid between your legs, nibbling on your thighs and bringing you to such an ecstasy you’ve never experienced.

He was such a natural flirt too, professional to a limit when it came to all the women fawning over him over the bar, their tits falling out of their dresses and their lips over lined with lipstick. He’d laugh that boisterous laugh of his, take shots with them like he wasn’t on the clock, and he’d charm the panties right off them and the money right out of their purses by the time he was done.

You couldn’t say you weren’t jealous.

Benny, on the other hand, was all too aware of the pretty girl at the end of the bar who never seemed to bring anyone but her credit card. He was all too aware of her pretty eyes and pretty lips and perfect set of tits in those skimpy dresses she’d always wear.

And honestly, since the first night he saw you he’s wanted you.

He’d flirt with you all the time in that southern accent of his that charmed all the ladies, but you never seemed to register it, or in other words, you never seemed to care.

You were nothing like the women he dealt with every night — you would roll your eyes when he’d tell you how happy he was to see you again, purse your lips when he complimented your makeup, and seem totally disinterested in him and whatever nonsense he had to say.

And he fucking loved it.

You didn’t fawn over him like the others girls did, you didn’t seem to buy into the whole charming bartender shtick he portrayed either. You were quiet and beautiful and sharp; you never seemed too desperate or eager for him like everyone else. Sure, he loved the attention from other women, he’d be a liar if he said he didn’t, but the fact that he never seemed to have yours made him want you even more.

He’d flirt with you whenever he got the chance to, knew your drink of choice by heart now and was always there to fill it back up when it was empty. He was attentive to your needs and he swore he could be just as attentive in other settings if you gave him the chance.

You’d just sit there in the shadows, skin flashing blue and black from the lights of the club and looking so damn fine Benny wished he could drag you into the bathroom and fuck your brains out on the door, feel the music pumping through your veins as you stuck your tongue in his mouth until all he tasted was you and liqueur.

It’d be fast and hot and he wouldn’t be able to breath in anything but you and margarita salt but it sounded perfect. His big hand wrapped around your throat as people knocked on the door like you two weren’t busy. He’d try to muffle your moans for your sake but he’d also decide he liked hearing them more. It’d be cramped and intimate and it would certainly leave him breathless but god damn that sounded like just what he needed right now.

He’d be drunk on you, the taste of you, the smell of you, the feel of you wrapped around him so tight — the mysterious girl he could never seem to break through to no matter how many times he tried. Sometimes, Benny even felt like giving up — you clearly didn’t want him like he wanted you.

But then, at some point during the night when you were two margaritas in and your eyes were starting to get hazy, he’d look over at you and you’d be giving him the hottest, most seductive look he’s ever seen. It makes his heart pound and skin prickle, his cock ache for something.

It was the kind of look where your eyelashes would flutter and you’d stare up at him with a delectable little smirk on your face, a look that screamed take me now, take me on this bar and show everyone what you’re capable of, show these other bitches you only want me.

And he fucking wished he could. It was that look that kept him going, that look that gave him hope.

And you wanted him to do just that. To leave bruises on your skin and taint your body with himself, to leave his mark on your pussy and soul and be so deep inside you you weren’t sure where his body began and your pleasure ended, just that you needed more, more, more of it.

But Benny assumed that was the game you two liked to play — to show up every Saturday night with the expectation that one of you was going to finally make a move on the other. To see who would crack first, give in to the temptation the both of you so clearly desired but neither were confident enough to admit.

Benny, the sexy bartender obsessed with the mysterious girl who barely gave him the time of day.

You, the girl at the end of the bar wishing Benny would just take the initiative and fuck her already.

And to think, Benny did want you, wanted you so fucking badly, only you. You’re the one that he even bothered to show off for anyway; flipping bottles, being quick on his feet, being better than anyone else cause he knew you were the one watching.

He made a soulful promise to both you and him that one of these nights you’re gonna give him that damned look one more time and he’s not gonna have a choice but to prove to you why you shouldn’t start things you don’t intend to finish.

━━ FRANK ‘CATFISH’ MORALES ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

STEP DAD! FRANK ⊹₊˚

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 𝐇𝐞’𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 for a good year and a half before he met you, the young and beautiful daughter of the woman he supposedly loved.

You were grown, well, grown enough; a beautiful woman with dreams and ambitions, goals for her life that he couldn’t help but admire. But you also had this delectable snark you certainly didn’t get from your mother, an attitude that made anything remotely good about you pale in comparison — it drove him mad.

He hated to act like a father to you because he wasn’t your father — you were in your 20s anyway, it was too late for him to be anything other than Frank. He was just an older man in your life set to wed your mother, yet he really only had eyes for you, his beautiful step daughter he certainly shouldn’t be fantasizing about when he was fucking your mother.

You were bratty and mean, always rolled your eyes at him and walked off right in the middle of him talking to you; you wore those short shorts he despised (loved more than he should have) and those dresses that clung just a little too tight to your body for his liking. You were disobedient and rude, but so fucking sexy he was left torn between his desires and morals.

You never cared what he had to say about anything, never bothered to listen to his rules, and never bothered to wear some god damn house appropriate shorts that didn’t shove your round ass into his face every time he walked past you.

He imagined bending you over his knee and pulling your shorts off you, gently sliding your pink panties down your thighs, then spanking your ass, hard, like the disobedient brat you were until his handprints were etched into your skin, until you were sniffling and moaning for him to stop, until you had finally learned some respect.

He wondered if you’d get wet from that simple act alone: maybe your childish attitude was all a front, an act, to really piss him off to his limits and see how far you could push him until he broke. Maybe you wanted to be punished by him, be spanked raw, be fucked hard, until tears were streaming in your pretty little eyes and you were sobbing your apologizes to him instead of running your mouth.

As a matter of fact he should do just that; with all the times you’d “accidentally” leave the door open when you were showering and your mother had gone shopping, just you and Frank and the sizzling tension between you left to fend for itself. He was a gentleman at heart but no man could deny the allure of such a pretty body like yours covered in water.

He should shove your face into his pillow and fuck you from behind so you didn’t have to see his face like he knew you’d want to. He’d hold your hands behind your back and pound you until you cried for him to stop, to go faster, that it hurts, but you fucking wanted more.

You’d probably be a squirter too, all mean girls like you were when they got stripped down to the bare parts of themselves, where they couldn’t hide behind their own insolence and were touched by the experienced hands of an older man.

Frank was a patient man, a very patient man. It took a lot to drive him over the edge but yet you always seemed to know just what to say and just what to do to really push his buttons.

Your bedroom door wide open as you changed out of your bra, your perky tits all smooth and round for him to ogle at through the hallway, your music blasting through the whole house when he was trying to get some god damn sleep, bringing over your stupid little boyfriends into his house and letting them fuck you under his roof — it was all reason enough for him to punish you.

And no, Frank wasn’t jealous. He was a grown man, what did he have to be jealous about? He wasn’t jealous when he’d hear your moans sound through the whole house, the headboard banging on the wall, the giggles you’d try to hide as you’d walk them out the door. It was pathetic. Those boys could never fuck you like he could and he knew it. He was not jealous.

You were a bad girl, a naughty girl, and he didn’t like pretty little girls who thought they knew better than him.

You never showed him any gratitude, or appreciation for taking you and your mother in when he didn’t have to, you never thanked him when he made you a hot meal, and you never listened when he’d say put gas back in my car if you use it.

He basically let you do whatever you wanted, whenever you wanted. There was no structure, no rhyme or reason to anything you did and he’d be damned if he was going to let a spoiled brat like you make his life any harder than it needed to be.

Your mother was an angel, all kisses and kind words and that’s why he loved her in the first place. He had plans to marry her and live a great life with her. Even when she mentioned a daughter Frank didn’t worry, he imagined an adorable little toddler with big doe eyes and a kind heart just like her mother. But then he met you, and you were no kid, and you were certainly no fucking angel.

You were a soul sucking succubus sent from the depths of hell to tempt him, to make him fail yet another marriage. You were young and he knew it was wrong to despise you yet simultaneously want you so fucking badly. He wanted you out of his house, but he also wanted you on your knees and gagging around his cock. He wanted you to shut up for once, but he also wanted you to scream his name until the neighbors knew it.

It was certainly complicated and contradicting, and with his wedding on the way he really didn’t need anything going wrong. But, he figured, if he married your mother at least he would always be around to keep you in line, right?

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nat-20s · 5 months

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God GOD okay okay okay okay okay I'm having thoughts I'm having FEELINGS im having a Moment SO

I waanna talk about Ten and Donna (shocker I know) but SPECIFCALLY I wanna talk about like. Them and being besties and soulmatism and red string of fates and what not. Also this post is long as rambly as hell so I'm putting it under a readmore for my non-tendonna girlies <3

So like. The Runaway Bride really does establish them as future besties so so well and some of it is the writing but I do think that some of it is that Catherine Tate and David Tennant, by all available accounts, ALSO immediately got on like a house on fire. Like genuinely i know Acting TM is a thing but I think them getting on is part of why their on screen chemistry is SO electric and dazzling to the point where Donna went from a one off one episode character to *checks notes* a character that came back TWICE and also fundamentally changed the structure and DNA of Doctor Who as a whole so. You know. Pretty impressive. Plus Donna gets to have her first adventure with The Doctor as their absolute worst: Ten is grieving from a FRESH wound of losing Rose, he's incredibly cruel and incredibly cold and straight up murders the Racknoss without a flinch or hint of remorse, and even before that he accidentally kidnaps her and then insults her as someone to dismiss. That's not to say that she doesn't also see The Doctor at their brightest: he ends up treating her with incredible kindness, and he's dazzling and brilliant and cares so much and shows her the creation of the earth itself to provide comfort. However it IS to say that because of the nature of his first interaction with Donna he CAN'T put up a facade she already knows the truth!! She is walking into their dynamic with completely open eyes and at first it fucking scares her! She doesn't dislike him in fact they already are friends after less than a day but

Then partners in crime happens. And she's realized okay no actually I CAN take the bad with the good and I WANT to participate in all of it and I DO want this friendship. The Red Strings of Fate (or maybe the TARDIS being like lmaoo you need this girlie <3) bring them back together and they are Officially Tethered from that point on which is so so so delicious. It's also so so so delicious that Ten's still at an incredibly low point and she's still going into this friendship without any ruses in place. Like oh shit yeah they are Bound together even if they did separate now they would almost certainly find each other again.

AND THEN AND THEN!!! We've already established The Doctor and Donna as fast best friends but holllllyyyy shit I think Fires of Pompeii is what establishes them as forever Soulmates. I meant canonically the ending of Fires of Pompeii where she has him save the family fundamentally changed The Doctor for the rest of their lives and gave them a guiding moral compass long after she wasn't there so yeah that's pretty fuckin soulmates of them. But I actually think them as a concept of two people sharing one soul (for the better!!) happens earlier in the episode. The exact moment in fact is THIS ONE:

The Doctor has to make a choice. There are no good options: both are mass destruction and death. And it's SUCH a Doctor choice to have to make: actively destroy Pompeii and everyone in it, or allow the entire world to be destroyed. Not only that but it will likely kill both him and Donna as well. It's a mix of self sacrifice and other sacrifice to save the world and it's a horrific situation to be in.

It is a narrative that parallels the choice he made in the Time War. It is an archetypical Burden of the Doctor.

And then she looks into his eyes, sees his fear and hesitation and remorse and guilt, and wordlessly puts her hands on his. They push the lever to destroy Pompeii together. And it becomes the burden of the DoctorDonna.

#tennant doctor #tenth doctor #donna noble #doctor who #THEY'RE SOULMATES THEY'RE SOULMATES THEY'RE SOULMATES #im OBSESSED with how intricate of an understanding she has of him LONG before she gets his mind.#the way that they experience and process and react to things is sooo similar in some ways and SOOO perfectly counterbalanced in others im #*chews glass*

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starry-eyes-love · 4 months

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Ch 8- A Christmas Story

Main Masterlist Series Masterlist

My Journey to You Series: Ch. 8- A Christmas Story (can read as a stand alone or in order with the series).

Pairings | Joel Miller x F!Reader with a lot of Ellie interactions

Summary | A Christmas Story in January, three wishes granted, and finally the concept of a family once again…and F!Reader and Joel’s teasing hit an all time high between them.

Warnings | 18+, Minors DNI. Language, slight angst (Joel and reader overthinks stuff again), sexual tension/teasing to the max, panic attack (Joel has one), a ton of fluffy fluff fluff stuff (like a ton), a lot of funny/cute little moments, references to smut (without actual smut though), passionate kissing, terms of endearment (baby, honey, etc.), Ellie calls Joel dad (it needs its own warning), Joel hears Sarah’s voice, Christmas theme stuff, water and snowball fight, Ellie and Joel banter, implied age gap (without any reference to age), Christmas cookies, family and marriage dynamic references, and I don’t want to spoil too much more. This one is a tear jerker (funny laughter and fluffy stuff wise) but in the best possible way for them. And a ring may be involved (shhh). Ok, not going to spoil it anymore…just read it…oh and an old guy in a fat Santa suit :)

Word Count: 10.9 K (not sorry really)

Ellie immediately started laughing as Joel struggled with the Santa suit. “Joel, you look funny in a fat suit,” she said, laughing out loud at a pillow peeking through his Santa jacket. “I haven't heard of no Joel before, I'm Santa.” He said, with a husky voice. “So what happened to Joel? Did ya kill him when you landed your fat ass on top of him with your sleigh…”

Joel had hunted for the perfect Christmas tree. He tried to find one that wasn’t too big or too small, something that would easily fit inside the cabin. After searching for the better part of a day, Joel finally found one that was perfect. You had been sitting by the fire, relaxing after making jerky for food, when you heard Joel through the door say “Hey, can ya help me with this?”

When you opened your eyes and peered through the window you gasped at seeing the tree. “Joel, are you serious? Did you actually get us a Christmas tree?” you said, eyes bright and a huge smile plastered on your face. It had been ages since you had a Christmas tree, let alone a proper Christmas. Christmas was always your favorite holiday and you were absolutely blown away that Joel was making the effort to give you something from your childhood, even though it was long past the holiday season.

After the tree was up, Ellie and you searched the storage totes again and found some old Christmas decorations with lights. There were only a few ornaments in the storage containers, so you improvised. You hung a few spoons, a hunting knife that was broken, a few old holey socks, and a few pieces of paper that had fallen out from old books; all of which were placed on the tree like ornaments. It wasn't the best looking tree, but it meant something to the three of you. It showed that even with survival, there was still a chance of having a family once again.

The following days after you put up the tree you kept to yourself more, getting lost in your own thoughts of the past again. You thought about what time of the year it was, and by your calculations and best estimate, you figured it was sometime in the middle of January. Technically Christmas was in the past, being a December holiday. When you brought this fact up to Joel, he told you to stop worrying. That the whole point of any of this was to give Ellie a taste of Christmas, no matter what time of year or suggested date it was on the calendar. No one kept a calendar anymore, all any of you could do was guess.

You tried not to worry, but you started overthinking again. You didn't tell anyone, but you silently hoped that Christmas would bring you a family once again. You knew Joel hadn't said that he loved you yet, but you were hoping he'd say it now for Christmas. What you didn't know was that Joel had been saying that he loved you, but just in Spanish, and you didn’t speak Spanish. Joel said ‘te amo’ almost every day to you, which meant that he loved you. He said it in front of Ellie once, and you saw Ellie's eyes go wide. Joel shot her a quick glare to be quiet. When you had asked her why she reacted that way, and if she understood Spanish, she said no. You didn't voice it, but you knew that she was lying. You tried asking Joel again what ‘te amo meant’, but he never answered you. He just walked outside and pretended not to hear you. You were starting to think that maybe your idea of Joel telling you that he loved you was wrong, that actually he was being mean to you once again, but this time in Spanish. You were so lost and confused, overthinking things once again in your head.

In the following days when you heard that the traps needed to be checked and reset, you volunteered to do it. This allowed you to mull things over in your head, without interruption or having to explain why you were being more quiet and keeping to yourself. You were gone for the better part of a day, taking longer than normal to check and reset the traps. You were so lost in thought, bent over and working on the last trap that you never heard Joel approach.

“Ya know, I didn't think watchin’ you attempt to check and rest a trap for the last 20 minutes would be so sexy. But I guess I was wrong.” He said, leaning up against a tree with his arms crossed.

You slowly straightened up and glanced over your shoulder, raising an eyebrow up at him. You didn't want to argue or fight, so you were wary of saying anything. When you looked at Joel, frustration was not what you saw. You saw him look at you like he was a wolf, and that you were his prey. His eyes were dark and pupils blown wide with lust. When you trailed your eyes down his body, you saw a tight prominent bulge in the front. The longer you looked, the more you felt your own heat rise up in your spine, and a deep throb started someplace else inside of you. How can that man stand there and look that damn sexy, you thought to yourself.

Joel stared at you, wondering the same thing. Damn woman. You're making it so fucking hard f’me. I just wanna bend ya over right there and fuck that nice tight lil’ ass of yours. Joel's thoughts were running rampant in his head, he was fighting hard to keep his calm composure and not give in to his animal instincts. After a moment of eye fucking you he said in a husky voice, “Ya wanna bend over for me, nice and slow baby? Let me see that nice tight ass of yours?”

“Yeah, well Miller, you can't touch now can you?” You said, smiling at Joel, trying to push the beast in front of you to give in and devour you. You craved Joel in every possible way. And by the way he was glaring at you, you figured he was thinking the same thing that you were. You wanted him desperately to stop being so noble, to just give in to his animal urges and claim you completely as his.

With a slight smirk and another slow palm to his crotch Joel said, “well baby, that's why I'm asking ya to bend back over f’me. I wanna see that nice, big-”

“You better not be referring to my ass as being big there old man, or so help me God, that'll be the last time you see it in this position.” You glared at Joel, silently challenging him to continue.

You saw Joel swallow hard, his Adam's Apple bobbing up and down at your statement. Apparently your mouth turned him on. God, why did your smartass attitude sound so incredibly sexy to him right now? You watched Joel place his hands on his hips, slowly taking a few steadying breaths. It was getting harder and harder for him to deny you. This little chase game between the two of you was heating up, and Joel was miserable. You've been teasing the fuck out of him for days, not kissing him or allowing him to touch you sexually. He was about two seconds away from saying screw it and give in to you. He wanted you, desperately. Evidence of this was inside his pants right now, straining hard against his zipper. Throbbing and pulsing to every fast beat of his heart, reminding him that even in this unforgiving world, that he was still a man that had needs. And his needs were screaming at him to bend you over and claim that perfect little cunt of yours as his. God man, get a fucking grip on yourself.

Joel scolded himself internally, he remembered the discussion the two of you have had recently regarding the act of penetration. “Joel, do I not turn you on, do you not want sex? Every time I try, you say no. I want to. Please.” Your thoughts and mouth had overflowed with doubt and anxiety at his relationship with you recently. It wasn't like he didn't want to have sex, God he wanted nothing more than to give in and give you everything. But he was trying to do this right, or so he thought. “Just a little while longer,” he had said to you. But the more he watched you right now, the more he started to question his own logic.

Joel, being so lost in thought, was surprised when you slowly bent over and ran your hand up the back of your ass. “Mr. Miller, I want you to fuck this so bad.” You had said, looking back at him, pleading with your eyes.

Joel was trying to be a good man for you, a true gentleman. But you almost made him cum right there on the spot with that move. Right now he wanted to throw all caution out of the way and just bury himself deep inside of you, claim you as truly his. With a low growl, and a firm palm to his crotch, Joel looked at you with warning eyes and said, “Darlin', ya can't say shit like that t’me and expect me not to-” Joel had to stop himself before he fully admitted to his weakness. He knew that if he told you that he wanted to fuck you, that you'd touch him. And the moment you'd touch him would be when his last resolve would snap, and he'd give in to you with no restraint.

When you looked back at Joel, he looked completely wrecked. That man is truly like iron steel with his resolve. Holding back and not giving in, you thought. For a moment you truly were impressed with his ability to say no. But as the intense stare down continued, you knew he was on the verge of breaking and giving you what you wanted. But by how black his pupils looked, you knew he wouldn’t be able to be gentle, and that terrified and excited you all at the same time. You wanted him to give you everything that he had, to not hold back anymore, and to just let himself feel something. “Ya alright?” you said, while walking over to Joel. When he didn't respond, you were concerned. So with a long exhale you said, “Look Joel, I'm sorry, I-”

“No ya ain't. Ya ain't fucking sorry and you know it. Fuck woman, ya need to stop teasing me like this.” He said, pointing down at the front of him. You could see that he was uncomfortable, pants visibly tight around his big length. He was slightly throbbing through his denim jeans as his belt fit nice and snug on his waist. His lips were slightly parted as he slowly licked them, getting them nice and moist. He ran a hand through his hair, breathing heavy, cock twitching at your staring eyes. You heard a low growl emit from his chest as he said with a stern voice “quit fucking staring at me like that, and stop your god damn teasing, now.”

When you slowly raised your eyes up to Joel’s face, you saw the wild man, the wolf within him, stare back at you. Joel had that look in his eyes of pure dominance. He wanted you to challenge him, so he could claim you as truly his. Every warning bell was going off in your head from him, and you did the only thing that you knew you could do in this situation. You pushed him a little more, wanting his resolve to snap hard. “Teasing you? I'm not teasing you Joel.” You said, allowing irritation to lace your voice. Here you were minding your own business, thinking about stuff when he told you that you looked sexy and to bend over, and now giving you fuck me eyes. What the fuck was his problem, he was teasing you, you thought.

Joel didn't say anything, but he continued to look at you breathing hard. He knew you were challenging him, hoping that he’d lash out and teach you a lesson. You two had a lot of sexual tension building up over the past few months. And honestly, you two needed to fuck it out, but here was not the proper time nor place to do it. So he gently shook his head no, and took three steps back from you, dropping his hands to his sides while whispering “baby, we can’t.”

You knew that Joel was backing down, retreating from his feelings once again. And this made you frustrated. This was the whole reason why you were out here in the first place. You needed some time to be away from the tension inside the house, from the constant reminder that Joel didn’t want you sexually the way that you wanted him. So when you turned back around to go back to the trap, you were surprised to feel Joel grab your arm. Confusion laced your face when you looked down at his contact with you. His voice, almost in a pained whisper said, “baby please, just wait a sec. Maybe we could, I- uh want to, I want- shit.” He said, shaking his head.

“Joel, what is it?” You were hoping that if he couldn’t do the act that he obviously wanted to do, that maybe he could just at least talk about it with you.

Joel just stared at you, pleading with his eyes for you to understand him. He wanted to say ‘Baby, I love you and wanna fuck you so bad,’ but he couldn't voice it to you. Joel was scared. He was scared of feeling the things he felt for you in a world that was truly unforgiving. He didn't want to feel the pain of losing you, like he had when he lost Sarah. He also didn't want to be alone anymore. So with a huff he said “looks like ya got it all figured out. Don't- don't take too much more time.”

When he turned to leave, you reached out and grabbed him by the arm and said, “what, no kiss goodbye?” You wanted something to hold on to, something that said that all this sexual tension was worth it, that he wanted you. That maybe he actually did love you. But when you saw Joel looking at you with a stone cold look on his face, one that was also mixed with pain, you heard him whisper “no” as he pulled further away.

“Why? Did I do something wrong? Joel, what did I do so wrong, why don’t you want to-”

“No darlin' you didn't do anything wrong.” He said, stopping and smiling kindly at you. “I just- it ain't a good idea right now is all, ok. We can’t, not here. I need to get back.” And with that he yanked his arm out of your grasp and marched towards the cabin once again.

You called back to him and said “why? Joel, I don't understand,” but he never stopped. You were left standing there, now more confused than ever, thinking to yourself, what in the hell was that?

Do you want me to fuck you? Is that what you want? Your words kept playing over and over again in Joel's head from the other night as he marched back to the cabin. Do you even want me Joel? He couldn't stop the racing thoughts as they entered his mind.

When he got back to the cabin, he went inside. Once he was inside he slammed his fist onto the closed door, placing his head against it with his eyes closed. He was breathing hard and fast, heart pounding hard inside his chest. He tried to slow his breathing down when he felt the ache in his chest start again, like it has so many times before. But this time it was a little different, he felt a tightness take over too. His vision started to blur, and his ears began to ring. He was spiraling out of control into a god forsaken panic attack once again.

Before he was sucked too far down into his fears, he felt someone put their hand on his back and softly whisper, “dad you're gonna be ok. Just breathe. Come on, slow breaths for me.”

“I can't, it's too much.” He said, eyes shut tight as he felt his heart pound hard into his chest.

“No, it's not too much. One long breath in, hold for two seconds, then exhale for three. Come on dad, with me.”

Joel heard the breaths going in and out, and the voice that attempted to calm him. He thought he was hallucinating, hearing Sarah’s voice once again, but it sounded different from what he usually could hear in his mind. As he tried to focus on breathing, he struggled. Then he heard the voice say in a soft and gentle manner again, “What scared you?”

“I don't wanna be alone, but I don't want to feel the pain of losing you again” he said, feeling his heart pound faster in his chest at the admittance of what caused his panic attack to start.

“You ain't gonna be alone dad, we love you. Now come on, breathe with me and repeat after me ‘I’m safe, I'm calm, I'm loved.’”

Joel repeated it multiple times, for several minutes, listening to the voice calm him and slow his breathing down. His heart had returned to normal in his chest, vision no longer cloudy and ears no longer ringing. Finally he took a big breath in and out, steadying himself once again. But before he opened his eyes he heard the voice say, “I love you dad, please never forget it.” And then the soft voice was gone. Joel opened his eyes and looked behind him as he slowly watched Ellie walk towards her bedroom. It was then that he realized the soft voice wasn't Sarah, it was Ellie. And his heart constricted once again, but this time out of love for the teenager he traveled with. “Thanks baby girl” he whispered as Ellie walked away. Ellie never acknowledged it, but she heard him loud and clear.

Once you got back, Joel was already in his room with the door shut. Ellie said that when he returned, he just walked in saying that he wasn't feeling well, and then went to lay down in his bedroom. She never told you that he had a panic attack, and that she helped him calm down. You sat talking with Ellie for a bit, she continued to ask you a million questions about what life was like before during Christmas. Eventually you felt your eyelids grow heavy, so with a smile you said “I'm gonna go and get some sleep Ellie. It’s been a long day.” You were still hurt and sensitive about your earlier discussion with Joel, second guessing his feelings for you once again.

Ellie just nodded at you, not saying anything in return. As you got to the hallway you heard her say “just so ya know, te amo means I love you or love you in Spanish. Joel, he's emotionally constipated and hurting right now. He doesn't want to lose you or I like he did Sarah. So, I don't know, just cut him some slack or something. I want a family for Christmas.”

You just looked at Ellie and nodded your head. When she went back to reading her book you went to your own room, letting Joel have the other room by himself. You two needed a break, well mostly you did. You were exhausted and needed to sleep, but didn’t want to lay next to the man who made you ache inside for him when he wouldn’t do anything to help relieve that discomfort. You and Joel used to play around with each other, where he’d use his fingers and mouth to help you get off. But recently he wouldn’t even do that. Something was different with him, and you didn’t know what caused it or why.

After you laid down you found that sleep quickly caught up to you. And for once it gave you pleasant dreams. Dreams of a family and a life that you wanted with a foul mouthed teenager named Ellie, and a wise old grump named Joel. Christmas was going to be great this year, or at least it was like that in your dreams. Little did you know, your dreams would soon become reality.

3 Days Later

“Joel, you can't see for shit beyond ten yards away. You're old and blind” Ellie said, sitting by the fire and talking with Joel.

“What the hell does that even mean, ya little shit? I can see beyond 10 yards, ya smartass, right y/n?”

“Hey, don't bring me into this argument,” you said, laughing at the banter between Joel and Ellie.

“See y/n agrees, you're old as shit Joel.”

“What? How’d you come up with that logic? She didn’t even say anythin,’” Joel huffed, going back and forth with Ellie. The banter between these two for the last few days was getting more frequent, which made you laugh harder each time. It wasn’t that these two were fighting. They were just bickering with each other, playful banter really, and something that reminded you of a family. You remember seeing your uncles do it with their teenage daughters, it reminded you of home.

“Look here smartass, don't go and spread lies ‘bout me that ain't true. If ya can’t verify it or back it up, then you’re just making stuff up.” Joel was now standing tall and pointing a finger at Ellie. Ellie, relaxed on the floor, was questioning Joel in whether or not he could even see to shoot a bow, as he was struggling to read the book in his hands. He kept squinting, huffing to himself and saying that people needed to stop printing books in such small print.

“Joel, you can’t see the large print book in front of you, when it says ‘large print’ on it. You’re fucking blind ya old man, ain’t that right y/n?” Ellie said with a serious look on her face.

“Ellie, god damnit watch your mouth. Ya hear me? I said no swearin’. And you over there,” Joel said while pointing a finger at you, “stop your damn laughing.” You were rolling around on the floor laughing so hard that your stomach hurt at the calm bickering that Ellie and Joel were both doing. You could barely contain your laughter, trying not to hurt or bruise Joel’s ego at the situation that he swore just as bad (and if not worse) than Ellie did, yet he was yelling at her for swearing.

“Damn it, I can’t read this sentence. Y/n what the hell does this even say here with this small print. I tell ya, they don’t make books like they used to.” Joel mumbled to himself, while pointing out the sentence he couldn’t read.

Ellie immediately tried to grab the book, offering to help Joel read it. But Joel quickly batted her hand away, putting the book into your hands. You glared at Ellie and Joel, trying to decide what you should do. Ellie was pleading with her eyes for you to crack a joke so she could continue with the easy conversation of teasing Joel. Joel was looking at you to solve the problem he was having. After a moment you brought the book up so you could read it, deciding to help Ellie have some more fun, and for you to have a little fun with the old man that was in front of you. You needed to relax too, not every interaction with Joel needed to be so intense.

“Ok Joel, I’ll help you. What do you want me to read?” you asked innocently, hiding the devilish smirk behind your calm exterior. When Joel pointed out the sentence, mumbling again how books aren’t created like they used to be, having the print too small, you couldn’t help yourself. You took a deep breath and said, “well first off Joel, this book was written back in 1945. But you’re right, they don’t make them like they used to. And you’d know that perfectly wouldn’t you, with your age.” You then went to start to read the sentence and you noticed that Joel froze as he sat down, looking over at Ellie who was sitting upright, not yet laughing or saying anything at the old reference. You had to hand it to the kid, she patiently waited until your next sentence came out.

“Ok Joel it says, ‘once upon a time, an old man named Joel couldn’t see, so he decided to blame the world for being old. He asked a beautiful, young, and attractive woman to help his poor, old, feeble self by reading something that a blind man could honestly see. So she decided to help, because he was really cute, and in the end, she agreed with the teenager that he was old as fuck. The End.’”

“Gimme that wiseass” he said as you finished. Ellie was now bent over laughing so hard that she was hyperventilating at how much you were in on teasing Joel too. “No respect from the younger generation I tell ya, no respect.” Joel then got up with a groan and sulked towards the bedroom with his book in his hands. When he got to the hallway he turned around and said “if y'all are through laughin’ at me, I’m gonna go and read in the bedroom and get some sleep.”

“Cause you’re old as shit” Ellie said.

Joel, not realizing what Ellie had said out loud, commented “right, see you in the morning.”

You and Ellie both roared with laughter at the fact that Joel didn’t realize what he agreed to. After a moment, he stopped and then hit his head with the palm of his hand, saying, “I didn’t mean that. I’m not agreeing to that.”

You replied, “see Ellie, apparently he’s old, blind and deaf too.”

“No respect I tell ya, none.” He said loudly upon hearing what you said. Huffing to himself, he marched into the bedroom yelling “and yet y’all need me to survive” as he slammed the door.

Both Ellie and you continued to laugh in the living room. After a moment you said “we probably shouldn’t make fun of him so much, he gets a little touchy ya know.”

“I know,” Ellie said, “but it’s so much fun teasing Papa Bear like this. Reminds me of what it’d be like if he was my dad. Well, I’m gonna go to bed.” She said, then getting up and leaving for her room.

“Night Ellie,” you said as Ellie walked towards her bedroom. You sat there in the living room for a little while longer, rubbing your eyes and giggling to yourself at the funny banter that happened. Life was feeling pretty good for a bit. But now with the quiet, you felt your heart constrict and those empty thoughts of being alone came rushing back in. After sitting there in silence you decided to go to bed yourself. Forcing your thoughts to rest in your head at the fact that you were going to be sleeping alone once again.

When morning came, you had decided to bake Christmas cookies in secret. You recruited Ellie to help you keep Joel distracted for the afternoon. Ellie had apologized to Joel in the morning, he had called her a smartass again, but it seemed like he forgave her. He wouldn’t talk to you really, telling you that you were mean to him and that he doesn’t talk to mean people. You knew he was just joking as he gave you a wink and a light hip chuck at the statement when he stood next to you in the kitchen. You’ve never seen this side of Joel, so carefree and fun that it shocked and surprised you, but also turned you on. You loved carefree Joel, someone that you hoped you would be able to see more of. Once Ellie was talking Joel's ear off outside, you started to bake your surprise Christmas cookies.

“Hey old man, why haven’t you told her what Te amo means yet?” Ellie asked, leaving out the part that she already told you what it meant. She wanted Joel to say it to you, knowing that you both loved each other very much and she wanted both of you to be happy.

“Not the right time” was all he said, huffing as he swung the axe to chop firewood. “And stop calling me old” he said with another grunt and swing of the axe.

“When’s the right time Joel?” She questioned, transfixed at what he was doing.

“Dunno” was his only reply as he swung the axe yet again.

“Joel I-”

“Ellie, this ain’t none of your business what her and I- what we- Look, her and I have-”

“God Joel, you’re forgetting that I’m practically an adult, I know you two have your little love sessions. That’s what I mean, if y’all can fuck, then why can’t you tell her that you love her?”

“Keep your voice down” Joel snapped, approaching Ellie for a moment to grab another piece of firewood. “And for the record, we ain’t fuckin’ yet, so-”

“Why not? Can’t get it up old man, is that the problem?” She joked, smiling at her sarcasm that she just gave him.

He just shook his head at her, not answering her. Getting it up was not the problem, that part was evident last night when he went to bed. You had given him a lot of sass last night and Joel hated to admit that it was a huge turn on for him. You were strong, could keep up with him and you weren’t afraid to put him in his place. When he walked into his bedroom last night, he was hard as a rock at the fact that you had a sassy mouth. It only took him a few minutes before he came hard around his fingers, wishing he was buried deep inside of you. This no sex thing was getting to him, he needed you in more ways than one, and he didn’t think he’d be able to hold off for very much longer.

“So what’s the reason Joel?” Ellie said, snapping Joel out of his train of thought.

“I just want to do this right” was all he said.

“How do you ‘do it right?’” Ellie asked genuinely, not understanding the complexity of relationships like this yet.

“What’s with all these questions, huh? Look, her and I, what we- I know what I’m doing, ok? Don’t worry about this, it ain’t your concern.” he said, swinging the axe and chopping another piece of firewood.

Ellie loved teasing Joel, especially about you. You had asked her to go out and keep Joel occupied as you started baking something inside the house. You found an old recipe for Christmas cookies, specifically sugar cookies. You went through the pantry and saw the makings for the cookies and you wanted to do something nice for Joel, considering the tension between you two wasn’t the best at the moment. You didn't know what was the matter, you figured it had everything to do with him remembering his last Christmas with his daughter. That's why you wanted to make this Christmas perfect for him and Ellie too.

“So do you?” Ellie asked Joel as she continued to watch him.

“What?” He said, breathing hard after he swung the axe yet again, chopping another piece of firewood.

“You heard me. Do. You. Love. Her?” she said, emphasizing each word so Joel could hear her. Ellie was genuinely interested in whether or not Joel actually did love you.

Joel, not wanting to talk about his feelings, started sifting through the log piles, pretending like he was trying to find something. Ellie could tell that he was nervous, not wanting to answer the question. She walked over to Joel and then said “Papa Bear, what's the matter?”

“I do. I do love her it's just that-”

“You're just scared to love that hard again, I get it.” Ellie said, smiling at him at his attempted admission. Every time she's ever tried to get Joel to talk about his feelings he's always blow up either at her or at you for asking. So this little attempted admission made Ellie feel good, knowing that he did in fact love you and that Joel felt comfortable enough to share.

“Yeah somethin’ like that. Now enough of making me talk, what are you gonna give y/n for Christmas?” Joel said, trying to change the subject.

Ellie had talked Joel's ear off all afternoon. When he got tired she took a turn and chopped firewood for a little bit. You watched through the window at the two of them, seeing how he just fell into the typical dad role. At one moment you saw her jump on his back to try to get him on the ground. He was able to twist around and finally held her down, tickling her. You could see that he loved that sassy foul mouthed teenager as if it was his own Sarah.

You were finally finished baking the sugar cookies, as they were now cooling on the rack, when all of a sudden you heard Ellie yell “hey y/n, can you come out here for a second?”

When you didn't respond right away, as you were grabbing your boots and coat, you heard Joel yell with a booming voice “woman, get your ass out here now.”

You quickly ran outside saying “What? What's the matter?” When all of a sudden you were hit by a flying snowball. You looked around to see where it had come from when you got hit right in the face again with another one. When that happened, you yelled as it had stung and surprised you.

“Oh shit Joel, you hit her in the face” you heard Ellie say.

“Shh not so loud, you'll give away our position” he countered.

When you looked around eventually you saw Joel and Ellie poke their head out of a little hiding spot. “You shits,” you had said, while forming a snowball yourself and then launching it at them. The next thing you knew, the three of you were having an honest to God snowball fight, like you were all 8 years old again. Quickly though it became girls against the boy, as Joel accidentally hit Ellie in the back of the head and she yelled “What the fuck Joel?”

His response was “well when ya got a big head, and are in the way, what do ya think will happen?” That caused you and Ellie to form a temporary alliance to get even with Joel.

As the three of you were forming strategic positions and developing an art to this snowball fight, you had an idea to really get Joel back. You went into the kitchen and filled a large pot with ice cold water. This will get him good, you thought. Then Ellie got him cornered and you approached him with the water.

“Woman, now put that down now. No use you gettin’ yourself hurt.” He said, trying to get away from you, but Ellie had him backed into a corner. When Joel saw that you weren't backing down he said “so help me God y/n, if ya do that I'll throw your naked ass in the snow later.”

“Hear that Ellie? I believe Joel just gave me a challenge. What do you think, kid?” You said, while approaching Joel. He was quickly glancing around to try to find an exit, when he couldn’t find one he thought intimidation might stop you.

“Look here, that’s not a challenge little girl. It's a fucking promise. Ya do that I will throw your ass naked in the snow.” When you didn’t back down he quickly shouted, “woman, put it down now or else-” and that's when you did it. You tossed the water at Joel and drenched the entire front of him. He immediately yelled saying, “Jesus Christ, that's cold. Ya tryin' to freeze my balls off here or somethin’? What's gotten into you?” He then got grumpy and started walking inside, not wanting to look at anyone anymore. He looked like a wet pup, and boy did it make you and Ellie laugh.

When Joel entered the cabin he stopped as he smelled a familiar old scent in the air. When you walked in behind him you put your hand on his back and said, “Merry Christmas Joel.” He turned around, and said, “did ya bake Christmas cookies?”

“Of course I did, honey. Sugar cookies only though. It was the only thing I could find the ingredients for.” You said, biting your lip nervously. Ingredients were hard to come by but you managed to find enough for a batch of cookies, and then some left over for bread. Sugar cookies were cooling on the wrack and bread was still baking in the oven. You knew they wouldn't have that fresh taste as you had no idea how old the ingredients were. You couldn't use chicken eggs or butter, so you substituted it for some water and other ingredients like stored coconut oil you found that was still ok.

Joel stood there sniffing the air, a wide grin plastered onto his face. He may be a man in his 50s, but right now in this moment he looked like a young boy, excited to have baked Christmas goods. “Um, do ya think that maybe I could-” Joel said, shuffling over to where the cookies were cooling, dropping large pools of water everywhere with how wet he was.

When you looked down you giggled to yourself at how his threat of throwing you into the snow naked hadn’t happened yet, something that you weren’t going to remind him of. “Hey, how ‘bout you go and get outta those wet clothes, then come over and have the first official taste test. Let me know how I did.” You said, nudging him gently towards the bedroom where some warm and dry clothes were.

Joel nodded and quickly shuffled off to change his clothes, leaving large drops of water all the way down the hall. “Is he gone?” Ellie asked, peeking her head around the door while still standing outside, not wanting to get attacked herself with water from Joel.

“Yeah, he went to go and change quick,” you said, bending over and checking the bread. Seeing that the bread was done, golden brown but flat, you took it out of the oven and shut the oven off. You stood there glancing at it and then pinched the bridge of your nose, muttering to yourself, “well, it didn't rise right. That yeast must be too old.”

“Still smells amazing darlin', I'm not picky” you heard Joel say, standing close behind you. When you turned around to look at him, you saw a flash of something different. It almost looked like happiness, something you don’t think you’d ever see Joel have. “Well Ellie, ya want your first taste of a Christmas cookie?” Joel asked, then motioned for Ellie to take one and bite into it first. “Well how does it taste?” He said, smiling at the way her eyes lit up, savoring the bite like it was the best thing that she’d ever tasted.

After a moment she said “um- wow. That's really fucking good.”

“Language Ellie, Jesus Christ” Joel mumbled. “Damn kid needs to watch her mouth.”

You silently laughed because it was like watching a father and daughter interact once again. Soon Joel bit into the cookie himself, and then he moaned at the taste. “For something so old it sure tastes damn good” he mouthed, cookie still half in his mouth.

“Yeah, I know you taste good,” you said softly so Ellie couldn't hear.

Joel started sputtering and coughing at the statement of you referencing how he tasted and his age. He grumbled to himself saying, “Dammit woman, you're gonna kill me one of these days. Jesus.”

Ellie was still going on about the taste of the cookie and how it compared to other things she's tried, that she didn’t catch the slight sexual innuendo interaction that you and Joel just had. According to her, the stale taste of the cookie ranked high on her list of her favorites. The three of you enjoyed a total of two cookies each, agreeing that you should keep the rest for later, just in case Santa would come. Ellie, even though being older, was still holding out hope that a big fat guy in a red Santa suit was actually real. What she didn’t realize was that she was going to see Santa sometime soon.

A Day Later

Joel decided to go out hunting, to see if he could bring back a true Christmas feast for you and Ellie. Ellie decided to go with him, saying that she wanted to prove that she would do a better job at shooting something, telling Joel that he couldn’t see. The same argument that started a few days ago about a book continued as they walked off into the woods together. They were gone a long time and when they returned, it was almost dark out. When they returned Ellie came running inside saying that she shot a deer. You congratulated her, saying that you were proud of her for being an expert marksman. When you went out to help Joel dress the deer, you found him laughing silently to himself.

“What's so funny?” You asked as you slowly approached him.

“That kid over there.” He said, kneeling down and craving into the deer while motioning with his head in the direction that Ellie went. You looked down at him and gestured for him to continue with your hands. “She- uh, she never hit the deer. That one couldn't hit the broad side of a barn, so I had to kill it. But I-I made it look like she did it.” He said laughing and shaking his head.

Joel then told you that when Ellie pulled back the bow and shot at the deer, that she missed. She had immediately shut her eyes, not seeing if she hit the deer but asked Joel if she did. Joel, having already had his bow drawn, saw that she hit a tree stump only 3 feet away. When he realized that she missed he released his arrow and killed the deer, you three did need to eat after all. However, after he killed the deer, he had decided to tell Ellie that she did it, knowing that it'd make her day. “So ya see, I couldn’t not help the little shit” Joel said laughing out loud. “She made this big fuss about it ahead of time, and I couldn't just break her heart in telling her that all she managed to truly kill was the tree.”

“Aw you're so sweet, you know that” you said, smiling at Joel looking out for Ellie.

“Yeah, I've been told that a few times I reckon” he said while standing up and looking at you with dark hungry eyes. “I’ve been also called old and an asshole too many times too,” he stated with a smirk, then bending down again to continue to slice into the deer.

You didn't know how to respond to his teasing, so you just stood there silent. After a moment you turned to head back into the house when you heard Joel say, “Te amo, baby.” You still didn't know what he was saying in Spanish, if Ellie was true with her statement, it meant that he loved you. So before you entered the house you gently replied back, “Te amo Joel and Merry Christmas.”

When Joel was finished dressing the deer he cooked the venison. As soon as you bit into the cooked venison you let out a low moan in pleasure. The explosion of flavors with fresh meat felt amazing to your taste buds. Joel hummed in contentment and blushed a rosey red in his cheeks at your outward display of gratitude. You told him that it tasted amazing and that he was the best cook ever, even Ellie agreed with you.

After the food was consumed, and the table was cleared, the three of you sat around the fire. You and Joel taught Ellie Christmas songs and you three all enjoyed feeling like a family for once. When time came to open up the presents, you could see that Ellie was just like a toddler. She was jumping for joy at seeing things under the tree for her that was wrapped up in old rags as wrapping paper with her name on them. As she opened her presents, she was excited at what she saw.

Joel gave Ellie a warmer winter jacket, one that he found at the other abandoned cabin that was located about five miles West from where the three of you were. He found the cabin about a month ago, abandoned just like this one was. He had been bringing over more supplies from there periodically. The jacket that he found was too small for you or him, but it fit Ellie perfectly. When she tried it on she was beaming at how comfortable it felt, and how warm it was.

You had given Ellie a handmade necklace, made out of different rhinestones that you had found in a storage craft box in the cellar. Crafts were something that you always loved to do when you were younger, and something you’d do in the QZ if you could find them. Joel and you also gave Ellie three joke books that you both found. As soon as she saw them she started crying, saying that it was the most perfect Christmas she’s ever had, and yet the biggest surprise wasn't even there yet.

Joel and Ellie both gave you a Wilderness Cookbook, something that he found in the other cabin also. He explained to you that the cookbook had recipes of how to cook rabbit, venison, and other things in the wilderness. You were grateful and thanked them both. Joel then whispered quietly in your ear, “I got something private, just for the two of us to indulge in later.” He said, gently squeezing your knee when you looked up at him with hopeful eyes, questioning him silently for what he had planned. You then saw Joel slowly open his mouth, sticking just the tip of his tongue out, as he moved the tip of his tongue back and forth fast. Using the same motions that he did when he’d eat you out. You blushed a dark crimson shade of red and quickly adjusted in your seat. Your panties suddenly felt too tight on you as you pushed your thighs together for some relief at the throb you felt in your core. “Later” he whispered again to you, while giving you another gentle squeeze to your knee and a chaste kiss to your cheek.

Joel then opened a few Western books from Ellie, ones that you had given her. You had just finished reading them recently and you knew that Joel wanted to read the books. So you gave them to Ellie and told her that you had found them at the other cabin and thought that maybe Joel would like to read them. Joel thanked Ellie and acted all surprised at seeing the books. Neither one of you told her that Joel had already asked to borrow them from you whenever you were finished reading them.

Joel then also opened a small homemade bracelet from you that you had made him. The bracelet had a butterfly pendant attached to it. When he saw it, Joel froze and just looked up at you. “Tess told me that Sarah used to love butterfly’s.” You told him as he gently ran his finger over the pendant. “Joel, if I could give you Sarah I would but-”

“No, it's alright. It's beautiful.” he said, sniffling slightly at the sight. Sarah, his babygirl, God he missed her. After a moment he quickly shook his head and then stood up, remembering that he still had two other gifts to give. Joel quickly said, “um, excuse me for a moment. I ah- I need to grab something” and then he disappeared by walking outside. Ellie was so focused on her joke books that she never saw Joel leave. All of a sudden you heard a knock at the door, followed by a “Ho, Ho, Ho” behind it. Ellie immediately tensed and you casually went over to the door, holding a gun for good measure, nevermind you knew who was behind the door. When you opened the door you saw Joel dressed head to toe in a Santa suit.

“Howdy there little lady- Jesus Christ woman, ya gonna shoot me or somethin’?” he said, shaking his head, looking at the gun you had pointed at him. “I heard y’all been having a hard time here so I thought I’d bring ya some Christmas cheer.”

Ellie immediately started laughing as Joel struggled with the Santa suit. “Joel, you look funny in a fat suit,” she said, laughing out loud at a pillow peeking through his Santa jacket.

“I haven't heard of no Joel before, I'm Santa.” He said, with a husky voice.

“So what happened to Joel? Did ya kill him when you landed your fat ass on top of him with your sleigh? Crushed him didn't you? It's ok, he probably deserved it. Killed by an old worn out fat guy with no fashion sense. Better than a clicker really, ya know.” Ellie said, laughing.

“Ok, look here wiseass, I ain't no old fat guy.” Joel said, grumbling to himself in his regular voice.

“Well you look ridiculous dressed like that.” Ellie said, doubling over and laughing hard again. You were rolling on the floor with a pillow over your mouth laughing at Joel and Ellie bantering again. You didn't know why, but seeing these two go at each other warmed your heart in a way that you never knew.

When Joel looked over at you he said “You stop your laughin’ over there” as he pulled the pillow out from his stomach and sat down with a huff on the couch. “Got no respect from the younger generation anymore. Ya hear me, no respect. Here I am tryin’ to make your Christmas special and all ya do is laugh at me and-”

“Joel it's ok” Ellie said, interrupting Joel’s little rant. “We love you anyways Joel, ain’t that right y/n?” Ellie continued, trying to look serious but failing miserably at it.

“Honey, you look amazing and-”

“Both of you just shut it, I know when I'm not loved.” He said, shaking his head and mumbling. “Shouldn't have to give ya both these now, but here ya go.” Joel handed you a small box. “Here ya go wiseass, so you don't feel left out either.” He said, shoving a box in Ellie's hands.

Ellie and you both quieted down and then looked at the little boxes in your hands with a piece of paper folded up over top of them. “Ellie why don't you go first,” you said, wanting her to enjoy the gift.

When Ellie opened the box she found a small seashell bracelet with black thick string with it and the piece of paper was a note that read the following:

My dearest Ellie,

I know I ain't your father, but over the past year you've grown so much on me kid. Ya got that sassy, smartass mouth on ya, and ya got a horrible attitude to boot. But you're strong kid, so strong. And you remind me of what my daughter Sarah was like, but so much more. I know your favorite thing is the Sea and one day I promise I’ll take ya there, and build those sandcastles with you, as tall as me. I love ya kid, like you were my own little baby girl. I wear a copy of your bracelet as a symbol of my love for ya honey.

Forever, my love for you child, Joel (or Dad if ya want)

After Ellie was done reading the note out loud, you found that you both were crying. Ellie immediately ran over to Joel, hugged him tight, crying into his shoulder saying, “you better fucking mean it. Swear to God you mean this Joel, and don't lie to me.”

“Baby girl, I swear to God everything in that note is true. I love ya like you’re my own honey, like you’re my true daughter cause ya are.” Joel then held Ellie, kissing the top of her head as she cried into his shoulder, this time her tears were tears of joy. Ellie got her Christmas wish after all, a family, something that she has never had ever in her life.

After a moment of them holding each other, they pulled apart and both looked at you. It was now your turn to read the note and to open the gift from Joel. You hands were shaking and you were panicking. You wanted more than anything for someone to love you, a man, with no strings attached. You were scared of what you were going to read in the note. But with a shaky breath, you opened your note and read it out loud.

Y/n,

The first time I laid eyes on you it was in the QZ and I thought that I had finally died and had gone to Heaven. My heart stopped in my chest darlin’, and I became nervous, still am when I look at ya. I remember thinkin’ that you were the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen, and baby, you still are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen.

The first time I kissed you, I was a goner. Forever to be the only woman that I’d ever want in life again. I used to be so angry, not because I didn’t want ya, but because I thought that I couldn't do any of this right. I couldn't date you properly, marry you, or even have babies with you the way that I’ve wanted to. And baby, I was so angry, I was angry because you deserve all of that from the world, and so much more. But then I realized somethin’, you and Ellie were sent from Heaven above, from my Sarah to help me now. For me to love and be loved once again.

I prayed honey, I prayed so hard for so many years, wanting to see my little girl again that was taken from me. And I don't know how or why, but somehow she sent me you two. And God, if I don't now have something worth fightin’ for. You and Ellie make this life bearable, make me want to live again. And truthfully, I'd be lost without ya both.

Now I know I ain't always good with my words, or tellin’ ya how I feel. But Angel, you mean everything t’me. Now open your gift honey, and let me tell you with the words myself.

You turned to Joel with tears in your eyes and trembling fingers while he gently coaxed you to open your gift. “Go on darlin', open it.” he said, ever so gently. When you opened your gift you gasped out loud. Inside the box was a ring, a birthstone ring for June, your birth month. You looked shocked at Joel when you saw it. He motioned for you to give him the ring.

With the ring in his hand he then reached out and held your hands, looking you in the eyes saying, “you mean everything t’me y/n and so much more. If you'll have me, I want you to wear this on a specific finger baby.”

Joel slowly took your left ring finger in his hand while holding the ring in his right hand. “I found this in a jewelry box in that other cabin and I thought Sarah must be telling me somethin’. I know it's not the proper one, but hell, nothin' is proper anymore. I promise if we ever get back to civilization again, I'll do this right. I swear it baby. Please be mine. Forever.”

You looked at the ring that Joel was holding, confusion washing over your face for a moment, not understanding what he was meaning. Joel looked over to Ellie and she smiled, understanding what was happening and gently said to Joel “dad, it’s time to tell mom what you told me in secret before.”

Joel nodded and took a breath to steady his nerves as he looked into your eyes. When he stared into your eyes he saw your hesitation. Not because you didn't want what he felt, but because you did and you were so scared that he didn't feel the same way. So with renewed confidence he said “I promise I'll do this right later if we can. But y/n-” and then he felt it, the pain searing tight in his chest at the thought of losing this, of losing you. It gripped him so hard, and tried to swallow him whole at the thought that he couldn't keep you safe. He was scared, and frightened at the thought of losing you or Ellie like he did Sarah. But this time as the pain consumed him, his thoughts drifted to Sarah. Sarah knew that her father loved her with everything, even as he held her when she died.

Joel remembered the night that Sarah was conceived. The way he and Sarah's mom desperately moved in unison together, trying to grab onto something for stability in a world that they felt was falling apart. He never connected with Sarah's mom again after that, it was only on that one night when she was created. It was like the world, the universe, told him that he needed to be a father at a younger age. He felt like that was the reason why his first marriage with Sarah’s mom failed. That they never were truly in love, except for where Sarah was concerned. But now things were different, especially with you. Joel was in love with you in a way that he's never been with a woman before. So with a smile and a chuckle he shook his head, finally finding the strength that he needed, to be able to say the next part out loud.

“Woman, you drive me nuts and make me feel things I, at my age, didn't think I deserved to feel anymore. I used to think you were sent here to torture me, make me pay for all of my sins. But then I saw what it was. That Sarah sent you to me because she had heard my darkest fears, my biggest dreams, and my silent pleas in the night. That I didn’t want to be lonely, that I wanted a family once again. And that I wanted a woman to love me so bad that it hurt, and not because I forced her, but because she wanted to. And baby, I got you and now you got me. Sarah sent me you and Ellie so I could be happy and not be so lonely anymore.”

With a shaky breath Joel continued, opening his heart even wider for you to see. “I've made mistakes darlin’, said and done the wrong thing most of the time. Hell, I’ve yelled at you and sometimes have treated you horrible, for that I’m sorry. But I'm scared. I'm scared to lose both you and Ellie. I love that kid over there like I was the one who created her, like she was my own daughter. And I view you as if you were her mother and my-” Joel shook his head, feeling the burn in the back of his throat hit as he struggled to say that he viewed you as his wife.

“Te Amo Joel. I love you” you said, softly towards Joel while holding his hand. Now that you said it, you hoped that he'd say it back. You just wanted him to say it to you in English, to tell you that he in fact did love you, and not just hint at it anymore. You wanted to hear those three words from him. But you never expected him to say what he was about to with you.

After a moment of looking at you he smiled, while looking down at your hands. He gently squeezed them to remind himself that you were still here. Then he looked up into your eyes and said, “Ah hell woman, marry me please? I know it's not conventional, but this ring I got you, it goes on your left ring finger baby and I-. Shit. I-I want you in this life and the next, ok. I promise I'll spend the rest of my life showing you how much I love you. Te amo baby, it means I love you. I love ya woman, so damn much. And I know I don't deserve it but I'm askin’ anyways. Marry me honey, please, make me the happiest man and I promise I’ll-”

It was in that moment that you crashed your lips hard to Joel’s mouth. You wanted to shut up his rambling but also show him that you were so happy. That was what the feeling was in your chest right now, happiness, something that you didn’t think you could ever feel or again. As you kissed Joel, a million thoughts were running through your head. You never thought he'd say any of this to you ever. But when you looked inside yourself you knew you loved this man more than anything. Yeah sure, he was cold, moody, and a complete ass sometimes. He hasn’t always done or said the right thing, but he has been there and protected you when other people should have but didn’t, or when others had walked away. To you, that meant more than anything, that he’d stay and was truly committed to you.

When you pulled away from the quick kiss you said out loud “yes. Yes Joel. Te amo baby, te amo. I'll marry you.” And with that admission Joel crashed his lips hard onto your mouth. There was nothing gentle about this kiss that he gave you, it was like the flood gates finally opened and Joel gave you his entire heart and soul right here and now. The kiss said everything that the two of you haven't been able to say to each other. That you both needed each other and that you both were there for each other.

When you gently parted your mouth for a breath, Joel licked into it in a way that a husband claimed his wife. It was heady and needy. Both of you kissed each other fervently, finally allowing the dam to break between you two. You both were lost in the moment, feeling the passion rise up between you that you had forgotten that Ellie was still in the room. All of a sudden you heard a heavy sigh followed by a smartass teenage girl.

“Look here assholes, I ain't wantin’ to watch you two fuck, so can you both tone it down for the kid in the room, please. Joel, you promised me we could have more Christmas cookies and then tell more stories. Come on.” Ellie said, exhaling loudly.

Joel pulled away and snapped saying “Ellie, language.” He fully pulled apart from you, placing the ring on your left ring finger, then gave you a chaste kiss on the mouth while whispering, “we'll continue this discussion later baby.” You gently nodded in return.

The three of you then sat around the fire telling funny stories to Ellie about Christmas. Joel told the classic tale of ‘A Christmas Story’ for the first time to Ellie, something that he still remembered by heart as it was Sarah’s favorite Christmas story. Both Ellie and you eventually fell asleep on the floor, heads touching at the top and holding hands as a family as you both looked up at Joel, listening to him tell the story.

Even after knowing you two fell asleep, Joel continued reciting the story until it was done. When he was finished he grabbed blankets from the bedroom and tucked both you and Ellie in. Smiling to himself he laid down on the couch, content at having a family once again. Joel was relieved that his family, even though unconventional, loved him fully in return. As sleep slowly crept up, he found himself turning to one side and staring at the low light of the Christmas tree. This time, it was as if he could see her again yet again, his Sarah, just sitting down and smiling at him. His heart felt full today, something that hadn’t happened since the last Christmas he had with his daughter, about 20 years ago. As Joel slowly drifted off to sleep he swore he heard Sarah say to him ‘Merry Christmas Dad, here's my Christmas wish for you. For you to have a family once again. And always remember, that I love you.’

-End Chapter-

A/N: This one was a heck of a roller coaster to write on so many emotional levels. These three will be back in the future, got some fun things planned for them. Enjoy, and be sure to check out my other series and one shots in my Master list.

Taglist: @punkshort @shotgun-shelby @strawbunnyx @orcasoul @pedritoferg @chiogarza @jesfreedark @untamedheart81 @rainbow12346 @nandan11 @swiftpascal @eliza-8 @joeldjarin @vickie5446 @nastiasnow @staywildflowahchild @ratoonstown @l3laze @its-always-420-on-the-moon @kirsteng42

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